The Missed Bus
You may not know it to look at me, but I love food. It’s only my crazy overdrive metabolism that keeps me skinny (well, skinny for a bear). I have my favorites, of course, like lasagna, turkey wings, chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting, and pretty much anything involving honey. I really love trying new things, however, and I’ve found that, in order to get exposed to new flavors, you have to travel.
I’m really lucky. My specific lifestyle means that I’m not super tied down to anything. Oh, the doctors at Generizons like to know where I’m headed, but they don’t try and curtail my activities. The stipend I receive as part of my settlement with the company, coupled with the fact that I don’t pay rent, means I end up with a lot of disposable income. So it’s not unusual for me to simply decide I’m going somewhere for a weekend, a week, or more. 
I prefer taking trains and buses to airplanes, because I’m never really in a hurry. I’ve noticed other people on trains and buses rarely seem in a hurry either, and, more often than not, they’re open to talk, which can be nice. I liked to buy one-way tickets and then just plan my way back whenever I was ready. That way, if something interesting lured me elsewhere or kept me in a location for an extended period unexpectedly (such as the big farmer mule I met in the Midwest who occupied me fulltime for a couple of weeks…but that’s another story), I wasn’t worrying about missing my ride.
On the week I’m thinking of, I’d bought a bus ticket heading south, let the doctors know I was heading out, and promised to update them regularly. The bus trundled down the old highways along the coastline before dipping inland to service various smaller cities. I jumped out during the bus’s various rest stops, noticing the terrain getting more and more rural. A day’s ride faded into night. The bus changed drivers. The bus got more and more empty. As the second day got close to Noon, I decided to take a break. I figured I would jump out at the next stop, whatever it was, and decide if I was going to keep going, stay for a while, or head back north on the next available bus.
If I’m being perfectly honest, I don’t even remember the name of the place. I’m sure it was something suitably bucolic, like Misty Meadows, Bunny Burrow, or Blueberry Cove. It looked like farmland in three directions. In the fourth direction, there was a cute little town that could’ve jumped out of a magazine about cute little towns, and beyond it was an idyllic bit of forest. It was hot and a bit humid, and there was that cicada drone that just makes a day feel that much hotter. I noticed a little trickling creek coming through a culvert next to the road, and my eyes followed it past the town towards the forest. I found myself daydreaming about a swim in a forest spring to beat the heat, but my growly tummy cut through the haze. I can go a long time without a really solid meal, but I was ready to eat.
A quick wander into town showed me that the pickings weren’t extensive. There was some kind of bar and grill that looked more on the bar side of things, there was an extremely dubious looking Chinese restaurant, and there was a classic old airstream-trailer-diner called Aunt Flo’s. Really, there was no choice to be made. I made a bee-line for Aunt Flo’s. Experience has taught me that small town diners aren’t just generally the best food, but the best spot to take the pulse of the whole area. If this was the kind of place where I’d likely get beaten up for being a “faggot” or something like that, I wanted to know early so I could grab my food to go and take the next bus out.
The burnished chrome outside was dinged up in a few places, but it was polished to a nearly mirror-bright shine. The glass of the windows seemed clean, and the smell that hit me as I opened the door was that of frying burgers, brewing coffee, and pine-scented disinfectant soap. The place was pretty busy, but I found a spot at the counter, and I admired the red sparkly vinyl seat covers as I slid up onto a stool. In moments, am elderly opossum eyed me through her horn-rimmed glasses and came over to hand me a plastic, laminated menu. I didn’t know if she was Aunt Flo, but that’s how I’ve thought of her ever since. “You on your own, honey?” she asked me. Her voice held a note of concern that I found rather touching. 
I tried to flash my warmest, most competent smile. The last thing I needed was to suddenly find myself in the hands of child-services. I really appreciate their concern, every time, but they have a bad habit of delaying my travel plans. “Yes’m,” I said politely. “Going down to meet my Uncle Gordy on the Gulf Coast. Bus stopped in, and I smelled something good for lunch, so I followed my nose here.” I smiled, brightly, widening my eyes a little.
She peered at me a moment longer, then cackled. “Well, aren’t you the most polite and cute little thing?” she said. “Go ahead and look the menu over, honey. See if you can figure out what you were smelling.”
You know you’re in the country when fried okra, macaroni and tomatoes, and hog jowls are on the menu. I wasn’t feeling particularly carnivorous, so I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and a side of fried pickles. All of it was very good, and I was about to head out to catch my bus when I saw something that changed the course of my visit. It was a glass pie case on the counter, and a little paper sign that said, “Fresh Huckleberry Pie.”
Not much to it, right? But here’s the thing, friends…I love huckleberry pie, and it’s super hard to get ahold of in my usual haunts. So the chance to get some fresh huckleberry pie was awfully tempting. Aunt Flo…if that’s who she was…looked at me with a bit of amusement. “Somethin’ in th’ pie case caught your eye, honey?” she asked, as she sidled over. 
“How do you serve your huckleberry pie?” I asked, biting my lip. “Warm?”
“Well, o’ course!” she said, as if there was no other way to serve such a pie. “I can top it with vanilla ice cream if you want…” She leaned in, almost conspiratorially. “Maybe a drizzle o’ honey?”
Okay, so it’s a stereotype that all bears adore honey, but…well…guilty as charged. I love the stuff. It’s like liquid gold to me. I grinned sheepishly. “You sure know the way to a cub’s heart, ma’am,” I said. “I’ll have a slice just like that.”
The pie took some time coming out, as the place was pretty busy, but it was just perfect. It was a healthy slice, easily a sixth of the whole pie. There was a waft of fragrant steam coming off of it, carrying the smell of the huckleberries, and the ice cream was beginning to melt and drip over the sides. The honey was slowly drooled over the top right in front of me, and I was probably doing some drooling myself. She armed me with a fork, a spoon, and a copious number of napkins, and I set into it. It tasted every bit as good as it looked. The tartness of the huckleberries mixed with the savory crust, which was buttery and flaky, and the sweetness of the melting ice cream and honey cut through the tartness as each berry burst between my teeth, getting purple juice over my tongue and lips. I think I used about five paper napkins as I made my way down through the wonderful dessert, and, when I was done, I leaned back, patting my belly with a happy sigh.
“I don’t think I ever seen an out-o’-towner appreciate a huckleberry pie so much,” Flo chuckled at me.
“Oh, I like any pie this good,” I said with a grin. “But I only get huckleberry pie when I come south, and that’s only once every year or two, so it’s a rare treat.”
She smiled and nodded. “We get our pies in fresh every day. You’re not likely to find better huckleberry pie than that in…” She suddenly blinked. “Wait…you said you were on the bus?”
I paused, having just raised a final napkin to dab up my chin. “I…yeah?”
She slapped the counter with a palm, hard enough to make several patrons jump. “George Newell who drives that bus left almost fifteen minutes ago! You’d better…”
We both watched the bus drive by outside the window. I considered jumping up and chasing after it, but I wasn’t really that worried about getting out that night. I turned to her and gave a lopsided grin. “So…um…is there a hotel in town?”
What followed was a good hour of checking in with the team back home (not so much to tell them where I was, but to keep up the pretense that I was talking to my Uncle Gordy and explaining what had happened), talking with the bus company to verify that my open ticket was still valid, and then talking to the proprietor of the Belle Starr hotel downtown to make sure they’d take me. There was a heaping helping of getting scolded by Aunt Flo, too, in-between her self-recrimination for not realizing I needed to get going and delaying me with her huckleberry temptations. I honestly didn’t mind a bit. For one thing, I was looking forward to going back to Aunt Flo’s for dinner and getting some more of that pie!
Once I was free, and I’d dropped my main satchel off at the hotel, I decided to explore a little bit. I remembered that little rivulet running through town, and it made me curious if there really were some kind of “ol’ swimmin’ hole” I could take a dip in if I followed it. The post-Noonday heat was really settling in, and the droning sounds of cicadas were almost deafening. I could feel the heat getting into my clothes, and I soon stripped off my tank top, draping it over my shoulder, padding along through the usual forest detritus of leaves, twigs, and stones. There seemed to be a lightly worn path following along the little creek, so I followed it, hoping there was a lot more water at journey’s end.
I was not disappointed. The land rose a bit, and I soon found myself picking my way through larger rocky boulders. The water seemed to be getting wider, and I soon found myself walking along a decent-sized stream. I never did find out where all the water came from, because, as I came around a particularly large boulder, I discovered the swimmin’ hole I’d been dreaming of. I was surprised nobody was there, because it was pretty perfect. A handful of smooth boulders had been scattered like a set of marbles discarded by a giant. This caused the water to move in and around them, where they made it a bit slower-moving for a time, forming a large moving pool that looked to be decently deep. The water was clear enough that I could see a bottom, and there was no broken glass or discarded refuse that I could see. In fact, among the water plants, I actually saw a few little brownish fish darting here and there. The sun filtered down through large, lazily swaying trees, and one of the boulders seemed to form an overhang of shadow on the water’s surface.
I looked around, but I didn’t see anyone else. “Hello?” I called out. I didn’t want to accidentally ambush a skinny-dipper. I’m not very modest about my body, but I know some people are, especially around strangers. When I was satisfied I was alone, I stripped down to the buff, bundled up my clothes, and stashed them in a convenient hollow under one of the rocks near the water. I didn’t have a towel, but the biggest rock looked like a convenient place to lay out and let the sun dry one’s fur. I tested the water with a toe, and it was pleasantly cool. I normally love to leap out into water, but I didn’t know how deep this was, so I eased in a little more carefully, feeling the smooth river stones under my feet and the cool water soaking into my fur. Eventually I found that it wasn’t so deep that jumping would’ve been a good idea. A grown-up could probably ease in up to his waist at the deepest spot. On me, it was up to the top of my chest if I stood, but, when I lowered myself in, I could just duck my head.
The water did a wonderful job of cooling me off, and I was soon sprawled out on the rock, sunning myself. I may even have dozed off a minute, but I eventually heard someone coming. I thought at first that it might some local kids, but the shadow I could see through the trees soon told me it was an adult, and a fairly decent-sized one, too. I had a little shudder, realizing I was all alone and likely out of the reach of help if this stranger decided to do something. I suddenly felt awkward about being caught naked out of the water, so I quietly slipped back into the pool, slipping into the overhang of the rock so that he wouldn’t see me in the afternoon sunlight. As the figure got closer, I realized it was a red fox, but a rather portly one. Was he just passing through? No, of course not. He was making directly towards the swimming hole.
As he got closer, I could start to make out details. I guessed he was in his mid to late twenties. It looked like he was wearing overalls over a blue and white checked shirt, he had a large towel slung over his shoulder, and a covered wicker picnic basket dangled from one hand. His face was pleasantly round, with a dusting of gray hairs on his chin, breaking up an otherwise red and white muzzle. His hair was a darker red than his fur and parted neatly down the middle. He looked strong, if soft, and his overall demeanor made my tummy flutter a bit. He set down his basket on one of the flatter stones and then began to unhook one of his overall straps. At first I thought I should probably tell him I was there, but I paused, thinking about it. If I made my presence known to him, he would likely leave, and now, having seen his kind features and attractive, almost bearish build, I kind of wanted to see him undressed. At the last minute, however, I realized that would just be unkind.
I cleared my throat. “Oh, hi!” I said, brightly. He hesitated, one overall strap down, revealing the curve and swell of his tummy under his shirt. He seemed surprised, and he squinted, trying to make me out. I slipped out from the shadow of the water. “I was just gonna let you walk by, but then I realized you were coming right here, so I figured I should warn you that you weren’t alone.”
The fox chuckled as he took me in. “Aw, heck, son…scared me there for a sec. Don’t see many folks out this way at this time o’ day, at least once summer camp starts.” His voice was warm and kind, with an adorable drawl. He seemed to be hesitating about undressing now.
“If you wanted to take a dip, there’s still plenty of room,” I said, hoping that sounded encouraging. “I don’t take up much space.”
“Yeah, that’s so.” He chuckled again. “Sad to say, son, I didn’t bring my suit, on account of not expecting anyone.”
I gave him a sheepish grin. “Yeah…me either.”
He cocked his head, then chuckled. “Well…I guess, if’n ya don’t mind. It is powerful hot.” He finished working on the second overalls strap, then carefully lowered them, stepping out. I got a glimpse of white belly and red love handles in-between his shirt and his blue-gray boxer shorts. I may have leaned forward a bit too eagerly, because he smirked. “Settle down now, fella. Lotta folks would think that it ain’t seemly fer a young’n t’ be that interested in a feller’s tackle.”
Dang. Caught. “Oh, sorry, Mister,” I said, turning partly away. “Just curious, I guess.”
“Well, it ain’t bad t’ be curious, I suppose. But y’know what they say ‘bout curiosity an’ th’ cat.”
“Sure. But every leaves out the second part. The full phrase is ‘Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back.’”
He paused in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt. “That a fact? Huh. I never heard that bit.” He finished unbuttoning his shirt and peeled it off. “Yer pretty smart fer a liddle feller. Where you from?”
“Up north,” I told him. “On my way down to the coast to see my Uncle Gordy.” Might as well keep my story consistent. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him pause, thumbs hooked into the waistband of his boxers. I couldn’t help but turn my head just enough to get a slightly better view, only to catch him catching me looking. To my surprise, he didn’t stop but grinned and shucked those boxers down, revealing soft, pillowy fur, nice, thick, low-hanging balls, and a thick sheath that a wolf wouldn’t have been ashamed of.
I’ll admit that I gawked a bit, but he didn’t seem to mind too much any more. He slipped down into the water, sighing as it sank into his fur. “Jeesy-creesy that feels good,” he sighed. He smiled at me. “Well, little bud, whats yer name? Mine’s Gideon.”
“Nice to meet to, Mr. Gideon,” I said politely. “My name’s Carey Winslow.” I smiled, offering him a small paw, which he shook with a nice, firm handshake.
“Pleasure’s mine, Mr. Winslow,” he said with a smile. “Ain’t too often I meet a polite lil feller sittin’ out naked in th’ crick.”
“I don’t get to meet handsome guys in creeks too often myself,” I admitted, grinning, rubbing the back of my neck. “But it might be nice to make a habit of it.”
He gave a chuckle at that, reaching out to ruffle my hair. Grown-ups just don’t seem to be able to help it. I think it’s the slight unruly shock of hair between the cookie-shaped ears. They can’t resist it! “Not just polite but good at flatterin’, too,” he said with a chuckle. “Bet yer hungry, too, if I know a boy ‘round yer age.”
I patted my belly. “To be honest, I just ate, and I wouldn’t feel right taking your lunch away from you, Mr. Gideon.”
The fox smiled. I liked the way his blue eyes twinkled and his round cheeks rose up. “Aw, heck, Carey, it’s no trouble, an’ this is more of an afternoon snack. But if yer sure you’re not hungry…” He opened the basket and the smell of some kind of baked goods wafted out. It smelled awfully good, and my nose twitched a bit.
“Well, if you’re sure,” I said with a sly grin, “I guess I could probably find a little room somewhere.”
He laughed out loud at that. “There we go.” He took out a package of wrapped turn-overs and carefully opened it, sending a heavenly aroma into the air. “Apples ain’t their best yet,” he said, almost mournfully, but then he brightened. “But I had plenty o’ cherries an’ blackberries t’ make these.” He took one and offered it to me. “Tell me what ya think. It’s kind of an experiment.”
The smell was tantalizing, but the taste, once I bit in, was nothing short of rapturous. The crust was velvety and wavy, with enough butter to knock over a moose. As the thick filling gushed into my mouth, I could taste both the natural sweetness and tartness of the fruit. And there was something else about it…a citrus touch…lemon I guessed. It was the perfect note to prevent the whole from being too rich to want to eat. As it was, I gobbled it up without hesitation. It was only then that I realized the fox was looking at me, eagerly. “Any good?” he asked, fingers fidgeting together, nervously.
“Good?” I asked, amazed that he could possibly question such a thing. “No…wrong word. It’s amazing.”
His face lit up, happily. “Thanks, Carey. It’s somethin’ I’m workin’ on. Glad ya like it. Don’t think it’s ready for sales, yet.”
“You made these?” I asked in amazement. “Can I come live with you?”
Gideon laughed, happily. “Aw, c’mon now…they can’t be that good.” He took one and bit into it, his own face quickly assuming a joy that likely mirrored my own from a few moments before. “Oh, you ain’t lyin’. That’s a winner an’ no mistake. Maybe I will sell ‘em.”
“You sell them? Do you work in a bakery or something? Maybe I’ll buy something to take to Uncle Gordy tomorrow.”
He shook his head. “Naw, I ain’t got my own bakery. I make ‘em at home an’ sell ‘em to various business around here. Started with a few farmstands, but now my stuff’s in a couple restaurants, some markets…”
“Wait, wait, wait!” I said quickly. “Did you make the huckleberry pie they serve at Aunt Flo’s?”
He grinned. “You tried it?”
I put my hand on his leg. “Mr. Gideon…that was the *best* huckleberry pie I’ve ever eaten!”
“Aw, shucks,” he said, ears flushing red, a pleased expression on his face. Then he realized where my hand was, about the same time I did. “Oh…heh…careful there, son…”
I bit my lip, then stroked my hand along his thigh a bit. He shifted, nervously, looking around, and I could feel his muscles tensing under my touch. “Maybe…um…maybe we shouldn’t be doin’ this here? If someone came along, it could really burn my biscuits.”
“Oh…” I tugged my hand away. “I’m so sorry. I thought, for a minute…”
He caught my hand and smiled, looking me in the eye. “Well, now…I din’t say I din’t like it…or that I din’t wanna keep goin’…jus’ not here.” He grinned, standing up, his half-hard shaft looking awfully tempting. “Why don’t we head back over t’ my place? Then we c’n do whatever we want, with no one th’ wiser.”
I perked right up. That was a lot more hopeful. “Is that…are you cool with that?”
Gideon grinned, scratching under his chin. “Well, I don’t think I woulda offered if I weren’t.” He looked down at me, and his face got pretty serious. “When I was pretty young, I had all these feelin’s fer th’ other boys ‘round me…but my Paw had drilled inta me that those kinda thoughts weren’t natural.” He looked a bit distant, even sad. “So I k-kinda took it out on other kids…girls mos’ly. I was supposed t’ like ‘em, Paw said, but all I knew was that they weren’t what I wanted, so I kinda lashed out. I was a real jerk.”
He was quiet a moment, then smiled. “But…I got some help…an’ now I’m much happier. Only…” He chuckled a bit ruefully. “Don’t git me wrong…I got some grown-ups I like…but I find m’self mos’ly drawn t’ boys, still.” He reached out, letting a hand trail down my chest, sending a shiver down my spine. “You’re real beautiful, Carey.”
I blushed hotly at that. People call me lots of things…but beautiful doesn’t usually make the list. I smiled up at him and took his hand, squeezing it. “Your place, you said?”
He chuckled, then nodded, slipping out and using his towel to dry off. I didn’t have a towel, so I used my t-shirt, instead, until he handed me his. It was damp, but it still did a better job, and soon we were both dry enough. He got dressed and made our way through the woods. He pointed out various little things…a tree covered in large knobby growths he called burls, a little grove full of yellow ladyslippers, a solitary red cardinal sitting in a tree. It was clear he knew this path well and had discovered many little treasures over the years. I felt flattered to be one of them, at least for a day.
Before long, we were emerging from the woods onto the back of what seemed to be a nicely isolated little home or shop. The building wasn’t large, but I could imagine it being comfortable for a bachelor. It was a faded sort of ivory-white, with pink shutters and trim. Several pecan trees stood on the property, and Gideon seemed ot eye them, as if deciding whether or not to pick some nuts, as he led me around towards the front. There was a decent-sized pink van parked in the driveway with the adorable logo of a smiling pie on the side. White lettering seemed to proclaim it as the delivery vehicle of Gideon Grey’s Real Good Baked Stuff. I chuckled at that. It seemed like the kind of simple, homespun name that my host would’ve come up with.
“You’ll hafta excuse th’ mess,” he said, as he let me inside. “I got so overheated bakin’ this mornin’ that I nipped out to th’ crick for a swim afore I cleaned up in here.” I saw that the front hallway beyond the door had a few white, flour footprints leading to what I assumed was the kitchen. The smell of baked goods wafted temptingly in the air, almost beckoning me down towards what I guess was the doorway to his kitchen. My nose lifted into the air, and I inhaled, slowly, letting the smell of butter, sugar, and fruit wind its way sinuously down into my lungs. I felt my mouth water, just a bit.
“Smells good, huh?” he said, clearly pleased by my reaction.
“Smells heavenly!” I said, licking my lips. “What were you baking?”
“Oh, th’ usuals…lots o’ pies, o’ course…they’re kinda my mainstay. But I’ve branched out into cookies, sweet breads, cakes, an’ th’ like. Today, I made a mess o’ diff’rent kinds o’ cookies.” He cocks his head. “You like peanut butter cookies?”
I grinned broadly. “You bet I do!”
He smiled, warmly, patting my shoulder. “Well, let’s getcha a free sample.” He guided me gingerly into his kitchen, where I saw dishes piled in the sink and some flour spills here and there…but otherwise, a very orderly and neat set-up. It was clear that the wall into the old dining room had been opened up, and wire racks of cooling cookies were heaped up on every horizontal surface, from tables to chairs, to windowsills. He looked over a batch of cookies and plucked one up, offering it to me. “Here you go. You gotta tell me whatcha think.”
The cookie was faintly warm in my paws, and I sniffed it, shivering at the heavenly aroma. I bit into it, noting the creaminess of the peanut butter, which contrasted nicely with the crispness of the cookie and a crunch from a few nut chunks throughout it. There was just a hint of vanilla, but otherwise it was like eating pure peanut butter in cookie form. When I was done, he was already handing me a small glass of cold milk, and I downed it gratefully. “That’s probably the most peanut-buttery peanut butter cookie I ever had!”
“Aw, thanks, lil buddy,” he said with pride evident in his smile. “I been workin’ on that one for a while. It’s real simple, but sometimes simply recipes are jus’ th’ best.” He grinned. “You want another sample? I got a lemon tart I could use an expert opinion on.”
In case you’re getting hungry, I’ll spare you the details. I actually ended up giving my opinion on a lemon tart, a pumpkin bread, and a pecan pie. When we were done, I patted my belly, which felt a little rounder. “Now you see why I ain’t quite as svelte as some foxes,” he said with a chuckle. He’d joined me for the pecan pie, which was divine perfection in a buttery, flaky crust, topped with chocolate chips. “I gather the pecans from m’own trees.”
“I could not possibly eat another bite,” I sighed, leaning back in the chair he’d cleaned off for me. “In fact, I kind of wish I had paced myself. Now I wanna take a nap.”
He looked down at me and smiled. Before I knew it, his big arms were lifting me, cradling me to his pillowy chest. I snuggled into his warmth and comfort, and he rubbed my back, carrying me right out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into his bedroom. I fussed just a moment as he sat me on the bed and started helping me out of my clothes. “Aw, hush now,” he said. “You’re mah guest. I c’n take care of you jus’ fine.” He rubbed my belly until I stopped protesting, and I soon found myself down to my undies and slipped into the big, comfy bed. He tugged a sheet up over me, leaned down, and kissed my head, gently. “There ya go…you have a lil nap.”
I must’ve obeyed, because, the next thing I knew, I was waking up, and it was dark out. I was laying on my side, and a big, warm body was cuddled up to mine, spooning me gently, an arm snugged around me. I sighed, hugging the arm to my chest. I was surprisingly comfortable, given how warm it had been earlier…it seemed to have cooled off, or at least it was no longer oppressive. The arm hugged me gently. “Well, hullo there. I was wonderin’ if you was gonna wake up ‘fore mornin’.”
It was all too easy to snuggle back into him. “I guess this bug trip tired me out more than I thought, and with the heat, and the heavy food…” I hugged his arm again. “I’m sorry to be such boring company, Mr. Gideon.”
His rich, mellow chuckle shivered me up and down my spine. “Aw, son, don’tcha worry. I cleaned up, got some bakin’ done, an’ then, a nap sounded real nice, an’ it was a treat t’ have a sexy lil teddy bear to snuggle with.” He gave me an affectionate squeeze. “I woke up jus’ a lil before you anyhow.”
“Part of you certainly did,” I teased, because I could feel his large member, obviously aroused, poking me in the back.
He chuckled, a bit abashedly. “Heh…well, Lil Gid has a mind of his own…I c’n barely control him at times.”
I reached back, finding his shaft, and closing my fingers around it, causing him to gasp. “Sounds dangerous!” I said, trying to sound scared. “Feels really big.”
“Mmmm…he ain’t too dangerous, long as he gets what he wants.” He tightened his arms around me, playfully humping at my hand.
“Yeah?” I asked, feeling some of his precum drooling over my fingers. “What’s he want?”
Gideon shuddered, nibbling along my shoulder, softly. “Right now…he wants to snuggle up inside you, lil bear…he wants that somethin’ fierce…” He kissed over to my ear. “I can’t believe how lucky I am t’ have a smart, beautiful, fun boy like you in m’ bed,” he whispered. “I jus’ wanna keep you here an’ make sweet love with you forever.”
“I dunno about forever,” I murmured back to him, “but you’ve got me tonight.”
“I shore do,” Gid murmured, reaching over to the bedside table to grab a bottle of lube. I listened to him lubing up behind me, then felt his fingers explore my backside. I lifted one knee to my chest to give him access, and I heard him murmur appreciatively when he was able to slide two fingers in with very little effort. All the while, he kept up a near barrage of kisses, nibble, soft murmurs of affection, and a general cuddly nature. I always crave physical affection, especially when I’ve been traveling for a bit, so I soaked it in and made sure he heard how much I was enjoying it. Really, once his fingers started pressing certain spots inside me, there was no hiding it, and I was glad he didn’t have any housemates or close neighbors.
Soon, I felt him scoot into position with me, and his tapered tip pressed under my tail. My first lover was a wolf, and I’ve always adored the canine anatomy. It slipped and slid in so sweetly, despite the size. And soon, I could feel his knot, not yet swolen, gently kissing my hole as he gently kissed my neck. His arms encircled more possessively. “There’s my boy,” he crooned to me, gently. “You jus’ relax an’ let ol’ Mr. Gideon take care of ya.”
And hoo boy did he take care of me! We rocked in slow, aching gentleness forever. Sometimes his paws would rub my belly, or stroke my cock. Other times they would hold me still for a bit as he panted and recovered. He didn’t seem eager for either of us to lose our loads so early in our play, but he kept up a steady rhythm, prodding my prostate from inside. I almost didn’t notice the orgasm creeping up on me, until it hit, making me gasp. He clutched me close, nuzzling me, and I saw his look of surprise when he raised and inspected his paw. “Dry?” he asked, sounding startled. “You younger’n you look, kiddo?”
“That’s a complicated question,” I said, awkwardly. “Would me saying yes stop you from enjoying this?”
He pondered a moment, then shook his head. “Not one bit.” He then pulled me close, nuzzled my ear, and gave a little rumble of a growl. “Now it’s mah turn, my lil dumplin’.”
I can honestly say that Gideon was one of the most gentle lovers I’ve ever had. I can also honestly say that, when he worked himself up, he was every bit as much of a beast as I could have imagined! He gently rolled over on top of me, pushing me onto my belly, pushing me down into his thick, soft bed. And then his hips began a pistoning…it was slow but insistent at first, but it built up in intensity quickly. I gasped and cried out, over and over, and the first time he slowed down, concerned.
“I’m fine!” I blurted out. “Don’t stop!”
“I won’t,” he growled, and then his hips began moving again, this time far less gently. As sweet as he was, that fox had needs, and I was happy to meet them. He worked his hips, grindign his knot against my hole, pushing with need, twisting this way and that until, finally, that fat knot popped in, making my eyes water, and dragging a bit of a howl from both of us. His arms tightened down again, and he fucked me with strong, shallow thrusts. Panting, growling, even biting down on the scruff of my neck hard enough to make me feel it good. I pushed back, wanting more, as he fucked me into his bed, forcing me down, taking me like it had been months since he last enjoyed a good release. And when he finally came, he shuddered, powerfully, and made almost strangling noises. He panted in my ear for a good minute, body spasming, before he finally whispered out a hoarse, “Jeesy-creesy.” He leaned down, nuzzling my neck where he’d bitten down. “C-carey, I’m so sorry…you okay?”
“Sorry?” I blurted out, almost chuckling. “That was the most intense fuck I’ve had in ages. Please don’t be sorry!” I hugged his arms to me, but I could feel him trying to withdraw a bit, only to realize he was tied with me.
“I should be more c-careful with a lil one like you,” he said, a soft, miserable tone to his voice. “I -ccoulda hurt you real b-bad.”
I heard the pain and the stutter, and I reached back, half-turning to see his eyes looking ashamed. “Hey! Hey, now…it’s okay, Gideon. I’m fine.” I smiled to reassure him. “I’m built Tonka tough…promise.”
He gave me a weak smile in return. “Still…yer just a kid…a beautiful, wonderful kid…” He hugged onto me, turning us back onto our sides, carefully. “Like I said afore, I…I had a lot o’ issues when I was l-little…a lot of r-rage.” He looked down at his hand stroking my shoulder, then back up at my face. “It ain’t easy b-bein’ a…a faggot in these parts…an’ it was even less easy when I was younger.” He squeezed my shoulder. “I t-took a lot of whippin’s from my P-p-pa. An’ I took those out on all th’ other kids.”
“You told me…it’s okay,” I promised him, but he shook his head.
“It ain’t…I did things…real bad things…” He shook his head. “I hurt a friend of mine real b-bad when we tried to…to do it…”He rubbed his face with his hands. “I should always be careful is all…I worked on all this anger of mine…but…I’m still a predator deep down. I always gotta remember that. I shouldn’t have lost control with ya.”
“It’s okay,” I promised him, making my voice calm and gentle. “I’m a really tough kid…you didn’t hurt me.” I smiled at him. “It was actually really hot. You can always do it that rough with me.”
He looked at me, amazed, then shook his head, chuckling, swiping at his eyes. “Well…yer a lil miracle is all, Carey.” He kissed my neck. “Thank you,” he murmured. “A kid like you shouldn’t hafta deal with all that k-kinda stuff…”
“My pleasure, I promise.” I grinned. “You can make it up to me anyhow. How soon before you’re ready for round two? I gotta get some exercise to burn off all those sweets.”
He looked stunned, then laughed. “Oh, you’ll get yer round two. Reckon yer payin’ for them free samples after all!”
In the end, there were four rounds, though number four was half-hearted at best. When he came, there was so little seed that he just made a little noise and flopped on top of me. It was late at night, and I just reached over, grabbed the sheet, and pulled it over both of us. I realized I had wasted my money getting a room at the Belle Starr, but, somehow, I didn’t mind so much.
The next morning, Gideon got up and made us breakfast. We had thick cut brioche French toast, loaded down with maple syrup (on his), honey (on mine), and plenty of whipped butter. Afterwards, we were both exhausted, so we had a little nap, followed by round five and then a shower. As he was washing my back, he sighed. “This is so nice,” he said, gently. “Havin’ a lil feller I could be with without worryin’ about anythin’.” He kissed my head. “You be sure’n thank yer Uncle Gordy fer lettin’ yer stay th’ night.”
I felt a pang of regret as I heard my oft-repeated lie from Gideon’s lips. Still, it was better than seeing a look of shock and betrayal on his face when he found out more about my…unusual nature. “I will, for sure.” I thought a moment, then smiled. “You know…I often have to bus through this way on the way between school and Uncle Gordy’s place in the city. Maybe I can make sure I miss the bus here often?”
Gideon smiled down at me. “I’d like that, honey bear. I’d like that plenty.”
We dried each other off and got dressed (although there was some temptation for a round six). “One sec,” he said, running to the kitchen. When he returned, he offered me a pink cake box. “I thought maybe you’d like t’ take some pecan rolls to yer Uncle Gordy. Make it up to him fer worryin’ him when ya missed yer bus.”
That guilty feeling hit my stomach again…or maybe it was all the sweets. I carried the box to Gideon’s van, because he insisted on taking me back to Belle Starr to grab my bag. On the ride, I pondered telling him…I really did…but it was too complicated…too much for a “Oh, by the way” as I was heading out of town. When he dropped me off, he gave me a big hug in the cab of his truck, but he wouldn’t step out with me.
“Me bein’ friendly an’ givin’ a feller a ride to th’ hotel…no one’ll blink an eye at that,” he said, chuckling softly. “Me steppin’ out an’ huggin’ an’ kissin’ a boy th’ way I wanna hug an’ kiss you? Well…that’s more complicated.”
I looked at his big, friendly, open face. “Gideon, I…”
He held up a hand. “Carey…I could tell all mornin’ somethin’s been eatin’ atcha. You got some secret stuck in yer craw that you think you oughta tell me…maybe yer a lil street hustler from th’ city…maybe there’s no Uncle Gordy…” He shrugged. “I’m th’ last feller who’ll hold ya guilty fer keepin’ a secret. I kept mine my whole life from pretty much this whole dang town.” He patted my shoulder. “It’ll keep…whatever it is…it’ll keep until next visit.” He looked me in the eye. “Assumin’ there’ll be a next visit?”
I found my smile spreading, and I nodded to him, happily. “There’ll be a next visit. And…”
“An’ maybe you’ll tell me then…or maybe not. It’s okay. If you do, I promise it ain’t gonna hurt me.” He blinked and looked suddenly concerned. “I mean…it ain’t, is it? You ain’t radioactive or nothin’?”
I laughed, despite my concerns. “No…it’s nothing that’ll hurt you physically.”
He grinned at me. “Then whatever it is, we’ll work through it, when yer ready.”
I hugged him one more time, then hopped out of his van. He smiled at me warmly and started to pull away, pausing just a moment to call out, “You make sure yer Uncle Gordy gits some o’ them peacn rolls now, y’hear?”
“Yessir!” I promised him. I collected my bag from a suspicious-looking zebra at the bell station of the Bellet Starr, then headed to the bus stop, giving a wave to Aunt Flo as I walked by the front window of her diner. I didn’t miss the bus this time, although it was really tempting. I was one of only a few folks onboard and the only one boarding at my stop. I took a row to myself at the back, and stretched out, feeling satisfied and happy.
As I munched one of the pecan rolls (none of which would ever see anyone who might’ve passed for Uncle Gordy), I thought about how this missed bus had led to a new friendship. I truly felt like I’d met someone…a lover I could be myself around. I was sure that on the next visit, I would tell him all about myself. And I hoped he’d be able ot open up and tell me more about what had happened to him. I think everyone needs a confidant in their lives who can free them to really be themselves. And now Gideon and I had each other.
I finished the pecan roll, set the box aside, and leaned back, watching the trees roll by through the bus window, letting my eyes lose focus until I finally dozed off.