“I don’t get it,” came Lydia’s voice over the cell phone. Brandon cocked his head and narrowed his eyes in irritation. The scenery was stunning from his Adirondack chair on the covered deck, but all he could see in his mind’s eye was his work wife playing with her hair and looking at him through narrowed eyes like she did when she thought he was being a putz.
“Fortunately, you don’t have to get it.” He flicked a pine needle from his jeans. “I’m totally fine with this arrangement”
“Bran…when you go on a weekend getaway with someone, you share a room,” Lydia chimed with her maddening tone of expertise.
“He’s not comfortable with that,” Brandon snapped. “I’m pushing him enough as it is. We’re meeting each other halfway. Lay off, will ya?”
“Okay,” she said in the voice that meant ‘I know better, but fine—it’s your life.’ “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I know that.” Brandon softened his tone. “But no relationship is without its risks. And right now, this is what I want.”
“Alright, Boo. Just…be careful.”
“It’s two days. We’ve spent most of our waking hours outside of work together anyway.” He poured another cup of coffee from the carafe on the table next to him.
“Waking hours,” Lydia muttered.
“I’m going now. See you day after tomorrow.” Brandon unceremoniously punched the ‘end’ button and shoved the phone into his back pocket. The day was bright, the air was warm, and the scenic valley below him was gorgeous. He wasn’t going to be mother henned out of enjoying this trip.
He was just settling back into his novel when Anthony came clomping onto the deck sporting a Lycra biking outfit and a glowing face.
“What the hell are you wearing?” Brandon said, grinning as he turned his book down on his lap.
Anthony grinned and collapsed into the chair next to him. “You didn’t know I packed this? I told you I was biking this weekend. They have amazing trails here.”
Brandon widened his eyes and nodded in mock agreement.
“I’m sure they do.”
“Come on. Don’t just sit up here. I mean, the view is great, but you gotta get out into the nature here.”
“I have no problem with nature,” Brandon countered. “But I won’t be biking and I certainly won’t be wearing…” he waved his hand haphazardly up and down the length of Anthony’s body, “that.”
Anthony chuckled. “I’m going to change, then you are going to meet me out front and we’re going to walk the lake trail before lunch,” he said gently, but firmly. He put his hand on Brandon’s leg. It was the most intimate he had been willing to go in the last few weeks, but Brandon wasn’t about to complain. Having Anthony look at him in just about any way was enough. Brandon smiled.
“Okay. If you insist.”
Brandon was wiping his sunglasses on his shirt and squinting at the tall conifers that flanked the resort building when Anthony came down the front steps. Brandon arched his eyebrow at him.
“I thought you said you were going to change.”
“I did,” Anthony protested, extending a leg. He had swapped out his three strap cycling shoes for the green Skytop Vs. The tall tongue hugged his shin. Brandon shook his head in surrender, and the two started toward the trailhead.
“If you want to dress that way in public, who am I to stop you,” Brandon muttered.
Anthony burst out laughing. “Bro, we probably won’t see a single soul on the trail. It’s quiet up here. That’s why people come.”
The shrubbery opened off on the right and afforded a sweeping view of the lake, today a deep sapphire in the high May sun. The two stopped and watched an orange kayak slowly cross the choppy surface. “Angela texted this morning,” Anthony said as he stared across the water.
“Oh yeah? Marbles okay?”
Anthony shrugged. “I’m sure. He’ll live forever. She was texting about the house.”
Brandon turned and faced him, an expectant look on his face. Brandon took all forms of feedback on the transformation of the house to heart. It wasn’t exactly how he wanted to have done it, but considering every aspect had to fall within the very narrow confines of Anthony’s approval, he was damned pleased with the result and willing to defend all of it.
“And?” he prompted with some impatience.
“Obviously she was impressed,” Anthony said looking at him sidelong. Anthony grew quiet for a moment. “She asked who my girlfriend was.” He waited for Brandon’s reaction, but he didn’t exhibit one.
“Yeah? How do you feel about that?” he finally asked, overturning a rock with his shoe. Anthony turned from the lake and started back on the trail.
“Like I’m going to have to figure this out soon.”
Brandon came up along side him. “What do you mean?” He fought to keep his tone level in spite of nervousness welling up inside of him.
“I know we said no labels, but the world doesn’t work that way. People want to label things. We can’t pretend forever that our families’, our coworkers’, and our friends’ opinions don’t…matter.” Anthony focused on the winding path ahead. Brandon grabbed a tender birch leaf and plucked it from its branch, smelling its minty fragrance.
“I’m your good friend. I designed your house, we hang out, and sometimes we fuck. That’s all true, and it involves no labels,” Brandon said simply.
The path sloped downwards, plunging them closer to the surface of the lake. The trees closed in on either side, shading the path in a dark green dappled light. The were approaching the southern end of the lake, which was tipped by a narrow inlet surrounded by a wooded bog.
Anthony stopped next to a fat log, resting a Supra on it. He turned toward Brandon.
“Are you really good with that?” he asked, bordering on incredulous. “Are you okay with just being me ‘good friend.’”
Brandon found it hard to look Anthony in the face. It was kind of like looking a dog in the eye—it could be seen as aggression.
“For now, yes. I’m okay with it,” he said softly. His eyes fell on Anthony’s sneaker, the soft green high top nearly the same color as the undersides of all the mayapples that surrounded them like a sea of tiny verdant umbrellas.
“Why?” Anthony shook his head, perplexed. “I’m obviously not enough for you. I can’t—“ Brandon put a hand up to his mouth.
“Stop,” he commanded softly. “I’m okay with it because I get to be with you, moron. I’m fucking crazy about you. I won’t say the L-word because I promised I wouldn’t do that, so I’m just going to skirt all the way around it. And I don’t care that you can’t call me anything more than ‘good friend,’ right now. Wanna know why?”
“Why?” Anthony asked, searching his eyes.
“Because I get to do this.” Brandon grabbed Anthony’s crotch. He could feel his cock through the Lycra shorts.
Anthony locked his hand over Brandon’s wrist. “Not here,” he said low voice.
Brandon smiled up at him. “You said so yourself—no one is around.” He glanced around and his eyes fell on a weeping willow near the water’s edge, it’s canopy a yellow curtain that hung to the ground. “This way,” he said, pulling on Anthony’s hand. Picking their way amongst the soft ground and fallen limbs, the two pushed into the relative seclusion on the willow leaves. Brandon backed against the massive truck of the tree and pulled Anthony toward him, caressing his now stiffening cock through the material.
“Those shorts seem pretty breathable,” he muttered as he crouched before him. He ran his hands over Anthony’s shorts, down his powerful legs, and even over his shoes, which gave him the same familiar thrill that it did that night so many months ago on Anthony’s old sofa. He paused with his hands on the synthetic uppers, enjoying Anthony’s warmth that radiated from them.
“What are you doing?” Anthony asked softly.
Brandon looked up and gave him a little shy smile. “Just a little something for me before I do a little something for you.” He turned his attention back to Anthony’s bulge. He nibbled at it playfully with his mouth while Anthony gasped. Then, pinching it just enough to give him enough space through the tight material, he pulled the head of Anthony’s penis from its resting place against his groin and took it in his mouth, sucking through the shiny porous fabric. The Lycra itself had an odd flavor, but the familiar sweetness of Anthony started to seep through. Anthony leaned back he head and ran his fingers through Brandon’s hair.
“Oh my god, what are you doing?” he groaned, his face upturned toward the treetop.
As it was difficult to get truly good suction through the fabric, Brandon improvised with his teeth, running the edges of the along Anthony’s shaft. Anthony began to sway with Brandon’s rhythm. Out of the lower periphery of Brandon’s vision, he could see Anthony rising and falling, the heels of his high tops lifting and lowering to the soft ground. With each gentle thrust, the tongues with their round eye openings bowed toward Brandon as Anthony’s legs bent.
“This is fucking insane,” Anthony whispered as Brandon could taste another wave of his precum surge through the Lycra. As he pulled pack, running his teeth all the way to his glans and then delicately pinching it, he saw briefly a glimpse of the marshy shoreline of the lake beyond, where the willow branches hung and the mayapples parted to reveal an unblemished expanse of thick black mud. It was just steps behind Anthony.
Brandon craned his head up to see Anthony’s eyes closed, head still back in ecstasy. He saw his chance to have his cake and eat it, too. He started a round of intense thrusting, taking the soggy Lycra bulge in and out of his mouth as quickly as he could. Anthony’s body responded to the new tempo, and he began to whimper.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” he said faintly as he squeezed Brandon’s shoulders and the milk bloomed from his shorts. Brandon pounced. He placed his hands on Anthony’s pelvis and gave him a shove. Still mid-orgasm and completely unprepared, Anthony stumbled backwards, his heels coming perilously close to the swamp at the lake’s edge, but stopping short. “What the fuck?” Anthony cried, still panting, semen running down his shorts. Brandon blinked, not knowing what to say. He hadn’t expected his plan to fail.
“Sorry,” he said eyes to the ground. “That was a moment of selfishness that came over me. I don’t know why—“ he stopped. “Sorry.”
Anthony stared, his shoulders still rising and falling with his breath. He looked around and saw the thick black mire at his heels. He closed his eyes and ran his hands over his face. He looked back at Brandon, that dreaded tired expression on his face. “Come here,” he finally said, extending a hand toward Brandon. Brandon stood and tentatively stepped forward, looking at Anthony’s beckoning fingers. “Jesus, just take my hand already,” he cried. Brandon slipped his hand inside Anthony’s, interlocking his fingers with his. It was the first time they had held hands. Both of them looked at where their bodies joined. “You really do love me, don’t you?” Anthony finally said.
“So much I can’t stand it,” Brandon confessed.
Anthony smiled. “Then I guess I need to be sure that I’m speaking your love language.” He stepped back from Brandon. Instantly, his sexy green Supras practically disappeared into the soft ooze. Both men looked down as Anthony lifted a foot, the green synthetic upper now laden in heavy black paste. The weight of it pulled the shoe right off of Anthony’s black crew socked foot and fell with a loud splat back to the ground. Anthony chuckled. Brandon moaned. Anthony dug his foot back into the high top, the struggle to slide it back in pushing the shoe deeper into the sucking mud. The black heel of his sock had just kissed the black ooze when it slipped back over the lip of the shoe and thudded softly into place inside. Anthony crouched before Brandon, the toes of his sodden shoes shoving into the marshy ground, and slowly undid Brandon’s belt. Brandon’s heart pounded.
“Are you sure? You’ve never—“
“Hey,” Anthony stopped him, raising a hand. “Relax, I got this.” And pulling Brandon’s erect cock into the spring air, he brought it into his mouth, circling his tongue around it. As he worked, the back and forth movements of his body forced his shoes deeper. Brandon stared down, entranced by Anthony’s shoe tongues as they bent forward further and further until they, too were obscured by the mire. Anthony didn’t flinch. Even as the boggy earth had seeped into his socks and started overflowing the tall heels of the sneakers, he focused on Brandon, who didn’t last but a minute or two before he had exploded inside Anthony’s mouth.
Together that sat side by side. Anthony’s shorts were drying with a curious film on them, and his green shoes, though rinsed in the lake, were no longer the vibrant green they had been. The rested in the sun next to Anthony’s bare feet.
“You said ‘love,’” Brandon marveled out loud after the birdsong had filled their ears long enough.
Anthony shrugged. “It’s a word. And I didn’t use it in the way you want.”
Brandon turned to Anthony. “But you let me use it. That’s the point.”
“Yeah. And I didn’t mind it, either,” he admitted. “Maybe I’ll get there, too. You know, to where I can use it.”
“There’s no rush,” Brandon said quietly, looking out over the lake. A family of ducks drifted by.
“I think I’m worth it, you know. Waiting for.”
“You’re worth it now,” Brandon retorted, squeezing his hand.
“Want to try sleeping in my room, tonight?” he asked, following the ducks with his gaze.
“Of course,” Brandon said simply.
And the ducks swam on until they were barely brown specks on the vast blue surface of the water.
Shoe Horny 