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New Beginnings, Chapter 3
Reply to Alex ParrishPosted to the RoswellSlash mailing list October 6, 2003
Part:3/19 "New Beginnings"
Author: Alex Parrish
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Katims, Metz and the WB. No infringement is intended. I own nothing, Trust me. Suing is futile!
Distribution: Roswell Slash Archive/Others Ask
Rating: X? Explicit sex and language
Spoilers: Nothing in particular and seasons 1,2,3 in general
Thanks: To aunty_mib, Beta extraodinaire, eh!
Summary/General: The lives of the 7 primary characters for 9 months after they leave season 3.
Summary/Chapter: Kyle recounts the story of his first sexual encounter with Max and the start of their covert relationship
The Camping Trip
I promised myself that I would try to recall and write down the story of the first time Max and were intimate. Liz promised me that re-living it would be a "wonderful experience," or, so she said. I'm going to try.
It was the weekend before my birthday; before the day that Alex died. During the week that followed, Tess would murder Alex, with my unwitting help, Liz would decide that an alien did it and I would have to side with her against the aliens, pitting me against Max. Liz would break-up with Max (again) over her alien conspiracy theory, and Michael would be pissed at Max for not controlling Liz. In other words, all hell broke loose. But the weekend before -- well, decide for yourself.
"What rotten luck", I thought to myself. For the first time in 2 months I had the whole weekend off from Toby's, but since I just found out at the last minute, I had no plans. Dad was busy, as usual, and Tess had gone shopping with the girls. "Oh, well," I thought, "I'll just chill and do a few errands around the house". I decided to start with washing the car and began to get the bucket and sponges and chamois together when the doorbell rang. As I came from the kitchen, I could see through the screen door that it was Evans. What did he want? I opened the screen and said, "Evans, what can I do for you?" in a way that, I hoped said ("I really don't want to see you.")
He did his little 'aw schucks' shuffle while looking at the ground routine, as if he is afraid to look at me, but then, he looked up and actually almost smiled, sort-of.
"Kyle, Ižm all packed for a camping trip with Michael, but he is mad at me and chose to work this weekend instead. I just thought that maybe you... Well, you once said to me that we ought to bury the hatchet and get to know each other better, so I thought you might like to go camping with me. That is, if you're free, of course."
I was dumbfounded. "Now?"
"Well..., yeah, in 10 or 15 minutes; I need to run to the drug store and pick up some sunscreen, but I'll swing back here for you then, and we can hit the road. I know this is short notice, and I don't know if you already had plans, but I just thought, maybe..."
I looked right at him while I tried to think of a good reason not to spend time with Evans on my only free weekend, but quickly realized that I had zero plans, and that I hadn't been camping in quite a while, and maybe going with Evans wouldn't be so bad. Then there was, of course, the other matter; the reason I had been avoiding Evans for months now, and trying to act indifferent to his presence. Did he suspect? Could he tell just by looking at me that the mere sight of him set my heart pounding?
I heard myself saying, "Sounds like a plan. Just make it 15 minutes and I'll get my gear together; Dad and I bought a new tent last year and only used it once -- hežs always too busy-- well, you know how it is." (Damn -- why on earth was I revealing this family laundry to Evans? Keep your mouth shut Kyle.)
"Great!", Max actually smiled -- this time a big toothy grin from one giant alien ear to the other. "See you in 15. No need to pack food -- I packed for two." He turned and jogged to the jeep, which did, indeed, look like it was packed and ready.
I turned and headed back into the house, thinking to myself; "What the hell have I gotten myself into? I just spent two months avoiding him and have reached the point where I only dream about him 3 or 4 times a week, and now Ižm going to spend the weekend with him? Alone! Kyle, Kyle, Kyle, where is your self-control? Where is your serenity when you need it. Damn! I hope I don't regret this."
I tore around the house like a madman, grabbing what I thought I might need, and scribbled a note for dad which only said "Gone camping for the weekend with a friend. See you Sunday nite. K." I saw no reason to tell dad I was going with Evans; he would find that a little odd and plan to interrogate me on Sunday night. I figured this would buy me a little time before I had to tell him who I went camping with and if it turned out to be a disaster, I might never have to mention who I was with.
Evans was back in about 7 minutes. I was ready in 6. Was one of us anxious, I wondered? I threw my gear in the back of the Jeep and jumped in, trying to add a little humor by pointing ahead and commanding "full thrusters, engage!" Evans didn't get it; or didn't think it was funny. We hardly talked at all for the hour-and-a-half it took us to get there. Fortunately, riding in the Jeep with the top off and listening to tunes on the radio made it almost impossible to talk anyway. When we got to the area where we were to leave the Jeep, we mostly just agreed on how far we would go tonight and who would carry what. There was more silence as we hiked in to find our campsite.
Once we reached the campsite, we managed some small-talk about setting up the tent. I gathered firewood and was about to go look for some kindling when Evans grinned and said, "Don't bother." Then with a flick of his wrist, there was a roaring campfire. Note to self: Aliens are better than matches on camping trips. At least, theyžre better for building fires. So far, we had pretty-much avoided talking to each other for more than 3 hours. We had picked a campsite, put up the tent, cooked dinner and were about to sit down to eat, and I just couldn't figure out what we would talk about. I hoped it wouldn't be about Liz Parker because I had begun to realize that I had less and less to say about that situation as time went by. I could bring up school plans, but Evans and I had little in common there; he was Honor Roll -- I was a football jock. Then it struck me; I could ask about running -- I had seen Evans running around the track at the school plenty of times -- he wasn't on the track team, but he clearly had a runner's gate and build.
"So how's the running going?" I ventured.
"How's the running going? I see you out on the track early sometimes. Howžs your time coming?"
He finished chewing. "I don't time myself."
"Oh. You training for distance?"
"I'm not really training at all, I just like to run. It relaxes me."
"From what I've seen, you're pretty good. You should go out for the track team."
"I'm not really the 'TEAM' type."
"Oh." I could see this was going nowhere.
We ate in silence for a little while, then both spoke simultaneouslyž "This is good..." "It's nice out here..." We both gave a nervous laugh.
I decided on another approach. "Evans, I've gotta tell you that I was surprised as hell at your asking me along on this little jaunt. Ižm still not quite sure why you asked me."
He looked at his food for a moment , as though he thought the answer might be there, and then put it down on his lap as he turned to me and spoke. "I told you, Michael stood me up."
"Yes, you told me that, but of all the people in Roswell, why me?"
He stared at the ground again, deep in thought. "Fair question. We haven't exactly been 'buds' over the last few months have we?" I've had a feeling that you have been avoiding me for the past few weeks or so. You are the only person to know our secret who treats me like an adversary and I don't mean about the Liz thing. I guess I hoped I could find out why that is so."
I didn't know whether he could raise my body temperature with those mile-deep brown velvet eyes, but I felt my face turning red with the heat. What did I expect? I had started this conversation, and he had taken the bait. Now we had to finish it.
"Well, you like to get right to the point, donžt you?" I was stalling for an answer.
"You got me there. I guess you're right. I think maybe it's the whole alien thing -- it kind-of creeps me out." (That seemed like a plausible lie.)
He paused a moment then quietly asked, "Are you afraid of me?"
"Afraid? I don't think I know enough about your powers to figure out just how afraid I should be. I don't think it's that."
He jumped in, speaking very quietly, "Kyle, you donžt ever need to be afraid of me."
"I know, I know. Dad has said that again and again. I don't know, it's just..." I was out of steam on this conversation unless I wanted to talk truth, and I wasn't ready for that yet, so I just offered, "I'll try to be a little less negative around you, OK?"
He took my cue and let the subject slide by. We managed some talk about our plans for tomorrow and where we would hike, and how far. We were beginning to lose the light as we cleaned up from dinner, and decided it would be best if we turned in and got an early start.
He snores. Quietly; but still, he snores. Who would expect that of an alien? Now, in all probability, I snore too, but then, I'm not an alien. I was deep in thought about this as I finally drifted off to sleep.
He was up first; had the fire going and some food nearly ready. Yes, he had brought his Tabasco sauce along. Ižm not much for talking in the morning anyway, and he wasn't chatty, so we ate, packed up and headed out with very few words passing between us. It was a perfect day; not a cloud to be seen and the New Mexico air so pure and sweet that just breathing was a pleasure.
He led the way, which was fine with me, because he seemed to know the territory. Once in a while, he would stop to point out a rock formation, or plant, or animal or insect, and I was rather impressed by the range of his knowledge. I guess honor-roll does that to you.
As the sun grew higher and the temperature rose, Evans stopped and took off his backpack to strip off his shirt. I wished to myself that he hadn't done that; now I would be staring at his back muscles peeking through the pack-straps as we hiked, and they were definitely going to engage my imagination. I steeled my mind against such thoughts and quietly hummed my mantra for a few seconds. Then, I followed suit, stripping off my shirt, but, before I could replace my backpack, Evans came at me with a plastic bottle in hand.
"Sunscreen." He announced. "With a fair complexion like yours it's extra important. Turn around," he commanded. I complied. He began rubbing the cool lotion on my back, starting at my shoulders and working his way down to my hiking shorts. His hands were smooth and strong, and I gritted my teeth, hoping this wouldn't take too long. Then, unbelievably, he barked, "Turn around." I complied. He was rubbing the sunscreen onto my chest.
In a million years, I couldn't imagine him doing this. I couldn't imagine any man doing this. He worked deliberately and without a hint of concern or embarrassment; as though rubbing lotion on my chest was the most natural thing on earth. Did he linger around my nipple? I closed my eyes and stifled a moan. Did I shudder, or did I just imagine that I did? He was moving down to my abs. Thank God I was wearing loose-fitting hiking shorts so that I didn't think he could see my rising 'interest'. His fingers reached my belt and made no move to go under it. I was feeling a little lightheaded.
"There," he announced, as though he had accomplished some daunting task. "Now, you do me." He passed the bottle to me.
I was afraid he would feel my fingers trembling as I began at his shoulders; smooth, hard muscle, covered by silken skin. I moved down his delts and worked my way down towards his belt line. Wordlessly he turned around, obviously expecting me to give return service. I was sure he could see me trembling now, couldn't he? Time moved in slow-motion as I rubbed the lotion onto his muscular chest. I had seen quite a few muscular chests before, but his runner's body was sinewy and hard and displayed each and every muscle to perfection. There was a little patch of hair between his pecs. I (innocently, I hoped) massaged one nipple, and by the time I got to the other it was hard. I pretended to take no notice. I moved down to his carved six-pack and noticed a "happy-trail" heading south of his hiking shorts. Did I see some movement in those shorts? I couldnžt be sure. As I reached the belt-line, he said "thanks." and took the bottle from my hand, put it back in his pack, slung his pack on, and moved out as though nothing was unusual. My knees were weak for 20 minutes. I thought I might fall over at any moment. Then, we just hiked on.
Half the day passed, and I have to admit that I was genuinely enjoying myself and, yes, his quiet company. We rested and ate and I even took a short snooze before starting out again. We were climbing a small outcropping of rock when, suddenly, I lost my footing and stumbled, sending a mini-avalanche of loose rock down the incline. I didnžt fall, but I wished that I had. When I straightened up, I was face-to-face with a very angry rattlesnake who had been hiding under one of the flat rocks I had dislodged. His rattle started immediately. No wonder, because, as I looked around, the snake was cornered; no way out except through me. This was a worst- case scenario.
"Oh...... Shit" was all I could manage as I froze.
Evans turned just as the snake was going to nail me, and before I knew it, the rattler was flying -- above my head and about 50 yards down the trail to some soft sand, where it landed and headed off in the other direction, top-speed.
"Are you all right?" he called out as he came to where I was still frozen. He was grinning, and I didnžt really appreciate the grinning, but I was damn glad he had been there for me.
"I...,I think so, just a little rattled." I tried to be humorous to match his grin.
"You scared her. She was more frightened than you, but not much." He was still grinning.
"So Ižve heard. 'Doesn't make it less scary for me. How'd you know it was a female?"
He shook his head, "Don't know; I just sort-of knew."
I became aware that my body was now catching up to my mind, and I felt cold and clammy and my hands were trembling. Then, I hurled. I seem to have a habit of doing that when I am upset. Ever since I was a kid, my stomach has demonstrated the presence of trouble in my mind. I was embarrassed, but not surprised. Evans took a few steps away and turned his back to give me some privacy, which I was thankful for, but then came back at me with a handkerchief.
"No, thanks; got one." I croaked out when I stopped vomiting. "I just need to sit for a minute." He pointed out a shady spot with a big rock and we made our way over there and, after checking for snakes, I sat down. After a few minutes and assurances of my restored health, we prepared to resume our hike; him in the lead as before.
"Wait, Evans...,uh, Max...." I stumbled for the words. "This is the second time you have saved my life. I just want to say; I..., I ... "
"I know." He offered a little smile, then turned and headed out. I followed.
The rest of the afternoon was uneventful except for the ravishing magnificence of the landscape. We managed more small talk about the events and observations of the day as we setup camp for the night. I have to admit that I was considerably more comfortable being there with Max than I had been the previous night. Somehow, our silence was comfortable; like old friends.
We finished eating and cleaned up and were just sitting quietly, looking into the flames and listening to the silence around us when I decided that I wanted a celebratory drink. After all, wasn't being saved from a rattlesnake a cause for celebration? I fished the flask from my pack and returned to the fireside with it.
"I got a little hooch here, but I don't suppose you'll be wanting any?"
"Why not? You said that you liked the drunken Max better that night when you got me drunk. Maybe you'll like me better tonight too. But I thought you gave that up when you took up Buddhism."
"You know, the Buddha once starved himself nearly to death seeking enlightenment, but ultimately discovered that aestheticism is as useless as hedonism in seeking enlightenment. He chose the middle way. I figure, if I do it in moderation, it's probably not going to hinder me."
"OK," he grinned, "Let's do it."
"Hey, itžs your body, but Ižll share my poison with you if you want."
He took the flask and drew what appeared to me to be a long swig.
"Easy there, buckaroo, you know this stuff hits you hard."
"I just took a little." he held up his finger and thumb to indicate just a pinch. In truth, he admitted later, he had taken none at all, he just wanted me to think he had so that I would feel more at ease with him.
I had no such inhibitions. I wasn't drinking to get drunk, but I was enjoying the buzz. Max didnžt ask for any more.
"Kyle, I need to tell you something."
"Oh-oh is this the 'real Max' coming out again?" I said it teasingly, but the expression on his face was serious. My tone sobered a bit; "What is it?"
"The night you were shot..." he paused.
"Yeah, go on."
"The night you were shot, when I healed you, I kind-of saw things. Things about you. Things in your mind."
That sobered me up. "What kind of things?" I had suspected that he had shuffled through my thoughts when he healed me, but I was, frankly, afraid to ask. How much did he really know?
"Well, for one thing, I know that you ARE afraid of me, but that it is not because I am an alien."
"Well, that's just peachy," I tried my most sarcastic voice. "You get to rifle through my grey matter and find out all manner of things about Kyle; all Kyle's deep, dark secrets, but you get to remain the alien enigma. The mystery man. The mysterious Max. Did you invite me here to blackmail me?"
"You know I didn't."
"I know -- I KNOW? I KNOW diddly-squat about any of you, but you get to have free reign of my life to do with what you want. That's what I know." I had moved from zero to furious in 10 seconds flat.
"Kyle, I was afraid..."
"Bullshit," I said, "You aren't afraid of anything; you're the alien King with all kinds of powers. What have you got to be afraid of?"
"Youžre wrong, Kyle. I am afraid. Very afraid. Ižm afraid of almost everything you take for granted."
"Bullshit," I said again, "Just a poor, poor little alien, alone on a hostile planet. I don't buy it. What the hell have you got to be afraid of?"
"Kyle," his voice grew quiet and calm now, "Kyle, will you just listen to me for a moment? I've been thinking about this, and about how unfair and one-sided it is, and since you already know the big secret about all of us, I thought it probably wouldn't hurt for you to know just a little more."
"Wha d-ya mean?" (I thought, 'Damn! -- Ižve just worked myself up to righteous indignation, and he's all calm, and all about empathy. The little robot in my mind was waving it's arms and calling out' "Danger, Kyle Valenti, Danger!")
"Kyle, there's this thing I can do -- we can do, you and I, that will let you see into my mind in pretty much the same way I was able to see into yours, if your willing. If you really want to."
Geez - that surely took the wind out of my sails. He was offering a Vulcan mind-meld or some such alien voodoo. Was I ready for this? I hesitated.
"We donžt have to..." he started to turn away.
"Wait," I said, "You can DO that? You would do that with ME?"
He looked straight at me and held out his arms in a welcoming gesture. "Come here. For it to work I need to touch you, and I need you to look into my eyes."
He put his hands on my temples and held my face about one inch from his face. Where else could I look? For a moment or two all I could see was brown velvet, but I began to feel strangely relaxed and before I knew it I was having some kind of out-of-body experience. I can't really explain what I saw, but some of what I saw included; Max and me from above, the sky, stars, galaxies, fear shaped like ice, colors, purple, gold, black so deep that it made me move at light-speed, groups of galaxies dancing with each other, riding a meteoržs tail, planet earth from space, Max as a child holding Isabel's hand, afraid, 10,000 scenes from Max's childhood, all in a split-second; amazingly, I could feel what he was feeling, fear, love, longing, lust, fear, emptiness, desire-- Max with Liz, afraid, Max with Tess, afraid, Max saving my life, afraid, Max watching me watch him when we were 8, afraid, Max watching me at football practice, Max sneaking a peek at me in the locker room shower, afraid, and suddenly the brown velvet was enveloping me; or was it Max's arms? My entire body was trembling and I felt weak as a baby.
I realized that I was coming back to reality. There were arms around me -- Max's arms -- and I had my arms around Max, and I pulled him closer and closer and our faces were almost touching and then -- with a mild electrical shock -- our lips met -- I could feel the buzz move through my lips to the back of my head and then spread all through me, right down to my feet, and then I was fully awake and just standing in front of Max by the fire, where it all began.
"Wha ... what just happened?" It was a dumb question, but the only one my exhausted mind could form at that moment.
"I believe -- you just kissed me." He was grinning -- just like this afternoon when he rescued me.
"I..., I... donžt remember that..."
"Well," he was almost chuckling, "Lets give it another try and see if you can remember this one."
I was frozen in place as he approached me, drawing our bodies tightly together and suddenly the buzz was back and it flowed through me again, overtaking all other feeling. Our tongues were stroking each other and our bodies seemed to be trying to merge into one. The kiss broke off and the buzz left my body, and left it feeling very still and singular. We were silent for several seconds. I could feel the night breeze wafting between us. It seemed cold.
"You know, donžt you?" It was the only appropriate question.
"And now, you know too." He was no longer grinning, but looking at me with total intensity.
Once again we spoke in unison: "I was afraid that..." "I was afraid..." Max spoke again, first; "We were BOTH afraid of admitting to our selves and to each other how we actually felt about each other. You have been watching me for years, afraid that I would notice, and I have been watching you for years, fearing the same. When you finally became part of my life, I was afraid -- hoping against all hope that you felt something for me -- but afraid that you felt nothing. The first sign of hope was when I healed you and felt what you felt and began to realize how you really feel about me. But I also saw that you were as afraid of me as I was afraid of you -- kind-of like that rattler this afternoon -- and I hoped we could someday find a time to be honest with ourselves and each other. And then, there's the whole 'gay stigma' thing, and I REALLY donžt need to be attracting attention from people."
"Tell me about it -- Ižm a jock fer-christ'sake! I play football, I wrestle, I play basketball; I CANžT be queer! What would the guys on the team think?"
Queer or not, the word didnžt stop me from silently closing that gap between our bodies, and that empty distance between our lips. His kiss was intoxicating; much more so than the Seagram's in my flask. It wasnžt just the 'buzz' and the 'electricity' that accompanied the kiss; no, there was something else -- the feeling of 'right-ness' and 'complete-ness,' perhaps even serenity which went with it was a powerful force drawing me to him like a magnet.
I whispered, "Are you using some kind of alien voodoo trick on me?"
"Not unless you consider mutual lust an alien trick."
I could feel his hands slipping under the waistband in the back of my shorts and I liked the sensation. I placed my hands on his pecs; his nipples were stiff, like pencil erasers. He moaned as I touched them; or was it me moaning? I wasnžt sure -- didn't care. I put my hands behind his neck and drew his lips to me once more. He smelled of mesquite and scrub-pine, and the softness of his skin belied the hardness of his body, a hardness quickly echoed in my cock. Still under my waistband, his hands slipped around to the front and undid my belt and the button on my shorts, then he withdrew one hand from my waistband and began stroking up and down on the front of my shorts. I could feel the electricity in his hands right through the fabric. Now I knew for certain that it was I who was moaning. I slid my hands down his back and palmed two handfuls of his firm, muscular ass; an ass which had driven me to distraction many times in many classes at school. I couldnžt believe I was touching it now. He took his other hand from my waistband and pulled my zipper down. My erect cock tented out my boxers through the opening, and he grabbed onto it, still under the boxers and stroked it while his other hand began to slide under the waistband of my boxers. In an instant my hiking shorts and my boxers were both around my ankles. Suddenly Max was on his knees in front of me torturing my belly-button with his wet tongue. My cock was stabbing at his adamžs-apple. Without warning, his mouth engulfed my throbbing cock, sending shudders through my body. I placed my hands on either side of his head and my own head rolled-back on my shoulders in ecstasy. After an eternal moment he stopped.
"Let go of my ears -- I know what Ižm doing" We both laughed; it was an old joke found on many a men's room wall.
Our laughing had broken the spell for the moment. He stood up as he pointed out "Those hiking boots are going to make it next to impossible to get those shorts off, and, I've got the same get-up. How 'bout we take these clothes off and lie down in the tent?"
He didnžt need to ask twice.
To be perfectly honest, I had 'made-out' with quite a few girls, as I was a popular commodity with the 'in' crowd, but this was the first time making-out with a guy. I felt nervous and clumsy.
"First time?" he asked very quietly.
"Kind-of," I replied. "I got a couple of blow-jobs when I was at football camp, but I've never really ... like ... touched a guy."
He smiled -- it was not a derisive grin, but a gentle smile. "Youžre doing OK so far. Don't be nervous; it's not a performance and nobody's keeping a scorecard. Just do whatever feels good."
I'd like to say that his words put me completely at ease, but it would be a lie. I was still nervous, and I still felt awkward, but I at least had the sense that he wasn't judging me; that helped.
"What about condoms?" I asked.
"With anyone but me, you should always, always use a condom, but, aliens don't get human diseases, nor do we pass them on, and neither you nor I is in danger of getting pregnant, so you are safe with me."
From anyone else, that would sound like a line of hooey, but, somehow, I knew I could trust Max.
He kissed me on the cheek and whispered, "Lie down on your left side."
As I followed his direction, he crawled towards my feet and I suddenly knew what we were doing. This was another "first" for me, and I determined to at least give it my best effort. His erect penis seemed enormous, looming in front of my face, not that I had any erect cocks except my own to compare it too, and I surely had never seen my own from this vantage point. I gasped at the thought of getting it all into my mouth. I opened my mouth as wide as I could and greedily tried to jam the whole thing in. Of course, I immediately gagged and choked and began a gagging and coughing fit. God, I felt stupid, but he didn't laugh.
He just quietly said, "Not all at once; like this" and then demonstrated by licking the head of my penis like a popsicle. It sent shudders through me again and, in a moment, I followed his lead. He began a pleasurable-sounding moaning, so I guessed I was doing it right and continued. It then dawned on me why is penis looked different from mine; he wasnžt circumcised, and for a moment I tried to remember if any one on the teams was uncut. I could think of no one. I could feel his tongue concentrating on my own cock on the underside, right where the shaft meets the head. That felt unbelievably good, so I began searching for that spot on his cock. I knew that I had located it when he took his tongue off my penis just long enough to let out a gasp. It seemed to be the spot right where his foreskin was attached. I had my target. Meanwhile, Max had deftly relocated his tongue to my scrotum and was gently licking there, as he firmly worked my cock with his hand. I felt that I was going to explode at any moment -- and I said so.
"Not yet!" he commanded. He scurried around and pushed me flat on my back. After reaching into his pack and removing a penis- shaped bottle, he straddled me, right in the middle. He rubbed something cold and wet on my penis, and then reached around with his hand and put some on his ass. He grabbed my cock and guided it directly into his sphincter. He closed his eyes and threw his head back as he slowly lowered himself onto my dick. The sensation was amazing!
He then leaned forward just a little and commanded, "Look at me!" For just a moment I felt as though he was sucking my consciousness into those deep brown eyes, and then time seemed to stand still. He moved up and down on my cock, literally fucking himself with my cock, it seemed, for nearly two solid hours, while we both floated in a peaceful blueness. The only sounds I could hear were the beating of our hearts and Max moaning with pleasure. Then, without further warning, there was an explosion of cosmic proportion, and I realized that I, too, was cumming. Max was making a sound like the rushing of a tornado and I had the sensation that the mighty Mississippi was pounding its way out of my dick at 100psi., and I could feel his boiling-hot jism in a line all the way up my chest, and on to my face. I touched my finger to it and put it in my mouth. It really was hot, but not too hot to stand, and it was 'fizzy' on my tongue. It bubbled like hydrogen peroxide, tickling my tongue and throat.
"So that's what Martian cum tastes like," I thought to myself. Then, I think I passed out. I donžt know how long I was unconscious, but the sun had gone down when I woke. Max was collapsed on top of me, his hot breath scorching my left ear. In short order, I realized that I had lost the feeling in my legs, and was beginning to have trouble breathing.
"Max, move over; you're crushing me."
"Oh ." He rolled over and lay on his back to my left. "Sorry."
We made love twice more that night and morning; once cumming in each otheržs mouths (what a load of 'fizz!') and once again with Max on his stomach, and me on top of him, fucking him silly. I think he referred to that as 'Missionary Position.' I was secretly a little disappointed that morning arrived so soon, and Max was up and about, and that I had yet to be 'deflowered,' so-to-speak; that is to say -- I had still not been fucked. It would have to wait for another time and place and I hoped it would be soon. I was looking forward to it with high anticipation and utter fear. I told Max none of this.
We ate a quick breakfast, and set about breaking camp and cleaning our campsite thoroughly. When we were almost ready to go, I walked up behind Max and put my arms around his waist and spoke into his ear, "I had an un-fucking-believably good time. Can we go camping again tomorrow?"
He grinned. "We need to talk about that."
Panic and dread filled my soul. "About ... what?"
"Donžt look so frightened; it's nothing bad. Its just that we talked last night about how important it is for me not to draw attention to myself, and how important it is to you that the team not find out about us. We really need to be discreet. This needs to stay just between us, OK?"
"Well, I hadnžt exactly planned to call a press-conference."
"Good, and Ižm not going to tell anyone, not even Michael or Isabel, OK? Nobody but us! And I think it would be a good idea for you to continue to act like you don't like me, and I'll pretend to ignore you, OK?"
"But," I continued, "We can get together again, can't we? I mean, I hope this wasnžt a one-nite-stand, was it? 'Cause it's OK if it is, I understand (a lie) but I really hope it wasn't (the truth).
He turned to face me and, smiling, said, "Neither wild horses nor little green men could keep us apart." Then we had one of those wet, sloppy, hot, erotic, wild, alien kisses and the buzz stayed with me for the next hour.
We didn't talk much on the way back to the jeep, and then, it was impossible to hold a conversation when the jeep was moving down the highway, so those were almost our last words. When he dropped me off at home, we didn't even touch.
I said, "Thanks, 'bye."
He said, "No problem; See you later," and drove off without looking back.
Dad was home when I went into the house. Without looking up from the Sunday paper, he asked, "Have a good time?"
"It was OK."
"Who were you with?"
"Max Evans? Really? Kind of an odd choice to spend a weekend with. How was it?"
"Oh, you know how he is. It was OK I guess. Is Tess here?"
"Naw, she went to the Crashdown to meet Maria and that gang."
"Good," I thought to myself, and went into my room and sat on the bed and just breathed. I was suddenly feeling very alone and completely empty except for the spot where my heart used to be, and that hurt like hell. No doubt about it; I was in love.
Continue to Chapter 4
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