Strangers

The temperature stood at 70 degrees under the late morning sun. There was a mild breeze from the west. Green foliage reflected off the pond. An occasional bird flew from branch to branch. A hare or a squirrel occasionally darted across the footpath. While I was in the woodland other walkers populated the asphalt trail, some with their dogs.

I had been walking along my favorite trail for several minutes when I spotted a hunk clad in denim shorts and dark v-neck teeshirt about 50 feet away. His dark-brown hair framed a diamond-shaped face. His eyes held my eyes as we closed the distance between us.

An arm length away we both stopped face to face. My eyes shifted taking in his toned body.

"Good day for a long walk," he remarked.

"Yes it is," I replied.

"Are you out here often?"

"Just weekends," I replied.

"I'm Ken."

"Gerry," I replied.

I could not help notice his camera equipped with a rediculously long lens.

"Do you shoot photos professionally?"

"Just a favorite hobby. I work at Raytheon as an engineer. What about you?"

"I work in a hospital as an MRI tech."

"You put patients inside those noisy tubes?"

"We provide ear protection."

"Good to know," he quipped.

"Did you just finish college recently?"

"I graduated college 4 years ago. I served in the navy before starting school at Wentworth."

"Your tatoo gives that away."

"OH this," he replied, gesturing to his right forearm. "I got it at little shop in San Diego."

I calculated his age to be 26.

"I started at the hospital three years ago. My mom's a nurse practitioner there."

"Do you mind if I walk with you?"

"Not at all," I replied.

He changed direction.

We kept a slow pace. He talked about his hobby, his days in the navy and a little bit about his job.

"I'd love to see some of your photos."

"They're posted to Facebook. Look for Ken Longstreet. Send a friend request and I'll accept it."

As a young boy I was interested in the American Civil War, a topic I still occasionally read.

"There was a Confederate general named James Longstreet. He came from North Carolina."

"I never did an ancestry search."

"Just an interesting coincidence," I mused.

"I'll give you that."

"What did you do in the navy?"


"Navigator."

"Was that your ship's home port?"

"Yah it was. I liked the city. I liked a place called Pecs there."

"What's Pecs?"

"(It's) A small tavern, a biker bar. A guy could cruise men there."

There was no mistaking the implication of that phrase. A wave of relief washed over me as the words "cruise men" hung in the air. My days in college came to mind, as did Alan. On the other hand, it can't hurt to come out to Ken.

"Alan and I shared a dorm during freshman year. He was my boyfriend back in the day."

The experience with Alan James had taught me to pace a relationship slowly. His roaming eye and willingness to watch porn led me to believe that I would be better off single, or at least not in a relationship with him. Sophomore year found me with living in a single occupancy dorm.

"What happened?"

"I caught him kissing another boy."

The days that followed saw us falling into easy conversation at a variety of venues: a pizza shop, coffee shop, my balcony or his, footpaths through the woodland. Before long it seemed as though we've known one another for a lifetime.

He turns out to be from the west coast, specifically Washington. His father had served in the navy along with a maternal uncle. That same uncle went on to take a job at the ship yard in Bremeton as an engineer.

A month had passed since our first encounter by the pond. My phone had buzzed with a text while I was at lunch with coworkers Laura and Janette. I'll wait until I'm home before sending a reply.

The time was coming up on 3 30 when I reread the text. It turned out to be a dinner invitation at a seafood place where he had eaten on several occasions, just not with me.

From the entrance I spotted Ken waving from a booth so I joined him there. Our server turned out to be approximately my height and probably in her twenties. Long dark-brown hair hung to her breasts.

"My name is Melanie. I'll be your server."

Melanie returned with our lobster rolls. We took our sweet time eating.

"I got this," said Ken, putting his plastic on the table.

"Thank you for the meal."

"My pleasure."

As we walked out of the restaurant his fingers became entwined in mine. We stopped and heads turned. He put a soft tentative kiss on my mouth. I responded in kind releasing all the pent up passion that built up since the breakup with Alan. I was throwing caution to the wind instead of protecting my heart. A hand stroked his hair while the other hand stroked his back. His hands found my waist. For several seconds nothing or no one else mattered.

We broke apart slightly breathless at the sound of a loud female voice.

"For heaven sake guys GET a ROOM."

Who ever had spoken to us was walking away.

That I'm gay is not exactly a revelation. Though not effeminate, I had mentioned that fact to coworkers in MRI.

The next day at work I was to find out who saw me kissing Ken.

"Good morning Gerry," said Laura.

"Good morning," I replied.

"New boyfriend," she asked.

"We met a month ago."

"Ken Philips is my cousin."

Small world. I gave a questioning look.

Has he been out to his extended family for a long time?

The sun was low in the sky when I came to his apartment after work on Friday. The building, trees and light poles were casting long shadows.

Inside, his place looked much like my place. Photos hung on the livingroom wall. A potted faux cactus stood in one corner. A paperback novel of gay romance lay atop a glass-top, triangle coffee table with walnut legs.

We settled into the gray fabric sofa close enough to touch. The touch led to a deep kiss. His arms were draped over my shoulders and mine around his back.

We dashed to the bedroom, shedding clothes with each step. Just seconds later I found myself lying on his bed. One calf rested beside his neck putting my heal against his scapula. The other calf crossed over his thigh near the knee.

His large cock slid in and out stretching my hole. Grunts escaped my throat as my ass tingled. My dick lay semi-hard against my abdomen. My eyes held his eyes.

"Don't take it out. It feels too good."

Wearing only my briefs, I sauntered into the kitchen on Saturday morning while my new boyfriend was brewing coffee.

"Would you prefer eggs, pancakes or oatmeal?"

"Surprise me,"I replied.