emails from the fishing front

To: GroupModerator@/redacted/
From: MarkyMark69z@/redacted/

Hey - I stumbled onto your group after a guy on a dating site posted the URL in his personal. Wow - I thought I was almost alone with these feelings or these kind of experiences! Sorry it took so long to find out about you! Anyway - let me tell you about the "other guy" who's occasionally the new constant in my life.

My step-sister is a year younger than me. She got married a few years ago & her hubby ended up in the Middle East very soon after in "Operation Enrich Halliburton". Soon after receiving his orders extending his glorious term defending us from Obama SinLaden, - he was injured when a "makeshift explosive device" went off under the right front tire of the transport he was in. He was sitting in the rear to the back and on the left side -- which means that he did not receive a glorious spot on the memorial wall, -- but a stay at the VA hospital & early discharge with a PTSD diagnosis.

He and my sister reside on the outskirts of a large US city -- in suburbia. I live on the outskirts of a large national park with lots of park-quality terrain around me in the places that the park isn't. And, the fishing is totally great.

About 6 months after "Brad" came home -- events (the specifics I am still not aware of) involving his PTSD somehow led to my cell phone ringing. It was my step-sister who told me the story & left the specific details a bit sketchy -- all in a proposal about having "Brad" visit me to "get away from it all". She couldn't come along because of her job. The doctor suggested at least a month.

Well, let me tell you that despite the fact I live on the edge of nowhere -- that my little piece of nowhere borders on the periphery of "Somewhere". Somewhere is about 30 miles away; -- & being a good look'n guy with a Bowflex -- I have managed to make a few "fishing buddies" that I have regular bouts of weekend good times with involving more than just the flys we fish with. And in these parts -- it's "g0y" by default. Yeah -- we're so "hick" that we don't give diseases to the other dudes in the "cock-cuddl'n club" (not an official club for those trying to G00GLE it). Yeah, where I live -- plowing another guy's ass - is still the practice of "CitySissies" & "Inbreeds". And among ourselves -- we even have an attitude of cockiness about our prideful prejudices regarding such matters. Yeah. Imagine. No, it's not Heaven (you have to drive a bit further down the road to get there), -- but we get some of the spillover.

Sorry to get sidetracked -- but the geography of my life tends to promote such things. Anyhow - I agreed to let "Brad" come share rural America & the best fishing this side of Jackson Hole. I did it - despite the sneaky suspicion that "Brad" was going to crimp my style. I told her that I'd hide all the hand grenades & that he couldn't bring his own -- but he himself was welcome to come for an extended stay over. What I haven't mentioned is that "Brad" is just under 25 & is so virile in actions & appearances that at their wedding, I almost said "I do" when the question was asked. Men like myself work at look'n good. Men like "Brad" cause spontaneous orgasms when they appear publicly. Short blonde hair, blue eyes & a muscular body that is so naturally hard & toned that I suspect that he's made out of a sculpted hard-on. Oh, and to make the picture any more perfect; --He's the kind of guy that parents want their daughters to bring into the family. Yeah - solid personality & a streak of cocky confidence mixed into a form of humility that best friends are made of. I tried not to think of Brad & my sister very much -because jealously is not a virtuous emotion. So, if I tell you that saying "yes" was a decision riddled with conflicting emotions -- You'll understand what I mean.

I live almost 2 hours from the closest airport. Brad arrived at 3:36 PM on May 1st. It is a date I will never forget because it was the beginning of the end of life as I knew it; --and I'm still so unsure of the direction it has taken -- I don't yet know if I have any "regrets".

Brad's flight to the "edge of Somewhere" had (3) layovers. He was exhausted from his trip -- so we didn't talk about too much on the 2 hour trip back. I did take advantage of the few occasions he dozed off to scope out his beauty. Even the light scars he had from shrapnel looked great on him & the slightly heavier scars (on the back of his hands & arms) spoke of "bravery" -- which, of course, is a desirable masculine trait - and hence -- attractive in it's own light. Overall -- I was slightly more muscular than Brad & probably outweighed him by 5-10 pounds because of it. However -- his body was astonishingly toned & properly proportioned. Everything fit together so wonderfully that any specific reason for his appeal eluded me. And yet combined with his extreme masculine projection -- there was just a hint of naivety in his demeanor & his perfect face was manhood's perfection mixed in with just a hint of moral innocence. His personality was indeed mirrored on his sleeping face; -- & I considered what inner turmoil might be in conflict with his personality - if being a soldier had meant doing things in contradiction to his expectations of the job.

Getting back - I showed Brad to his room - across the hall from mine & sharing a master bath between them at the hall's end. The next day, he got up at 6AM sharp & found the kitchen. Oh, did I mention that he could cook, too? I was up by 6:30 with dreams of omelets taunting me. Soon, the dream became a reality & perhaps it was the 1st lesson I got while Brad was there that dreams could indeed become reality ... but I'm getting ahead of myself again.

We spent the day on the lake fishing with a break from the boat to make camp on one of the many small islands to eat what we'd caught. Brad really loved "fish stalking" & I knew that he'd fit in well with the other fish fanatics on the lake. We got back at about 7PM & I prepped the firepit in the backyard before getting cleaned up. By the time I got inside, Brad was done showering, etc., & I made use of the bath to remove all traces of the day's activities. By the time I was done doing that, he already had a salad made & the fish frying on the firepit. I'll spare you the bonding details of conversation's specifics & how I enjoyed listening to him talk, story tell & watch him move that body of his around as he animated his accounts with expression & impressions. I brought out the beer and he gradually downed 5 to my 1, and eventually 10 to my 2. At which time, he was visibly happily intoxicated & all full of appreciation about me "lett'n him stay with me & stuff..."

We called it a night around 10. We sorta got ready for bed at the same time & having lived with other guys, Brad didn't seem to mind sharing the bathroom or leaving doors open at the expense of personal privacy. Ahhhh yes. At 11, I had finished relieving the hard on I'd had all day - thanks to Brad being himself around me & I went into the bathroom to take a piss & wash up some. Brad had left the bathroom door to his room open & the light on. He was breathing loudly -- punctuated with an occasional half snore. Looking in was a sight meant for artist's eyes. He was in the raw -- passed out on his bed on his back with an arm under his head & his left leg off the bed's edge - heel to the floor & his right bent at a slight angle showing off his large leg muscles. Across his legs, abdomen & chest were numerous small scars that resembled what might result from high speed glass or metal cutting various length paths across the skin at high speeds. His sternum, pecs, neck, & face seemed to be generally unaffected by the light scarring; -& this is when it dawned on me that he must have put his arms up - close together covering those areas when an explosion went off. This explained the same type of scarring on his arms -all showing injury in the same direction as projectile movement. As I gradually moved closer -- with the excuse that I was going to turn the light off if he woke up -- I took closer stock of his injuries -- at least the hints of what he'd been thru.

I'm no "Rain Man", but there must have been nearly a hundred scars or so averaging an inch - some longer at the same general angle across the front of his body. They were fine lines at this point - barely noticeable against Brad's olive skin. A lump formed in my throat when I noticed several of the same tell-tale lines crossing his manhood -- from balls to within a half inch of the top. As a guy -- that's a painful empathy to share with another. That's gotta mess with your head - being bombed & learning that your dick got slashed up too. Other than "Born on the 4th of July", --you don't hear that scenario discussed much. I suspect it happens a lot more than the recruiters let on. DragonSkin Inc. needs to design a jock if it already hasn't.

Despite the pattern of scars -- I just stood there admiring the most beautiful man I'd ever seen up close and I hoped with all my altruism that the deeper scars would heal as well as those on the surface had. Becoming a little bolder -- maybe as a result of empathy -devoid of any sexual feelings to challenge the purity of it -- I covered Brad with a sheet & even lifted his leg up to mattress level where I placed it beside the other. Brad's only response was a slight sigh. I turned off the light & quietly went back to my room.

The next morning before 6:30, -I awoke to the smell of food again. Hmmm...'I could get used to that'...I thought to myself. Like before -- Brad was in the Kitchen. Fish & home-fried -- "while the fish was still fresh" he explained to me. That day was a repeat of the previous -- except that today it was cloudless and my complexion turned brown & Brad's became slightly red. Because of the sun, I spent the day in shorts & Brad -- feeling at ease to let his hair down (not that he kept it long enough to let down) -- dressed the same. That evening, Brad managed to drink most of my vodka. What would normally last for several weeks was history & Brad did a repeat of the previous evening -- telling me a little more about "home" than the night before and going into details now that he was feeling truly accepted & comfortable. He said I was a good listener.

Shortly after going to bed, - I was awakened by loud groaning coming from Brad's room. Like the previous night -- the lights were on & he was in the raw -- but obviously having some horrible nightmare in his sleep & sweating profusely with tears coming out from the sides of his closed eyes. All the scars -except those that had been protected from the sun - were very red (scar tissue has no melanin to protect it). It seemed that if I woke him that he should at least have the darkness to cover himself with -- so that he wouldn't be self conscious with his nudity or the signs of his emotional distress. I reached over and pressed the light switch making a soft "click" as it moved to the "off" position. In the second between the "click" and the light from the bulb dimming the room to dull grey; --In his sleep, Brad's reflexes brought his arms together - covering his sternum, neck & face -- as he instantly curled into a ball on the bed in full fetal position & let out a terrified groan --muffled by his arms.

"Brad: It's a dream.", I spoke in a voice of certainty as I knelt by the bed. "Brad: It's only a dream. Wake up, buddy." He sat up & looked around in the dimly lit room. I repeated: "It's only a dream. You're OK - here with me, Bro." He was shaking & choking back tears as he looked in my direction. "It's a dream, Brad. You're OK." I reached out with my right hand & still shaking, he took it & that's when I pulled him a little bit closer. Taking the cue -- he reached around me with both arms & as I moved up to sit on the bed -- I pulled him into a firm hug where he proceeded to bury his face into my shoulder & "let it all out." Honestly, I couldn't make out most of what he was saying. He was just crying too hard. I just hugged him, nodded, groaned in empathy occasionally & gently kissed him around the neck & head every few minutes as he dumped his feelings. It was about 2:30 when he regained enough composure to talk without falling apart. I got a bottle of anesthetic sunburn lotion & as he filled in the details, I treated his scars - one drop of lotion, one red line at a time. He explained that in Iraq on the day of the accident -- he'd heard the click of the detonator & known instantly what it was -- which is why he'd raised his arms to shield his face. Out of the 10 guys in that vehicle -- he'd been the only one to make it out alive - although he didn't remember anything after the click until waking at the hospital with people taking shrapnel out of him using tools like ultrasound, magnets & not nearly enough local anesthesia. He said that for weeks afterward they were finding pieces of debris to remove & sometimes cut out of him. Whoever had made some of these "bombs" were using things like surgical/carbon steel & spent uranium in the construction. As a result -- the high speed debris cut through body armor & vests like a hot knife thru butter.

It was only after he knew that I was totally empathetic & on his side that Brad finally told me the last obstacle that was wrecking his life: His words were, "I can't feel my dick." & then he explained how the explosion had cut him there too. I told him I'd noticed some scars - but didn't want to pry into his personal business. Brad explained how the urologist had told him that feeling might gradually come back as things healed up -- but to date: everything was numb just before the half-way point. He explained how my sister was very supportive -- but he also suspected that she might be having an affair off to the side with a guy she worked with who seemed to call a little bit too much about "things at work". It was then he began to crack emotionally again & say that he didn't really blame her -- considering. He added that after over a year -- that the only thing it did was sometimes hurt some & get hard unpredictably.

Because I have an anatomy & physiology background, -Brad mentioning the "hurt & hard" detail cued me into the possibility that things were healing -- just slowly. I mentioned that it sounded like things might be healing & if he could get to orgasm -- that he should be able to feel that just fine because orgasm happens primarily at the base of a guy's balls. The goal was to get him there without needing the upper half of his shaft to do the promotions. Since he was drunk, -I was not as inhibited as I might have normally been. I told him to close his eyes & let me know when he began to feel something. He complied & I slowly ran 2 fingers down the length of his shaft. I was past the bottom scar when he softly said "There".

I told him to bear with me as I continued slowly downward to the base of his balls & then gently circling & fondling his large testicles as I asked him "Feel this?" - every few millimeters. Then I put the heel of my hand on the bottom part of his shaft & applied some gentle downward pressure & moved about half an inch down & then back up his shaft. His lower jaw dropped some as he quietly took a deep breath. His entire dick began to rapidly grow hard as I slowly continued repeating the motion. Another minute passed & his breathing was deeper - punctuated with soft groans & sighs. I continued to proceed with slow, deep pressure - back & forth half way down his shaft to the base of his balls. Some more time passed & some harder twitches were felt beneath the heel of my hand - each twitch causing a him to gasp some. Over the next few minutes, each twitch began to force out a few drops of pre-ejaculate as Brad began to groan louder with heartfelt appreciation mixed in.

At this point, Brad was more than willing to follow my lead as I kicked my shorts off so that I was in the buff & slid down beside him. Rolling him over so that he was pec2pec, balls to balls with me I told him that he just needed some lov'n from someone who knows & appreciates how a guy is built. As I wrapped my arms around his lower back, he wrapped his around mine & pressed his balls firmly against mine with an arch of his back. I wrapped my legs around the back of his for better control & began to make love with him balls to balls - slowly -- letting his responses direct the encounter.

Knowing at this point that I was totally OK about him 'getting off' - lowered his remaining inhibitions and his deep throated sexy man-groans punctuated almost every exhale -- except when slightly higher pitched - more frantic moans took their place -- usually each time the muscles from deep in his balls spasmed as they mixed the contents of his prostate & foreshadowed ejaculatory inevitability. Sweat covered him & coated his manskin - slickening the little hairs that covered him in his essence. His arms around me were hard & firm and the muscles in his ass slowly alternated in hardness as he jockeyed for the best positions to press his balls into mine. However, it was with my cooperation that the base of our balls would meet, roll over each other & move back & forth -- like two sticks being used to create a fire. Finally, both globes of his ass tightened & he ground his pelvis forward deeply, -as he let a louder, frantic, emotional groan escape. It was more than I could take - as I began to shoot my load - slickening up his cock'n balls as I mashed the mix along the base of his shaft; -- The pressure, heat & timing of my movements causing his orgasm to rip his composure away as he loudly groaned & cried-out in ecstasy through an intensely messy, productive nutting session. In addition to his extremely masculine physique -- Brad was one of those guys who makes a major mess when he shoots - disgorging a very large amount of hott cumm that plasters & drowns the vicinity of his cock in a thick mucilage of musky man-sauce. Sure, it was probably because he hadn't nutted since his injury -- but piss'n that much cumm was just another physical trait that made him all the more admirable as a man.

For the next couple of minutes -- there was a constant flow of groans & tears as he savored each productive twitch from deep in his balls that caused his dick to slowly vomit wave after amazing wave. It was undoubtedly the most awesome, personal thing I'd ever helped another guy through. Holding, rubbing & cuddling him in the afterglow was pretty rewarding on an emotional level, too. The guy was so handsome that simply being wrapped up in him was like a drug. His afterglow consisted of hugging me & telling me "thank you" every few minutes as he hugged me tighter & kissed my head, cheek, ear, etc. I let him know that he was a great guy, & I was gonna help him "get thru all this"...

We ended up falling asleep --Brad half draped across me face-down with his right leg over my lower body & arm across my chest & head on my right pec. I had my right arm under him - wrapped up around him in a continuous, firm hug. Since I was a light sleeper, - when he moved in his sleep, I was able to accommodate his positioning changes. Moreover -- whenever it seemed he was drifting into a disturbing dream (or tensing in response to a bad mental image) -- increasing the pressure of my hug brought him around just enough to know that he was with cuddled up with a guy of formidable physical condition who had his proverbial back covered.

At 7AM, his small alarm clock tweeted for about a minute before giving up. I could tell that he was awake -- quietly thinking. Since his head was still on my right pec, - I moved my head & planted a slow, affectionate kiss on his fuzzy scalp & ratcheted up the force of my hug. He squeezed me back -- like he was trying to make sure it was for real. I softly kissed him on the head again & repositioned my hands - stroking his skin beneath the calluses on them as I moved. I could hear his breathing begin to pick up & feel his heartbeat begin to race as he slowly scratched his stubble against my chest. Half draped across me, the feel of his hard-on against me was soon obvious. Taking the initiative, I lifted him up some & slid him pec2pec, balls2balls against me & just slowly cuddled him making sure to help keep the pressure firm -- but constantly shifting at the groin. I could feel him leaking pre-jizz all over my navel area & his skin was wet with perspiration. His pulse was race-horse fast & his movements were a little shaky from the amount of adrenalin dumping into his system. No hurry ... it was only a matter of time at this juncture.

Slow & firm. Tender & thoughtful. I was in no rush to coax out his orgasm -- & it was precisely this approach that made all the difference in the world to Brad as the intimacy of the act (not the mechanics) steered his responses. I already knew -- the best love making is a body wide experience where the act slowly conquers a guy's nads and makes them give a luv-confession in the form of a helplessly surrendered orgasm. Brain 1st, balls follow.

I 1st heard about "the technique" from my cousin - John. He once had a girlfriend (now his wife - go figure) who had decided she wanted a baby & she decided that John was gonna help make it happen. From his story, she got one of those kink kits that lets you tie your partner down to the bed, & tricked him into helping her "set it up". Once she had him tied -- she got him naked & point blank told him that she wanted a baby & he was gonna be "Daddy". John wasn't a guy to simply give in to something like that without taking the initiative himself -- but - tied down in the buff with his hott girlie laying on top of him whispering erotic suggestions in his ears eventually turned out to be too much. Like he explained it -- he knew if he did the deed without his dick wrapped -- he'd probably end up with 'support payments for the next 18 years'. So he fought it -- thought about anything else to keep his naked dick from getting hard, -- but all she did was lay on top of him & kiss, lick & nibble on him wearing him down to where he got too tired to keep his back arched & swelling dick-head out of the "cave entrance". John had a sizeable dick, -- so his GF's initial goal was merely to give him a semi. He knew in his minds eye that once his semi grew long enough -- she'd have him trapped. He said he tried to fend it off for over an hour -- but finally exhaustion & mental stimulation took hold. Once his dickhead was in her "front door", that it was just a matter of time before she'd lured it completely inside. And so, - she simply laid there - with his seduced cock gently captured in her man-trap & growing to full mast - climbing instinctively inside of her (& taking his real-will captive along for the ride). As he explained: Just the sensation of having his cock in a hott, wet snatch -- with her on top of him telling him how 'close he was getting her' -- well -- eventually he couldn't hold it back any more. The hard slow throbs being seduced out of his cock were gradually increased in tempo & intensity as a billion+ sperm petitioned the nerve endings for freedom ... until he finally ended up surrendering his seed to her in the most intense orgasms John said he'd ever had. While porn mags make it look like the guy needs to be a human-jack-hammer to get off; -- The fact is that being turned on - w. mental images of the inevitable cycling in your head - is a formula for intense, involuntary orgasms that a guy's dick will inevitably succumb to given enough time in the right frame of mind. John's GF milked 3, condomless, unprotected nutt-gushers out of him over the course of that night. Twins (yeah...go figure) was the payoff! John said that he realized that the best sex is sex where you don't focus on making it happen -- but on the raw eroticism of the experience of being with a hot lover. Slow & firm. Tender & thoughtful. "Build the moment & he will come...(whether he wants to or not)!"...

In any gender-context -- John's advice made sense; -& I'd come to realize that lots of guys really appreciate the esthetics of a toned, buff male body -- & that the biggest factor preventing guy2guy intimacy is the slightest suggestion that being close will in any way diminish the guy's masculine reputation. Friendship, trust, respect & unconditional love constitute the framework for deeper physical intimacy between buddies (& getting a few beers into the guy sometimes helps if he's wound too tightly). I had a few "fishing buddies" whom I'd taken the initiative to further educate in these matters; -- & whenever I'd get together with one -- the unspoken presumption was that the day would end w. both of us naked in the same bed - pec2pec - with our kissing dicks having the final word. Best friends with "benefits" - might be one way to say it. Now I know enough to call it "g0y". We all knew that it was OK for guys to love each other as guys; -& the most intimate way 2 guys could express affection, admiration, acceptance & mutual appreciation was to get the each other off (as long as doing so didn't proxy either guy in place of a woman). Women were a different matter & to be treated with a different mindset. But, being guys -- we knew that loving on an adult level was a subject that interested our dicks -- regardless of who the subject might be.

Having the right attitude about proper "context" was the most important issue & we (my closest buds & myself) generally agreed that "GAY" didn't have a clue to this "proper context" - so we shunned the term. That mindset might seem odd to guys who don't understand the importance of "proper context" (usually the same guys who don't understand concepts like "mutual respect"). Consider: They say that pigs are most similar biologically to man (which is why school biology classes dissect pigs). However -- in social circumstances -- even on a landscape covered with pigs, --I choose to distinguish myself by acting as the man I am (& not emulating the more numerous pigs). After all: Men were my role models -- not pigs. I knew the difference, but sadly, it seemed that "gay men" were more often then not -- seduced by the "democracy of pig mentality within the 'gay-male community'". Many are the followers of the leading fools. So, we reasoned, "Why risked being confused as one of them by association"? I drew the line. I distinguished myself as separate. I chose the high road & detested any association with the vulgar. And within that mindset -- I found that my closest male friends found a proud comfort that distinguished itself with respectful humility that was love's guardian. And the ironic part of it all was that we knew this by instinct, -- but fewer than one in a hundred men can frame it in words!

Now, something deep inside of Brad's heart had awakened to the profound realization that our form of intimacy (among men of good conscience) was a wonderful dimension of the deepest friendships - a form of intimacy that echoed of military bonds (because it addressed matters of heart as serious & profound - at least on a personal level). Brad was living artwork -- the beauty of which escapes description. Words tend to describe static objects, but part of Brad's indescribable aesthetics were coupled to the way his body moved; -- In the way the muscles under his skin rippled & alternately shifted in response to the waves of pleasure radiating from his groin & sex-twitches. The specifics of what precisely made each movement beautiful are beyond the ability of mere words -- probably in the same way that words cannot do a dancer justice. His flexing haunches & the way the small of his back changed shape as we slowly jocky'd our locked pelvises for positions to ever increase satisfaction - the moment defying words -- perhaps not even in photographs (although I've tried on many occasions). His strong, perfect feet had been reduced from coordinated tools for balancing his stud-body -- into helplessly seduced limbs that now merely telegraphed the frenzy of signals from his amorous penis into a series of spasms & curls along their length with the most expression at his pleasure-drunken toes. His deep voice was an aphrodisiac in itself as he softly groaned & sighed in a resonating timbre that telegraphed his state of arousal in ever increasing intensity. Finally a deep inhale was followed by a deep pitched, partially sighed groan -- cried out -as his body stiffened & pelvis pushed harder against mine. I complemented his maneuver by slowly grinding my lower pelvis against his & increasing the pressure against the locus of his orgasm -- joining it with my own. The timbre of his deep groan changed to reflect the intense pleasure he felt as the strong muscles at the base of his cock rhythmically contracted to squeeze wave after wave of his man-load out of his quivering love cannon in an intense series of voluminous, powerful gushes. Even the mess he made was beautiful -in an erotic context -as a surprisingly large pool of jizz formed between our kissing abs & began to drool down along my obliques onto the bed sheets. Soon his muscular body relaxed some -- with his breathing punctuated by sighs - as his dick continued to emit orgasm-aftershocks -each one catching him off guard with it's brief pleasure spike. Eventually the sensations abated -- & his attention rested on the slow massage I was giving to his recovering man-form. His only comment about the experience was "Wowwww.....".

Brad fell asleep again & awoke about an hour later. As if nothing out of the ordinary had gone on, we made small talk & swam, fished, worked out & discussed everything from building porches to sky-diving. The only subject that didn't come up was the one I knew had to -- at least eventually. That night, Brad downed a few shots & seemed to do it in a way were he was sure that I saw him down them. He went to bed and about half an hour later, I got ready to. Going to my room, I noticed that the pillows were missing from my bed. Looking in Brad's revealed that they were on his bed. Nonverbal -- but an unmistakable invitation. I shut off the light & crawled onto his bed in my birthday suit. The movement awoke him & like we'd been sharing a bed our whole lives -- he snuggled up to me & I guided him back on top of me as before -- face2face, pecs2pecs, balls2balls. He seemed more relaxed than previously & was more affectionate reciprocating caresses, cuddles & gentle kisses. Our pace was totally slow - as before & Brad's orgasm was ultimately just as beautiful & intense. While I can't be sure of all the reasons, -- my feelings were much stronger for Brad than my other buddies -- which seemed a little strange because I loved them all. Brad, made my heart flutter & preoccupied my mind in the extreme & to the exclusion of fantasizing about any other guys. Love comes in flavors. I suppose it makes perfect sense. I'd just never had "Brad-flavor" up until now.

The next day was a minor variation of the previous: No mention of shared nights, -but lots of friendly interaction. I figured that I'd let Brad set the tone on this matter --seeing that we had several weeks to discuss it. That evening - after eating, I went to the living room & cued up a divx file video that I'd downloaded from the Internet. It was a version of BrokeBack Mountain that had been edited to cut out the butt-sex scenes. Those changes put the movie in an entirely different light --one that I didn't mind keeping around on a little 1-Gig flash memory. Brad had never seen the movie. He leaned up against me early into it & I eventually had to pull a cushion over to help support his head as he laid across the sofa's width with his feet up & head on the pillow on my lap. The end of the movie really moved him - the sense of loss against the memories of the way things had been -- the only thing left being a few reminders of the mountain's real significance. It was a few minutes after that Brad told me about a guy in his outfit who he'd been getting close to & how that guy was one of those killed on the mission that injured him. He didn't know if there was something wrong with him & the way he felt towards certain guys -- until he'd come to visit me & we'd "gotten closer as friends". I took some time explaining that the reason why men hooked up with each other in such discretion was that that "fa99s who did the parade-circuit" brought such shameful stigma-laden contempt on the concept of male/male closeness that the only way to avoid the threat of community gossip was to avoid being the target of it or any vile imaginations it could conjure up (using guilt by association as fuel). Fa9s pounded ass, dressed in drag, spread diseases, & acted like eccentric women; -- And even those who didn't seemed too tolerant of those who did (to the demise of their own reputations). It wasn't a group that me or my buddies wanted anything to do with. To me -- any guy that wore the "gay label" had essentially cut his own social-balls off -- at least any chance of hooking up with guys who had pride in having a pair. Fortunately -- I'd figured this out years earlier & realized that lots of guys need some help to build up the confidence to do with their best buds what they're wanting to do in the back of their minds. Discretion wrapped in bullet-proof respect - was the key.

We talked for hours. Brad said that he knew the feelings -- but had never been able to put them into words. He said that it was like "shifting the way you thought about things to exclude what needed excluding & accepting the things that you had never actually rejected in the 1st place". He agreed that identifying buttsex (& other things that made a man into a bad version of a women) as grossly objectionable & utterly rejecting those aspects - created a clear break between acceptable vs. unacceptable behavior. And it turned out that acceptable behavior (luv'n , touch'n, squeez'n) was never objectionable when framed with the right attitude & with a guy that you admired & thought was "hunky" to some degree. It seemed to me that most guys had pretty high standards for the guys they were willing to hook up with; -- And part of that was a mindset that firmly established masculine demeanors & standards of appropriate manly behavior -- without ever hinting at blurring the line between proper attitudes towards men vs. intimacy with women. With such a mindset -- a man who was "totally straight" (if such a thing actually exists) knows that his buddies will always respect his masculine virtues; --While a guy who appreciates certain guys on a physical level knows that his dignity as a guy won't be disrespected with any guy he's with (& vice versa) --even if an encounter leads to extreme physical intimacy. Such hard-core devotions to masculine virtues seemed tragically absent in the guys who gave/took "it" up the ass. Not only did they lack fundamental respect for masculinity -- but had no remorse regarding their indiscretions -- & actually encouraged others to sink to the same levels or worse (birds of a feather ...). The need to utterly reject the gay-male community's complicity was obvious when seen in that light. It's what set us apart. It's what made our way of being friends work so well -even with guys who were involved with women or had families. Each man & his life's affairs mattered; --& a part of being a "best friend" was to be a bastion of support for your male friends by letting each live his life as he saw fit & standing in the gap when a buddy found himself needing support - whether financial, material, emotional, etc. "Semper-Fi" binds hearts; -- but men being who they are often bring their dicks along; -& we were OK with that.

We basically came to the understanding that our doors were always open to each other (unless circumstances or previous plans were to get in the way). From that point on -- we took full advantage of that policy & Brad was usually sporting wood when the hook-up was a given. He reasoned that it was because hooking up with another guy was more exciting -- more hott & by it's nature - just a little more dangerous (since the person in your arms is someone who could probably pummel you senseless under different circumstances). He also observed that our affection for guys wasn't merely for any or every guy , --but only those men who embodied the mannerisms & appearances that made a guy desirable as a guy: The proverbial "StudMuff'n" with a good physique, respectful attitude & atmosphere of self-confidence that stopped just this side of being arrogant. We bonded deeply with guys who'd be offended by the "lisping, limp-wristed queen-type of stereotypical fa9". Any guy scoping a guy's a55 in order to make a female proxy of him was also loathed as a pervert we'd open a can of whoop-a55 on at a moment's notice. And these things were instinctively known by us. Lov'n a stud-buddy involved being accepted by the stud-buddy & being trusted to embody the extreme levels of personal respect, discretion & knowing where the boundary lines were.

Many were the casual acquaintances of handshake-limited circle of male friends. But, what so many guys like us were also looking for were those traits that made a man stick out as a solid character -- somebody who could be trusted & added to the inner circle of tightly mortar'd souls that were more open, intimate, tender & honest with each other. Sexuality on that level was an act to telegraphed to each the desirability as an equal. It was totally accepting in an atmosphere where a guy was willing to trust the most sensitive parts of himself with another guy -while he himself accepted the other & demonstrated gentle affections tailored to make the other feel the intensity of the bond's scope. It is a form of deep relationship that we suspected that all men want -- but are afraid to approach because to the accusation's against it's potential for deep fulfillment -accusations inferred thru the scripts of "gay-pornographers" & "gay-activists". Like fine wine -- it only takes a drop of sewage to contaminate the entire batch -- & this is why our relationships with other guys were so exclusive & why our innate standards were so high: To stop society's cesspools from creeping in. So thick was the wall of protection -that the biggest epiphanies that each of us had experienced was realizing initially that there was indeed a form of male to male intimacy that could be shared among men of good conscience without anyone being exploited, degraded or paraded.

And -- to those of us who had realized the possibility - we had other guys in our lives whom we loved deeply. We shared everything from food to finances, --& among those friends - were those we looked forward to sharing a bed with. It was powerfully erotic to be naked with a handsome, muscular, powerful being who had dropped the curtain of his masculine-guard in order to reciprocate physical & emotional closeness with a man he had similar feelings about. Being wrapped up in such a guy was like feeling the full force of "male-strengths" move back & forth thru the bond & made each empathize with the other (in & outside of the bedroom). It was a feeling that was beyond brotherhood; -created by intimacy that needed to be guarded from the eyes & musings of the uninitiated & emotional-ignoramuses that seem to pen commentary forever about their perceptions (about the vulgarities of "form" with none of the substance). It is without a doubt that the pornographic-mindset is the enemy of society; -- Because what society esteems the highest is what the pornographer corrodes with an acrid pen & vulgar framing. Perhaps ever sadder are those who fail to write beautiful erotica because of fear of being accused of being pornographic. Fuck the minions of the "Church-Lady". Understanding the differences matter. Relationship matters. Integrity matters. Intention matters. Vulgarity is concerned only with the mechanics of an act. Integrity is concerned with fulfillment -- & it harnesses the physical to edify the other. Love, like Law, - is often grossly misrepresented by those who don't understand (or blatantly disrespect) it.

Wrapped up in my nightly cuddle, - Brad stopped having bad dreams, - and as they lost power -- so the symptoms of his PTSD diminished greatly. I soon became familiar with the pattern of every scar on his body & he described the ones on the inside. They were worse - by far. He described scenes that never saw broadcast air time & told of events that were censored by government - w. threat of force if necessary. The news that hit the airwaves in North America wasn't news at all -- but a dog & pony show to keep the money flowing for the "War". And the mass media was generally complicit with the giant fraud. It was all about making Iraq a puppet government of the US in order to secure the oil fields & manipulate them with hidden financial strings & political subterfuge. All the expertise of military psyops was directed at the population of the US in order to keep the citizenry clueless as to the real costs of the "War" & the actual reasons "we" were over there. When high IQ'd liars are put in charge of propaganda against a nation's own people -- then no lie is too big to tell & no proposition is painted as an affront to common sense -- because "common sense" is attacked with the same venom & made to appear the "enemy" of patriotism.

And so night after night -- I made slow, gentle love with a buddy who had offered his best for his "country" & discovered that he had been lied to in so many ways that he'd literally lost count. His injuries -- outside & within were constant reminders of how readily willing power was to sacrifice US forces in order to craft a system of guilded control. Brad said that the lawless now hide behind the appearance of law & use lies w. judicial corruption to crush legitimate criticism. He also had come to believe that any American who volunteered for military service was either grossly misled, or a blatant traitor against the Constitution. I discovered that the Internet was the only information source that countered the flood of lies that the big media vomited in near unison. Together we discovered living patriots & great men like Alex Jones, Aaron Russo, Dylan Avery, Joseph Banister, Bernard Von NotHaus, Tom Cryer, Larry Becraft, Dave Champion, & Robert Schulz. Thanks to wireless Internet & my laptop computer, -there was constantly something playing in the background sure to educate & astonish. As we looked over material, watched documentaries & examined copies of legal-process, -- the picture being painted was astonishing and the general feeling was that our world was much different that we had imagined it to be; -- & evil was much more entrenched. Wisdom was not as much in knowing answers - as it was knowing the right questions! The time went far too quickly.

Finally, it was Brad's time to "go back home". Things didn't look good for him & my step sister. They had issues that had grown too tall that their time apart didn't seem to dissolve. By the time Brad was ready to leave -- they had basically decided to do a no-fault divorce & have arbitration divide what needed dividing. Next time I'd see Brad -- he'd be driving a U-haul in my direction. It was like waiting for my birthday presents. I hadn't felt like this in years!

While I still lack many answers about the dynamics of male bonding & the different types of friendships; -- I do know what it like to find someone who I've bonded so tightly to that I feel a hollow sense of loss while separated from him. He is simply the most lovable guy I've ever known. And in all of our self-discovery, -we discovered this thing called "G0Y". Now there's a term to attach all these feelings & philosophies on. Thanks.