I.

Yes, the time had come. Not of my own choice but nevertheless inevitable, I was finally in a position to make the call. I flipped open my cell phone, typed in the letter "S" and scrolled down to the name "Slocomb Lumber." My finger trembled slightly as I pressed the send button.

"Good morning, Slocomb Lumber. This is Millie – how may I direct your call?" chirped a perky yet definitely mature female voice, professional yet reassuring and ever so familiar.

"Hi Millie, this is Vince Cargill."

"My, my, long time no hear! How have you been, Vince? I thought we'd heard the last of you when you got done with that probation job! You back working with the boys again?"

"I'm doing pretty well, Millie. And no, I'm still doing that new job placement position in Bangor that I left juvie for. No, this is more of a social call."

"Well it's good to hear from you! Russ is out but I can take a message and have him call you back."

"Actually, I can talk with Tim just as well if he's around."

"He sure is, Vince. Let me connect you to him. Take care!"

"You too, Millie, the place wouldn't be the same if you weren't there greeting us!"

"Aw, you're sweet as ever! Gimme a sec."

Russ Slocomb was the owner of Slocomb Lumber Company, a medium sized family business in Lincoln, Maine. His dad Jacob had built the business from the ground up with help from two brothers and a town full of good hard working men eager to benefit from the rich logging industry in the area. Russ worked in the mill as a teenager, earned a degree in business administration at the University of Maine at Orono and took his father's place when Jacob retired after a heart attack in '98.

Russ had the expertise to manage the economic aspect of the company, but his heart was clearly in having his hands on the wood and his heart with the customers. Shortly before his two uncles retired the company, Russ enlisted the help of Tim Cyr, a younger local man who had also worked his high school summer vacations at the company, had spent four years in the Marines, and returned to excel at economic strategies, bringing a degree from Russ's alma mater and a true love of number crunching to the business. Eight years Russ's junior, Tim and Russ clearly had a strong bond from the start and now, some sixteen years later, they were inseparable and even shared a house about three miles outside of town.

The voice at the other end of the line jarred me from my memories. "Vince Cargill! How the Hell are ya?" Tim was practically shouting, unusual for a man whose usual demeanor was studious and subdued. "Don't tell me you're back to beg more jobs for your juvie boys!" "I wouldn't keep torturing you guys like that!" I chuckled. Then more seriously, "You helped out a lot when I had some guys who needed jobs in that area and I don't forget that. I really appreciate you offering them the chance to get on their feet and learn the trade. You and Russ are the best in my opinion."

Tim was 38 years old with short cropped light brown hair, sculpted chin, steely blue eyes and a muscular athletic physique that showed readily through the shirts and ties he always wore to work. Dimples chisel his cheeks and, despite his intensity, his smile could melt the hardest hearts.

"If it wasn't for your confidence in them, we probably wouldn't have tried ‘em out," Tim returned almost reverently. "I hope you know that two of them still work here in the yard – have families – they're doing really well. But enough ego stroking and ancient history - what brings you back into our lives, my friend?"

I wasn't really quite sure how to begin. Taking a deep breath, I started, "You know how the way we all worked together sort of opened the door for you both to talk about some things about yourselves that wasn't common knowledge in Lincoln?"

After a few seconds of silence, Tim answered, "I know what you're talking about, yes."

"And you were both very supportive when I told you that I had more in common with you two than I wanted to let be known about myself." By now, my voice was trembling a bit.

"What's going on, Vince?" I could picture Tim, sitting at his desk, elbows on the blotter, staring straight ahead with that concentration of his, an expression of concern on his face that belied a mind reaching for answers yet to be revealed.

"Well, some things in my life have changed over the last couple of months and I'm wondering if the invitation from so long ago is still open," I blurted and immediately felt more vulnerable and exposed than I had ever experienced before in my life.

Tim's voice remained at the same intensity yet his concern also held compassion. "Are you alright?" he almost whispered.

"I think I will be but other than one friend here in Bangor, I don't know where to go to figure this out."

"You're coming here. The invitation is still open, Russ will be thrilled to have you and we'll help you get through whatever it is that's going on, OK?" His combination of authority and caring was all I needed to know that I had made the right call. Just then, a sound on Tim's end of the line prompted him to say, "Hey, Russ just got in – gimme a second!"

Tim muffled his receiver for a few seconds after which another familiar voice came on the line. "Vince, my man! It's about time we heard from you! Tim just told me that you've got some shit going on. What's happening?"

Russ is 46 years old with a swimmer's build and a shaved head to minimize the fact that he started balding in his early twenties. His height and weight would make him look frail if it was not for sinewy muscle tone and a mat of body hair that started on his toes, climbed his legs, covered his stomach and chest, popped out of his signature pocketed t-shirts and slid down his arms to his knuckles. His eyes were soft brown orbs under bushy eyebrows in which several white hairs belie his maturity.

"I'll make a long story really short for you both. My marriage is over and I don't think I want to travel that path anymore. I need some time away to explore what I want to do now –."

"Stop right there!" Russ was a smooth talker with a take-charge personality. "We told you when you told us that you'd been with men before that our house is always open to you. I want you to get your ass up here this weekend. Tim agrees that you need to be with guys like yourself and we want you here as soon as you can get here."

I stammered, "I don't really know how I'm going to manage to –."

"Just do it!" Russ's command was somehow reassuringly final. I couldn't make out the words that passed between Russ and Tim on their end but Russ returned with, "If you're going to take this step, you need to be with men who can help you through it. We want you here. Be here by 7 on Friday and dress light. We're supposed to get a heat wave, the back yard is all trimmed and the pool is open and ready."

I could barely get a word in edgewise as Russ dictated my next few days. "I don't know but I'll try," I offered.

"Look, we want to help you through this. We're all OK talking about sex with guys but I want you to know how good it can be when you have buddies who care about you!"

"OK, I'll plan to leave my office and drive right up on Friday."

"Good. We're right behind you on this, friend, and it's been a long time coming for you. Tim and I will be excited to have you here."

"God, I appreciate this!" I was close to tears and I knew my gratitude showed in my voice. Knowing men who wanted me to explore my male attractions and cared enough to offer me sanctuary on such short notice was better than I could ever have imagined. "Let me get these plans together and I'll see you on Friday!"

"We'll be waiting for you with a few beers, a lot of time to talk and whatever comes naturally for us as it happens. Call us whenever you need us – any time, day or night." Russ reeled off his new cell number, made sure I still had their home number, and I proceeded to set the weekend aside for a trip to Lincoln.

II.

Being born in the early 1960s offered little community or solace to a boy with gay urges growing up in a rural state. I knew about my attraction to men from as early as I can remember but also absorbed the "good-old-boy" rhetoric from my father's and grandfather's friends about faggots, queers and homos. Growing up, I took for granted that my longing to be with other males sexually was an aberration and that I should resist it as strongly as possible. Furthermore, my first unsatisfying experience with a classmate when I was 15 convinced me that the yearning for man-to-man physical intimacy was a thing of shame to be hidden and denied.

I married at age 22 and enjoyed playing the part of a heterosexual until one drunken night with some friends, I found myself alone with a local businessman who, like myself, enjoyed being physical with men and was not hesitant to pursue me. I just laid there while he reveled in pleasing me orally; I wished that my wife was as experienced and effective. Then he forcedly insisted that he fuck me and I, curious of the practice, complied. Although the experience was interesting, he was rough and made it unpleasant for me; I hurried home wracked with guilt, took a long hot bath and vowed to never engage with a man sexually again.

I ignored the urges for 20 years thereafter but the drive became too strong. Miraculously, I found an entire culture like me on the internet, the bear community. I started as all men do: lurking, then working the courage up to talk with some of the guys via e-mail, then meeting in- person and finally having several friends who were also sex partners. All the while, I defended my sexual activity as a series of harmless romps that would end soon enough when I got it out of my system. As well, I justified my infidelity as something that I would never burden or hurt my wife with. And finally, I did not consider my activity to be unfaithful unless I had an affair with another woman.

Two months ago all that compartmentalization came crashing down. Home from work between two meetings, I checked my "private" internet e-mail address and mistakenly clicked the computer to ‘sleep' instead of shutting it down. I forgot to sign out of the site. When I came home three hours later, my wife had accidentally accessed the e-mail and knew everything. My attempts to cover up the extent of my activity over the last ten years were in vain and I eventually told her everything. She insisted that I sleep elsewhere so I stayed at my brother's house for a few days and told him exactly what was going on. As always he was my emotional anchor and willing to help me in any way. Nevertheless, this path was mine to travel alone. When I returned home, I moved into our spare room and agreed to submit to an entire battery of STD tests. The marriage had changed from a partnership into two roommates living together tenuously for economic reasons. On the day I called Russ and Tim, I had returned from my doctor with the results, all negative. My wife's response was "That's a big relief for me. Now I know that I'm clean and whatever you do from now on is your own business because you won't be infecting me with anything."

Something snapped in me at that moment. Why was I clinging to my old self? For what reasons could I expect things to return to the uneasy smokescreen I had considered normal for my entire life? And most importantly, given that freedom, why should I not investigate the full extent of who I might be as a masculine yet at least partially gay man? Russ and Tim came immediately to mind as men I needed to be around . . . and as soon as my wife left for work, I called.

III.

I drove into the yard at about 6:45 on Friday evening. The sun dipping low in the sky and the pending evening hadn't offered its cooling breezes – or its mosquitoes. As I reached into the backseat for my knapsack, I heard the front screen door of the recently built modular ranch home slam open and Russ's voice boom, "Damn, d'you fly here? You made good time!"

I turned to see both Russ and Tim striding down the cobblestone walkway toward me. I extended my hand to shake whichever man reached for it first: Tim grabbed my hand and pulled me into a full body hug. He buried his face in the left crick of my neck and whispered, "I'm so sorry this is happening to you." I felt another strong arm circle my waist from behind and the fourth wrap around my right shoulder; Russ, speaking surprisingly softly for his usual boisterous demeanor, said, "We're glad you came. Relax, you're safe with us and we've always hoped to get closer to you. Let's go inside."

Russ showed me to the spare room they had prepared for me, then gave me a tour of the house. "While you're here, go anywhere, do anything you want and if you need anything, just ask." All the time, Russ kept a hand on my shoulder.

"I don't really need much, just your friendship." Again, I was choking up, overwhelmed by their kindness. Russ wrapped his arms around me from behind, rubbed his stubbled face against mine and murmured, "Let's go get a drink."

In the kitchen, Tim appeared to have a professional bartender set-up ready and waiting. " Want a beer, glass of wine or something a little stronger?" Seeing the ingredients at hand, I opted for a Bloody Mary and Tim made mine particularly strong. "Did you eat on the way? Hungry?"

"I didn't want to take the time so I drove non-stop – "

"We figured you would. So come on out back because the steaks are just about done!"

After dinner, we sat around and I relayed the story of my recent life shattering experience. They listened intently, offered no judgments or advice, simply letting me get it all out. By 9 o'clock, the vodka had kicked in and the stress that had sustained me since my ordeal began had drained from me and I was unable to keep my eyes open. Russ got up, pulled me to my feet, embraced me and offered, "It's time for this bear to get some shuteye. Tim and I took the day off tomorrow and it's going to be a big day for all of us. Get some sleep now." They both escorted me to my room and I barely remember my head hitting the pillow.

IV.

My sense of smell was the first to awaken on Saturday morning. The aroma of bacon hung in the air and I could tell it was late by the height of the sun. As I rounded the corner to the kitchen, what a sight my eyes encountered! Russ and Tim were both busily preparing a true lumberjack's breakfast (pancakes, home fries, eggs, bacon) – in their underwear! Russ was as lean and as hairy as I expected him to be, his curly fur darkening his torso, his lean blue collar muscles well- defined and sleek. Tim was all I expected him to look like beneath his business attire and more. Still built like a Marine, his arms held perfect definition, his six-pack abs held his slim waist in impeccably and fine light brown hair silhouetted his perfectly developed pecs.

Both looked up at the same time and broad smiles lit their faces. "Good morning, sleepyhead," started Tim. "Ready for some grub? We waited for you."

I opened my mouth to reply but could barely speak, I was so impressed by the sight of them partially unclad.

"Like what you see?" Russ interjected slyly. "I can see this is going to be an interesting day with a guy around like you. Let's eat and then take a swim."

Breakfast was barely over when Russ grabbed the dishes, stacked them hurriedly in the dishwasher and headed for the back yard. "Times-a-wasting!" he said as he slid open the glass deck doors.

Tim moaned, "Don't you think that maybe Vince just wants to take it easy for a while? What's you hurry?"

"I can't stay inside on a beautiful day. I'm swimming . . . you guys come join me." And he left the door open behind him.

Tim leaned forward, put a hand on my knee, smirked resignedly and said, "He's got too much energy sometimes. Let's join him."

I was wearing a pair of gym shorts, a t-shirt and flip-flops. "I'll go get my trunks on and meet you out there," I said, but Tim grabbed my arm and said, "Oh, you don't understand. On weekends here, clothing is not only optional but usually discouraged." He smiled suggestively.

"Uh, well, just let me take this slow, OK?" I stammered. "I'm not used to parading around in the altogether and it may take me a while for me to get around to it."

"Your choice, no pressure, just come out with me."

I agreed reluctantly. As we reached the deck, though, I could see that the clothing optional rule was true. Russ had shed his boxers and was walking to the end of the diving board. At the last moment, he turned around, full frontal and yelled, "C'mon you pussies! Get in the water!" just before executing a brilliant dive into the clear blue water. I felt a stirring in my groin at the sight of him. His long uncircumcised cock hung in front of his ample, low-hanging balls, all surrounded by hair that was as thick on his thighs, legs and pubic are as on his chest.

I said, "I think I'm going to get another cup of coffee."

"Whatever you want, Vince," returned Tim. "I think I'm going to join my man in a quick water romp! Mind if I strip down as well? And would you care to join us? "

"Hey, it's your place! I don't want you guys to change a thing you do on my account. And for now, I'd rather relax and take in the scenery."

Tim's face broke into a wide grin. "Scenery or wildlife?" He skipped two steps backward, turned away from and ran to the pool, somehow shedding his briefs before cannon-balling into the pool mere inched from Russ. Oh, yes, Tim was as magnificent from behind as the front; raw and defined sheets of muscle sliding over his wide shoulders tapering to a slim waist and hips, muscular legs flexing his beautiful glutei with every step.

Sitting on a lawn chaise nursing my coffee, I marveled as the two men cavorted together: swimming, splashing, laughing, embracing, sometimes whispering, connected emotionally in ways I could not yet comprehend. Although manifested as a raging hard-on well hidden in my gym shorts, I felt something more, something visceral, vital, inescapable yet welcoming and very natural for me. I wanted – no - needed what they had.

After about 15 minutes, Russ and Tim hoisted themselves out of the pool, bodies tight from exercise and glistening from the water as they walked back to the deck. Russ took the lounge chair to my right and stretched out parallel to me. Tim pulled up a collapsible lawn chair next to me, facing me. "You doin' OK?" Tim asked.

"Yeah," I answered. "I have a lot to think about and I'm sort of confused by some of it. Everything's changing so fast, I don't know where this is going to take me."

"It's taken you here – right here, right now and that's all you have to think about today," Russ interjected. "You need some time to be yourself in the moment."

I pondered his comment but had no adequate response. "To tell you the truth, I feel envious of you two," I finally managed.

"How so?" Tim asked, leaning forward and placing his right hand on my left shoulder.

"I don't know how to explain it, really, but when I was watching you playing in the pool you seemed so free. You're both healthy, handsome, successful and able to live exactly as you want with each other. I've seen you play the ‘straight" routine when you're at work, but seeing you being your complete selves here – you're free like children, like animals to follow your hearts and instincts. I yearn to feel the same thing."

Tim massaged my shoulder with his hand. "You can – and you will. You've been living as someone else for your whole life and it takes time to shed that mask. We have that mask in public but here we don't have to and we don't." He smiled. "I never thought about being ‘free as an animal' that way. That's a good way to put it!"

I smiled back at him, and then turned my head to Russ who was staring at me, smiling yet with a serious hint of concern in his expression.

I laid my head back and closed my eyes. "You know, here you guys are, stark naked, completely uninhibited to love each other and be who you are, even with me here. I wish I could feel that. It's almost like I don't have those instincts anymore."

I heard Russ rise to a seated position on his chair, clear his throat, then offer, "Every man has those instincts. Sounds like you've buried them for so long, you'll have to dig for a while to get ‘em back to where you can use them."

"I don't know, either they're dead or sleeping, and I don't know where to go from here. All I know is that I desperately want to know what's second nature to you guys."

Tim's right hand remained on my shoulder and he placed his left hand flat on my stomach. "It is second nature to us. We've been together since I was a senior in high school and Russ took over the business. It's us, and it's who we are." His left hand started rubbing my stomach. "You've got that animal inside of you, we both know it and you know it. Time to let it out."

My mouth went dry. Although Tim's show of affection was strange for me, I knew that lying here with two good friends, two handsome men who were more in touch with themselves and each other than I'd experienced in my 47 years, my time had come to explore parts of myself forever denied. I could barely get the words out, "That's what I want more than anything."

I felt Russ reach over and place a hand on my right shoulder, wordlessly and reassuringly. Tim leaned in further toward me from the left and growled quietly, "So let's wake the animal," as his left hand slid slowly and steadily under the elastic waistband of my shorts.

End of Part One

This is a work of fictionalization, not of fiction. Names, places and certain facts have been changed to protect all. The majority of this story really happened. I welcome any comments or correspondences. Feel free to reach me.