A Life Imagined Ch. 03

Every year, my father and I go on a hunting trip. It used to be all three of my brothers and my father. However, over the years, my brothers started having families of their own, traditions of their own, and trips of their own.

For the past five years, it's just been me and the old man.

As far as the actual hunt goes, it's usually just me going out on my own. The old man always starts the day off with me until I pick up a track. Then he excuses himself and goes on his way to do his own thing, which I am more than ok with. He's in his late 60s and can't keep up like he used to.

Plus, depending on what I'm tracking, I may have to move faster than he can keep up with. So I might have to run some. I never say anything when he taps me on the shoulder to let me know I'll be on my own the rest of the way.

"Be careful out there," he'll say in his deep voice. "Don't be taking on any bears. I'll meet up with you back at the tavern."

"You be careful old man," I quip back with a nod and a smile.

Honestly? I enjoy my time alone; it helps give me clarity. Up on that big mountain, alone with my thoughts. It's just me and whatever I'm tracking. I'd be lying if I didn't say I missed the days he'd spot for me. But, as I said, he's getting older.

Nowadays, when we come up here to do a little hunting, he mainly hangs out at this tavern hidden in the mountains where he can sit around and sip bourbon, telling stories with his old friends, waiting for me to show up later and regale him and his friends with the story of the days' hunt. They want to know how I bagged my kill or how it got away.

My father has always been proud of me, something that has never been lost on me. He loves the underdog; if there is one fact about me, I am the true definition of an underdog.

This year I wouldn't be going out on my own. Nor would anyone else, for that matter. Unfortunately, this year, the weather has been just a bit on the insane side.

It's either raining like crazy or, in today's case, snowing non-stop. But rain, sleet, or shine, nothing will stop the old man from getting his drink on with his old friends.

Despite all the snow, somehow, we make it to the tavern, and I get to sit in on his bullshit session. I came out to my father months ago, and, God love him, he took it in stride.

"Shit, Joseph, you're a good son. I don't care about that gay shit. As long as you're a good person and someone I can be proud of, that's all I give a shit about." He paused, "Joseph, I'm proud of you; I love you."

"I know you do pop," I'd say.

That was months ago; he was the last person I tried hiding from. From that day, I was able to be myself. I love my father and have the utmost respect for him. So, I make sure to be conservative in how I dress around him.

My hormones, on the other hand, had plans of their own. My breast had been enough to fill an A-cup since I graduated high school; that was three, almost four years ago.

My hormones decided to have one more push just for the hell of it. My doctor tells me it's not abnormal for someone my age to have one final growth spurt. He said this should be the last one. He'd be shocked if I had another.

Unfortunately, my hormones are still dominated by estrogen. So instead of my "growth spurt," coming in the form of height or anything identifiably male, my tits grew.

I have gone from barely being able to fill my A-cup to comfortably fitting into a C-cup.

With my body build and my height, there was no hiding them. They'd gone from being my itty bitties to becoming my girls. So even if I had wanted to go back to the compression shirts, and fuck that, there was no hiding them now.

As I said, we come up here every year, and this was the first time that I felt uncomfortable around the old man's friends. It's been a little over two years since I came out and stopped hiding my natural body.

All these men have known of me as little Joey to big Joey to what the fuck Joey?

I grew up around most of them. They'd never seen me like this before. When you are barely over five feet tall, an A-cup might catch someone's eye. A C-cup catches everyone's eye.

For the past couple of years, they've looked at me like a dog looking at someone with a high-pitched whistle in their voice; their heads tilt to one side. Nobody has asked the old man what the what about me? And, I'm just as positive that he hasn't explained it to them.

In the real world, I've had to become accustomed to the "distance look," the "quick glance," the "side-eye," or the all-out, no trying to hide it, "ogling look." And that's from people I grew up around, people who know my family. People who know me!

I know the old guys are harmless, but I was not too fond of some of the looks I was getting, and I wasn't about to put my father in a position to defend me. So I politely excused myself and went into the main bar area.

I found a bar stool at the end of the bar with my name on it. The owner has always known about my condition because I told him years ago.

He's a nice enough old fart, and his wife is just as sweet. I'd find myself in their company on many trips, and they could tell I was miserable.

It was the fall before starting college, and I was hanging out with them when I broke down and told Anna, Hal's wife. They took it in stride and went out of their way to make me feel normal. I'll always remember them for that.

During the day, Hal tended the bar. As I said, it's his tavern, and like my father, an old guy doing what he loves.

"I'm still not used to serving you, kiddo; what can I do you for?" I smiled at Hal; it was always a cherry Coke when I was a kid. Today it's my fathers' favorite bourbon, neat.

"Makers, neat, and can you put the ball game on for me?"

"You bet, kiddo," he responded while he poured.

"They don't mean any harm, buddy; old guys gonna do old guy things."

Hal didn't have to make excuses for anyone, and I've always liked that about him. He'd always go out of his way to ensure I felt comfortable in his tavern.

"Nah, those old bastards don't bother me. On the contrary, I think it's cute. I mean, think about it. They know I'm not a woman."

With that, we laughed, and Hal turned around to put the game on.

"Old bastards," he exclaimed in-between laughs.

"Old fags," I answered.

Hal stopped laughing and turned around. He placed his hands down on the bar directly in front of me. "Oh shit," I mumbled; I went too far, I thought to myself.

He leaned into me, and I thought, he's going to tear into me for being vulgar and crass, fuck!

"The irony?!" He said, then exploded into a muffled big belly laugh.

I couldn't hide my laugh; I was laughing at him, trying to hide his laughter about them!

"Fags!" We said at the same time in a low voice, trying to hide our giddiness.

"I want in on the joke," said the man with a twang that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

A big guy, hunched down, his forearms on the bar. With a big smirk, he glanced at Hal, then at me, then back a Hal.

"Um...no joke, just small talk between friends," I explained, looking down at my bourbon with a big smile.

I glanced up at Hal, and he smiled, straightened up, and asked him what he would like to drink.

"I'll have what she's having," he said with a smile.

Hal and I glanced at each other as he poured. Then he turned and walked away after asking our new friend if he wanted to start a tab.

"If you don't mind, sir, that sounds fine," he replied as he gathered his drink and sat on the stool beside mine.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to break up the small talk," he said as he turned to look at me.

"You're fine," I responded.

"Kevin," he said, offering his hand.

"Joseph," I responded, ensuring he understood he was about to shake hands with a guy with a nice rack, but a guy no less.

But when I turned to look at him, I almost went limp. Very handsome, with the Brad Pitt jawline and chin. Gorgeous blinding smile, blue eyes, and just tan enough not to be white, white. Which, in the mountains of Oregon, this time of year, was a trick in itself.

I had started to give him a firm handshake, but, as I said, I went limp. Then, finally, I managed to get myself right, except for my hand. It got swallowed up in his without any resistance on my part.

I crossed my legs and unconsciously went into my natural feminine mannerisms. Neither of us noticed it at first. But then, I started talking with this big man who never took his eyes away from mine. He explained that he was on a business hunting trip, but his client canceled.

He explained that he had decided to stick around and would try to leave in the morning. Before I knew it, I had lost myself in conversation with this handsome, charming man. We enjoyed our afternoon, but I knew that with this weather, I needed to gather the old man and head back to the cabin.

I looked at the clock, and the move gave me away.

"Awe?" He mumbled in disappointment. Like a little boy that knew playtime was over.

"It has been a lovely afternoon; thank you, you saved me," I told him.

"What?" he asked inquisitively, even though he knew the answer.

"Are you leaving? I was just about to invite you to my cabin. It's nearby," he cooed.

Oh, how tempted I was to take him up on his offer, but the old man, I thought to myself.

"It's my father. See the group of old bastards back there?" I pointed to the back of the room where the old drunks were shooting the shit.

"My old man is in that group, and I need to get him back to our cabin," I tell him.

"I left dinner in a crockpot, which it's about that time. Don't want to burn the cabin down," I explained, even though who burns a building down with a crockpot?

"I'll help," he quickly volunteered.

"What? No, I couldn't ask you..." I mumbled before he cut me off.

"C'mon, let me help you. Plus, we can both leave and go to your place."

My place? I asked myself. My place? I wondered again.

"You heard me say I had to get my father home? To our cabin, my place?" I asked curiously. Then I had a thought. How smart of an idea I didn't know just yet. Still, it was a thought.

"Are you hungry?" I asked.

"Starving," came the reply.

"All right, I'll tell my father that I've invited you to dinner and that your cabin is in our direction," I said.

"Sure, ok," he responded, like a little boy being told play time wasn't over yet.

"Wait, which way is the cabin you're staying at?"

Come to find out; he is staying in our direction. There's a corporate cabin past ours. Weekend hunters that show up and act like they know it all. They spend tons of money at Hal's place, so they are welcomed around here.

"Yeah! Let me take a pee break, and you get your father. I'll meet you back here, and we can leave," he said, interrupting my thought process.

I liked his plan, but I needed to piss too. Then, finally, he stood up, and I felt a shiver. He's almost as tall as Dawson, but that's where the comparison ends. Dawson is this basketball player I attended high school with. Now we're both attending the same university where he plays ball. A nobody, just someone that I love giving head to. But I digress

Kevin is broad-shouldered, broad-chest, and muscular. His biceps are rocking the look; he has a flat stomach but not thin, a gorgeous waist, and a nice ass. Thick thighs, oh my god, I was in trouble.

"I have to go too," I said, with that, "oh my," look.

Taking my hand to help me, I jumped off my bar stool and allowed him to guide me, pointing me toward the bathroom.

I started to smile because it was evident to both of us that there was a mutual interest in each other. But who am I kidding? I wanted to fuck him, and I felt like he wanted to fuck me too!

Walking in front of him, I could imagine that he was giving my ass the once over, and I made sure to give him something to think about. I smiled, wondering if he thought we were heading for the men's room, together.

"Hal, may I?!" I called back with a raised hand in a loud voice.

"Go ahead honey, your good." His answer meant there were no women in the bar.

With that, I cut to the left, the lady's room. I was about to giggle out loud when I felt a hand on my waist pushing me through the door. Once through the door, I felt his hands on my waist, spinning me around, pining me against the door.

Because of Dawson, I was used to having to look up to a man in this position. But unlike Dawson, I didn't feel in control of the situation.

"Tell me now, and I'll walk away," he whispered as he looked down at me with those soul-sucking blue eyes.

"Hal will have a fit, and I can't fuck up like that here! With him!" I responded, also in a whisper, not wanting to get caught. But making sure he understood the urgency in my tone.

Keven caught me off guard by leaning down and suddenly kissing me! Without warning, his mouth was on mine. I made no effort to stop him or resist his kiss. On the contrary, I gladly accepted his kiss and then his tongue.

I started breathing hard when his hands slid over the top curve of my ass and down to the bottom curve before giving my ass a gentle squeeze as if he had earned the privilege to do what he was doing.

"Baby doll, you are fine, and I have no issue with you being a guy," Kevin whispered as he pulled back from the kiss.

"And yes, baby girl, I know you're a guy, and I don't care," he finished saying, looking at me with those eyes.

"Get out of here! Go pee and let me pee, then meet me at the bar if you still want to help me, tough guy," I snapped in an authoritative whisper and a frown that quickly dissolved into a mischievous grin.

He couldn't help but grin before giving me one more quick kiss. Then, moving away from the door, Kevin opened it and stuck his head out. My hands were still on his waist, holding onto the belt loops of his jeans.

When he turned to look at me, I let go with one hand and allowed the other to rest on the top of his ass. He stuck his head back in the bathroom and gave me a gorgeous grin.

"Ok, see you in a minute," he said, then darted out of the bathroom.

I sat down to pee and immediately noticed that I was dripping precum.

I started to wonder to myself, how the fuck was I going to do this? Taking the old man to the cabin with a man that wants to fuck me. Hell, I want him to fuck me. But, do I want him to fuck me? Fuck I must be insane, I thought to myself because this was crazy.

"You can do this," I mumbled to myself quietly.

I stood up, pulled my panties and jeans up, then went to the sink and mirror. But first, I'd wash my hands and give myself this knowing look.

"You got this," I declared, then started my quest.

Gathering my father from his place was no problem because he was ready. As we got to the bar, I introduced Kevin. My father shook his hand.

"Well, aren't you a big fucker!" He bellowed, causing me to blush.

"Dad?" I growled. In turn, he laughed at my annoyance.

"Yes sir, I am, but Joseph here has already ensured that I understand; he's in charge. So what he says goes."

"God damn my right, my Joey's in charge!" With that, they both laughed out loud.

We headed out into the cold, both men having fun at my expense. Kevin held the door for my father and me to walk through.

Once outside, I told my father I'd asked Kevin to join us for dinner. My father didn't even blink. He thought it was a great idea, saying yes right away. And when I explained that his cabin was in our direction, which would mean he should have no trouble getting to his place afterward, after dinner.

"I said yes, Joseph," my father said with a chuckle before turning to Kevin.

"Follow us, my boy, and let's get some of my son's famous Irish stew!"

Once my father was in the truck, Kevin approached me to give me one parting jab.

"Joey? I love that," he whispered as I walked by him, along with a soft pat on my ass. Of course, I made sure I got a pat on his ass before we separated.

Kevin followed us in his SUV; getting to the cabin wasn't an issue. The vehicles we were driving we'd have to be in an all-out blizzard to stop us.

Once we arrived at our place, my father headed on in. I was behind him, waiting for Kevin to walk in with him.

"Good lord, who are you people, the Rockefellers?" Kevin asked in a low voice, looking at me and then turning, gawking at the cabin.

Understand that my father is in construction. He's built his business into a monstrosity and built our cabin, all of it. So, don't think of Little House on The Prairie cabin when I say "cabin." Think more, Yellowstone, yeah, something like that.

It has a kitchen, a study, a living area, and a man's playroom. Who am I kidding? The entire place is a man's dream house. And everything is exaggerated and oversized. The room has a massive stone fireplace, big leather chairs, and couches. A genuine bear skin rug from an actual kill. Mounted heads on all the walls with placards telling you who killed it and when.

A billiards table, a poker area, and a bar that's stocked with anything and everything that you can think of.

My fathers' room is purposely isolated and designed for quiet.

When my brothers were growing up, they tended to invite friends on our hunting trips, and they could throw parties.

At that time, I was still a little boy, so my father and I would sleep in his room. My brothers would stay up and raise hell all night.

Sometimes I'd sneak back into the main room to watch them do things I'd always figured I would do when it was my turn to be that age.

Those times never actually came around to me.

My father's room is like an apartment inside the cabin. It has its separate outside entrance, and its bathroom, of course. It has a fridge perfect for my old man and my brothers. My father has no reason to leave his room once he's down for the night.

I excused myself from dinner, claiming I had a big breakfast before heading out and would probably eat later.

I served my father and our guest. I Poured Kevin and me a little red wine. My father had enough alcohol and just had some coffee with dinner.

My father can talk, and luckily Kevin loved to listen. They had things in common, so it was a relaxing way for my father to end his day with pleasant conversation.

"Honey, I'm done," my father would say.

"Kevin, would you like to join me for a nightcap before I head off to my room?"

"No sir, I appreciate the offer, but it's still snowing, and if I'm going to make it to the cabin, I'd better get going," he replied

"Nonsense! Joey, why don't you fix up one of your brother's rooms? It's already dark, and there is no sense in you risking getting stuck out there. We'd just have to rescue you, and it's too damn cold to go out tonight."

This night was going to happen, and Kevin and I just looked at each other, trying not to show ourselves how good everything was playing out for us.

"Why don't you two go and sit by the fire," I said to them.

"I'll bring you "one," drink old man," talking to my father sternly. He'd had enough to drink; if he made himself sick, my mother would cut my balls off.

"Kevin?" I asked, motioning to the bar.

"I'll have one more glass of that wine if you don't mind, Joseph," cracking that smile as he said my name.

I poured them their drinks. My father and Kevin went into full conversation mode again.

It was more my father grilling Kevin this time. Trying to figure out what kind of a person he was.

To Kevin's credit, he was saying all the right things.

Then my father started bragging about his sons, well, more me than my brothers.

He did mention my older brothers, but he made sure that he reviewed my skills with Kevin. He started with my proficiency in martial arts.

I can take care of myself from when I was old enough to walk to this day. I've learned a thing or two about self-defense. Proficient would be an excellent word to describe my abilities.