RESTORATION, THE FINE POINTS

There are only two people who read this blog and know my real identity. Both are close and long-time friends who I know I can talk with and be utterly truthful with the sort of things I discuss here. One of them reached out to me after reading my last entry, and suggested I should have gone into more detail about the weekend and my relationship with the man who was the subject of the essay. Fair enough, I'm going to try to cover some of the details my friend felt should be filled in.

First, let's call the man in question Mike. That's not his name but serves to keep me from calling him "the man" for the rest of the page. That's Mike's dick and balls you see up top.

The Friday night he recently came over was a pleasant and rewarding surprise. Without repeating myself too much, I needed that restored bond more than I realized. I almost feel like a piece of my puzzle was put back in place. As I wrote last entry, we swam, sat in the spa, tanned, drank wine and limoncello, cooked dinner and watched some tv, all without a stitch of clothing on. In the hot tub we started on opposite sides of the tub, talking face to face, but later in the evening we were shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the stars. 

The next morning got breakfast, coffee and spent time in the hot tub and pool. Since I know he sleeps au naturel - the way I do - it was an effective 20 hours in which we dressed only twice: when the pool guy got here, and when we walked my dogs. I even stayed bare when Mike dressed and left for home, and was surprised when he tightly hugged me before leaving, a squeeze I gratefully returned.

When Mike got here on Friday afternoon, after a dip in the pool we laid out on the patio to dry. We talked about little stuff, completely at ease. We were head to toe, next to the pool, on our backs. At one point he sat up and rested his arms on his knees, and said in a satisfied way, "this feels good." I have the impression he was referring to the friendship and not just nude suntanning. As I looked over at him his dick and balls were hanging down between his legs, and my only thought was "yeah, it does." Well, and, "he's been manscaping."

Mike and I have been very close for years. More than three decades, in fact. We met at work, both of us in sales for a company that really wasn't a terrific employer. Mike's nickname around the office was Romeo. Tall and good-looking, Mike was - and is - an athlete. A little over six feet tall, he has black hair and broad shoulders. For some reason we hit it off and bonded as friends, and met at the gym a few times to work out - the first time I saw him nude was in the showers there. I admired his physique and probably was attracted to him sexually, but given my marriage I discounted the possibility.

(Mike's penis is the one I used for my logo above. He once told me he felt inadequate size-wise in High School, and so was late losing his virginity. This kind of shocked me as I am physically smaller than he is, both stature and genital size, yet lost mine at 15 at a New Years Eve party. I was far more adventurous than he was, especially in college. I was into experimentation as well as frequency, and spent a good chunk of time naked in the dorm, the gym and eventually in the art department when a girlfriend needed a nude model and other students chimed in.)

(Mike's sexuality has been a constant conversation, btw. He's always telling me about his sex with his wife and how girls keep coming on to him and how he needs to pray those thoughts away. Me think he dost protest too much, but that's another entry.)

It was during this time he met his eventual wife. They both shared a love of bicycling, and met at an event in the desert. I'd been married for a little over two years at this point and I was a groomsman at their wedding. In fact, we spent the day before his wedding working out and relaxing in the hot tub at the gym, and the night at a hotel near the venue. His Best Man had kind of fallen down on the job, and I was filling in to the best of my abilities.

(His Best Man also put together Mike's bachelor party, starting in the afternoon. The blazing sun and a few quick beers sent him into an early nap while the rest of us cavorted around in the pool, with Mike and I swimming naked as the other three guys sported trunks. Nobody bothered to tell me there was a pool at the Best Man's house, so I showed up without a swimsuit. Mike went naked to make me feel more comfortable, I think. It was great until the Best Man's mother - who was also Mike's aunt - came home around 9pm and came out to the pool. Mike swam to the far end, which was dark, and I opted to squeeze in next to the shallow end wall. I don't really remember how long she stayed out there, but I think she was amused and deliberately stood at the edge of the pool talking to us for longer than was needed.) 

So Mike and I have a long history of being comfortable undressed in front of each other, starting very early in our friendship.

A decade or so in, Mike became Born Again. He and his wife had had two kids, and he was under considerable pressure at work and with difficulties in their marriage. She'd turned cold after the birth of their second child, a daughter. And he'd had a string of bad experiences at work, losing a couple of jobs and being desperately unhappy in one particular job he took just to bring in some money.

He turned to God for relief of the pressure and it made him feel better, which I felt was good but it started to strain our friendship when each and every conversation lapsed into religion as he tried to get me to join them and wash away my sins. It nearly destroyed our friendship when he, his then 7 year old daughter, and I were in the hot tub - swimsuits securely in place of course - and she burst into tears. When he asked what was wrong she blurted out "I don't want Uncle (Rambler) to go to Hell." 

Apparently our lack of religious conviction had been the subject of dinner conversation.

Eventually we repaired the friendship, and again Mike was experiencing professional and marital problems. One night we were in the tub, just the two of us and naked at that point, when he was overcome emotionally. He was embarrassed about the situations he was in, and embarrassed at becoming emotional in front of me, which made it worse for him. I told him he needed to step back, and came up with was probably a wine-inspired but significant suggestion. 

Up until that moment Mike and I had been completely platonic, regardless of our state of dress. But I sensed he needed a chance to escape and told him to let me help. Despite our nudity, I convinced him to lean back against me and let me hold him. I wrapped my arms around him, one around his shoulders, the other holding his abdomen. I told him that for the next ten minutes I was going to Stand Watch, to take care of the world for him and that he could step down for a moment and feel safe. I hugged him tightly, feeling his skin on mine and I rested my chin on his shoulder as he leaned his head back against mine. And I held him and Stood Watch. A full half hour later he had relaxed to the point I thought he might be sleeping. I was prepared to hold him until he woke, but he quietly thanked me and moved back to the other side of the spa, much more at ease than he'd been.

(He later told me it was a profound and safe moment for him, and really let him begin the process of recovery. There are times men need to step in for each other. Unfortunately, even in the 21st century, American men are afraid to be that vulnerable and/or affectionate.)

Politics and religion weren't done with us yet, however. The 2016 election really tore our friendship down, and arguments were heated. Angry. We tried a few times to get back on track, but despite a couple of vacations together, our little foursome was still strained. And when I went through my own very difficult period - getting laid off, having my wife in chemo, and both parents dealing with what would be terminal conditions - he deliberately wasn't present. It hurt. Still does, even though I've told him I've forgiven him.

"But have you seen his frenulum?"

(Up until the present, our last intimate time together was in the Spring of 2016 when our wives weren't around and we gleefully hopped into the spa. I was buzzed and started giving him a foot massage, which led to more intimate massage of his legs. No direct contact with his dick, but I brushed his nuts a couple of times. I stopped before going even farther, but he was definitely sporting an erection.) (I think I have a little muscle worship fetish at times.)

It was a rough time.

But as I noted in the previous entry, if we can keep the rediscovered love and trust going I think we'll be back, stronger than before. Spending a day fully naked with each other might seem like a strange way to repair the damage, but it's symbolic as well as a lot of fun. Nudity, as I've stated before, is not the same as sexuality in my mind. Nudity is also a profound way to convey trust and deepen relationships. It's a way to bond.

In college we used to jokingly say that the way to judge how close your friendship was "Have you seen his frenulum?" (That's the underside of the penis, up near the head.) I don't remember if any of the women in our group took offense to that, but we were young men with perpetual hardons, so...

Yes, I've seen Mike's frenulum, and he's seen mine. And so it goes.