Nicks Lake House Retreat Chapter One Ah, you made it, said Nick, sticking out a warm hand to greet me. Excellent. He was on the deck of his lake house, waiting for guests to arrive. The house was stunning -- a rustic wonder carved deep into a private hillside that touched the lakes edge. It was remote, too, a good two-hour drive from downtown. I got a call from Johnson and Wells. Theyre bailing on us. Bunch of wimps, he said with a wink. And I never heard back from Kev and Smithson, so Im guessing theyre flaking, too. Its just the two of us, bro. He was referring to the other men who were invited to spend a relaxing guys weekend at Nicks lake house. They were regulars on this semi-annual retreat, longtime friends of Nick who take the opportunity to spend a weekend away from their wives and girlfriends, relaxing in the privacy of Nicks secluded playground, where men could be men. I was the new guy. Nick and I work in neighboring states for the same company. I befriended him at a company seminar recently, where we shared a study manual, a couple of bland lunches, and a few laughs about our bosses. As the conference closed, he told me about his lake house and invited me to the guys retreat. I jumped at the chance. Things with my wife, Janie, had been strained lately, and a little time away from her seemed like a good idea. The thought of enhancing this me time with some booze, smoke, and generally bad behavior made the invitation irresistible. Fuck em, he joked. Grab your stuff and lets hit the water. I set my overnight bag inside, and picked up a towel and small cooler Id loaded up for the day. Sun-block, alcohol, and a couple joints of killer weed. All the essentials. Is it cool to bring red wine, I asked. Only if you have enough for me too, he replied. Within minutes we were in Nicks sporty boat, pulling away from the private dock. It was a couple of hours before noon, but the sun was already hotter than hell. As Nick focused his gaze on the waves ahead, I found myself taking inventory of his stunning, near-naked body. Id only seen him in standard office wear before. But observing him here, in the wild, I was blown away by his physique. What a specimen! He put the treat in retreat. At 36, Nick was a ruggedly handsome and youthful man. Sea-blue eyes. He had to be 6-2 or 6-3, about 175 pounds and a 32-inch waistline. He was gifted with a masculine face, a devilish smile, and a head full of close-cropped chestnut hair that was stylishly swept in a hundred directions. Legs that were toned and hairy. A mutt with a mostly Italian bloodline, Nick was fit and tanned. A loose white cotton shirt fell freely from his square shoulders and an old pair of cargo shorts circled his flat, toned abdomen and waist. His legs were muscular and sinewy. Nipples hard and dark pink. Light patches of man fur covered his chest and powerful forearms. The hair on his treasure trail was slightly darker than the rest, and it plunged from his navel to his shorts, getting richer as it inched closer to what appeared to be a very thick root. It was a heady moment. My eyes drank in the site, while my lips drank in some wine. Nick looked back at me over his left shoulder and smiled. Hold on to your balls. Its about to get a little wild. He throttled the engine and the boat surged forward, ripping into the waves with a vengeance. We roared along into the hot morning, the bow pointing upward, a giant wake behind us. Despite the gorgeous weather, there wasnt much traffic on the lake. The farther we went, the fewer fishing boats and jet-skiers we passed. Soon we were on a desolate stretch of water on the fringes of the lake. Nick spotted a cluster of trees on the shore, and whipped the boat hard into an opening that was nearly impossible to see -- even if you were looking. The tricky maneuver put us in the mouth of a hidden cove. He killed the engine and dropped an anchor into the clear, still water. Lets catch a buzz, he said with a wicked grin. He sat in the captains chair and turned to face me. His knees were spread apart, the legs of his cargo shorts tempting my wandering stare. As the scent of killer green floated over the sun-dappled waves, I caught Nick checking me out, too. We smiled, then quickly looked away. At 42 I was a little older than my host, but could hold my own in a side-by-side comparison. Im 6-2, 185 pounds, 34-inch waist. I dont belong to a gym, but I do what I can to stay in shape. My upper body is toned and moderately hairy, my arms are strong, my butt firm, and my muscular legs always draw an approving smile. With an attractive face, a masculine disposition and an inviting personality, Ive never hurt for the company of women. I suspect thereve been a few guys whove wanted to share a tent with me as well. And why not? I have a handsome cock. Nice and full when at rest, it swells to a lovely 7-inch piece of meat with a irresistible head. Full tang and solid girth, symmetrical and circumcised, its a thing of beauty. What man or woman could resist it? And why would they want to? Nick and I smoked about half the joint while sharing stories about people we work with, sports weve seen, music we like, and women weve fucked. I gave a blissful sigh. All was quiet for a moment as Nick and I enjoyed our moment in Man Heaven. Fuck me if its not hot out here, he said abruptly. What do you say we take a dip, cool off and then get some rays? Sounds good to me. Nick stood up, and unfastened the lone button that drew his shirt together. He slipped it from his broad shoulders and sent it sailing toward a vacant seat. He flexed his abs and upper-torso left and right, then purred a satisfying, sexy moan. I heard a snap and suddenly his shorts sank to the floor. He stepped out of them and took a couple of steps forward. His glistening brown body was completely bare, save for sunglasses and a snug pair of Wonderjock swimming briefs. Never has a swimsuit been better named. Behind the sheer white fabric lay a gorgeous, beautifully proportioned cock, with a meaty shaft and head the size of a small peach. Its bulging mass was not hard, but not completely soft either. It looked to be at least eight inches, with the room and inclination to expand. Nick adjusted himself with a few tugs to the legs and waist of the swimsuit. He even reached down the front and rearranged his big slumbering cock. He didnt make eye contact with me while doing this, but he was smiling. I tried my best to act cool -- as though having a gorgeous, mostly naked stud adjusting a perfect cock in front of me was an everyday event. But it was hard to stay focused, because Nicks buff body and tantalizing tool were close enough to kiss, and thats exactly what I was aching to do. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of my face. But I now had an entirely different indication of just how hot this day was going to be.