13: Carter (Glacier National Park)

With the gentle warmth of spring turning to summer quietly slinking down the streets and avenues of Manhattan, and with a little more PTO to use before it expires, I thought it might be time to leave the city again.

The only question was, where to?

Treating myself as though I were a man of leisure on this lazy Sunday, I sat in my chair near the window that overlooks Tompkins Square Park and cracked open my latest bestseller from the gay co-op bookstore down the block.

I thought, some adventure in literature will surely inspire me to go somewhere fun.

In the opening chapter of my book however, a man starves to death in the snowcaps of a mountain range in the land that we now call Glacier National Park. While the depictions of starvation and wasting in the novel might turn the stomachs of readers capable of paying attention to the clever – if not horrifying – writing itself, my thoughts were instead miles away.

All I could think of, ironically, was the last time I was at Glacier National Park. You see, the last time I was there was about four years ago when I was dating Carter.

Carter was my last serious relationship. We dated for nearly three years, but had known each other since we had been roommates for a short time in university. He was a gorgeous, brawny guy. After university, he became a city planner with dreams of fixing what Robert Moses had fucked up. We rounded each other out in so many ways – keeping each other grounded as we navigated the tumultuous roads we faced as young professionals in our stuffy fields by day, and always finding time to destroy each other’s guts by night. We were honestly good for each other, if you asked me. And probably if you asked him, too.

But fate had other plans.

His parents were older (he was the youngest of five kids, the oldest of whom was 15 years his senior). Not long ago, they retired. Looking for a slow pace and clean air, they chose to live out their golden years in Missoula. It was the summer Carter’s parents retired to Missoula that he and I spent a week there with them, followed by two days camping up at Glacier before going home to New York City.

Then, it was a month after that when his father had a stroke. Carter dropped everything – his blossoming career, his friends, his half of our lease, and me – to move to Missoula to care for his father as he convalesced, and for his mother as she aged. Not willing to uproot my own life, we decided to mutually end our relationship when he relocated. 

We kept in touch for a while, but time has a habit of shuffling us along into new experiences, new relationships, and, well, new lives. Don’t get me wrong, I hold nothing against him for his choice. I earnestly believe he did what was best for him and his family. But I do miss him.

I take a sip of the coffee I’d prepared to be enjoyed with the book I was no longer reading, but merely staring at the pages of, while thinking about Carter.

I shut the book. The adventures of some intrepid travelers would have to wait. I was too preoccupied with my new thought: Would Carter join me for a camping trip at Glacier this season?

I went to send him a text. Were this a century earlier, I would be clearing an address book of an inch of dust, but as we are – for better or for worse – living in the 21st century, it takes but only a few flicks of the finger to find his name in my phone. Is this even his number still?

Hey, is this still Carter’s number? This is Leo

A full twenty minutes flew by, during which time I believe I may have cycled through every stage of grief with myself for having let so much time go by without speaking to him. Not by my own design, but by life’s. But then…

Leo! Oh my god. Yes this is still me. How have you been??

The relief is so strong that I nearly laugh out loud.

I’ve been doing well! I’m actually hoping to be in Montana soon…?

Say no more. Except, do: tell me when? Where?

Lol, I’m planning a camping trip to Glacier again

Badass. With who?? If you need tips on campsites, let me know! Free for coffee down in Missoula while you’re around? I know it’s out of the way, but if you can swing it, I’ll be there

Actually a solo trip. Unless you want to join me?

Fifteen minutes lapsed. I was primed to kick myself for asking when he finally replied.

Count me in. Just get me the dates. I’ve already cleared it with the folks. Mom will care for dad while I’m gone, whenever that is. In fact, they’re excited that we’ll have time to hangout.

This couldn’t have gone better. I’m not even sure why I thought he would be against it. Unless he had been in a relationship and would have found the prospect awkward, but… his excitement tells me that he’s probably single, and that maybe we will have some unbridled fun after all.

We texted on-and-off for two weeks, during which time I’d coincidentally had a dinner planned with another friend from college. As she and I enjoyed our ziti in Little Italy, I FaceTimed Carter so he could say hi to her. It was as if no time had passed, in fact.

Such is why, as I made my way through the Spokane airport to my rental Subaru, and as I drove across the state line into Montana on my way to Glacier National Park, the prospect of seeing him in person haunted me like a specter over my shoulder. What if, upon seeing each other face to face, this all became too real and uncomfortable? What if this special moment becomes awkward?

The fears, the ghosts of our past, finally laid to rest as I parked the Subaru at the campsite he’d suggested, and he flashed me a smile.

It was 1:00PM upon my arrival and he’d already set up the tent. It was a monstrous beast of a construction, easily triple the size of any tent I’d camped in before. And, as the sun had warmed the mountainside considerably, he was shirtless and smelled of bug repellant. He wore shorts and Timbs, but nothing else.

I shut the driver side door behind me and cartoonishly sauntered over to him with a goofy smile. He laughed (at, or with?) me as he embraced me in a sweaty hug.

“Mmmm, you always smell so good,” he said.

“Mph, you too,” I smirked. The pleasure here was coy from both of us; you see – who wants to smell like shit in the close quarters of an airplane? I was recently showered, wearing a pine-scented deodorant and a gentle spritz of an oak moss from Le Labo. And, to be frank, his pits always were my favorite fragrance.

Speaking of time passing, I changed clothes (and wiped my pits clean of deodorant) and went hiking with Carter. We hit a terrific vista (and hit an even more terrific blunt, courtesy Carter) as we shared a seat on the bark of a fallen tree while overlooking a glittering lake as the sun began to dip. We returned to find our solitary camp just as we’d left it, though now with considerably less sunlight.

And solitary it was: We hadn’t seen a single other camper the entire time. He really did know all the best spots.

Preparing to turn in for the evening, I removed my shirt as he did the same. Then our pants. After dating, you lose any sense of modesty around men like each other. As I was just about to remove my underwear, he made a move I’d been hoping he’d make since the moment I texted him.

“Hey, you… still into gutpunching?” he asked me. He was noticeably nervous to bring it up.

Quelling his anxiety immediately, I replied, “As much as I ever was.”

He sighs with a smile. “Me too,” he says. “But there aren’t many guys into it in Missoula. ‘Cept for this one dude I get to meet, like, maybe three times a year, who’s actually from New York, too.”

He laughed. God, I miss him.

I approach him and go in for a kiss, which he reciprocates. There, in the woods, in only our underwear, we begin to makeout.

Who the fuck thinks about ticks at a time like this? Fuck lyme, I’m kissing Carter for the first time in years and that’s all I care about.

“Let’s go inside,” he says, forehead pressed to mine.

We enter the tent, which you still have to crouch to fit inside. The monstrous size was not in its height, but its breadth. There were two full rooms here! A spacious “living room” with a coffee station and a pile of large cushions to serve as a sofa, complete with a separate bedroom with a makeshift bed.

One bedroom, one bed, I noticed. He’d been planning this all along, hadn’t he?

We crouched as we walked, then stood on our knees when we entered the bedroom. He pulled me in for another round of making out. I moaned into his mouth as our hands found each other’s stomachs; pressing, grabbing, and feeling around like we did when we were younger.

“I wanna use this gut again,” he said, “for old time’s sake.”

I couldn’t muster a response, only hoping he’ll do it. I could feel myself begging him with my expression, while lifting my chest up to expose my relaxed abs to him.

“You’re getting better with age, Leo.”

“As are you,” I cupped his muscular pec with my hand. My other fist felt his abs soften under it, but before I began to play with his gut, he pressed his fist into mine.

I let him go as deep as he wanted to press. Like a child’s curious finger sunk into warm butter, his fist drove without resistance into my trusting and hopeful guts.

He pulled me closer, as we still stood on our knees, so that our sides touched. With his left arm holding my hands behind my back, his right fist prepared to plunge into my guts as I looked to him with a deep yearning.

THUD

The sound of his huge paw knocking my soft abdominal muscles deep into the cavity of my gut was music to his ears, as he grew hungry for another impact. I drew my breath back in as he pulled his fist back, then slammed it into my navel just as hard.

THUD

My tough, well-trained intestines took the blunt force of his fist, and my cock immediately grew harder and harder each time he plowed it into my belly.

He brought me in for a kiss with his fist still sunk to the wrist in my navel. I wrestled him to the floor, giggling like experimenting college kids all over again.

Laying atop him on the bed, I finally answer the invitation of his softened abs by driving my fist into his navel. His stomach, as yielding as mine, openly accepts my fist as a grimace appears on his face, the force of my punch emptying his lungs. I drive my fist in again, my cock now rock hard as I feel his warm, soft organs give under the pressure of my fist.

He flung his arms back and placed his hands behind his head, opening up his belly, exposing his pits, and flexing his biceps in a single movement. I leaned down over top of him, kissing his muscular arms and inhaling his pits as I plowed a fist through his lax navel.

I began to drive my fist into his relaxed muscle gut with brutal intensity, consciously taking in the feeling of his loose innards flattening under my knuckles.

I was getting into a groove with his inviting guts when he moved one hand down from behind his head, then launched a sucker punch up into my own belly. The impact was so strong and unexpected that his fist did literally contact my spine through the center of my abs, as made clear to me by the bolt of pain through my guts. 

I reveled in the core-crushing pressure exploding through my intestines from his fist driving completely through my organs and into my spine, as if it were the most relaxed I could possibly be for him, as he deserved.

Nearly crumbling on top of Carter, he took my moment of weakness to take control by rolling us over so he was now on top of me.

I would have locked my own hands behind my head like he had, but wasn’t given the chance. As soon as we’d rolled over, he took my hands and pinned them above my head with his left hand as he leaned over me, effectively arching my back just so by pulling my chest up. With his right fist, he plowed a punch straight down to my spine — again — through my upper abs. Winded by the hard impact, I winced in pain. This must have triggered something in him, because he leaned in to kiss me right then — as he hammered into the pit of my belly, crushing my intestines as deep as his fist would sink into me. 

“Yeeeah,” he said as he punched into my gut. “Yeeeaah… yeeeaah…” 

He repeated each time his fist impacted my guts.

“Deep,” he said. “Take it deep. Take it deep!”

He began to sharply build up in intensity, launching harder impacts to my gut, which he would then follow the punch through by pressing his solid knuckles as deep as he could into my innards, holding it there as he flattened my bowels, growling at me to take it deeper as he pressed. Unsatisfied, he’d then pull his fist up from me as I lay on the bed, then slam it back down into my open belly, driving his knuckles into my spine, repeating his command for me to take it deep, take it deep. 

THUD

“Take it deep…”

Then, still unsatisfied with the amount of torture he’d exerted on my helpless intestines, he’d pull his fist from my stomach and slam it in again, and again. 

THUD

“Yeah, bro, take it…”

THUD

“Deep…”

THUD

“Keep it loose, bro. Give me your guts…”

THUD

“YEAH, Leo, FUCK yeah. Deep…”

I began breathing through my chest, leaving my stomach totally useless and lax for him to drive his knuckles into. My spine, lats, and traps lay on the bed, and between them and his powerful knuckles was only a soft padding of intestines begging to be mercilessly worked over. 

From that point, every impact of his fist drove waves of devastating pain through my core as my spongy bowels took the entire brutal power of his muscular body. Once he had worked the two of us into this groove, he was content to hold me here as long as my body could withstand it. 

THUD

THUD

THUD

THUD

THUD

THUD

THUD

THUD…

Fifteen solid minutes (fuck!) of unquestionable euphoria in my belly felt like a year, a decade, or eternity as a dreadful THUD echoed in the tent; the sound of his beefy knuckles meeting the zero-resistance of the intestines in my arched belly flattened against my back muscles, his fist driven firmly into my stomach and held there, flattening my bowels to my spine for a moment before the next THUD. Sweat dripped from Carter’s muscular physique and onto my beaten body, only to be splashed off of me when his fist blew through my abs and into my guts. 

I just stared into his eyes, overcome by his euphoric and ruthless intestinal torture, as his knuckles forcefully plowed into me. My mouth hung slightly open, just to allow my breath to escape with each impact, but otherwise I had become just a hypnotized punch sub staring into his eyes as his fist wrecked my intestines as if they weren’t even human, just an object. 

Carter wanted to switch up this arrangement (which I could have enjoyed from that moment until the end of time), but he was certainly not done with me. He sat back and picked me up under my pits. His biceps bulged as he lifted me up and dragged me through the “doorway” flap from the bedroom to the living room. The goofy and awkward movement, as neither of us could stand upright, had us laughing at how unserious this all was before he threw me to the ground on my back, then stood (on his knees) over me.

I hit the ground with a pained Ugh!, and felt the beef of my pecs bounce heartily as my upper back made contact with the floor. 

“I do miss those pecs, too,” he said, leaning over me to suck and nibble on my nipple as he ground a fist around in my guts, churning my beaten intestines as though kneading dough. The deep intestinal work and nipple worship earned some hot, baritone moaning from me until I decided I no longer wanted to ignore my cock. 

We were still wearing underwear until now, so I pushed Carter up off of me and pulled my underwear down my legs and off, as he hurriedly did the same. We made such quick work of the task, as if we worried that the break we took to remove our underwear might have ruined the mood somehow.

Don’t worry, it didn’t.

He was already on his knees over me, so I maneuvered myself over to reach his completely erect cock. I took his hard dick — sweaty, throbbing, and dripping with precum — in my mouth and began to work on it, as I reached up with a hand to rub his belly.

He threw his arms up, grabbing the structure of the tent.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” he said. 

Laying underneath him as he straddled me on his knees, I continued to suck his cock as I began sinking forceful punches into his gut once again. His beefy muscle gut openly welcomed my fist. Each impact forced a deep, pained Uh! out of him as my fist drove into his resilient innards past my wrist. 

I lingered in his navel mostly, using his perfectly-shaped, deep innie as a target before I began driving punches into his lower belly. These punches earned the most intense reaction from him as my punches began shoving his lower intestines and prostate around.

Fearing I would punch the cum out of him before he was ready, he pushed me off his cock and against the floor of the tent. He moved his straddling position down my body so that he could reach my cock and suck it, giving me a taste of my own medicine as he worked his expert mouth around my dick while punching directly down into my greedy intestines.

Again, the THUD of a big fist on tough meat sounded through the tent as he sucked my cock and repeatedly drilled my weak innards into the floor underneath me, meeting no resistance from my still-visible, relaxed six pack. Resisting the urge to cum, I took his punches into my guts as long as I could. When I knew just a couple more brutal impacts would make me shoot, I pushed him off of me.

For only a moment, we stared at each other. Both our guts ached horribly — the feeling we each love more than any other physical sensation. Our cocks were hard, lubricated, and seconds from blowing huge loads. Our eyes pierced each other, briefly unsure what the next move was.

We stared full of lust; panting and aching. 

“I wanna fuck you, Leo,” he said, still panting. 

“I wanna fuck you,” I smirked. 

We laughed for a moment, catching our breath.

“Fight for top,” he said. We both smirked.

We each reached out our calloused right hands, clasped them, flexed our muscular biceps, and pulled each other in for the fight.

We let out occasional laughs and giggles between the frequent Oof!, Uh!, and Ugh! that we’d punch out of each other. We set no rules for the fight, but both already knew that we were fighting for top with gut punches only, and neither would flex his abs to protect himself. 

For a moment, he managed to pin my arms behind me as he held me, offering unimpeded access for him to launch an unrelenting series of merciless uppercuts that drove through my intestines, diaphragm, and into my stomach organ itself, nearly bringing me down with how savagely painful each punch was as it hammered my organs.

But I wrestled free after over a dozen stomach-shots, allowing me to pin him against the coffee station with my shoulder against his pecs as I rammed my fist into his solar plexus. Not uppercuts, but definitely forcing my knuckles into his guts as if I were aiming for the coffee stand behind him. As I felt him wriggling free, I launched a devastating sucker punch to his navel, which, if I was unsure whether I’d connected my knuckles to his spine with the solar plexus shots, there was no denying I’d connected with his spine with this navel shot. 

I thought I’d bested him and would get to work my cock into his muscular ass, but to my surprise he wasn’t out yet. 

He forewent punching my belly now to just wrestle me old school. As he tried to wrestle me to the floor with his boulder biceps straining against my own strength, I fought back with a forceful push to the opposite direction. 

The intensity of the holds gave my biceps a rigidity and shape I don’t ever see them take unless I’m lifting heavy, a visual that I was not at all mad about. I could see his biceps, pecs, traps, and delts flexing and straining just the same.

“You’re so fuckin’ pumped,” I grunted out to him.

“Yeah, yeah; you a lil muscle bear now, huh?” he grunted out in reply. 

We were “fighting for top” but clearly we’re actually giving each other the faux-masculine excuse to watch (and make) each other flex our well-built muscular physiques. 

With a loud grunt, he picked me up from my stance as I stood upon my knees wrestling him, and threw me into the floor, shoulders first. Like earlier, the impact into the floor forced a hard grunt from me as it winded me. Again, I felt my pecs react to the physics of it, which he zeroed in on once again. 

He quickly leaned over onto me, gently took my right nipple in his teeth, and looked up to make eye contact with me as I caught my breath. Through his gentle bite on my nipple, he said, “Got you down, big boy.”

He bit harder, earning a cry from me. 

“Fair is fair,” I say weakly, but happily. 

He smirked as he sat up, rubbing his precum along his eight-inch dick. He spat on his fingers and lubed my ass with it before adding spit to his cock.

He tenderly began trying to work his tip into my ass as he leaned over me, beginning to makeout with me. 

I held him as we kissed, as his cock entered me slowly. He began to pump into me, gliding his dick through me as it rubbed along my prostate from the inside.

“Fuuuuuuuuck,” I remembered just how good his cock felt when he topped. 

“Yeah, you miss that?” he smirked as he continued to slowly fuck my ass, with his forehead pressed to mine. 

He continued, “I wanna feel my fist on my cock.”

I let go of him and ran my hands down my abs, stretching my stomach out for him in a display of agreement and enthusiasm.

“Beat me,” I begged.

He sat up from me and continued to pump his cock into me. He slammed his fist deep into my solar plexus, winding me hard. With his fist still plunged deep into my upper belly, he dragged it down my stomach without pulling it back. Just grinding my guts as he forced his fist down from my solar plexus to my lower gut. 

Once he reached my lower belly, he kept his fist locked in deep, pressed into my guts with his knuckles against the floor, or so it felt.

I was nearly ready to cum from his dick fondling my prostate as he pumped into me, but didn’t want to touch my cock yet. 

He removed his fist from my belly and I sucked my stomach in like a vacuum pose.

It wasn’t a proper vacuum pose, which engages your abs, but rather a variation on the vacuum pose I like to do when I want to make punching more painful and intense for myself: I suck my belly in, but keep my abs relaxed, revealing not a concave row of inwardly-flexed abdominal muscles, but instead just a thinned belly with a jelly-soft visible lump of exposed and unprotected innards pressed into one spot, surrounding my navel and down beneath my soft lower abs.

Already prepared to punch me in the gut, he reacted to my stomach vacuum with near disbelief.

“Oh fuck yeah, bro,” he said, knowing a punch into a vacuumed stomach will hurt exponentially worse, and that the odds of him feeling the impact on his cock might be greater, too.

“You want this fist?” he asked, holding his fist up and flexing that boulder bicep again. “Beg for it.”

“Please, man,” I said through tight breath, still holding my gut in the vacuum pose. “Please, beat my gut. Hurt me, man.”

He grunted as his core engaged, drilling the strongest punch he’d delivered today straight down into a soft lump of bowels in and beneath my navel area.

His fist met the pocket of guts and flattened them into the floor, forcing a hard shout and grimace from me, but before I could instinctively protect my wrecked innards, he moved my hand back.

“No!” he shouted, before slamming an equally brutal punch into my lower gut, no longer vacuumed. The second punch flattened the center of my V-cut into my belly, crushing my bladder and prostate. My beefy lower gut was flattened well beyond his wrist.

When he pulled his fist back, I was able to vacuum my belly again, to his delight. He slammed into the mound of guts again, and then drilled another sadistic punch into them once more. I held the unflexed vacuum pose this time, fighting hard to keep the pose as tears welled in my eyes, and cum welled ready to shoot from my cock. 

Again, his knuckles slammed my bowels into the floor beneath me, before one final blow.

He drove his fist again into my mound of vacuumed lower intestines, crushing them into my spine and grinding his knuckles in hard, forcing the cum out of my cock and onto my beaten and aching gut. 

“Oh fuuuuck, fuck yeah, Leo, fuck,” he said, cumming in my ass at the sight and sensation of punching the cum out of my belly handsfree. 

He rolled off of me, his hard cock slapping against his muscle gut as he lay on his neck next to me.

For a moment, we just breathed and rubbed our guts, before he began to rub mine, gently massaging it.

“God, I fuckin miss you,” he said, kissing me. “Come visit more often. I promise to do the same.”

I smiled, and returned the sentiment, acknowledging how good my guts feel in this moment. 

“And tomorrow,” I said, “I’m taking your ass.”

He laughed as he kissed me, and slammed one final sucker punch into the center of my stomach, forcing my breath out into his mouth. 

“Only if that’s a promise,” he said as I caught my breath, breathing into his mouth while we kissed.