It get pretty boring once you get out into rural America away from houses stacked up like dominoes perched ready to fall over each other in a cascade of destruction. When the economy crashed everything changed. I was barely making it paycheck to paycheck when things were “good”, still working normally.
I have never been the brightest bulk on the Christmas tree but I could figure it out well enough to get what I needed done. After managing to stick it out long enough to finish high school but I never was one for all that studying like the nerdy kids were always on about and did not see much sense in going into debt going to some college when I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life.
Things were constantly changing. No sooner than I would get hired than within 3 years or less management was shipping everything overseas and closing where I was working. This was the way of things for as long as I could remember. I had done the factory, manufacturing thing till that all dried up and then tried the call center customer service thing which wound up the same. Then the shit really hit the fan. With no job and no savings it was not long till I was out on my ass evicted from the slum hole I barely could afford when things were going well.
Most of my relatives were too drunk or stoned to be of any real help, except for Joe. He was a friend of the family that had bought the old homestead when grandpa lost it to foreclosure a few years back. He let grandpa stay out of respect for raising him when his own family had abandoned him when they had asked to babysit for the weekend.
Grandpa did not live but a few years afterward. Uncle Luke said it was from heart-ache at the loss of Grandma and embarrassment of losing everything he had tried to build with her there. I had nowhere else to go and living under a bridge homeless was more depressing than I could bring myself to endure.
What had once been agricultural on the side that flooded every year had been left fallow so long that nature had taken over with bramble and scrub cover up everything. The side that was uphill that had been used to raise livestock was not in much better condition. Every now and then I would see something darting just out of sight when I turned my head towards the rustling of the brush in that direction. I would catch just the fleeting glimpse of either a chicken or a hog, undoubtedly one of the offspring that had gotten out of the pens and had gone wild. It was all a sad state of affairs.
Joe lived in the house he had shared with grandpa that he kept up as best as a redneck like him could manage, but it was apparent the maintenance had long been deferred as to be none existent. Still, I was grateful Joe let me stay at all.
Every now and then one of my uncles or their friends would turn up to hunt deer and turkey without so much as a how do you do to either Joe or I. Obviously this left Joe feeling disrespected but did not feel up to dealing with the argument that would be the inevitable result if he called them out on it and would hear Joe muttering to himself when he had a few and forgot anyone else was around.
Most of the time it was just the two of us on this old wreck of a property out in the boonies. The closest gas station was 30 minutes away and that even was one of those dives at the off ramp of an unused and forgotten stretch of the interstate that had seen better days.
There were no jobs to be had, Joe got his pension after having retired from the military which he used to pay the property taxes and whatever else the county and state charged him so that he could stay on the property without worrying too much about it.
I had thought it was something people would make up to scare their kids into behaving but Joe actually lived with no electricity or municipal plumbing. The well Grandpa had dug half a century ago still had a working hand pump to fill a bucket with. The cast iron stove he would cut firewood to burn in to cook and heat up water to take what he considered a bath. Subsistence living is what folks called the way he lived.
He would boil the water and put the cleanest of it in a glass gallon jug on the shelf in what could vaguely could fall into the category of being called a kitchen. I had brought with me what little I had which in comparison seemed a lot more than what Joe made do with.
To earn my keep I started trying to pick up and sweep out the worst of the dust and dirt that had caked up on the floors and counters to the point I had originally thought it was a bare earth floor.
There was still a remnant of the vegetable garden that provided enough for the both of us to eat and Joe would bring back the odd critter we would eat for meat to go with it. If he could catch it he would cook it. I was broke so could hardly be picky being the definition of a beggar at that point like I was.
Joe would cut down the occasional tree near the house and use it for firewood. He had the system Grandpa had taught him on drying the wood out and keeping it out of the weather and off the ground. After it aged enough he would use it in the classic utilitarian way.
I had free reign to roam as I pleased. I wandered into what was left of the original house Grandpa had built for Grandma left to rot. After the kids started coming Grandma had the house Joe and I lived in built. Still not sure how she managed that but I do remember Uncle Luke saying Grandpa always resented it which was a source of friction between the two Grandparents.
Most of the glass was still in the windows of the modest but homely building. I could still see the old metal kitchen table and chairs in one room that must have been the kitchen. In another window I could see the unassuming bed railings with only the metal parts of the mattress that had long ago rotted away remaining. I could only assume that it had been the grandparents’ bedroom. I remember the family saying they had slept on pallets around the stove growing up. I did not see a stove, so the one at the house must have been brought from this place. It was like looking into the past and I could not help but feel a bit saddened as my gaze took it all in.
On the way back I found an old black walnut tree and picked up the fruit and put it in a bucket I had found in the old house earlier. It was a dark purplish black orb that was kind of slimy to the touch when you picked it up but in the center was the nut. I brought them back with me not certain if they were edible or not. I would later be relieved when I saw Joe cleaning the walnut out of them and putting the nut fragments in a container. It took a surprising amount of work to get at and clean those which is probably why the tree was forgotten about till now. The pods stained Joe’s hands as he processed the unexpected bounty.
The next day I would see just how labor intensive chopping firewood proved to be as Joe swung that old handled ax with a dexterity and grace honed from lots of practice and familiarity to such a task. I knew Joe had retired from active service and that the military life was a difficult one but I was completely unprepared to see just how fit Joe was still.
He had stripped out of his shirt which was laid across a nearby tree limb, airing out well in the process. Joe had a shine to his sun burnished skin from the sweat he had built up splitting wood into serviceable chunks. His muscles rippled as he moved which I had to consciously remember to breathe from being so mesmerized as I was by his distinctly lumberjack build. If had been wearing a red flannel shirt and jeans it would only have completed the look for him.
Instead he had the straps of his denim overalls cinched around his waist like a belt just barely keeping the pants portion from falling down around his ankles. It was apparent he had worn it like this many times before and was perfectly comfortable, such as one can be in the throws of such intensive manual labor.
I was oblivious to anything other than this unexpected Adonis chopping wood in front of me when out from the foliage came charging a boar which would have gored me had it not been for Joe’s swift action. Throwing that double headed ax with such precision he struck the wild hog square in the head causing it to careen into the tree where Joe’s shirt had been swaying in the breeze. The force with which the large pig collided with that old growth oak was enough to break its neck as Joe came running up to me still reeling in disbelief at what had just happened right in front of my very eyes. Deftly Joe freed the ax and made certain that the boar was dispatched. Joe then spoke more than I can recall him ever saying to me previously as I assured him that I was unharmed.
Together we drug the carcass towards the house where I helped pull the rope hoisting up the would-be assailant on another large bowed oak tree limb where Joe butchered it. Grandpa had raised him not to waste anything. He then packed the ham and steak sized cutlets into a cooler that still had enough ice remaining to serve the purpose before we hoped in the truck to go get more so that it would keep.
An hour passed quickly as we made our way to the closest store where Joe paid the clerk for three bags of ice and several boxes of rock salt. I had never seen anyone cure their own meat before and it was quite the enlightening experience. I had brought out the kerosene lanterns as the sunlight faded over the horizon. It was still hours after dark before we were done salting and packing this sudden fresh supply of bacon and pork.
Joe was exhausted after all that. He had once again worked up a profuse sweat obliterating his earlier efforts at cleaning up before we had gone to town. I could tell that Joe was beyond tired and was mulling over taking a nap on the floor so as not to muck up his bed.
I knew he would sleep better in his own bed so I filled a washbasin with water and got a bar of soap from the makeshift bathroom and with a dry towel over one shoulder sat down next to him to clean him up as best that I could. Joe was already dozing sitting there as I dampened a washcloth and proceeded with the sponge bath. It was a warm summer night so the water cool from the well felt good both to my hands as I wrung out the washcloth and to him as I worked to wipe off the dirt and grime of the day from Joe’s skin.
I had already been enamored by how strong and muscular Joe’s body remained after all he had endured in his 50 something years of a hard knock life. As my hands traced the contours of that rugged physique with the soap and then again with the dampened washcloth I could feel myself getting all the more aroused.
Uncertain if it was gratitude for Joe taking me in when I desperately needed a roof over my head or his heroism on full display earlier in the day I found myself falling in love with this reclusive rough cut gem. At this point Joe had woken up and I had to reassure him of my intentions in order to reposition him in order to properly clean those harder to reach areas.
I adore the way the hair on Joe’s chest frames those perfectly peaked pecs of his and then forms an exquisite trail down those strong firm abs. He is no gym rat but he certainly possesses all the benefits any bodybuilder could dream of achieving from their temples to flex and strut.
Joe worked in a time honored manner getting stuff done and in so doing built the strength and resilience that I found so sexy. I practically swooned when I finally managed to convince him to let me get the rest of his kit off to finish the job of cleaning him up when I was greeted by one of the most impressive endowments I had ever seen.
Joe tried to hide it by crossing those massively thick thighs of his which were tree trunks of pure muscle. It took a few minutes to coax this kind warmhearted lug to his feet who was still so spent by his earlier exertions that he was swaying like a sapling buffeted in a breeze.
I took care as I lathered up the sensitive areas and carefully washed and dried him off. I was rock hard by this point while my jeans restrained my prick painfully but I focused on guiding the half asleep giant to his bed in the room down the hall from where we were.
It was such a warm night there was no need to pull back the covers before laying him out on the bed to rest. With no electricity there was not an option of turning on a fan so I opened the windows on either side of the room to let the warm evening breeze pass through the room as best it could. I found myself being grateful that somehow there were proper screens on the windows which worked wonderfully to keep the biting insects and mosquitoes away.
This gentle giant slept soundly the rest of the night and had slept in later the next morning than had been his established habit. I waited till 10am before opening the door to check on him, not wanting to disturb his rest that he had so abundantly earned.
I then made a fresh pot of coffee on the old wood stove having learned the trick of doing so by watching Joe do so many previous mornings. The smell of the brew roused him as I poured his cup black as he liked it. Again with no electricity, milk for creamer was certainly unavailable as an ingredient option.
Joe looked different somehow in my eyes now. What had been an aloof oddity took on a whole new visage. Joe noticed my new found perspective as he returned my adoring gaze with one of the warmest expressions I had ever known from him.
We needed to do laundry later and I had forgotten to bring the towel with me when I put him to rest last night so I was both impressed, surprised and elated when I noticed that he was holding his warm coffee mug in both hands drinking it in, savoring the taste of it and standing there naked as God had made him. I was completely in thrall by his oblivious innocence as natural in its comfort as breathing in the fresh air on such a beautiful morning.
I had warmed up some water in the lavatory which Joe gravitated to with an unassuming casualness that I found reassured as I gathered up our few garments in preparation to wash them that afternoon. What had started off as a necessity had burgeoned into a beautiful friendship that I am looking forward to seeing how it develops with eager earnestness. I had no idea when I begged for the use of the one extra bed that I would end up with a newfound buddy like this in Joe.