A High Country Tale: The Fifteenth Tale-- Of Odin and Ovid

By Zachariah Jack

Luke Cevennes, M.D. He liked the way it sounded even now, after more than a decade and a half of wearing the mantle. Jeremy Kell, PhD. That rolled over Luke’s tongue with more flavor than any name in his world. The sexy Jamaican immigrant literally swept him off his feet nearly two decades before and the ride together had proved satisfyingly memorable. Remarkable, more like. The two fit each other.
Luke and Jeremy’s best friends, Jake and Calumet, likewise professional and accomplished, lagged in years by a decade, but the bond between the four was as deep as the Marianas Trench. Traversing the twenty-first century as a new age American family, the two interracial couples complemented each other in ways the majority of people could only look upon in wishing.
The sole thing lacking: legitimacy. While the duos were supremely contented in their own skins and lives, the anticipation of securing a valid place in the social order was confounding. Evasively elusive, a lightening of the horizon now buttressed hopes for fulfillment of that state so taken for granted and abused by the straight domain.
Having already consummated enriched lives and comfortable lifestyles, meaningful authenticity by judicial fiat now loomed. The four exceptional gay men were over-ready to grasp the reins.

Hijinks, ribaldry, a touch of activism plus candor and humor, all souffléd with a smattering of profundity, gel into a roving epic, from America to Europe to the Caribbean, on the shores of World War II Normandy, to Blue Mountain in Jamaica, up the wuthering heights of the Rockies and down the alluvial plains of the American deep south, as these self-deprecating, refined yet lusty menfolk wend their way, together, while luring the flotsam and jetsam of humanity along, on the sojourn that is the Tree of Life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zachariah Jack
• Release date: Jul 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310175718

Zachariah Jack

I am a professional with a history in veterinary medicine and marine biology, but a fledgling in the realm of tale-spinning, just now launching the newest stage of my life . The existence of a contentedly settled home life with my man, our dogs and cat makes me whole. I finally took to heart the sage advice from the esteemed author and activist, Sir Armistead Maupin, who advised his audience over two decades ago to 'Proclaim Yourself!'. As a member of that audience, I never forgot. The remonstrance was belatedly acted upon in a mountain wedding two months following the SCOTUS concession of yet one more of our 'certainly reserved rights'. In accordance with the much overlooked ninth and tenth amendments to the United States Constitution. See for yourself. And think on it. Check my publications out at Smashwords, Kindle, Barnes & Noble, iBooks, Kobo, etc.. And, please, review my work. ZJ.

Book preview

The Fifteenth Tale

**Of Odin and Ovid**

By Zachariah Jack

A High Country Tale, Book 15

By Zachariah Jack

Copyright 2016 Zachariah Jack

Smashwords Edition

A High Country Tale Synopsis

Luke Cevennes, M.D. He liked the way it sounded even now, after more than a decade and a half of wearing the mantle. Jeremy Kell, PhD. That rolled over Luke’s tongue with more flavor than any name in his world. The sexy Jamaican immigrant literally swept him off his feet nearly two decades before and the ride together had proved satisfyingly memorable. Remarkable, more like. The two fit each other.

Luke and Jeremy’s best friends, Jake and Calumet, likewise professional and accomplished, lagged in years by a decade, but the bond between the four was as deep as the Marianas Trench. Traversing the twenty-first century as a new age American family, the two interracial couples complemented each other in ways the majority of people could only look upon in wishing.

The sole thing lacking: legitimacy. While the duos were supremely contented in their own skins and lives, the anticipation of securing a valid place in the social order was confounding. Evasively elusive, a lightening of the horizon now buttressed hopes for fulfillment of that state so taken for granted and abused by the straight domain.

Having already consummated enriched lives and comfortable lifestyles, meaningful authenticity by judicial fiat now loomed. The four exceptional gay men were over-ready to grasp the reins.

Hijinks, ribaldry, a touch of activism plus candor and humor, all souffléd with a smattering of profundity, gel into a roving epic, from America to Europe to the Caribbean, on the shores of World War II Normandy, to Blue Mountain in Jamaica, up the wuthering heights of the Rockies and down the alluvial plains of the American deep south, as these self-deprecating, refined yet lusty menfolk wend their way, together, while luring the flotsam and jetsam of humanity along, on the sojourn that is the Tree of Life.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Beginning

Middle

End

**Of Odin and Ovid**

The low moan escaped my lips before I could stifle it. As I lay cuddled up into Cal’s armpit, relishing his scent, my fetal position and the exposure of my naked ass allowed for an intrepid gatecrasher’s invasive access into what had been vacated only a scant hour before. Following Cal’s copious eruption.

This wee hour of our first February night in Telluride found us snugly holed up in the rustic log home of Jeremy and Luke. The Kell-Cevennes branch of our family. More specifically, in a shared and coveted spot amidst our closest friends: their king-sized cypress-hewn bed. Nestled between my husband and our friends’ semi-permanent guest and new acquaintance, the dreadlocked Jamaican. He had been introduced to us as one Ambergai Gee of reggae music renown earlier in the evening.

The unfamiliar intimate had been quite comfortable in his nudity around the fireplace-warmed home for the entire evening of our arrival. While forewarned, we hadn’t been too well fore-armed for the actuality of the package the man carried around. The eleven-inch plus piece had both startled and enthralled we two newly-landed houseguests.

Luke had described the behemoth more than once, but like Helen of Troy’s historic beauty, this man’s beast was only fully appreciated upon the picture supplanting words. The mind’s eye picture now provoked a certain wariness as the thing enquiringly prodded my rounded buttglobes, protruding beyond Cal’s protective cover. Cal’s continued even breaths confirmed his slumberous state. The giant dick was unfurling gradually upward and inward, determined to know my insides in addition to my external self.

While I very much desired the dick to get it, the increasingly firm girth presented formidable challenge to plugging in. Discreet elbow grease application helped: where the man got it was a puzzle. He must have been a reggae boy scout, I surmised. The involuntary moan as the huge head squeezed through my sphincter was only rudimentarily acknowledged amongst our other bedmates, none of whom awakened to it. Only reflexive rearrangement of the other three bodies registered the discrete shift in the status quo.

Ambergai Gee pushed the big thing forward in its quest, having visually and audibly indicated intent prior to this night foray. My untested white booty had been sized-up on several occasions over the previous hours. Once, even testing the cakes by the old finger-squeeze-and-thump method. The action had brought me up short, halting midstride as the older man’s long fingers wrapped around my husband’s main-squeeze butt--- mine, that is--- in inquisitive delving. No one else had been within sight upon descending the staircase from unpacking suitcases. I looked over my shoulder at the touch, not needing to gaze too far downward to view the humongous dick that was, by extension, thumping the ‘fruit’.

Apparently, mine proved ripe enough, for he had then commented, Mi a’gonna be a-getting’ a bit o’dat booty, now, ma’new friend Dr. Jake-mon, an’ in only a li’l while, so don’ be a-keepin’ ‘dis here Mon a’waitin overlong for de’ taste-testin’, a’ight boi? The implication was not subtle, I had inferred.

We had arrived at the house only an hour before that squeezing, being introduced simultaneously to Ambergai Gee and the adorable other half of the handsome Adolpho, whom Cal and I had been knowing for a year or more during previous visits. The ‘straight’ young sommelier. His new lover, a blond ski bum named Bryce Canyon, had surprised us. We had accepted and presumed Adopho’s straight-world predilection because of the Italian boy’s own insistence. Until Luke had told us of the news downland in Rome, Georgia… hmmm. Welcome to our world… and family.

Having just departed the lowland environs of the Broadhearst brotherhood, I was well prepared for the blitzkrieg technique commonly employed by men-of-color when they choose to take their pleasures. Both Luke and I reveled in the proximity of desirous men and their proclivities at common junctures, yet the materialization of this homunculus was not something for which I could ever have been quite prepared.

At least an additional one-plus inches longer and ‘girthier’ than my own ten-inch Calumet, the beast now entering my asshole defied credence. I had thought that the size of this dick existed only in fantasies dreamt up by fiction writers. But here it was. Back-door knocking. Yes, strictly speaking, I had been forewarned. But, I was adding another meaning to the concept of fore-armed, what with the arm-sized cock now familiarizing itself with my colon. Like other residents of this house had already been. First hand.

So, I just inhaled my man’s muskiness from the inside of his deep pit and luxuriated, between winces, as I was stretched wider than I had been. Oh, wait, with the exception of Mr. Jumbo. At the Atlanta pleasure house to where Cal had escorted me months before. That one rivaled this. I stood corrected.

Musk aroma filled in for poppers nicely as the menacing anaconda slid slippery up into my warm chute. After a seeming eternity and two miles of depth perception, I felt the hot sizzle of the tall man’s ballsack against my perineum. Older men had such patience.

Sighing in both relief and ecstasy, the exaggerated breath finally roused my unsuspecting husband. He sleepily extended his rangy arm down my back in an arc that reached my ravaged hole. At the recognizance of an enormous presence where his own cock had just recently spent itself, Cal awakened more so, fingering the connection. My man loved that particular action, commonly doing it when he and I joined together. He prized the fingering feel of dick-in-ass. The streaming three-dimensionality of it turned him hugely on.

My hand reached down to his fast-arising tens, certain what I would find. Tumescence along with the soft, seductive whisper into my ear augmented already enormous delight, "Ooooh, my baby mandingo-pleasin’ boi. You been getting’ plugged like you know I like feelin’, right here inside of my daddy-shield, haven’t you,