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Love with a capital "L," I notice.

Quite right.

Oh, my God... It's Full Of Stars!



Super 8 in St. George, South Carolina.

When we finally turned off the lights for the night, the ceiling lit up with glow-in-the-dark stars, planets, comets -- a whole space scene rendered in neon green.

I have seen many, many odd things in motels over the course of my life, but never stars on the ceiling.

For a moment it was nifty. Then it became scary-creepy.

Having cum once that evening already, we were kind of tired and relaxed and wanted to pull off the highway. He had purchased some new porn DVDs at an adult store a few hours earlier and we figured we'd watch those and gear up for more. Super 8 is always a risk: independent management. But it looked fairly new and clean, at least under cover of night. I have stayed in worse rooms but those were rented by the hour. I suppose this place was sanitary enough, provided one didn't lick the counter tops. The anemic air conditioning made sleeping brutal. Two fat guys in bed together... it's a lot of body heat, believe me.

Behind the Super 8, one of the employees has a small vegetable garden planted in plastic pots. I noticed green beans and tomatoes. Also, I am SURE I saw a locust, but just one, which is odd, perhaps even impossible.

He's dead-set on Microtel from now on, which is fine with me.

Microtel has a free continental breakfast, you see. If there's free food, he's going to find it.

He snores lightly for three minutes, then he's quiet all night. He says I do the same. He does have a problem with the jimmy-leg, though. I am getting used to it. He likes to be hugged all night and to the best of my knowledge, neither of us farted in bed that we were aware of.

We got along perfectly the entire time. There wasn't a single bad moment. He is easy to live with and even seemed to drop some of his minor OCD habits. I did the same.

Just for fun, I tried his Red Man chew on the way back in West Virginia. It seemed like the right place to experience chew. It's not for me, so I won't be adopting the habit. But I enjoyed the taste, to be honest. Just too much spit to deal with. It did wake me up with a nice buzz, though.

An awful lot happened. Maybe I'll share more of it later. We'll see.

Snuggled on my sofa one night, he said: "I guess I finally know what love is." He said: "I love you, Mike." I told him the very same, saying I've loved him for a while now but I just keep on loving him more and more.

I could tell that he'd probably rehearsed his few words in his head over and over that evening, but he wasn't nervous about saying them out loud. He didn't stumble in his speech. He looked me in the eyes and was sincere and gentle as always.

Then it got all mushy-romantic. Hand-holding and kissing and hugging and getting as close as possible while whispering ooey-gooey notions in each other's ears. "My boyfriend," he said, as if confirming it aloud.

I took a fast shower after he did and when I came back into the room he was sitting there with a boner in his boxers and he said: "Oh, yeah, I've been thinking about YOU, mister!"

So then we fucked around and after that we ate more cake.

An hour of snuggling in bed later on, a short doze for ten minutes and then he wakes me up and says he is ready for "round two."

OK, then.




Fourth Of July today at Momma Bear's house. BBQ.

Momma Bear bought holiday T-shirts for all her guests to wear. How sweet. She got me a medium, the misguided darling. He traded me for his own extra-large. Daddy Bear will exchange the medium one for another extra-large for G-Bear to wear.

From his house we'll be able to see fireworks right outside his window, he says. No bugs, he says. No crowds.

I'm into it.