Summerlands, where good men go to be bad.
Ever wonder what happens after you die? Where do you go? Whom might you meet? The hero of our tale has crossed over after an especially bad gay bashing. Arriving in Summerland, where everything is green and clean and the many men gathered about 'The Tree' are beautiful, he learns that not much has changed in the passionate and sexual realm of things. The men all hail from different places in time and history and are more than willing to share and demonstrate the sexual lives they've all lived before tragedy struck. There’s a pirate, a prince, a Chinese warrior, a civil war soldier, a Vietnam vet and many more from the dawn of time to now.
What’s so bad about dying when the men you meet are still so full of life?
Walking, became more like floating. What a fuckin' cliché, life was full of them. I walked toward the light, knowing instinctively where to go, harboring no illusions about hanging around this plane. But man, drugs or sex never felt this good and I was feeling really, really amazing about things in general. I was beginning to feel very much at home and as soon as my eyes adjusted I realized I had reached the much ballyhooed 'other side', Heaven, Nirvana, the Summerlands.
Like the fjords in Scandinavia, like the prettiest field in the world, waterfalls, flowers of every kind, cleanest air ever, all this magnified to an indescribable experience. Holy Shit, I felt good. I wandered around for what seemed forever. There were voices and the feel of others around me, I was alone, but didn't feel alone. It's hard to explain.
By the time I reached what appeared to be a river bank I was pretty much spaced out. I wasn't thirsty or hungry, actually I had no needs at all. As the fog lifted from my brain, I made out the shadowy forms of a group of men sitting on the river bank. And then they became very real, taking on the form of men, gorgeous men, men I could touch, men of substance. Good looking guys dressed in various costumes from every period known to man and some I didn't recognize at all, fuck me.
I looked down at my own nakedness, then imagined myself dressed in white. I had visions of happiness from last year’s white party and I wanted to somehow, for some reason, recapture that time in my life again. When I looked at myself again, I was no longer naked but dressed in white including white sandals. "Bitchin’" I murmured to myself. I walked over to the throng of handsome young men and sat down among them.
They hadn't invited me but somehow I felt very welcome, like I had come home. One by one each of the guys came over to me and they wrapped their arms around me, embracing me with a joy and happiness that I was not accustomed to. It was like attending a Body Electric course, all love and hugs and stuff. I felt like the journey of my life had brought me to this place, ending whatever journey I had been on for these thirty eight years. No one said much, and when they did speak it was almost melodic, like words set to music. It was telepathic in nature.
Each man embraced me and held me for long moments. I felt a sharing of energy. Their emotions became mine. I shared their memories, making me stronger. I recognized the look of men's faces just before orgasm. I mentally slapped myself for thinking that way in a place where sex seemed so out of place, but the love of men loving men, seemed very natural.