Author: admin

“David”

I like sex. I like having sex with johns. Sometimes I’d have repeats; you know, guys who’d look for me because they liked me and thought I was good. I liked that because I knew what they wanted and I did my best. Mostly I went with guys I never saw before and would never see again. I liked that too because it was exciting to do it with somebody new and they almost never hurt me.

My best friend, Rocco, told me about some of the johns he’d been with; dangerous guys and guys who cheated him; you know – bad things that happened to him. See, he was looking out for me. That’s what friends do. I said, “Yeah. I know about that, but not all johns are bad,” and he said, “No. I just want you to be aware – you know,” and I said, “Thanks.”

David was one of the nice ones – mostly. He became one of my regulars. Actually, he became the most regular of all, but it started out slow.

I remember the first time I saw David. It was a Thursday. That’s not important but I remember it anyway. He was driving around in a dark green Mercedes. He looked at me and I looked back at him and then he drove away. But then he came back slower than the first time and he looked at me the whole time he was driving by. Some guys do that. They call it cruising. “So, make up your mind,” I thought. “Quit driving around and pick me up,” and after a while that’s what he did. He stopped at the curb near where I was standing and he stared at me. When I went up to the car he put the window down. “Nice car,” I said and he said, “Yeah. Do you want to go for a ride?” and I said, “OK,” and he said, “Get in,” so I did.

The guy was good looking – real good looking. At least, I thought so. His skin was darker than mine and his hair was thick and curly and black, and when he looked at me I couldn’t see any color in his eyes except black. And even as dark as his face was it was even darker where his whiskers grew. And he had this mole on his cheek right where he didn’t have to shave any more. I wondered if he cut that a lot when he shaved. Shaving was not much of a problem for me.

“What do you do?” he asked. Most guys want to know what I want; you know – money, but not this guy. He was direct; no beating around the bush. I said, “The regular things.” “The regular things,” he repeated. “Are you a top or a bottom?” and I said, “Both – mostly bottom.” “Anything kinky?” he asked and I said, “I dunno.” “You clean?” he asked. “Sure,” I said, “I shower every day,” and he said, “Not real bright, are you?” He didn’t have to say that. It made me feel like I was back in school when kids were mean to me. “I mean diseases,” he said. “Drugs. Are you clean?” and I said, “Yeah, I’m clean.”

Like I’m sure you already know, we didn’t go for a ride. We went to this hotel. He parked on the street. He didn’t get out of the car right away. It was like he was thinking things over or something. Some guys are like that. He turned to me and said, “You can’t go into the hotel when I do because someone might see and that wouldn’t do,” and I said, “OK.” He pointed to a planter at the corner that had a little pine tree growing out of it and said, “Stand over there and wait for me to come back,” so we got out of the car and I waited where he told me to. He went into the hotel and then he came back to tell me the room number. Then he said, “Wait five or ten minutes – make that ten – before going in.” I thought, “Oh, brother,” but that’s what I did. I mean, he was paying and all.

Lots of guys took me to cheap hotels around the neighborhood but this was the nicest one I’d ever been to. I could tell that this guy had money with his car and not asking me how much and now this nice hotel.

After a while – I guess it was ten minutes – I went up to his room and knocked on the door. He opened it as soon as I knocked, like he was waiting there for me; you know, on the other side of the door. We sat around and talked a little without saying much. He asked me my name and I told him. He told me to call him David. He said, “Well, Timmy, I want you to take a shower,” and I said, “OK,” so I did.

David was already in the bed when I came out of the bathroom. “All clean?” he asked and I said, “All clean.”

He lifted the sheet for me. That’s when I noticed that his arms had these really nice muscles, and then I noticed that all the muscles I could see were real nice. I figured that he was a gym bunny, or gym rat – whatever they call it. He had dark hair on his arms and his chest and even a little down on his stomach but that’s all the further I could see because he had the sheet on and all. His nipples looked pink in all that black hair. When he noticed that I was looking at them he pinched one which made it pop up and he said, “Suck it.” Now, I never saw the point of sucking a man’s nipples and when someone sucked on mine I wished he’d stop if he bit it which happened a lot. “Suck it,” he said again so that’s what I did. I didn’t bite it. He moaned and said, “Oh yeah, suck it,” and since it was my job to make him feel good that’s what I did, and then I kissed and licked across his chest and sucked the other one. “Oh yeah,” he said again. “That’s nice.”

When he was ready he raised his arm and I knew that meant that I was to lick his armpit. I liked that because he had these hard muscles on both sides. There was all this hair and I had to try extra hard to get my tongue to touch the skin. He liked that and he moaned louder and rocked his hips from side to side. Then he lifted my head with his hands and looked into my eyes and said, “You’re good,” and I said, “Thank you.” I thought he was going to kiss me. I didn’t used to like that, having a man kiss me I mean, but I get into it now – more with some guys than others. I was hoping that David would kiss me but he didn’t.

I laid back. David’s arm was under my neck. We just laid there together for a while and didn’t say anything. After a while David pulled me close to his chest which was nice. Then he rolled me onto my back and got on top of me. I knew what that meant so I spread my legs and when he got between them he pushed them wider apart with his knees. He lubed up my hole, held my legs apart with his arms and pushed his cock in. Lots of guys are like that; ready to fuck and get off. Anyway, David pushed his cock in nice and slow, the way I like it, and he fucked me slow, too. He pulled all the way out a couple of times but it wasn’t like he was clumsy or didn’t know what he was doing. I guess he liked the feeling of his cock head going through the tight ring of my hole. I know I liked the feeling of him doing that. Pretty soon he push it the whole way in again. He laid on top of me so our chests and our stomachs were pressed together and he fucked me. I could feel his cock in me – hard – and it felt good, like it belonged there. He fucked me and didn’t say anything. Some guys say things like, “Take it, Pussy Boy,” or “You like that hard cock, don’t you, Boy?” Remember Carl? He did that. But David just fucked me slow and made me know he was where he wanted to be and doing what he wanted to do. I wanted it too.

He went a little faster and ground against me to go deeper even though he was already in as deep as he could go. Of course, my cock was hard and David’s hairy stomach was rubbing against its underside while he fucked me. It was hot. I wished I could get my hand between our stomachs and jack myself off while he was fucking me. I really wanted to come. Then I got this feeling low in my gut that I get when I’m about ready to shoot. I thought, “No. That’s not gonna happen,” but it did. I came. I shot my whole load and couldn’t help crying out. David fucked harder when that happened and he came too, inside me. It felt good every time he spurted and to make it feel even better I squeezed my hole tight around his shaft and moved my butt in little circles. I think he liked that.

He sort of relaxed on top of me before he rolled off. He just looked at me and at the mess on my stomach. I thought he might lick it off but he didn’t. Then he said, “Better wash up,” and I said, “Yeah,” so that’s what we did. After that I said, “Are we going to sleep here tonight?” and he said in a mean voice, “You gotta be kidding,” and I thought, “You’re kinda nice, but not a hundred percent.”

* * *

I didn’t know if I’d see David again. I hoped I would because he gave me more money than I asked for which didn’t happen often and also, like I already told you, I liked the sex. I mean, I had never come without someone, me or the other guy, jacking me. I thought of that time with David as the best sex I ever had – and it was.

Well, anyway, I did see David again. I was glad when I saw his car glide up the street. It was on a Thursday again a month later. This time he didn’t cruise me. He pulled right up to the curb. I saw him looking at me so I went over to his car. He said, “Hi, Timmy,” and I said, “Hey.” I was surprised that he remembered my name. I liked that. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “Do you want to go for and ride?” and I said, “OK.” Actually, I think I said sure because, like I already told you, I was glad to see him.

He drove to a different hotel this time. He told me that he made reservations and that his room number was 1207. He told me to wait a while and then go into the lobby and not to talk to anyone. He told me to go straight to the elevators and take one to the twelfth floor. I don’t know why he gave me such specific instructions. Maybe he thought I was a little kid and couldn’t figure stuff out for myself. Or someone might see me go to his room and that wouldn’t do. Oh, brother!

I waited ten minutes and went up to his room: number 1207.

There was a bottle of booze on the dresser. It was vodka which I figured out later was his favorite kind. He said, “I’m going to have a cocktail. Would you like one?” I looked at him funny and he said, “I’m sure you’re old enough for a drink,” but I didn’t say anything when he said that. Instead I said, “What kind is it,?” but I don’t know why I asked because I didn’t know anything about that stuff back then. “Vodka and tonic,” he said and I said, “Sure,” so he made two and gave one to me. I wanted him to think this was nothing new to me but actually it was. I mean I drank beer once in a while but I didn’t like beer much. I still don’t. David gave me this drink and the first taste was like bitter or something but by the fourth or fifth sip I was used to it and I thought it was nice. David was drinking and he started to ask me all these questions like how many men had I had sex with and what did we do and what did I like. Pretty much everything I told him was true. Sometimes I wasn’t sure what he meant, like when he asked me about kinky stuff, but I never let on.

When he finished his drink he said, “Shall we go to bed?” I thought that that was a dumb thing to say. I mean, why didn’t he just say, “Ready?” or, “Let’s go,” but he didn’t. He said, “Shall we go to bed?” but he didn’t get up from his chair.

We were still in our clothes and he said, “Take those things off, will you?” so I kicked off my shoes and stood up. I took my shirt off over my head and he said, “Come here,” so I stood in front of his chair. He said, “I want to watch you get undressed. Do it slowly, please,” and I said, “Like this?” and I opened the front of my pants real slow and he said, “That’s right.” He had his clothes off before I was finished and his cock was hard and sticking up from his thick bush. Remember I told you that I didn’t get a good look at it before he fucked me last time? I mean, I knew it was big because I could tell when he was in me and all. Well, I got a good look now and I was right. It was big; long and thick too. Remember how I told you that he was dark? Well, his cock and especially his balls were even darker than the rest of him, and his balls were big but they didn’t hang down real far. The head of his cock was sticking up out of its foreskin; it was pink and wet-looking. He put his hands on my hips and turned me around and pulled me against him so that my ass crack was lined up with his cock. “Sit on it,” he said. I tried but it didn’t work real well so he raised his hips up and pushed until the head was opening my hole but it hurt so I stood up. “Damn you,” he said loud. “I told you to sit on it.” He said it mean, like he was mad at me. I said, “I think it needs lube,” and he said in a nicer voice, “There’s some in my bag. Get it,” so I that’s what I did. I opened the jar but he said, “Give it to me. I’ll do it,” so I gave it to him.

He smeared lube all over his cock and said, “Turn around,” so I did and I backed up and leaned forward to make it easier for him. He opened my ass crack with the dry fingers of his left hand smeared the rest of the lube all around my asshole and he pushed some up in me with his finger. That felt good and I think my hard-on got harder. Then we worked together to get his cock up inside me; him pushing up and me sitting. I wiggled my butt and he said, “Yes,” and he started to fuck me. I wanted him to get it in farther so I put my feet on the seat of the chair which opened up my hole more and he said, “Yes,” and he fucked me some more. He put his arms around me and fucked me, but his thrusts were more like little jabs because he was still sitting and all. His arm grazed against my hard-on and he made a fist around it and started to jack it. He jacked and fucked and we both made noises; me kind of groaning – whimpering, I guess – and him breathing hard. He fucked me and then he stood up with his cock still inside me. I lifted my knees to my chest to keep my hole opened as much as I could so he’d go in deep and not slip out or anything.

He was strong. He lifted me and carried me to the bed like I didn’t weigh anything. I mean, I know I’m small and everything, but I’m not a little kid. I know I already told you that but it’s important to me that you know. He put me on the bed on my stomach and moved on top of me and then he fucked me for real – slow and deep. My cock was really hard and guess what. I came again without anyone touching me; I mean, without touching my cock. I just came and came and David fucked me until he came too. His cock got bigger and he pressed hard against my butt and he shot his load deep inside me.

He stayed in me a long time; longer than the last time, and we didn’t talk this time either. I thought that that was kind of strange but kind of nice too until he got heavy. After a while I wished he would get off me but I didn’t say anything. He stayed on top of me until he stopped breathing hard.

When he was ready he got up and so did I. He didn’t know that I came until he saw the bedspread. “Made an mess, didn’t you?” he said and I said, “I guess.” “Well,” he said, “I’m sure they’ve seen messes before.” I think he meant the hotel people. We got up and got dressed right away. I knew better than to ask if we were going to sleep there.

* * *

It didn’t take a month for David to roll around again. When I got into his car, he said, “This could become my Thursday habit, and I said, “That would be nice.” This time we did drive around a little, but not much. We talked about things he wanted to talk about and then he said, “Are you hungry?” and I said, “No,” and he said, “Well I am,” so we went to this restaurant. He said, “It’s not too bad,” and I said, “I think it’s nice,” and he snorted. “No cocktail for you tonight,” he said. “At least not here.” He ordered a vodka tonic and I ordered a Coke. Actually, it was a Sprite. While he ate we talked about other things. He asked me a lot of questions about where I came from and what I used to do there and did I like school but I didn’t want to talk about that stuff so I told him about Rocco. I didn’t mention Lenny.

When David finished eating we went outside. He told me that we were going to a hotel close by and I said, “OK.” He said that he had reserved a room and told me the number. I knew what he was going to say next and I’m sure you do too so I won’t tell you this time.

David had showered while he was waiting for me and he was wearing just a towel when he opened the door. We sat in chairs and talked while we drank vodka tonics. Then he said, “I want a show tonight,” and I said, “What do you mean?” and he said, “Stand here in front of me. You know what to do.” I said, “Take my clothes off, and he said, “That’s right.” Then I said, “Slow,” and he smiled at me and said, “Slow.” This time I took my shirt off slow and then my pants and all. He told me to turn around when I took off my socks. I figured that he wanted to see my ass and maybe even my hole.

When I was finished I turned back around and he was looking at me and jacking his big cock. I stood there and watched him and he said, “Suck it,” so I got on my knees and started to suck it regular. He said, “Slow,” so I slowed down and licked around the base of his shaft and his balls and all and then went down on him again until I got to the spot where I couldn’t take any more and he said, “Deeper,” Then he put his hands on my head – you know, on the sides of my face – and he moved my mouth up and down on his cock. Now, I like to suck cock and I am pretty good at it – at least a lot of guys have told me that – but I didn’t like what David was doing. He held my head and stood up and started to fuck my mouth real hard. At first it was OK. What I mean is, it wasn’t too bad; you know what I mean – but then it hurt and I started to choke but he didn’t seem to care. He fucked my mouth hard and deep. Then he pushed his cock as deep as he could and held it there. After a while I needed to breathe so I pulled away from him and stood up. “God damn you,” he said, but my eyes were watery and snot was coming out of my nose and everything. Then he said, “I hope I didn’t hurt you,” but he didn’t sound like he meant it. I said, “That’s OK,” but actually I didn’t think it was. There was a box of Kleenex there and I took one and blew my nose. I hoped he’d never do that again.

* * *

The next time I’m going to tell you about was a few weeks later. You already know that David liked to fuck me. That was his favorite thing to do with me and that was OK because I liked it too. But he surprised me this time. After we pulled the bedspread down to the foot of the bed, I got on my back and he got between my legs. Then he put my cock in his mouth and started to suck. I guess you know that he’d never done that before. I know my cock got harder than it already was like I bet you already guessed and he went all the way down until his nose was against my belly. Now, I’ve got to admit; that’s not hard to do. I’m not very big in that department. Just regular. Well, actually, a little smaller than regular. I keep hoping it gets bigger but I don’t think that’s gonna happen. Not that it matters a whole lot. When johns ask me I tell them I’m usually a bottom so they don’t expect too much. If they don’t ask and they want me to fuck them they mostly think it’s OK. At least they don’t say anything. Usually.

So I was on my back with my legs spread and David was sucking me. He stopped sucking and looked into my eyes and when he went back down he licked all around my balls. He took them in his mouth and sucked on them and then licked some more. “You shave your balls?’ he asked and I said, “No,” and he said, “Amazing.” Then he put his hands behind my knees and lifted my ass in the air. He looked at my hole. “Here either?” he asked and I said, “No,” and he said, “Truly amazing.” Then he licked all around down there and finally did what I was hoping for but didn’t think he’d do. You know it too. He stuck his tongue in my hole. He licked and tongue-fucked me and all I could do was moan. He sucked my hole like he was trying to suck my insides into his mouth. Now, I’ve got to tell you: he was driving me wild. There is nothing I like better than having a man eat my asshole and David was doing it like it was his favorite thing too. Well, maybe his second favorite.

David went back to sucking my cock and pretty soon I felt that feeling in my stomach that let me know I was going to shoot. “I’m gonna come,” I said and David sucked and sucked until that’s exactly what happened. When he sucked all of it out of me that he could, he lifted my ass again and dribbled my cum all around my asshole and pushed some of it inside me before he lowered my ass and pushed his cock the whole way in in one push. “Oh, yes,” I said, and I meant it too.

* * *

David picked me up more and more after that. After a while if someone else came up to me, on Thursdays I mean, and asked I said, “No thanks.” At first David took me to a different hotel each time but after a while we kept going back to the same one. I guess he ran out of hotels.

I know a long time passed before this next time I’m going to tell you about because I had already had my birthday. It was even after Thanksgiving. It was a Sunday and I was hanging with Rocco when I saw this familiar Mercedes pull up to the curb. I was surprised because it was the wrong day. I looked at Rocco and went over to the car. “I didn’t know if you’d be here,” David said and I said, “Yeah, I am,” and he said, “Good. Get in,” so I looked back at Rocco and hollered, “See ya.” Rocco waved and I got in.

We headed uptown. “Where are we going?” I asked and he said, “Here,” and he pulled into this garage. The man there said, “Good afternoon Mr. Wilson,” and David said, Good afternoon,” and he drove in and parked. “He knew your name,” I said and he said, “No shit, Sherlock,” in his mean voice. David parked in a spot that said Mr. Marius Wilson. I said, “Are you allowed to park here?” and he said, “I’m doing it, aren’t I?”

We walked over to Central Park and he said, “The reason that man knew my name is because I live in that building,” and I said, “Oh.” “We’re going to back there later and I said, “We are?” and he said, “I think it will be OK. I don’t think anyone will see us. If anybody does see us on the street, you know, speaks to me or something like that, I want you keep on walking and pretend you don’t know me,” and I said, “OK.” “If that happens,” he said, “I’ll meet you as soon as I can at that corner over there,” and he nodded toward the corner across the street. I looked at the corner and said, “OK.”

Nobody spoke to David and after we scattered a few pigeons and laughed at some guy who was too old for a skateboard and didn’t know much about riding it, David bought some hot peanuts which we ate while we walked back to his building. There was a green awning over the sidewalk at the front door. I thought David was going to tell me to wait ten minutes after he went in but he didn’t. There was this guy in a uniform who was kind of like a guard and he looked at me and then at David and David said, “Good afternoon, Robert,” and Robert said, Good afternoon, Mr. Wilson,” and he opened the door for us so we went in.

The lobby of his building was pretty nice I can tell you. Everything was dark, like the carpet and the furniture and all. No one spoke to David. I know that made him happy. We went straight to the elevators and David pushed the button for the top floor. Wouldn’t you know?

David’s apartment made Lenny’s look like a joke. We went in and David showed me where to hang my coat and all. He went into the kitchen and washed his hands and made us each a vodka tonic. He didn’t even ask me if I wanted one. Then we went through his living room into his den. “This is my favorite room,” he said and he turned on his stereo. Some woman was singing an opera or something. I didn’t think I liked that kind of music but it was OK. Really.

We never went to a hotel after that day. Actually, we did, to a kind of hotel, but I’ll tell you about that later. What I mean is, we never went to a hotel again just to have sex.

When David finished his drink he told me he was going to take a shower and that I was to make myself at home. I said, “What do you mean?” and he said, “Watch TV if you like,” and I said, “It’s OK. I like the music.” He looked at me funny and said, “You do?” and I said, “Yes.” He said, “Umm,” without opening his mouth and left the room.

I looked around the den. There were shelves all along one wall with lots of books on them and little statues and other art things, too. There was this book on the coffee table. The title was something about photography and male nudes so I picked it up and looked at it.

Even before I finished I heard David in the kitchen. He came into the den with two more cocktails. He was wearing a red bathrobe. No; it was maroon. Or cinnamon. Whatever. Anyway, it was shiny and it had cream colored lapels and sash. He looked like a million bucks and I told him that. He said, “Glad you like it,” and handed me my drink.

We talked about stuff again. David seemed interested in me and asked me more questions about the time before I came to New York. I didn’t tell him much. I told him about Grandma living with us and about how religious she was and I told him that my birthday was a couple of days before Thanksgiving. He said, “Sorry I missed it,” and I said, “That’s OK. You didn’t know.”

As soon as I finished my drink David said, “Would you like to take a shower? I knew that meant he wanted me to so I said, “Yes.” We passed one bathroom but we didn’t go into that one. Instead we went through his bedroom to another bathroom. It was really big and it had two sets of towels hanging on two rods on one of the walls. He told me that one set was his and one was mine. They were alike. It was like he had this all planned. It was like he made room for me in his apartment; or at least in his bathroom. I didn’t know what to think about that.

David said, “I’ll be in the den when you’re finished,” so I took a shower and when I was finished I didn’t know what to put on so I just wrapped my towel around my waist and went back to the den. David was there like he said, reading a book. He looked up at me when I went in and said in his nice voice, “You’re really very good looking, you know,” and I said, “Thanks,” or something like that. He had another drink ready for me but I only drank half of it because I was feeling woozy.

You probably already guessed that we went to bed. I mean, that’s really why I was there.

When I tell you this next part you’ll notice I started calling him Daddy. He started it first so that was all right. He called me Baby and he called himself my daddy and that’s the way it was. What I’m saying is that by this time I knew what to expect and how to make him moan so, when we were naked and in bed and all, I started by pinching one of his tits while I sucked the other. David moved – kind of squirmed – under me the whole time. He spread his legs and pushed my head toward his cock so I went down there put his big cock head in my mouth and started to suck him slow but he said, “Not yet,” so I licked his balls instead.

He lifted his ass a little so I got in position to lick his hole. I licked the insides of his legs and he said, “That’s nice, Baby,” so I licked closer and closer to his hole. The closer I licked the louder he moaned; and when I finally touched his hole with the tip of my tongue he gasped and groaned and said, “Yes Baby. Kiss your daddy’s asshole,” so that’s what I did. I kissed and licked and sucked just like he liked to do to me.

When he lowered his ass he held the base of his hard cock and made it stand up from his body. I licked the precum from the slit and lowered my mouth as far as I could and sucked him slow. He took my head in his hands and held it still and started to fuck my mouth. He lifted his hips off the bed and pushed his cock deep into my throat. He liked to fuck my mouth this way and that was OK with me, but this time he made it hurt and I couldn’t breathe so I pulled away and looked him in the eyes and said, “Let me do it, Daddy.”

He looked mean at first but he didn’t say anything. I just kept looking back at him. I mean, I knew how to suck cock and I knew I could make him feel good. After a little while he just put his hands behind his head and relaxed all his muscles and closed his eyes.

I sucked him. I kissed and licked his cock head and I sucked him slow and hard. I took his balls in my hand and tugged a little and sucked and sucked and I could feel him begin to tense up. I sucked and reached up and pinched his tits and I could feel his cock swell even more in my mouth. I sucked his cock and pinched his tits and I heard him cry out, “Oh yes, Timmy,” and he shot his load on my tongue. His cum was salty and kind of bitter and I went down until his cock head was pulsing in my throat. I kept it there until he finished spurting and relaxed again.

Then I worried. I mean, I knew he liked to fuck me and maybe that’s what he wanted to do this time and now I spoiled it for him, but he just pulled my face up to his and said, “That was wonderful, Timmy,” and I said, “Thank you, Daddy,” and he hugged me and held me close.

But it didn’t last. I knew it wouldn’t. I guess you knew it too. He got out of bed and said something about going out with friends so I got up and dressed. David gave me some money and said, “There’s a little extra there for cab fare,” and I said, “OK. Thanks,” and I left. Robert opened the door for me but he didn’t say anything.

* * *

“Did he ask you to marry him?” That’s what Rocco asked me when I told him about David taking me to his apartment and all. “You’re nuts,” I told him and he said, “It sounds like to me as if it won’t be long.” We laughed about that.

He didn’t ask me to marry him, of course, but after that first time at his apartment he never took me to a hotel for sex again, but I already told you that.

The next time he took me to his apartment was the next Thursday. That was what I expected and that’s what happened. David parked in the same spot but I knew not to ask about the sign where he parked.

As usual, David made us vodka tonics. He brought them into the den and handed me mine but he didn’t sit down. Instead he said, “I have something for you,” and he gave me this box. “What’s this?” I said and he said, “A belated birthday gift. Open it,” so I did. It was a bathrobe just like his only smaller, you know, in my size; and it was dark blue where his was cinnamon, but the lapels and sash were cream colored like his. I didn’t know what to say so I just said, “Thank you. “It’s nice,” and he said, “Do you want to put it on?” so I said, “OK.” I didn’t know exactly what to do but David helped me out there. He said, “Come on,” so I picked up the box and all and followed him into his bedroom.

He started to get undressed. I thought he wanted to go to bed right away so I got undressed too. But he didn’t get in bed. Instead, he went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I was watching from the bedroom so he said, “Come on,” so I went in and stood beside him. He got under the spray and held the curtain back for me to get in too so that’s what I did. At first I thought it was weird when he soaped up the washcloth and started to wash me like I was a little kid and all, but before long I started to like it. I got a hard-on right away. David laughed about that but I noticed that his cock was sticking out a little bit from his balls, and I could see its head peeking out from its wrinkled foreskin.

When he finished washing me he took the shower head off its hook and rinsed me off. Then he knelt in front of me and put my cock in his mouth. He sucked me and licked my balls and did the things to me that I usually did to him. He put his arms around my hips and held me close to him and sucked some more. He moved his tongue along the under side of my cock and made me tingle all over. My knees got kind of weak but David kept holding me while he sucked. My voice sounded gravelly when I said, “I’m gonna come,” and I shot what I think must have been the biggest load of my life in his mouth. David swallowed and said, “You must have been saving that up,” and I said, “Yeah.”

Here’s a surprise. Instead of having me suck him off or fucking me he just rinsed me off some more and we got out of the shower and dried off. He handed me my new bathrobe and said, “Put it on. I want you to wear that when you visit me,” and I said, “I will.”

* * *

I told Rocco about David giving me a bathrobe. After that he kidded me a lot about being a married lady now but I could tell that he was happy for me.

David was still my Thursday regular but once in a while he didn’t show. Sometimes when this happened I missed out altogether because by the time I figured he was a no show there were more boys on the block than johns so I wouldn’t stick around. Actually, I wouldn’t have stayed even if I had been the only one.

One Thursday when he didn’t show Rocco was still on the block. I said to him, “I’m going back to your place,” and he said, “What’s the matter? You sick?” and I said, “No. I just don’t feel like it,” so I left.

Almost as soon as I got in the door I heard Lenny call my name and ask me if I was busy. I knew what he wanted. Even without being in his room I could smell his smell and see his limp dick and sick white skin so I sneaked out and went to a movie. It was a dumb movie and I didn’t feel like staying there either but I did anyway.

Then the next day, Friday, there he was. David, I mean. He was earlier than usual. I looked at Rocco and grinned and he grinned back at me. In the car David said, “I had to work late last night, and before I knew it it was eleven-thirty,” and I said, “That’s OK,” and he said, “I know.”

Then he said, “Do you have any nice clothes?” and I said, “Yes,” and he said, “I want you to look nice. I have a little something planned,” and I said, “What?” and he said, “You’ll see.” Then he said, “How about if I take you to your place and you change clothes?” I didn’t know about that. I didn’t know if I wanted David to know where I lived and all but I didn’t know how to get out of doing what he asked so I said, “OK.”

When we got to my building I was worried that he would want to come in and see where I lived but he said, “I’ll just wait here. Don’t take too long,” so I changed as fast as I could.

David took me to this big department store. We went to the men’s department and he pointed to all these shirts and pants and things and said, “I like this. Do you?” I knew he wanted me to say yes so I did but I would have said it anyway because I liked everything he pointed at. After a while he picked up a shirt and held it against a pair of pants and said, “I think this will do.” Then this guy came up and said, “May I help you?” and David said, “My son needs some new things. I was thinking about these,” and the guy said, “Very good,” and he took them away while David and I looked at more stuff. By the time he was finished I had new shirts and pants and underwear and even a new pair of shoes. I never saw anyone so happy to spend money, and that made me happy too, I can tell you.

David made space in his closet and dresser for my new clothes. He told me that I had to keep them at his apartment and that I wasn’t to wear them unless he told me to.

We went to bed after that but things seemed a little different somehow. I don’t know how to explain it, but I think we stopped fucking and started making love. Does that sound too weird? I hope you understand what I’m trying to say here. I think you do.

The reason I said what I just said is because that night, while David was fucking me he kissed me. That’s all I could think of – him kissing me, I mean, and that’s all I could feel. Well, actually, that’s not all I could feel. His fucking became faster and faster and he pressed hard against me, and then he came.

After that David would pick me up at the regular spot and we’d go to his apartment and he would tell me to shower and put on the brown outfit or the blue pants and striped shirt. Whatever. Then he would take me to a nice restaurant and afterward we’d go back to his place. We would watch television or something and then he would say, “Shall we go to bed now, Timmy?” and I’d say, “Sure,” so that’s what we’d do. Sometimes after he came he’d do something to make me come and sometimes we’d go to the den and talk but soon enough he’d tell me to put on my own clothes and then he would give me cab fare – that’s what he called it – and I’d go back to Rocco’s or wherever.

* * *

David started showing up on different days of the week. Once in a while he’d tell me the next time he planned to pick me up and he’d tell me to wear something nice but usually he’d just show up. If he didn’t show Rocco would say, “What are you gonna do now?” and I’d say, “Go to a movie, I guess,” and he’d say, “There are other men out there, you know,” and I’d say, “Yeah. I know,” but then I’d think, “Maybe he’s just late. Maybe he’ll come later,” so I’d hang back just in case. I wanted be there when he wanted me.

David surprised me every once on a while, like with the bathrobe that I already told you about. This was an even bigger surprise. We were at his apartment one day after Christmas and he said to me, “I need to be at a conference in Boston on Monday morning and I think it would be fun if you’d go with me. Would you like that?” and I said, “Sure.” “OK,” he said, “I’ll pick you up before lunch on Saturday. We’ll make weekend of it,” and I said, “I’ll bring my toothbrush,” and he laughed about that. I didn’t know why that was funny but I laughed too.

It was raining when David turned my corner that Saturday. I hurried up and got in his car and he handed me a towel like he knew I would need one; like he cared that I would be wet; or maybe he just didn’t want me to get his car all wet inside. I don’t know. Anyway, he seemed happy to see me and I was happy to be in his car with him.

We drove out of the city. It was neat to see the buildings change as we went along; getting smaller and all. After a while there were more and more trees and things and then I even saw cows and all. When I told David I hadn’t seen cows in a long time he said, “How about that!”

David had this trip all planned. We left the Interstate and drove into this town. It kinda reminded me of my old town, but it was nicer. It had big houses with big lawns and big trees. Everything was big. David parked in front of one of those houses. It had a sign out front; something about maple trees and bed and breakfast. “This is where we’ll be staying,” he said. “Mrs. Suter thinks you’re my son. Try not to put your foot in your mouth,” and I said, “I promise.” The little sign in the glass part of the door said, “Walk In,” so that’s what we did.

Mrs. Suter was the lady who owned the house. She was real nice. She said to David, “I’m sorry that you and your son will have to share a bed,” and David said, “That’s all right. We’ll manage just fine.” I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to do anything wrong.

When we got to our room and David closed the door and pulled me close to him and said, “We’ll manage just fine, won’t we Sonny.” He was in a playful mood and that made me happy and I said, “You bet we will, Daddy,” and we laughed about that. That was the first time I ever called him Daddy when we weren’t fucking.

It was still raining when we went out so we just drove around the town and looked at things. We saw a little restaurant and David said, “We’ll eat there tonight, OK?’ and I said, “OK,” so that’s where we ate. There wasn’t really much to do, so after dinner we went back to Mrs. Suter’s. David called it a B and B. That stands for bed and breakfast like on the sign.

That night when we started to fuck the old bed made squeaky noises. David moved us to different parts of the bed trying to find a spot where it wouldn’t squeak but there weren’t many options. Pretty soon he gave up.

I think David had fucked me in just about every position he could think of, but his favorite position was to fuck me face to face; me on my back with my legs spread as wide as I could spread them and him on top of me. When we first started fucking – I mean, way back in the spring – David would close his eyes when he fucked me, but later on he started to look into my eyes. I liked that and I looked back.

Now he was fucking me and I was looking into his eyes. My mouth was open and I was moaning softly – whimpering again. David knew how much I liked having sex with him. Pretty soon he started to kiss me. He kissed me like he fucked me – long and deep. I could never use words to tell you how I felt. I wanted to cry, but instead I kissed him back. I wanted him to know how happy I was that I was the one he was making love to. He kissed me and fucked me and the old bed squeaked. It was noisier than ever, but we had stopped caring about that a long time ago.

The next day Mrs. Suter wasn’t as nice as the day before. In the car, as we drove out of town, David put his head back and screamed, “Fuck her.” Then he said, “Yuck!” and we laughed about that.

* * *

David liked to walk in Central Park and I liked to be with David. We’d look at the people and sometimes David would make up these funny stories about them and make me laugh. He’d say, “See that guy over there he probably . . .” and then he’d make up a story about how he bought all his clothes at a junk store or how he killed his mother with bubble gum. You know; something silly.

This one time we were walking around. The weather was cold and the trees were all dead looking. These two girls were walking toward us and one called out, “Uncle Marius.” I looked around but I didn’t see any Uncle Marius. There was just David and me. This girl said, “What are you doing here?” David said, “Hi Sue. Hi Anne.” I knew what to do so I pretended that I didn’t know him I walked on and sat on a bench. I don’t think I fooled the girls. They kept glancing at me while they were talking. After a while David hugged them both and walked away. When I couldn’t see the girls any more I ran after David and caught up with him near this fancy restaurant.

“Well,” he said, “I guess the cat’s out of the bag.” I thought I knew what he meant and I said, “Why did those girls call you Uncle Marius?” and he said, “Because that’s who I am. Those girls are my brother’s daughters. I am their Uncle Marius.” “Oh,” I said. Then I said, “I don’t understand. Your name is David,” and he said, “No, it’s not. It’s Marius.” “I don’t understand,” I said again and he said, “It doesn’t matter. Now let’s go,” so I went with him out of the park and back to his apartment. I asked him if I should call him Marius from now on and he said, “Why not? That’s my name.”

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Ryan’s legs were shaking as he was taken off the table and lead thru a door into the building next store. As dark as the dungeon was, this room was bright. The walls were covered in pictures of different types of tattoos. Ryan could hear the whine of a tat gun coming from one of the rooms. Still naked he was lead into one of the back rooms and was helped in to a chair reminding him of a barber shop chair.

“OK sonny, last chance, you want this?” asked Daddy Mike.

“Oh yes please.” Ryan responded without knowing the plan.

Full of both fear and excitement Ryan could only nod yes. A short older man entered. He was covered in leather and tattoos. Without saying a word he sat down in front of Ryan and pulled out a metal tray with a ton of thick metal rings and barbells. The man reached up and slapped the head of Ryan’s cock until he was no longer hard. with a soft dick and wide eyes Ryan watched the old man inserted first a PA into his piss hole followed by barbell after barbell down the under side of his shaft. by the time the old man was done there wasn’t more then an half inch between each piercing, no room for Ryan to put enough of his hand or finger to be able to jerk himself off.

“So piggy what do you think?” asked daddy mike.

“Oh wow. Oh daddy sir that’s just hot.” he replied as his cock started to grow hard again.

Daddy mike laughed as he nodded to the old man. The geezer stood up and for a moment Ryan thought he was done. Then the old man grabbed his rock hard nipples and squeezed.

Pain blinded Ryan for a moment as his nipples were squeezed. But once his vision returned he saw that each nipple was now pierced with a thick heavy gauge ring. Daddy mike reached over and gently flicked he new metal. Slivers of pleasure ran thru Ryan’s body making his cock leak a stream of precum.

“Oh my piggy likes that” daddy mike laughed.

The old man smiled at the comment before asking if Ryan wanted more. His voice was thick and heavy. Ryan thought his voice sounded like rich maple syrup.

“Not sure if the boy knows what you mean. But I think ears and nose.”

responded daddy.

“Don’t move now.” spoke the old man as he reached for Ryan’s ear lobe. A few minutes later Ryan happily looked at himself in a mirror. Dangly from each ear was a very thick ring with a huge ball on it. And from the middle of his nose was a matching although slightly thinner ring. “I look like a bull” he thought.

One more thing before we’re done. Daddy mike said holding up a razor.

Ryan stepped out of the shower and ran his hand over his new short Mohawk. The sides of his head were smooth as silk. After drying off he did as told and put on the ‘clothes’ laid out for him.

“Damn boy you look hot.”

Daddy Mike was standing in the door way staring at Ryan with lust in his eyes. Standing in front of him was a young pig in combat boots and ripped khaki shorts with leather suspenders. Clearly pierced and freshly shaven, this little piggy was begging to be used.

“Damn, turn a round real quick. We’ve got time.” He growled.

Spinning Ryan around and bending him over the edge of the tub, Daddy Mike ripped a hole in the bottom of Ryan’s shorts. As he wasn’t wearing and underwear, Daddy Mike was greeted with the view of a clean tight eye. Won’t be clean for long he thought as he aimed his swollen cock at the tight opening of Ryan’s ass. With a single thrust Daddy Mike was balls deep inside Ryan again. Ryan moaned loudly in pleasure as he was once more filled with cock. Mike started long dicking Ryan’s pussy. Pulling his cock free for a moment then slamming it balls deep again. Over and over Daddy Mike kept this up until he felt his nuts pull up and with a final slam he bred the college pig.

Ryan sudden came on the side of the shower as he felt his cunt being filled again.

“Yeah Daddy, fill me up. Oh god I love how you fuck me.” He sighed.

“Ok boy, lets go downstairs to the bar. Time for the party to start.” Daddy Mike said zipping up.

Walking thru the bar, Daddy Mike led Ryan to a dark room in the back.

“Now how this is gonna work. I’m gonna leave you here in the urinal. Well you’re gonna be the urinal. Men will come in and use you how they like. At midnight there will be a raffle drawing, who ever wins will take you home for the weekend. Monday morning after you’re done, come back here and you’ll get your half of the pull. I’d give it to you tonight, but the last time we did that, the boy was robbed. Now there may be other boys brought in tonight or you might be the only one. If that’s the case you’re gonna be busy. But either was I have a feeling you’re gonna be busy. Enjoy.”

Daddy Mike’s words rang louder then the sound of the door swinging shut. It would be about an hour before anyone would enter the make shift bathroom. And in that time Ryan gave thought to the last several days and how he ended up here tied down to and expected to be the toilet at some raunchy leather gay bar. Only a few short days ago he was a straight college freshman rooming with his best friend. Living the life: ladies liquor and sex. Now he was a piggy bottom bitch boy with a Mohawk and so many piercing he couldn’t count em all. He had been fucked more times then ever before in his life, had been pissed on pissed in and had sucked multiple cocks. And thru it all … he had loved it. He couldn’t wait for someone to walk in and use him.

Ryan was tied securely to the urinal with his legs lifted and bent till they touched his chest. His rock hard cock swung in the air. Precum dripped down his shaft and coating his quivering hole. His pussy lips ached to be pried apart and fucked deeply and roughly over and over and over again.

His first “customer” of the night was an aging bear with a big fat gut. As soon as he entered the room he started opening his fly. Ryan had never seen the cock of a man this old and was shocked to see his pubes had gotten white along with the hair on his face.

“That’s why they call me a polar bear.” the old bear said after seeing the look on the kids face.

Ryan thought the voice sounded familiar. His eyes drifted up, this polar bears well built body and stopped at his face.

“Oh shit!’ he whispered.

“Naw not my thing” the man laughed.

Ryan did recognize the voice just as he recognized the face.

“Dean Harris.” Ryan stammered. Ryan had met the college dean a few weeks ago.

“Relax son. My, aren’t you a cute bitch when nervous. When I heard you were the entertainment for tonight I just had to be first in line. I love to see one of my students tied down and used. Now don’t you worry, before the night is out I’m sure you will see several people from campus. There might be a number of your professors here. And I know I saw boys from at least 2 frats. But everyone here knows better then to talk about these events. It’s the gay sex version of `Fight Club.’ Now relax and open up that pink hole. Mike told me it’s pretty damn sweet.” Dean Harris said as he slowly pulled on his hardening cock.

Ryan could only moan while the dean of his school thrust his hard shaft deep inside. The dean gave a few hard thrusts then held still. Ryan could feel the flow of hot piss start filling him. Dean Harris pissed hard and strong but only needed a few moments. Once empty he grabbed Ryan’s hips roughly.

“Oh yea I love a wet fuck with a teen stud.” he shouted

Ryan’s first fuck of the night was short hot and very wet. He could only moan as his Dean pushed his old cock deep inside him. Quickly the old man gave a loud growl and drained his balls into Ryan. Zipping up, he turned to face his student.

“Damn boy that is indeed one sweet hole. You’re gonna be real popular tonight. Enjoy.”

There’s that word again, thought Ryan.

After Dean Harris left his piss and cum mixture dripping from Ryan’s hole there started to be a steady stream of older hot leather daddies coming in and pissing either in Ryan’s soaked hole or over his face. Most of the men would then leave but every so often one would give him a quick hard fucking. After a few hours the college boys started showing up.

The first boy was a tall lanky guy. He was already drunk off his ass but had a major bone in his pants. Ryan was given a sloppy wet kiss as the boy plunged his cock deep. He slowly started fucking but quickly lost rhythm.

“Damn ho. I’m too drunk to fuck. Haz about you milk my bone.” The drunken boy slurred. He went to smack Ryan’s ass but missed and hit the wall. “Shit.”

Ryan knew just what to do and started to give the cock in his hole a good squeeze. The boy started to moan and sway. He had to hold onto the wall to steady him self as he got the best jerk off of his life. Giving a soft moan he spilled his seed just before passing out, his hard cock still deep inside Ryan. He wasn’t about to just sit there with some guy just “laying”

there. He kept milking the cock. Using every trick he could think of to use the guy to get himself off. As he tried to fuck the drunk boy Ryan heard the door shut. Looking past the past out body he found he was being watched.

“Hey Ryan.” Spoke the new comer. “Looks like you need some help.”

Standing in the doorway was Zach Porter. Captain of the wrestling, team president of the hottest fraternity and one of Ryan’s TA’s. He stood there dressed in a black pleather singlet and boots, his hard muscles shone with sweat as he popped his hard throbbing cock free. Ryan started drooling at the sight in front of him.

Watching the tied up slut trying to get fucked had excited Zach. His short but super thick cock was already dripping. He first pulled the drunk pasted out boy free from Ryan’s throbbing hole.

“Tommy here never did know his limit.” Zach claimed gently laying the drunk Tommy on the floor.

Turning his attention back on Ryan, he started to kneel down and rim Ryan’s soaked hole. Ryan moaned as the frat boy tongue fucked his boy pussy.

“Hrm, a little pissy but damn boy you got one sweet ass.”

Ryan could only moan for more. But what he got instead was frat boy cock. Zach’s thick cock head stretched his boy cunt wide as the jock filled him with cock meat. Once fully inside Zach started a long slow screw of Ryan’s hole. His thick cock head just hit Ryan’s joy button. But kept hitting it over and over. Zach was in no rush to cum quickly, and fucked Ryan for well over an hour. Ryan was on over load. This jock god was slowly driving him mad with lust. His cock was hard and deep purple. And he was pissing cum in small steady spurts. And when Zach started to run his hands over Ryan’s taught body, sparks of electricity flowed thru his body, taking him to a higher level of pleasure.

As the two boys fucked, other members of Zach’s frat came in for there turn. And seeing their president busy filling the night’s entertainment turned their attention and fuck lust at their poor school mate passed out on the floor. As Tommy was laying in a puddle of piss the boys quickly stripped him of his clothing and used it to sling Tommy up for easy access.

Ryan could feel Zach getting close as he started to pick up speed with his fucking. Zach had never felt such a fantastic hole around his cock before. He knew he wanted to breed this boy and claim his hole forever. The sound of their fucking, the smacking of balls on ass captured the room’s attention as all eyes watched All-American jock god Zach explode inside Ryan’s Freshman ass. A cheer went up and for the first time the boys realized they weren’t alone.

Looking over Ryan saw another in a long line of hot guys fucking the once virgin ass of Tommy. Chuckling, Ryan thought to his self “Oh I was that could be me.” Before realizing that not only was he in the same position, but that he really did like who and what he had become.

As Zach pulled his thick cock free from Ryan’s hole, another cock stepped up to fill him. Ryan moaned in pleasure as the next few hours passed quickly. One cock after another filling his hole with cock and cum. A bell rang and the men grabbed their clothes and left. Ryan looked around the room to see several other boys laying around the room, all covered in cum, each boy well fucked. A few minutes later one of the club’s staff came in, waking everyone up, untying those strapped down. They were led to a set of group showers to wash clean, then led to a make shift stage. Each boy was taken on stage put on display and then auctioned off for the night.

At last it was Ryan’s turn. He was the star of the night. Unlike the other boys he was being auctioned off for the rest of the weekend. Ryan was incredibility aroused as the bright light lit up his firm body. Even though he had cum many times, his cock was still rock hard allowing the light to bounce off all the piercings. The crowd went wild, every guy trying to bid on Ryan. Ryan could only see the bright light and the rush of his blood in his ears. Sold! Ryan snapped back to reality. A price had been set, he was going home to be used for the weekend. But who, and how much. Ryan turned to Daddy Mike for an answer.

“$200K a new record boy. And you will be going with %#*(&@.” Daddy Mike said, as smile on his face.

“The frat? The whole frat? Zach’s frat?”

“That’s the one. Never did have a group bid on one boy before. But than again, you’re something special, aren’t you?”

Ryan didn’t know what to think. Not only did he just made $100K, but he was “rented” by an entire frat house. The hottest frat on campus. Ryan was so excited, he walked to the edge of the stage, turned to the dozen guys in the front, grabbed his engorged cock, and without needing to jerk off (which he couldn’t due to all the piercings) or fuck his cunt, Ryan began to cum, hard. He sprayed the guys down with his massive load. The men went wild trying to catch his cum on their tongues. Few guys understand, but Daddy Mike saw that Ryan was having a hands free cum and smiled to himself. The boy who had once been a sexy 18 year old straight boy, was truly a firstclass motherfucking piggy stud. A sexy slut of the highest order and a fuck worthy of praise. Daddy Mike was a little sad that he wouldn’t be taking the boy home, but he knew that he would be fucking that ass many times in the future.

Ryan finally stopped shooting cum, but his body was still shaking hard. Daddy Mike caught him just before Ryan fell. He waved to Zach and several of the frat brothers ran over to pick him up. Ryan was still cumming even though his nuts were dry to the brothers were gentle, carrying him out to their van. The van quickly filled with hot frat studs. Ryan looked around at all the fine built walking sex meat, and for the first time in hours became nervous. Sitting around him were 20 of the hottest guys on campus, while he was naked, pierced, hard as a rock, with a short mo-hawk, and an cock dripping cum. Prez Zack Porter squeezed in next to him and hotti shoved his fat cock deep into Ryan’s tight asscunt, he smiled at the naked freshman whore.

“You got nothing to worry about Ryan. This weekend, you’re just gonna be fucked by every hot stud in our frat. Enjoy!”

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From Part 2….

The following weekend he invited me to his weekend beach house. I followed him out on Friday after work and we immediately stripped and did some nude surfing and swimming.

I had been doing some thinking and that evening I made a decision.

After dinner, I approached Clay and told him of my decision.

————————————–

Part 3

When I walked up to Clay he looked into my face and knew I had something on my mind.

“What wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing really,” I replied “It’s just that I’ve decided that I want you to fuck me.”

“Are you serious”

“Oh, yea. I’ve experimented in everything else so why not go all the way?”

“Well, not quite everything else, but we can get into that later. When you want to get fucked?”

“Right now,” I replied.

He led me to the bedroom and after retrieving his lube, he began working my ass with his fingers. Before long he looked into my eyes and said, “Here goes.”

I felt the head of his cock press gently against my puckered hole as he said softly, “Just relax.”

I did, and very slowly I felt him begin his entry. The pain was slight to begin but as the head of his cock popped in, it felt like a hot poker had been shoved up me. “MOTHER FUCK!” I screamed out.

“Take a deep breath and try to relax. The worst is over.”

He held his position for a few moments before slowly easing his cock deeper into me. As he did, he leaned forward and began deep tongue kissing me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Moments later I felt his balls resting against my ass cheeks.

“You all in?” I asked.

“Oh yea. You got every inch up you. How you holding up?

“I’m okay. Fuck me. I want to feel you shoot your load in me.”

Clay began slowly pumping in and out of my hole. Slowly, the pain began to subside and I began to totally enjoy what was happening.

As he began to speed up, I looked at him and said, “That’s it. Fuck my ass. Shoot that load in me.”

Seconds later, he began breathing heavily and said “Get ready. I’m almost there.”

Suddenly, I felt his cock swell and all hell broke loose and he began firing volley after huge volley deep into my hole as he cried out in pleasure.

“Mother fuck!” I cried out. “It’s an awesome feeling.’

Once he was drained, he slowly pulled out and after another kiss he swallowed my cock and gave me one hell of a blow job, sharing my load with me after I climaxed.

Afterward, we showered together and as we did he asked, “You think you might want It again?

“I’m fairly certain that I will,” I replied.

That weekend, I had Clay fuck me three more times and I loved each one of them.

I began spending nearly every weekend with Clay. Our sex was awesome and he soon introduced me to rimming and water sports. Feeling his hot piss flow across my body was such a turn on.

A couple months later, I attended an out of town conference with him and the first night there, he informed me that he had invited a friend to stop by our suite.

When his friend arrived, he immediately hugged Clay and began tongue kissing him. Stunned, I watched and after the kiss Clay introduced me to Brad Thomas. Brad was a fellow business owner that Clay had met several years earlier.

As we were introduced, Brad gave me a hot tongue kiss. Within moments, we were all three removing our clothes and were soon in bed.

It was my first time sucking a cock other than Clays, and it was hot to look up and see Clay watching me.

Shortly later, I was on my hands and knees on the bed and as I sucked Clay, Brad was shoving his cock up my ass. I was getting fucked in both ends and loving it. I never dreamed that sex with men could be so hot and fulfilling.

My relationship with Clay continued and couple times during the week and every weekend was spent together. He had even given me a key to his beach house and the alarm code.

After a year and a half, I was promoted to a VP position. And I’m sure you can imagine how it raised a lot of eyebrows.

Then things really turned interesting when, one weekend at the beach, Clay asked me to marry him. Of course I immediately said yes, as I had fallen deeply in love with Clay.

We were married with several friends in attendance one Friday evening, and after a week long honeymoon, we returned to work and Clay called a meeting of all employees.

His first announcement was that I was now co-owner of the company. Everyone began glancing around. Then he made his second announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have one other announcement. One week ago Friday night, Mark and I were married by a Justice of the Peace. We are now one couple. If any of you can not accept our union, let me know and we’ll work out a severance package which will include a letter of recommendation.”

As he stepped off the podium, we first heard one person began applauding. Then another, and another. They began standing as they applauded.

As we left the stage, everyone began congratulating us. It totally caught us off guard and only one person asked for a severance package.

Clay and I have had several employees, both male and female, come to us and reveal that they are gay.

We have been married three years now and are still very much in love. We have an open relationship and we play together and separately. Our trust in each other strengthens our love.

THE END….

Coming soon…… PUPPY LOVE

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The Hamilton’s old farm house sat off the road nearly a quarter of a mile, a situation created in the late 1950’s when the county reworked the highway by cutting out some of its hard curves prior to making it a paved road. So the Hamilton’s house sat at the back of their property, behind the ninety acre pasture with its barn and out buildings, isolated along each side by the pine tree stand owned by the paper mill down in Brewton. The drive was a long dusty two rut drive with grass growing down the sides and down the middle.

On a particular hot breezeless day in July, when the Hamilton’s had gone up to Greenville to shop for a new truck, Cody stayed behind since he had just gotten home a couple weeks prior finishing his second year at college. He took the opportunity of being home alone to invite Ryan to come over. Ryan and he had gone through school together and sometime in high school their friendship developed into something much deeper. It was a tough relationship, held in secret, fraught with fear of being discovered. It was especially tough on Ryan, stuck on his family’s farm trying to earn enough at his job in town at a parts store, while Cody was off to college. But Cody came home every chance he could and even had Ryan come up to the university once for a long weekend. Ryan arrived that afternoon after getting his chores done on his family’s farm. The two of them were holed up in the house for a couple of hours. Exactly what happened was their secret, something just between them, but something happened. A comment taking out of context, the sense something wasn’t right; the old fears surfacing.

Ryan ran out the back door across the screen porch, shoving the screen door open and letting it slam shut as he took off running down the drive heading toward the highway. His legs moved as fast as he could make them as his arms pumped furiously, his face distorted in anguish and fear. His stretched worn t-shirt billowed around his narrow waist rising up above his skinny faded jeans that accentuated his long legs. His old scuffed work boots hit the ground hard as each running step crashed down in the dirt. He was running as fast as he could, sucking in air through his mouth, fighting to maintain control of himself.

Moments after Ryan had made his dash down the drive, Cody came running out. He slammed the back door shut, raced across the screen porch, bounding out the screen door at a full run, letting the door slam shut once again. He was shirtless, revealing his upper body, muscular from sports and hard work, with a smooth olive skin tone. His jeans hung loose around his narrow waist, riding low enough to reveal the waist band of his briefs. He was barefoot and the rough ground should have slowed him, but he ran as fast as he could, chasing after Ryan.

They ran down the drive as it looped around the back of the pasture and cut over to the side property line shared with the mill property with its pines planted in rigid rows for the next mile across the countryside. Ryan was getting winded as he rounded the final turn of the drive before it got to the highway. Cody was gaining on him and by now both were sweating profusely; Ryan’s shirt was wet under the arms and down his chest, and Cody’s upper body glistened in the hot intense sunlight from sweat.

“Ryan…Ryan, goddamn it, Ryan will you stop!” Cody yelled as he got closer.

“No…leave me alone” Ryan cried out as he kept running. He ran down the dusty track along the lane knowing Cody was faster, stronger and gaining fast, but he kept running.

“Will you…fucking…stop!” Cody yelled with each gasp of breath as he closed the gap between them. He was close and he held out one hand, seeing the space between them shrink with each step he took. He could hear Ryan’s heavy breathing as he tried to out run him. Cody finally felt the fabric of Ryan’s shirt graze his finger tips and he lunged forward grabbing a handful of fabric, pulling it back as he came up on Ryan. With his other arm he wrapped it around Ryan’s shoulders as he heard the ripping sound of fabric. He drove himself onto Ryan’s back, hugging him tightly to his chest as they tumbled down, hitting the ground hard, rolling along the dusty track and over into the shallow ditch along the side of the lane. Ryan fought meekly against Cody, trying to push him off, trying to get free. Cody struggled to get a hold of Ryan’s arms, fought for purchase in the cup of the ditch as they rolled back and forth, over briars and tall grass, kicking up dirt. Ryan, exhausted from his run finally relented and fell back, heaving for breath. Cody lay on top of him, holding his arms down over his head, looking him in the eye, their faces only inches apart. Sweat covered them, dripped from Cody’s face, his upper body slick with it, as rivulets of sweat ran through the dirt and grass covering his body. Both had scratches in different places, Ryan had the scrap of briar over his cheek and another over his upper back, with tiny droplets of blood oozing from each prick along the scrap. Ryan’s t-shirt was torn from one armpit down and around his chest revealing the fair smooth skin of his chest, the small nipple exposed and a scratch underneath that blood rose to the surface of the skin, mixing with the dirt.

“Why’d ya run?” Cody asked when their breathing calmed down some.

“I can’t….I just can’t Cody, it ain’t right” Ryan replied, his voice stoic, stern but his eyes brimmed with tears. Cody looked down at Ryan, knowing he was afraid, afraid of what others would think if they found out, afraid of being stuck here on his family’s farm while Cody goes off to a new life after college, leaving him behind. Cody had heard the fear in his voice many times in the last year, saw Ryan push him away at times, rebuke Cody and himself for what they did when alone and no one was around to see, to cast judgment, to call them queer or fag.

“Ryan…please don’t cry” Cody’s voice barely a whisper.

“I ain’t crying” Ryan replied, but tears ran down the side of his head and back into his hair, leaving trails in the dirt. “Cody, will you get off me?” He asked after a moment of them staring at each other. Cody pulled himself up and sat on the edge of the lane along its level ground as Ryan sat up in the bottom of the ditch.

“Ryan, will you please listen to me?”

“Ok” Ryan replied in a low voice, his head held down, looking at the ground.

“I’m not leaving you behind, ok? When I finish college and get a job then you’re going to join me. I’d let you come with me now but if my parents knew we were…well…they’d cut me off and I can’t afford college on my own, so we have to wait another two years. I know it seems like a long time, stuck here, your folks barely scrapping by and you having to work like a dog to help out. And that church your mother goes to…fuck…all brimstone and hell fire and every goddamn thing a person could desire or want is some kind of fucking sin; shit I know it’s tough for you, but you’ve got to hang on. Ok?”

Ryan didn’t respond for several minutes as they sat there in the hot sun, sweat still rising up on their skin, rivulets running down exposed skin streaking their bodies. When Ryan looked up he was composed again, his face stern, fierce, as he looked up at Cody.

“You promise?”

“Yes. A hundred times, yes, yes, yes!” Cody replied, worried that he was losing Ryan; that he was going to push him away one time and not let him come back. Ryan let a smile spread across his face, then he began to laugh, a laugh that was contagious, making Cody start to laugh.

“Shit Cody, look at us. My mom is going to kill me. Look at my shirt; you nearly tore it off, asshole” the words sharp but the tone soft and affectionate.

“Don’t worry about it; I’ll give you one of my t-shirts and she’ll never know.”

Ryan looked up at Cody, nodding ok, then he moved onto his hands and knees and crawled up to Cody, moved up to him, face to face, looking into his blue eyes.

Softly, his voice low, even: “you promise?”

“I promise.”

Ryan leaned forward and put his lips to Cody’s lips, gently pressing them together. Then they parted their lips and tongues dueled, as Ryan pushed Cody onto his back across the lane and climbed over him, mouth on mouth, as he ran his hand over Cody’s slick sweaty chest smearing the dirt and grass. They lay in the lane, body on body, lips running across lips, across dirty flesh and tugging on earlobes and kissing over eyes. Cody ran his hands down to Ryan’s waist and pushed him up.

“I think we should head back to the house” Cody said.

They walked along, hugging on each other, play bumping and swatting each other on the ass as they made their way back. As they approached the main yard of the property Cody told Ryan to go around to the back side of the barn and they’d hose off there. He was going to get them some clean t-shirts to put on. Ryan made his way around the barn and pulled the hose off its reel and pulled it out to a grassy spot out in the sun, where he sat down and waited for Cody.

Cody came around, tossed the clean shirts inside the door of the barn and came out to where Ryan sat and moved down on his knees behind Cody.

“We really should hose this dirt off” Cody said as he moved up behind Ryan, slipping his arms around him. He nuzzled his face up next to Ryan’s neck and hugged him tight. Ryan leaned back and let a soft moan escape. Cody reached down for the waist band of Ryan’s t-shirt and lifted it off, exposing the fair smooth torso. He moved back close, kissing Ryan’s neck, his ear, along the edge of his hair as his hands moved over his chest, rubbed the smooth skin and worked his way down to Ryan’s waist, running one hand along the top of his jeans, loose around his narrow waist. He pulled Ryan back, having him lean back so he could slip a hand down the front of his jeans, running it down over the front of his briefs rubbing his cock, making it respond, begin to get erect. Cody slipped out from behind Ryan and laid him on his back as he moved on top of him. They lay on the grass, making out, with Ryan running his hands up and down Cody’s back smearing dirt and grass over his tanned skin, while Cody ran one hand back into Ryan’s jeans, manipulating his cock, squeezing it, rubbing it through the fabric, feeling it swell up, thicken and stretch out, harden up.

Cody sat up and unfastened Ryan’s jeans and pulled everything down and off, stripping him naked. Ryan’s hard cock bounced out into the open, its dark red head capping the hard shaft arced up and over his stomach. Cody leaned over, holding it up, and oved down to lick the head, run his tongue over the shaft, up and down he moved. He put the head in his mouth, sucked it, ran his tongue over it, and then he slid down its length. Ryan soon was pushing up with his hips, the urge to move with the sensation to great to ignore. Cody held his mouth over Ryan’s cock and let him work it back and forth through his mouth, sliding it over his tongue and into the warm wet recesses back to his throat. Faster and faster Ryan worked his hips, working his cock through Cody’s lips, until he was achingly hard, his muscles tensed up tight and he had to stop; stop to keep from coming to quick. Stop so he could get Cody naked; so he could satisfy his own lust for Cody.

Ryan pushed Cody up until he sat up. Ryan rolled up to him, pushed him over on his back, unfastened his jeans and pulled everything off. Cody’s half hard cock flopped out and lay over his balls. Ryan moved over him and soon had Cody’s cock buried in his mouth, working his head up and down, tugging the hardening shaft between his lips and tonguing the head. Cody responded, his cock hardened, as Ryan let it slide through his mouth, making it wet, hot and slick. Cody ran his hands through Ryan’s hair, feeling his head move up and down. He was fully erect in no time and he pushed Ryan up and off his cock, where both of them watched it stand up straight, bobbing in the hot summer air.

“Fuck me Ryan…come on, do me” Cody pleadingly asked Ryan. Ryan watched as Cody got on his hands and knees in front of him, his legs spread out, making room for him. He moved behind Cody, felt his ass, ran a hand up his slick dirty back; then he used both to spread Cody’s ass cheeks, to open him up more, expose his opening as he shifted up close, pushing his hard cock up against it, feeling the resistance. Ryan leaned into Cody, pushed his cock against him and as he did he felt Cody push back, to relax against him and his cock breached his opening, pushed in till the head disappeared. Cody rose up, letting out a cry.

“Oh fuck.”

Ryan held still a moment, letting Cody get use to the penetration, the stretching of his hole. Ryan couldn’t believe how Cody was always so tight, the way his opening would squeeze his cock as it slid through pushing deep into him. He felt Cody relax, felt him push back taking more of his cock, and he pushed forward, easing himself into Cody, pushing into his warm soft insides, feeling the tight ring of his opening squeezing his cock as it moved through. Soon he was buried all the way into Cody, hips up against ass. Ryan began to swing his hips, driving cock back and forth through the tight ring of Cody’s opening, loosening it up, stroking his lust; inflaming his need. Cody began to push back, slamming his ass against Ryan’s hips. Ryan built up a furious pace, working his cock through Cody’s opening, shoving all of his cock into him. Cody dropped down to his elbows, head held down to the ground, uttering fuck and moaning as he took Ryan’s fuck. Ryan held Cody tightly by the waist, hammering his ass, shoving cock in and jerking it back, feeling the tightness of his muscles, the sensation of approaching ejaculation as he curled his toes and gripped Cody tighter. He didn’t slow, didn’t try to make their fuck last, as his inflamed passions pushed him to the point of cumming. He slammed his cock in with each ejaculation, shooting each thick hot wad deep into Cody, until he was spent. Cody went flat on the ground and Ryan went down on top of him, both breathing hard, still sweaty, rivulets of sweat streaked through dirt and grass.

“Let’s hose off” Cody stated after lying on the ground for a few minutes. They got up and Cody turned on the hose bibb letting Ryan start first. Ryan gasped when he turned the hose on himself, the cold water a shock to his warm skin. He held his head down and let the water cascade through his hair. Cody came up and began to rub his head, run fingers through his hair, pick out grass stuck in it. Cody took the hose telling Ryan to let him do it. He held the hose over Ryan as he used his other hand to rub the sweat, dirt and grass off. He ran the hose over his shoulders, over his back and down over his ass. He knew Ryan’s body, wasn’t embarrassed to touch him everywhere as he ran his hand into the cleft of his ass, running water over his probing fingers. He moved downward washing Ryan’s thighs, his calves with their light dusting of fine black hairs and finally his feet with their flat soles and long toes. Standing back up he told Ryan to turn around and he began on his chest, the tall skinny torso with ribs evident under the pale smooth skin. Cody ran his hand over Ryan, over the two moles that aligned under this right nipple, down over his stomach, over the scar from his appendectomy, through his sparse pubic hair, a jet black like the hair on his head, and over his cock and balls, washing away the slick of their recent sex, the grass that clung to him and the dirt that was smeared over his skin. He washed all the way down to his feet again, but he didn’t get up this time but leaned to Ryan and ran his tongue over his cock, ran it down its length, felt the smoothness of its loose skin over his tongue. Cody mouthed the head, took it in his mouth and sucked on it, ran his tongue around it, feeling it swell, begin to get hard. Ryan pushed him back.

“Not yet; hand me the hose.”

Cody stood and leaned his head over and let Ryan wash his hair, run his fingers through it massaging his head. He picked out the grass and had Cody stand up and he tenderly, with a light touch wiped his face, being careful with briar scratch on his cheek as he wiped the small spots of blood off. Ryan ran the water over his shoulders and back, admiring his broad shoulders and how the muscles were evident under the skin, the way they moved as he shifted around under the cold water. He washed the blood and dirt off the scratch that ran over his back, rubbed the sweat, dirt and grass from his skin, feeling the warmth of it even through the cold water. He washed his ass cheeks, down between them, and he washed the cum leaking back out from his opening, slipping a finger into him, probing him a little, reminding him of the fuck he had enjoyed. Ryan moved down washing thighs, calves and feet, watching the dirt and grass run down and off in the water cascading down his body. Ryan stood back up as Cody turned revealing his hard cock, his hand stroking it.

“I’m so horny; hurry up and finish” his voice desperate; demanding. Ryan just smiled at him and started on his chest, taking his time. He ran his hand over Cody’s broad chest, the curves of muscle developed from sports and hard labor on the farm and through the sparse fine hair that was sprouting out in the middle. He ran his hand downward over his stomach, through the hair that grew around his navel and trailed down to the thick patch of hair over his cock. He washed the sweat, dirt and grass downward, pushing it down with his hand and the water. He washed Cody’s cock and balls, feeling the hardness of his cock, the way it stood straight out with a vein snaking along its length and the skin along its shaft darker than his body. Ryan washed down Cody’s legs again running his hand all the way to his feet again. Ryan leaned to take Cody’s cock in his mouth but Cody stopped him.

“Not yet; let’ get out of this soggy grass and turn off the hose.”

Cody ran over and turned off the water as Ryan moved over to a dry area in the grass. Cody came up to him, took his head in his hands and kissed him, passionately, forcibly, with the desperation of lust. Ryan pulled away and dropped to his knees, taking Cody into his mouth, sliding his warm wet mouth down his shaft, slicking it up, heating it up; preparing it for fucking. Cody held his head while he pumped his hips, slowly, with long determined strokes, pushing and pulling his hard cock through Ryan’s mouth, over his tongue, feeling flesh against flesh, slick and warm. Ryan held on to Cody’s hips, letting Cody set the pace, letting him use his mouth as he would soon use his ass. It made his cock start to harden as he lost himself to Cody’s cock, letting it use him, pushing into his throat and then sliding back out. Cody kept a slow pace, let the sensation of Ryan’s warm mouth move through his cock; make him harder, building up his need. When he pulled free of Ryan’s mouth, his cock was achingly hard, bobbing in the hot humid air. Ryan stood up and turned around, leaning over with his hands on his knees. Cody moved behind him, running a hand over his back down to his ass and along the cleft between his cheeks, probing for his opening, rubbing it, feeling its tightness on his finger tip, feeling it resist the penetration of his finger as it slid in. Ryan let out a breath with an ‘ooh’ floating out with it. Cody worked his finger in Ryan’s opening, felt it loosen; then he inserted a second finger, working them around stretching Ryan open further, preparing him.

“Please Cody…put it in me” Ryan begged, his voice sounding far away.

Cody moved up and pressed the head of his cock to the opening that would let him penetrate Ryan, let him move into him, feel his soft warmness, and the way his opening would grip his cock as it slid into him. He felt Ryan push back, the pressure on his cock head increase just before it breached into Ryan, entered him once again, after so many times in the past, and yet, it was just as intense, just as pleasurable; felt just as right and good. Didn’t Ryan feel this way when he fucked him, he wondered. He pushed in till his hips bumped into Ryan’s ass cheeks. He held still a moment, enjoying the sensation around his cock. He felt Ryan move, pull away a little and then push back, small fucking motions along his cock and he knew Ryan was ready. Cody began to work his hips, slowly, full swings of his hips, working nearly the full length of his cock back and forth through the tight ring of Ryan’s opening, feeling it milk his cock, grip it tightly as he moved back and forth. Ryan kept himself braced on his knees, trying to stand in place, as Cody held his narrow waist and fucked, working his cock into him. Cody had been hard so long, his desire building, that he knew he wasn’t going to last long, and he increased his pace, began to slam hips into ass as he shoved cock deep into Ryan and jerked back only to do it again, and again, and again. He built up a wild rapid pace making Ryan grunt and moan louder and louder. Cody reached down and pulled Ryan’s body up and hugged him tight to his chest as he kept working his hips, spearing his depths with his cock. Ryan felt the hot sun heat up his chest and stomach, felt the heat of it on his pale skin, and the heat of Cody inside him, working his passions; his lusts. Cody reached down and took Ryan’s hard cock and began to stroke it to the rhythm of his fuck, hard tight strokes, feeling the wetness at its head smear down the shaft, slicking it up. Cody felt Ryan’s hands come to rest on his hips as Ryan took his fuck.

“Cody…I’m going to cum…fuck” Ryan cried out as Cody’s hand stroked him furiously. Cum exploded out of Ryan’s cock, thick white wads arched out and landed in the grass, then it drizzled out, getting smeared along the shaft by Cody’s stroking hand. Cody felt Ryan’s ejaculation, felt Ryan’s opening milk his cock, tighten up on it as it swelled up more. It was too much, and he came, shooting his load, thick and hot, deep into Ryan. He pushed in and shot one, two, three times, his cock pumping through it, slicking up Ryan’s insides and Cody’s cock.

They stood locked together, Cody’s cock buried in Ryan, breathing hard for a long time. The heat of their love making and the heat of the sun bearing down on their naked bodies made them sweaty and exhausted. Cody pulled Ryan’s head back and kissed him.

“I promise” he whispered.

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My Sister’s Boyfriend Joey By Natty Soltesz

Part I

The summer after I graduated from college I crashed on my big sister Trish’s couch for a few months. What else was I supposed to do? I had earned a bachelor’s degree in anthropology, which translated to no money and no job prospects.

She had a little house in the woods outside the town we grew up in, and she said I could stay there as long as I needed. She’d mentioned something about having a boyfriend, but I didn’t realize until I got there that he was pretty much living with her.

His name was Joey. He worked construction during the day. Technically, he was living with his parents in the trailer park off the highway, but he slept at Trish’s house almost every night (except for when they were fighting). I didn’t mind. The truth was, I found Joey incredibly hot. He was a muscular guy, with a shaved head and very fair skin. He was handsome, but he had a light brown mustache that made him look really sexy in a trashy kind of way.

We became buddies. I had nothing else to do, and was wasting my days away on Trish’s couch, steadfastly avoiding the rest of my life. Joey usually got home an hour before Trish, so we’d drink beer together and shoot the shit. I wasn’t sure if he knew that I was gay, but he never asked so I left it open.

I was raiding my sister’s fridge around 3 a.m. the night that it happened. I was washing down leftover cake with milk straight from the carton, when Joey crept out of their bedroom and walked in the kitchen.

I turned and looked at him and almost choked on my milk. He was wearing nothing but a pair of the briefest of grey briefs. He had smooth white skin and bright pink nipples. He punched me on the shoulder and reached around me, pulling a beer out of the fridge, then leaned against the counter and cracked it open.

“Your sister’s asleep,” he said, and took a gulp from the can. I looked down at the bulge in his drawers. It looked conspicuously fat. Something told me that he’d been trying to get his fuck on but she wasn’t having it. He drank his beer, absently running his hand down his body. Then I noticed he was looking at me and had caught me staring.

He gave me a smirk, which made my heart race. It seemed to suggest that he knew what I was thinking, and furthermore, that he didn’t mind. Part of me wanted to run back to the couch; but he kept me there, chatting away about this and that.

We talked in low tones, lit only by the light of the TV in the next room. He was totally putting himself on display for me. Eventually I relaxed and took the bait. Leaning back against the fridge, I unabashedly stared at his body, taking in the bulge in his underwear. He kept cupping and pulling at it in an offhand way, and though I couldn’t be sure, it seemed to be changing its size and shape, swelling and then receding. He even tweaked his nipples a couple times as he ran his hand over his chest.

We seemed to stand there forever. My own dick remained steadily swollen, just shy of an actual erection. Juice was leaking out of the tip and my balls were starting to ache. I wondered where this was going. I wondered if it was just my overactive imagination, and whether in a few minutes I would be back on the couch alone, pounding my dick out of sheer frustration before passing out.

Joey finished his beer and crushed it on the counter. I don’t even know what the fuck he was talking about, but as he spoke he casually hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down to reveal his thatch of brown pubes. That was all it took for me. My fully hard cock was trapped between my pelvis and my cargo shorts. I ran my hand along it, still watching him, still listening to him.

He saw what I was doing and his eyes met mine.

“You horny?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah me too,” he said. In the next room, Judge Judy was reaming somebody out on TV. The sound floated into the kitchen and seemed to bisect into the reality of what was happening. Joey’s eyes darted away from my face and then back again. For all the signals we’d given each other (and it only became clear to me now that that was what we’d been doing), he still seemed unsure, afraid of exposing himself. I found that fairly irresistible, and I smiled to let him know it was cool.

“You’re gay, right?” he asked me.

“Yeah. Have you ever messed around with a guy?”

“Not really.” I didn’t ask what that meant, though I wondered then and I wonder still.

“You’re really hot,” I said. Joey got closer to me. I touched his sides, and he looked up at me with big blue eyes. I leaned into him and our lips met. His were soft and inviting. I slid my tongue into his mouth. His tongue wriggled against mine. He pulled my head tight against his as we made out, our bodies inching ever closer. His smooth chest made contact with mine, and our bulges pressed together first gently, then with increasing force. A loud commercial came on and popped us back into reality.

“Holy shit,” he said, pulling back from me.

“Fuck. We can’t…” I started to say, but Joey stopped me.

“We can go out to my car.”

“Okay,” I said, my previous resistance making a quick retreat into the background as I watched Joey slip on a pair of sneakers, his hard dick still tenting out the front of his briefs.

I put on my flip flops and we headed out the door, quietly shutting it behind us. It was a damp but cool mid-summer night, and the forest air was dank and green. Joey scuttled down the stairs in nothing but his briefs and tennis shoes, and I followed. His Cadillac-a rambling, maroon-colored thing-was parked right in front of the house. We went in through the driver’s side door, and I crawled into the vast back seat. Joey shut the door behind him, being careful not to do it loudly. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, you could practically hear anything. And there was no sense in taking chances when my sister was asleep not twenty yards away.

I didn’t have time to dwell on this though, because Joey crawled right back on top of me and again pressed his body to mine. We kissed with less inhibition now, our slight moans suppressed inside the padded surfaces of the automobile.

I reached down and felt Joey’s hard dick, pressed like a steel pipe against his thigh. “Mmmm,” he moaned into my mouth, feeding me his tongue. I took my hand off his dick and grabbed his ass, pressing him into me tighter. We couldn’t get close enough.

Joey rose and I leaned up to meet him. He aggressively pushed me back down on to the seat. I reached for his chest, tweaking his nipples and running my hands along his smooth skin, tracing his treasure trail to the waistband of his underwear. I tucked a finger inside and Joey took in his breath. His pole was still tenting out his undies, and a wet spot had formed where the head of his cock met the fabric. I pulled down the elastic and his cock popped out, bouncing up and down as if beckoning me closer.

His dick was as pale and smooth as the rest of his body. It was well proportioned and beautiful. I caressed the underside of his cock with the tip of my finger, making Joey swoon. He crushed his body back onto mine and we kissed some more, Joey humping his naked dick against my clothed one.

He helped me to take my shirt off, then pulled off my shorts. My hard dick slapped back against my flat stomach. I’ve got a pretty big one, and Joey seemed fascinated by it. He wrapped his hand around the base and felt it up, almost like he was appraising it, or comparing it to his own. After a moment’s hesitation, he leaned down and slipped his lips around the head. Holy shit did it feel good. He took it in his mouth about halfway before sliding back up again. He was inexperienced, for sure, but he really seemed to get off on the effort, stroking his dick as he sucked mine. He got overzealous and choked on it a couple of times, but never gave up.

After a minute, I decided to give him his due. He sat back and I got down in between his legs. I slid off his briefs, taking in his whole package, including a nice set of balls hanging in a pale fuzzy sack. His hard dick pulsed against his stomach. I practically had to pry it up, it was so fucking hard. A pearly drop of pre-cum rose from the tip, and I tasted this first as I sunk his entire dick in my mouth. Joey groaned. I kept my lips tight, blowing him like I knew my sister (or any other woman, for that matter) never could.

Joey thrust his hips up to fuck my willing lips, spreading open his thighs so I could feel his balls and the space beneath them. His dick was leaking juice like drool from the mouth of a baby. I licked at his taint, which really got him going. He shouted out loud when the tip of my tongue flirted with the slick rim of his butthole.

I delved into his ass and ate him out properly. He had a beautiful hole, pink and moist, rimmed with hair. He lifted up his legs as I ate out his quivering squinch. He tensed and relaxed, making my tongue work hard against his tight pucker before he unclenched and half of my tongue slid up his hot butthole.

“Oh shit,” Joey said. “Oh, fuck yeah. That’s awesome.” With his hands he spread his ass cheeks wide, really letting his self get into it. I licked up and down his crack, spearing my tongue into his hole and giving him just what he wanted.

“That feels fucking incredible,” Joey said as I broke away from his ass. “I’ve never had a girl do that before.”

“Most girls won’t, I’d imagine.” Joey watched me as I leaned back and wiped my mouth.

“I want to fuck you,” he said, fisting his dick.

“Alright. We can try.” I wasn’t used to getting fucked, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to turn him down. I wanted to experience what my sister had been getting up until now.

“Hold on,” Joey said, leaning up between the seats and reaching into the glove box. He came back with a wrapped condom and a smile on his face. “I always keep em handy.”

“We’re gonna need some lube I think.” Joey rooted around in the glove box some more. I pressed my finger to my asshole, testing the waters. My dick throbbed and I thought, this is gonna be good.

“Shit, I don’t have anything for that. The condom is pre-lubed, though.”

“I don’t care. I need your dick in me.” I had on leg up on the back of the seat and the other leg on the back of the driver’s seat, pressing harder against my exposed hole. Joey looked down at me, and a wave of almost palpable desire spread over his face. He took my ankles in his hands and raised my ass up toward his face. Diving right in, he buried his tongue into my pink hole, sloppily eating out my ass.

I nearly melted into the car seat. Joey’s slick tongue made mush out of my quivering hole. I wasn’t sure if he’d ever done it before, but it really seemed to get him going. By the time he lowered my ass in preparation to mount me, his dick was as red hot and hard as a fire poker. He wetted his finger and pressed it against my butthole. I relaxed as he worked it in. Keeping his eyes trained on me, he pressed more and more of his finger inside, until he was knuckle-deep. I gasped. I was so turned on, I felt like the slightest breeze over my dick would make me cum.

Joey slid on the condom. Holding my leg in the air, he pressed his dick to my ass, forcing pressure against the tender entrance until, finally, the head popped inside. Needing a moment to adjust, I put out my hand to keep him from going further. Slowly, a warmth spread over me. Joey slid more of himself inside, apparently unable to resist the exquisite sensation of my tight ass wrapped around his cock.

“Fuck me,” I said. “Give me all you got.” He worked his hips in tight, fluid motions, feeding his dick into my ass with smooth and insistent strokes. I grabbed his furry ass and pulled him into me, sinking his dick in to the hilt. He hit his stride, fucking me like an animal, leaning forward and mashing his lips and tongue against mine as his dick forced itself inside.

“Let’s do it from behind,” Joey suggested, and I somehow managed to turn over with his dick still in my ass. Joey kept fucking me, barely missing a beat. I was lost in total lust for this guy, my dick rock hard and bouncing against my stomach. Joey really got into it then, slapping my ass as he pounded into me. He reached down and grabbed on to my cock. He gave it a few strokes and I felt my load rise up out of my balls.

“Shit, Joey, you’re gonna make me cum,” I said. Joey just gripped my dick harder and pumped away. “I’m gonna blow…ah…fuck…ah!” Ropes of cum spewed out of my dick and landed all over his upholstery. Joey held on until I had shot the last of my load, then he reared back, taking his dick out of my ass. I heard the condom slid off his dick wetly, and heard him grunt and groan as he gave a couple good pulls on his dick.

“Fuck yeah…oh fuck…oh shit….fuck!” he shouted, as hot jets of jizz splattered my back and my ass. Joey pressed his dick down, running the drippy head all over my ass cheeks. I could feel his load running down my sides, trailing all over my skin. Joey rubbed it into me, then bent down and licked it off of my back. I turned around and he shared his load with me, the taste searing my tongue as we kissed, our spent bodies lolling weakly against each other until he finally collapsed on top of me.

I don’t know how long we laid there, listening to the crickets chirping out in the night air. I know it took us a minute to register the sound of the front door slamming, hard. There was only one thing that could mean. We both looked up at the house in shock, and saw the kitchen light was on.

“Oh fuck. Holy shit. Do you think she saw us?” Joey was scrambling to put his briefs on. I didn’t say anything. I knew she had seen us. My stomach had dropped out as soon as I’d heard the door slam, and my ears still seemed to ring with the dull, blank shock of it.

I followed Joey up the stairs to the front door. The lights were on and she had locked us out. Joey begged and pleaded to my sister inside, who said nothing. I knew it was only a matter of time before she called the cops or tried to kill us. I sat on the stoop with my head in my hands, blearily aware that-whether I liked it or not-my life had just gotten a swift kick in the nuts. Things were bound to change now, in one way or another, for better or for worse.

Part II

I was trying to be good, I really truly was. Then Joey walked up to me in the gas station wearing a black ribbed shirt tight enough to show the hard, nubby nipples on his pecs.

“Hey Nate,” he said. What was I supposed to do? I said “hey” back. “Long time no see,” he said, getting really close to me so our conversation wouldn’t carry into the store. The place was bustling, as usual – the Sheetz on Market Street is sort of the hub of my small town. “What have you been up to?”

Since…, I thought. Since the night I’d trashed my relationship with my sister, probably for good, by sleeping with him. “I’ve been alright,” I said. “How about you?”

“Good,” he said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his track pants, inching the waist of them low enough so that his taut, white stomach showed. “I thought maybe you’d went back to the city.”

“Nah,” I said. “Still here.” Of course I’d known that Joey was still around. About a month ago my mom had mentioned, casually, that my sister was seeing “that construction worker again, that Joey.” She was mercifully in the dark about me and my sister’s falling out, and I sure as shit didn’t see a reason to go into specifics.

“I got a job up at the hospital,” I said. “Just admissions, paperwork and stuff. It’s good.”

“Cool. So where do you live?”

“I was staying with my parents but I just got a place, right down the street from here, actually, in the old opera house building.”

“Cool,” Joey said. He looked around then back at me. “So, like, what are you doing later?”

It was the moment I’d both anticipated and feared. Despite the guilt that had sometimes made me physically ill over the past four months, I still wanted him. Dreamt about him. Jacked off thinking about him. And yeah, I’d even driven past his parents’ trailer more than a few times, just to make sure he was still around.

“Nothing,” I said.

“I’m supposed to go to this party, but if you -“

“Joey – you comin?” called a voice from across the store. Joey looked back toward the door and I followed his gaze to Roger Eli, a guy who’d been a couple years ahead of me in school. Joey turned back to me.

“I want to stop by later tonight,” he said. “What apartment?”

I found myself saying “Four-oh-two.” Joey nodded and turned and strode to the door where Roger waited, holding open the door. They walked out together, and I put my pint of Ben & Jerry’s back in the freezer and headed home to wait.

***

What I came to realize in the next few weeks was that Joey was an insatiable sex hound who seemed attracted to me possibly for the sole reason that I was willing to get it on as often as he was.

He showed up at my door a little after midnight, that first night, looking drunk and half horny, half apprehensive. But it was less than a minute before we were full-on making out. He fucked me against the kitchen counter, pounding my ass with an intensity I’d forgotten from our last encounter. We hardly talked, just boned away until we both blew, he in the condom up my ass and me all over the cookie sheet I’d used to make garlic bread earlier that evening.

And later, after I’d reheated the rest of that bread and we’d eaten it with some leftover pasta and a generous amount of cheap wine, he fucked me again – this time in the shower, and bareback, and we came together as he held me fully aloft, my legs wrapped around his waist and his arms under my thighs, hoisting me up as he plowed his dick into me.

And the next morning (I’d made him sleep on the couch) he woke me up by coming into my room with a big old boner in his boxer briefs, which he stuffed in my ass for the third time in six hours.

So I filed my guilt away to the back cabinets of my mind and got it on with him, the best lay of my life. We fucked at least once a day. I gave him a key to my place. Sometimes I’d come home to find him naked in my bed, boner ready and waiting. I’d hop on and ride him before I even ate dinner.

Then one Friday when he’d come over with a case of beer and the intention of fucking me all night, he told me “Your sister’s been wondering where I am all the time.”

We’d just had a shower and were sitting on the couch watching TV, passing a joint.

“What did you tell her?” I said.

“Well she knows my mom is sick. I tell her I’m over there helping them out, but she must know something’s up cause my mom said she saw Trish’s car going past a couple times when I was over here.”

“Fuck,” I said, blowing out a hit. “You don’t think she suspects anything, do you?”

“No way,” Joey said. He set the roach on the coffee table. “She – she never talks about that night. Even though I apologized for it and all. She’s caught me cheating on her before with Jen Ericksen. I think she thinks I’m with her.”

“Fuck,” I said again.

“I’m careful. I always park in back when I come here.”

“I know. Still.” I was stoned and the full gravity of my situation was hitting me way too hard. I must have been sitting there lost in my own thoughts for a good while, cause Joey finally called over to me.

“Hey,” he said. I looked at him, laid back on the couch, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts, his hard cock tenting up the crotch. I reached over, and pulled down the waistband. Joey’s breathing got faster. So did mine. I got between his legs so his cock was in front of my face.

“Does Trish suck your cock?” I said.

“Sometimes,” Joey said.

“Does she suck it as good as me?”

“No way,” Joey said. I went down on him, a few passes, sucking just as well as I could – no teeth, deep throat, tongue sliding hard against the underside.

“Tell me more about what she’s like,” I said when I came up for air. My cock was hard and I humped it against the couch cushion as Joey talked.

“I have to beg her for it. She doesn’t swallow. And she goes too fast, like she’s trying to get it over with. Not like you.”

“Does she play with your ass?”

“No way,” Joey said. “She would never go back there. She won’t even let me do that stuff to her, she thinks it’s dirty.”

I rubbed my finger along the slot of Joey’s asshole. He quivered, his nuts tightened up into his body.

“Do you eat her pussy?”

“Yeah,” Joey said breathlessly. I had his slick cock in one hand and my other hand was under his nuts, my index finger pressed against his tight hole.

“Does she like it?”

“Yeah. But she doesn’t get the way you do when I eat you out.”

“What about when you fuck her?”

“It’s not like it is with you.”

“How so?”

“She doesn’t give it back to me as good. Sometimes she just kinda lays there.” I pressed my finger tighter to his hole. His cock was harder than hard.

I said the words I’d thought a million times before but hadn’t had the gall to say. “I want you to fuck me like you fuck my sister.”

“Yeah,” Joey said, rising from the couch to kiss me. He threw me on my back, hard, then grabbed my ankles and yanked my legs up and over my head, spreading my ass wide. He went down on me, voraciously eating me out, until I was wet enough and he could slide a finger inside.

“Am I tighter than her?”

“So much, man. Her pussy doesn’t even compare to your ass, it’s so fucking tight.” Joey fingered me slowly, steadily. He bent down and took my cock in his mouth, making a couple of breathless passes before coming back up.

“Do you ever think of me when you’re fucking her?”

“Sometimes,” Joey said. “Once I fucked you right after I fucked her. You sucked my cock right after it’d been in her pussy.”

“Oh fuck,” I said, my dick pulsing and my ass clenching down on Joey’s insistent finger.

“You like that I fucked her right before I fucked you?” he said.

“Yeah,” I said.

“I drop more loads in you than I ever do in her,” Joey said. “Cause I know I can do anything with you, cause you’re as dirty as I am.”

Joey took out his finger. He positioned himself, his cock to my hole, and slowly he slid it home. We fucked so slow, cause we were both so close. He fucked me slow and deep and we kept a steady stream of filthy talk between us, all of it about my sister.

Later, I had him on his stomach, on the bed, and I was eating him out – his favorite post-sex, pre-second-round activity. Sometimes I’d eat him out for an hour, just burying my tongue in his hairy butt while he ground his cock against the bed.

“You like my tongue in your ass?” I said.

“Yeah,” Joey said.

“You want more?”

“I dunno…” To that point I’d never done anything with his ass other than finger it while I sucked and rimmed him. But that night he was ready for the whole nine yards.

I grabbed his hips and pulled his hips back so that he was on his knees, his ass raised up. I knelt behind him and put my cock against his crack, pressing against it. Joey moaned.

“I want to fuck you,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Fuck me.” I lubed up. I took my time. I loved that, even after all we’d done together, even after all he’d done with other girls his whole life, I was taking his virginity. When I was in the whole way I gave him time to adjust. I reached underneath him – his cock was rock hard.

“You like it?”

“I do,” Joey said. “I like you in my ass.” I slowly slid out, then back in. Joey groaned. “Fuck me,” he said, so I grabbed hold of his hips and had my way.

“You can’t get this from Trish,” I said.

“Fuck no,” Joey said. A few more pumps inside him and I had him screaming “Fuck me!” at the top of his lungs, which I did, until I blew what felt like the biggest load of my life, up inside the ass of my sister’s boyfriend.

***

They continued, our epic all-night suck-and-fuck fests, for another week. And then it happened. I ran into my sister at the supermarket. And Joey was with her, manning the shopping cart. I tried to turn around but it was too late. I pushed my cart down the aisle, hoping I could pass them by with a minimum of drama.

She saw me then. She was shocked.

“Hi,” I said.

“How dare you even talk to me,” she said, “after what you did.”

She continued in that vein, admonishing me, her younger brother, in a way that, despite its intensity, was familiar. This time I was a seducer, the violator of her innocent boyfriend. I stood there, half-listening, suddenly seeing it for the self-protecting fiction that it was.

Because there was Joey, beside her. He was stooped low, hanging on to the cart for dear life. Yeah, I’d fucked up. I was quite probably deranged, and a pervert. But if I was ever going to figure anything out it wasn’t going to be there, in the cleaning products aisle.

So I walked away, her sneering judgments fading until I was around the corner and out of site. I’d abandoned my cart, left it sitting right next to them, and I wondered if Joey would do something with it or just leave it where it was.

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He stepped from his shorts and threw them back on the bed. He walked to my bed and I was in awe as his shaft started to harden. It was very thick and when it finally became erect it was at least nine inches long and had a slght bend upward. By this time I was sitting on the edge of the bed with my head only a few inches from his throbbing cock. I watched as the mighty weapon raised and lowered with his breathing and I saw the small drop of seminal fluid as it emerged from the opening.

Compared to my seven inch cock it was a monster. He had an exceptionally large tip and it resembled an old German helmit that I had seen in the movies many times.

He gently put his hand on my shoulder and I looked up into his soft eyes as He said”Don’t worry about your tests as I am going to make sure you pass all of them, but your going to have to be nice to me and help me out “. It was like someone had lifted a weight off my shoulders and I realized at that time how much the tests had been weighing on my mind.

I felt elation and when he slowly pulled my head toward his throbbing prick I didn’t resist but opened my lips wide to engulf the enormous head. I felt a little strange at first but this man seemed to have a power over me and I started to take his shaft into my mouth. “Oh Yes”

He said and started to slowly fuck in and out of my mouth stopping only to leave the head just inside my lips and then shove back in. The big cock felt strange and wedged my lips wide but I was not rebelling in the least. I was so relieved to know that those tests wold be taken care of that I would have done most anything for him.

As the salty fluid leaked onto my tongue I actually started to enjoy it as I knew I was the source of this father-like figures enjoyment and I realized at that time I had a love-like affection for him. My cock had actually started to grow and I now had a full erection. At that time he pulled his big lance from my mouth and pushed me back on my back on the bed. He then lay down beside me with his head toward my feet and his big cock was again at my face . I felt his soft thick lips enclose the head of my turgid prick and it took my breath away. I had not enjoyed any form of sex for a long time and I was ready to burst. I hadn’t even masturbated since leaving home.

The seriousness of the events had sobered me up fast and I now felt this warm feeling flow over me as he did his best to suck me dry. I just let his big cock lay in my mouth as he expertly brought me to a climax. I then erupted with several weeks pent up fluid flying from the head of my cock as he gallantly tried to swallow it all with his experienced mouth.

He handled most of it as I twitched and bucked in sheer bliss with him trying to hang on with his lips. I felt a million diffeferent emotions race through my body and all of them were good. I lost his prick for a few minutes but as my emotions died down I turned and took him back into my mouth with a determination to give him the same pleasure he had given me. In just a few short minutes I had become this man’s dedicated sex toy and I was now sucking his cock for all it was worth.

He took complete control and pulled from my mouth as he pushed me onto my back. He then moved up to straddle my chest as he pushed a pillow under my head to adjust it to just the correct angle. Then came the literal fucking of my face and he used my mouth just like a woman’s pussy shoving his cock as deep as possible and then pulling back for another try. I gagged a few times when it hit the opening to my throat but he showed no mercy and continued to stretched my mouth. My head popped back and forth as he took his pleasure. His large testicles bounced on my chin as his prick went in and out. I felt my tightly sttretched lips peel back and forth as his cock slid between them. He pinched my nipples painfully and stretched them by pulling them straight out. I will never forget his words at that point as he said, “Your mine now baby and I am going to make you my bitch!” With those words still ringing in my ears I was flipped over like a rag doll and forced to lie face down as he reached for something in his night kit on the floor by the bed. He was a big rangy man about six foot three and he was very strong. He held me in place as he smeared the cold slick jell on his finger and quickly and roughly rammed it into my virgin ass. He had changed from the kind,soft man I knew into a dominant one and was demanding the use of my body. I probably could have fought him off enough to escape his advances but those difficult test loomed large in my mind and I lay there as he reamed me good finally getting three fingers painfully inside me as he spread the lube in my soon to be ravaged ass.

I have many accounts of guys who told of the pain of a first-time fuck but believe me they were an understatement. Many said that they started to enjoy it after a few minutes and I will never be convinced of that. The pain I felt as he rammed his over-sized cock into my unbelievably small rosbud was excruciating and I actually screamed like a young girl. He showed no mercy as I begged him to stop but just pounded me deeper until I felt him hit bottom. He forced as much as he could inside and just held me pressed to the bed with his weight as his prick soaked in a mixture of lube and a little blood from my small blood vessels. He was out of control as he shouted into my ear and told me how sweet and tight I was and reminded me that I was his now and to get used to being fucked like a whore. In the coming weeks and months I learned what the term “Bitch” really means in gay terms as he used me time and time agan as his personal slut. My lips actually thickened from suckng his cock constantly, often at the ED center after he had closed.

He would lock the doors and tell me to strip. He would then either fuck my mouth or my ass at least once before we left. By the time I was finally transfered my ass or “pussy”as he called it was stretched wide from his fist and his big cock. He would start with three fingers and end up with his arm in me almost to the elbow. He delighted in using a mirror to show me how big my opening was now. My once puckered little hole now gaped open wide as it waited the next penetration. On one occasion I was used to satisfy one of his higher ranking friends and I learned what it was like to be fucked at both ends at the same time.

Being gay in the military was a discharge if you were caught and when I went for my physical before I shipped out back to the “States” the doctor checked me for hernia and he said something that worried me for several days. He said” Boy, you’ve had some action back there haven’t you!” As he observed my grotesquely opened hole. I was scared stiff that he would report me and I would be forced to be interviewed by the commandig officer. But nothing happened and I was transferred back to the USA. Before I left Steve fucked me all week-end and reamed me several times with his fist and told me “You won’t ever forget me boy”, as I’m the one who made you the little slut that you are!” Soon after reaching my new base I met a sargent first class who soon had me on my knees again sucking his ample dick. And as he fucked me hard the first time I realized I would forever perform the roll of a sub cock-sucker and slave. Steve had converted a previously hetrosexual man into a devoted cock-sucker and one who lived to be penetrated. I have been used by many dominant men and a few women but I will never forget Steve……This is a true story and I have only added a few adjectives to spice it up…Enjoy

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Isaac drove through the rural country side looking at it like it was his first time, as if he didn’t really know it, looking for that image, that special arrangement in the landscape that captured his eye. That landscape that he could frame in his mind; that would capture something of the region he could sketch, to put on paper, and ultimately put on canvas, adding hue, tone, shadow, line, bringing out an image as his eyes saw it. This was the first time in the last ten years he had not traveled abroad, creating landscapes, capturing landmarks, old buildings from a time when man had the conceit to think he and his world were the center of the universe, when they didn’t even know their own world, and Isaac had painted them, in his own style, with bold rich color and strong contrasting shadows. He even from time to time did portraits of some of the local people, mostly women in traditional dress.

He had been teaching at the university for the last seven years, since he was twenty-seven, after spending five years traveling Europe, Russia and the Middle East, sketching and painting, developing his style, his approach to line and color, as he spent his inheritance, stretching it out by living in hostels, camping in tents in fields or the woods, or just tossing his sleeping bag on the ground by his easel and lying on his back staring up at the night sky until sleep overtook him. For the first six years of his academic career he traveled back during his summers to those familiar settings and he explored new ones, going to China and the south Pacific, but this year was different. His mother wasn’t doing well and he thought he should stay close in case he was needed, so he decided to travel through the region he thought of as home. Southern Alabama and North Florida, traveling through the rolling hills of farms, pine tree forests planted in monotonous rows, of low swampy regions running along the rivers that cut through the land.

He’d been on the road for a couple of days when he saw it. He had drove up a steep incline after crossing over a creek and came to the top of the hill when he spied the scene. An old abandoned barn, its boards weathered dark sienna, never having received paint and its roof, an old rusted tin construction that was missing a few panels along one lower section sat among several old oaks, their branches spreading out wide and thick. There were a couple of smaller outbuildings, one leaning over, appearing to defy gravity. Behind it all stood the concrete shell of a silo, its walls once white now a faded out gray, the color of the concrete bleeding through the worn thin paint. Isaac pulled over and surveyed the site. He stood there knowing this would be his first work for the summer. Getting back into his car he drove on down the rural narrow two lane highway until he came to a farm house, with its own barns, silos and outbuildings, all old, in disrepair, but still functioning. He drove down the drive to the rear yard and found a man working on his truck. Explaining what he wanted the old farmer told him who owned the property and offered to call for him. Soon he had the owner’s permission and was on his way to the nearest hotel to find a room. Luckily Interstate 65 was close and there was an exit with a hotel, service station and a fast food restaurant. Within a couple of hours he was returning to the site of the old barn.

For several hours he sketched from one position then another, looking for that one view that gave him the composition he wanted; then he set to sketching the scene before him in detail. He worked tirelessly, while the hot summer beat down on him, the humidity making the air thick and stifling and the constant buzz of insects, the constant need to fan the gnats slowed his progress, but didn’t deter him. He knew the region, grew up in it, knew how it worked, and he knew how to work at its pace. It was why he had heard the tractor coming down the road but didn’t consider it until he heard it stop. The noise of a tractor was too common to take notice.

He turned and looked back at the road, where his Jeep sat parked in the ditch and saw the old John Deere tractor, a model from the days before cabs, and air conditioning and electronic controls and stereos. He saw the farmer climb down and come to the fence, saw him climb effortless over the old barb wire fence and begin his slow ambling walk toward where Isaac was set up. Isaac first noticed how he was dressed; a ball cap, a sleeveless shirt, its tail hanging out flapping over his jeans. His shoes looked like old work boots but it was hard to tell with him walking in the tall grass. As he got closer, Isaac could see how dirty he was from his labors, how his cap was filthy, frayed along the brim, how his shirt had had its sleeves torn from the shoulders, the opening showing the frayed edges, and his jeans were smeared with dirt and grease, frayed at one knee, the opening dark, too far away to see the skin exposed through it.

When the farmer was about thirty yards away he called out, giving a small low wave with one hand.

“Hey, you that artist from the university?”

“Yes. Are you the owner?”

“That would be my mother” he replied as he got close enough for Isaac to really see him. He looked to be mid-twenties, average height, lean, the way his shirt hung from his shoulders and billowed around his waist in the slight breeze. His face was rough looking, his beard looking to have a few days growth, the skin tanned. Definitely not the soft boyish face of the students he saw during the two semesters he taught each year. His shirt was unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest, revealing his tanned smooth chest. He wasn’t cute, but he was attractive and it made Isaac suck in a breath and hold it a second, telling himself to behave himself, to not let his roaming eyes get him in trouble. When the farmer was a few steps away he reached out a hand to shake with Isaac.

“I’m Ross.”

“Isaac. So your mother owns this place?”

“Yeah, she inherited it from her grandfather several years ago. It ain’t the best land; won’t grow shit, so we let it sit idle while she tries to figure out what she wants to do with it.”

“I guess there are not a lot of options out here.”

“Tell me about it. If we were close to a city, well…” then Isaac could see that look, of someone stuck in a place he didn’t really like, someone looking for something else. “So what makes you want to paint this busted down ole barn?” Ross asked when he brought his attention back to Isaac. Isaac laughed and looked at Ross shaking his head.

“I don’t know, sometimes I just see some landscape, some group of buildings and just want to capture them on canvas.”

“I see” Ross replied, and Isaac sensed he did understand. They talked a few more minutes, about Isaac’s teaching art and his traveling in summers to paint and Ross told him how he was trying to make it on the family farm, admitting he thought it was the only thing he could do well. When their talk wound down to an awkward silence, Ross looked across the old over grown pasture, then back at Isaac.

“Well, I guess I should leave you alone and let you get back to your painting.” Ross turned to walk away but stopped and turned back to Isaac. “Hey where are you staying if you’ll need a couple of days to do this painting?”

“I got a room at a hotel at one of the exits on 65.”

“Oh yeah, that’s not far, but there ain’t shit over there to get something to eat at; why don’t ya come to my folk’s house later today. You can get something decent to eat and mom can answer any questions you may have on this ole place.”

Isaac hesitated a moment, thinking he didn’t really need the history of the place to paint it, but the offer was genuine, and something told him to accept.

“That sounds really nice; where do they live?”

Isaac arrived at the mid-sixties ranch house right at five thirty, knowing how an early dinner was common practice and to be late an insult. He was greeted at the door by Ross, who brought him through the foyer running between a formal dining and living room, neither of which appeared to have seen much use, and into the back of the house into a darkly paneled den, a large fireplace prominent in one wall. Ross introduced Isaac to his father and mother; Ray and Sally. Sally had them sit down while she finished her preparations of their dinner.

Conservations were forced, Isaac not having much in common with Ray and Sally but the meal was good and they were genuine in their friendly hospitality. As they sat around the dining table, finished with desert, just talking casually Isaac shown them some of his sketches and photos of some of his work he had done in the past. Sally asked if he did portraits.

“Not really; I mean, I’ve had the classes, and in my travels I would do one of someone I thought was interesting, dressed in some traditional costume, but it is not something I do regularly.” He hadn’t lied but he hadn’t told the whole truth. He struggled with drawing portraits. Not portraits of women, those he had no trouble studying his model, putting on canvas what he was seeing with his eyes. But men it was a problem. He would see the man in front of him; see his masculine form and see some beauty in him that brought up feelings that blurred his vision, messed with his objectivity. He loved the male form, but it was in ways far beyond art. He had never had a serious relationship, but he had had many flings, many a summer romance in Italy, France or some other country. But he didn’t sketch them; didn’t paint them.

“Well, I was wondering, would you paint Ross? I’ve always wanted one done, something other than the typical photo portrait, ya know what I mean” Sally asked.

Isaac was stumped for a moment; then he cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t know…you see I’m not the best at portraits” he replied.

“Oh I think you’re just being modest. You’re work looks really good to me; don’t you think so Ray?”

“Yeah…It looks good” Ray responded, Isaac knowing a man who doesn’t question his wife when he sees one. They went back and forth for a while, with Isaac looking over at Ross, his shaggy brown hair dropping across his forehead, and the way he grinned at Isaac, knowing his mother was making him uncomfortable. Isaac made a comment about how long it’d take and he doubted Ross would want to sit still that long.

“I’ll do it. I’ll sit for it, if it is what mom wants” Ross said all of sudden after not saying much during the whole conversation.

“Don’t you worry Isaac, we’ll pay ya for it and Ross here says he’ll sit still long enough for you to do it, so that settles it.”

The next morning, as the sun rose in the east, Isaac was sitting in the high grass watching the light move over the old barn and silo, watching how the shadows shifted, moved, the colors change, and he began to paint. He tried to stay focused on his work but the idea of doing Ross’ portrait kept intruding, disturbing his calm, as he wondered how he would get through the sessions. Ross had told him they would do them at his house as soon as he was completed with his landscape. He even suggested Isaac stay at his house, but Isaac, in a moment of clarity, said he couldn’t do that and would keep his room at the hotel. He kept asking himself if he could keep his mind focused on Ross’ body in an artistic fashion and paint the portrait or was he in for a long ordeal of daydreaming, fantasizing, or masturbating in his hotel room every night until his dick was sore.

His attention span improved as the morning wore on and he had exhausted himself on thoughts of Ross and finally gotten serious with his painting. It was nearing noon when he saw Ross’ pickup pull up and park in front of his Jeep. Ross came toward him carrying something, which he quickly realized was some sort of lunch. Ross came up and told Isaac his mom sent lunch and to come over to one of the oaks so they could sit in the shade. Isaac brought his small camp chair and sat in the shade of the oak, where the grass wasn’t as tall. He found the lunch sent to be unbelievable and he ate hardily as Ross sat on the ground close by asking questions about the university, questions about the curriculums and what it was like on campus. After a few minutes, Ross grabbed the waist band of his shirt and pulled it up over his head and off. Isaac had watched, holding his breath, as Ross’ torso came into view. He was so lean, his stomach and chest so smooth and tanned from outdoor work, and when he had raised his arms Isaac saw how Ross had thick dark brown hair in each arm pit. Ross tossed the shirt on the ground behind him and laid back, putting his cap over his face to shield his eyes.

“Damn I am exhausted. One of dad’s calves got sick and we were up till three this morning” Ross stated as he laid there. Isaac sat, staring for what he knew to be far too long. He looked at the long slim torso, the damp arm pit hair, the thin trail of hair from his navel to the waist band of his jeans that fit snug to his narrow waist. He looked at Ross’ long legs in the tight legs of his jeans, and he looked at the bulge in the crotch. As he stared, Ross reached over and adjusted his crotch and Isaac held his breath watching as the long fingers moved the bulge in the tight confines of the jeans. ‘How in the hell am I going to do his portrait’ he wondered at that moment, and how he wanted to reach down and touch him, do things that Ross would probably beat the shit out of him if he tried. He struggled to finish his lunch as he sat there looking at the body of Ross, feeling frustrated.

When he was finished they moved back to the easel with Isaac getting settled back in his place while he and Ross discussed getting started the next evening on his portrait. Isaac worked the rest of the day sporadically as he struggled to stay focused, unable to keep thoughts from surfacing of Ross and the challenge that lay ahead of him.

Isaac went back to the old barn the next morning and painted until he finally got to a stopping point; a place in his painting he was satisfied with the results. He spent the rest of the day riding around the area, grabbing a late lunch in a nearby town. He got back to his hotel room around five, gathered his art supplies and headed to Ray and Sally’s for dinner. He would follow Ross afterwards to his house.

Ross lived in the old farmhouse that had been built by his great great-grandfather and lived in by different family members up till the late 1980’s where it sat vacant until Ross took it over and renovated it. Isaac was surprised to see how nice the old house had been renovated, how manicured the lawn and surrounding landscape. They pulled to the rear and were soon entering through a back door at a screen porch. Inside they went into a modern kitchen and living area, where Ross opened the refrigerator asking Isaac if he wanted a beer.

Drinks in hand, Ross led Isaac to the living room at the front of the house where he had set up the room for Isaac. The furniture on one side of the room was moved to the dining room and a tarp was lying on the floor. The opposite wall had an old antique sofa that had been refurbished positioned at the wall with a large painting hanging over it. Isaac couldn’t help but ask about the painting and Ross just smiled and said an old friend from high school had done it, and that he lived in California now.

Isaac set up his easel and got his paints, pencils and other supplies all set up while Ross went to change into some better clothes. Ross came back into the living room wearing a white dress shirt open at the collar with his tanned skin contrasting sharply with the bright white fabric. He had combed his hair but a lock refused to stay in place and kept dropping across his forehead.

Isaac sketched for nearly two hours trying to get the proportions right, and he kept making Ross shift positions in an effort to get the best angle, but he wasn’t satisfied with his results so far. He got frustrated and told Ross he had to stop a moment to recompose himself, that he was struggling for some reason.

“I can’t get your body proportions right for some reason” Isaac told him

“Should I stand up and let you sketch me that way?”

“No, I just need to iron out your basic body structure first then look at how your clothes fit.”

“You want me to take off my clothes” Ross said it, smiling a little mischievously.

“No” Isaac replied quickly, then lowered his voice; “that won’t be necessary.” He looked at Ross and then at his sketches and finally laid them down and stood up.

“Where is your bathroom?”

“Through the door, down the hall; it’s the second door on the left.”

“I’ll be right back.” Isaac went to the bathroom and relieved himself, washed his hands and then his face, staring at himself in the mirror, asking himself what his fucking problem was and why he couldn’t focus, knowing full well what was the problem. He stood at the lavatory, propped on his hands, head held down, for a few minutes, taking slow measured breaths. Then he looked at himself in the mirror once more and nodded, thinking ‘I can do this’.

He went back to the living room and froze in the door way, feeling his breathing come to a complete stop. Ross was sitting on the sofa as before, but he was naked, his clothes lying in an arm chair.

“I know you said not too, but I thought it might help you with my body structure” Ross said as Isaac came into the room and sat at his easel. He tried not to look at first, knowing how he would gaze at Ross and afraid Ross would see it in his eyes. He took a deep breath and thought ‘fuck it’ and began. He struggled at first, tried to focus on the whole of Ross and not stare at just one part or place. But for a few minutes he couldn’t help it. He looked at Ross’ cock and how it lay over his balls, thick and wrinkled as the loose skin was pulled up along its flaccid state. He looked at how the trail of hair from his navel went down and spread into the thick bush of hair over his cock and how his cock was darker than the surrounding skin; how his hips and crotch were slightly lighter in skin tone, but obviously getting some sun. He looked at Ross’ long legs, the muscular thighs and calves and the brown hair that covered them. Isaac’s eyes roamed over the naked body, looking at that familiar torso, and the smooth tanned skin and how his chest wasn’t overly muscular in definition but was lean like a runner or swimmer, and how his arms did have muscular definition, with the biceps bulging with muscle. His eyes roamed back up to Ross’ face, all clean shaven, appearing smooth, and he noticed the smile on his face, the look in his eyes. Isaac could see how Ross knew he was making him flustered, but Isaac renewed his determination to do the portrait.

For over an hour he sketched and worked out Ross’ body, the line of his torso, the curve around his hips, the form of muscle along his arms, his legs, and even along his shoulders to his neck. He composed himself enough to even draw Ross’ sex, the curve of it, the way it laid over his balls and the way they hung between his legs. When his hands ached and his eyes were fatigued he set his pencils down and looked at what he had done. He was surprised at how well he had done. He saw Ross get up and approach and he stiffened. Ross came and stood by him looking at the sketch. Isaac couldn’t help it as he glanced over at Ross’ cock as it was right beside him, right there, so close he could smell the scent of Ross. He could see the individual hairs lying over his skin, and the smoothness of his skin, the unblemished surface, the natural tightness over muscle.

“That is really good, Isaac” Ross’ voice low, a huskiness in it Isaac had not heard before. Ross moved closer, his hand rested on Isaac’s shoulder. Isaac froze as he sensed Ross lean down, his head moving up next to his own.

“Do I really look like that?”

“Yes” Isaac replied automatically, his voice low.

“Thanks” Ross replied and Isaac felt his breath just before he felt Ross’ lips touch his cheek, kissing him lightly. Ross pulled back a few inches as Isaac turned and looked at him, looked into his brown eyes, saw the angular features of his face soften, this smile widen, dimples formed into the sides of his mouth. Isaac leaned toward Ross and touched lips to lips. The kiss got harder, mouth to mouth, tongue dueling tongue, as Ross inflamed Isaac’s passions, forced him to respond to his desires. Ross held Isaac’s head and kissed him one more time on the mouth and then stood up next to Isaac, his naked body up close, and this time Isaac didn’t freeze up, didn’t shy away, as he reached out to hold Ross’ cock in his hand, felt its soft skin move along the shaft, felt it begin to harden, the head swell up. Ross watched Isaac’s manipulations as if in a trance, then he watched as Isaac moved to it, mouth open, and took it into his mouth, slid it along his tongue until it pushed at the opening to his throat and he tried to push further. Isaac felt Ross’ cock swell in his mouth and fill the void, the warm shaft move over his tongue as he moved his head back and forth. Ross held his head and began to work his hips, pumping cock through Isaac’s mouth, feeling the head slide over Isaac’s tongue, the warm wet slickness of Isaac’s mouth sending sensations through him, ancient primitive sensations, as he flexed and swung his hips. Drool slid from Isaac’s mouth and down his chin as he was lost in the feel of Ross in his mouth.

Ross was achingly hard, his cock felt like it was stone, and he pulled out of Isaac’s mouth and stood back, watching it bob in the air. Isaac sat staring at it, his glazed over eyes moving with every movement of Ross’ cock. Then Ross’s hand broke his field of vision, snapped him out of his trance and he looked up at Ross.

“Let’s go to the bedroom” Ross told Isaac, as Isaac nodded ok and took his hand. Ross led him to the last room down the short hall and to the bed. Standing by the bed, Isaac watched as Ross methodically pulled the quilt and sheet back to the foot of the bed. He watched the naked form of Ross’ body move, watched the muscles shift under the skin, his cock move freely around; he watched how Ross’s facial expression was one of calm determination. He watched how Ross’ hair kept falling over his forehead and into his eyes, and he noticed for the first time the line of freckles across his shoulders. Isaac was like a child, unable to act on his own, just standing there watching, waiting, transfixed by his desires and his needs.

Ross came back to him and began to undress him, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders. He unbuckled his belt, unfastened his jeans, pulled the zipper down and pushed them down with his boxers until they dropped to Isaac’s ankles. Isaac stepped out of them as he was led to the bed, the two of them lying side by side, touching each other, bringing lips to lips, kissing as the heat of their bodies warmed the other. Isaac seemed to suddenly come alive, to awake as if from a dream and he pushed Ross back on his back.

“I wanted to touch you from the first moment I saw you…” and he hesitated, his eyes roaming over Ross’ body, “and when you were posing and I was sketching you; then doing the portrait, I wanted to come to the sofa and touch you, to touch you everywhere.”

“You can do that now” Ross replied.

Ross lay there, silent and still, as Isaac moved around, shifted up next to him. Ross closed his eyes, waiting, knowing Isaac wouldn’t hold back this time. He felt the light touch on his chest first, small circular motions, Isaac feeling the smoothness of his skin, its firmness with the hard muscle underneath. Isaac felt the softness of one then the other nipple and the erect nub in the middle and he leaned over and tongued it, kissed it lightly, then tugged on it with his teeth. Ross sucked in a deep breath at the sensation.

Isaac ran his fingers lightly up to Ross’ neck feeling its structure, his Adam’s apple, the way the artery ran up the side of his neck, felt the shape of his ear and how his roughly cut hair fell around it, soft and thick. Isaac moved his lips to the ear and ran his tongue over it, around it and felt Ross turn giving him better access as a low quiet moan escaped from within him. Isaac ran his fingers through Ross’ hair as his lips traveled over his face, touching lightly each eye, over the nose, across his lips and to his chin and along his jaw, feeling the straight line of it. Isaac shifted and laid his head on Ross’ chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the movement of his breathing and the sound of his pumping heart, as his own fingers ran downward around his navel through the sparse hair that grew around it and they followed the trail of hair, down and by his hard cock, arced up hard over his stomach. Isaac’s fingers felt the tightly curled hair above Ross’ cock and felt the way it quickly thinned out as his fingers moved out over his hips and around the smooth flesh covering them. As Isaac moved his fingers around Ross’ crotch, over his balls, feeling them shift in their sac, feeling the smooth skin of it, he moved his head downward, following the path his fingers had just traveled. Isaac felt Ross’ hand on his head, guiding him, the fingers massaging his head letting his hair slide between them.

Isaac licked the head of Ross’ cock, ran his tongue down it to his balls, feeling the smooth texture, the shape of the shaft and the way the head flared out. Isaac tugged on Ross’ balls, tightening them in their sac and Ross pushed Isaac’s head down so his cock slid between Isaac’s lips and into his mouth. Isaac sucked, tongued and moved his head up and down the hard shaft, slicking it up, heating it with the warmth of his mouth. Ross began to pump his hips upward, pushing more of his cock into Isaac’s mouth. Isaac moved so his body lay along Ross’ legs, the fine hair tickling him, his cock sliding between them as he moved it back and forth, increasing his own lust, driving him onward, as he took Ross in his mouth. Ross began to swing his hips upward faster and harder, working his cock through Ross’ mouth, the sound of it sliding through his lips, the sound of Isaac putting suction to it breaking the silence in the room.

Ross slowed to a stop and rose up, looking down on Isaac.

“I want to fuck your ass” he told Isaac.

Isaac let Ross’ cock slip from his mouth and he moved up over Ross’ hips, his own hard cock bouncing up and down. Isaac held Ross’ cock up, let it rub over his ass as he moved back and forth over it letting it touch him there, time and time again, building his need, his desire. He held Ross’ cock gently between his thumb and forefinger as he moved himself into position, pushing slightly against the head of Ross’ cock, feeling the pressure against his tight opening. He pushed down with his weight and felt the breach of his opening, the penetration, as Ross slid into him. Slowly Isaac moved down, his hands now bracing his body by leaning back on them as they rested on Ross’ thighs, the angle of penetration pushing against his insides, rubbing through his opening, as he felt the stretch, the pain; the pleasure. Isaac moved down slowly until he had all of Ross in him, and he squirmed around feeling the fullness of his insides where Ross had penetrated deeply into him. He moved up slowly, feeling his opening relax, accept the intrusion, the cock that was stroking his insides, making him hold his breath as he moved up and then back down. Isaac moved slowly for several minutes, feeling the shaft slid through him, work his opening; stuff his guts full.

Ross watched as his cock appeared and disappeared again and again and again, as Isaac moved up and down, sliding his body along the hard shaft of his cock. He felt the hot softness inside Isaac, he felt the tight ring of his opening as it moved up and down his shaft, milking his cock and he felt the light bounce of Isaac’s cock off his stomach each time he came down. Ross reached out, resting one hand on Isaac’s hips, feeling the movement of his body and the other grasped the hard cock bouncing in front of him. He stroked it roughly, tightly in his fist, feeling the head slid into his hand then back out as he slammed his fist down to the base of Isaac’s cock. He felt the warm slickness of the head and he smeared it along the shaft and saw how it made Isaac speed up, to work his body harder, forcefully up and down, stroking Ross’ cock with the tight ring of his opening.

“Fuck…take it” Ross cried out as he felt his cock swell up, throbbed achingly inside of Isaac, and then explode his load deep into him, pumping wad after wad out, hot thick sticky wads he pumped into Isaac then worked his cock through it, slicking up his cock and Isaac’s insides. Isaac moved faster as sweat formed on his skin, as his breathing got faster, deeper, and Ross stroked furiously on his cock, pumped it harder, rubbing the head with each stroke, as his own cock didn’t go soft, but stayed hard, kept working through Isaac’s insides, pumping out his first load back onto his crotch. Ross considered flipping Isaac on his back, but his stamina was fierce, his hips working up and down fast, as he worked his opening over Ross’ cock. Suddenly Ross felt it, the hot splatter of cum as it hit him in the face, a trail of it shot across his chest and then wads pooled onto his stomach as the cock in his hand flexed over and over, shooting out Isaac’s load with Ross stroking him till it was spent.

Isaac was exhausted, and he lay on top of Ross, breathing hard, his sweaty body hot against Ross. Ross felt his own need, still unsated, still hard inside Isaac and he rolled him over on his back as he got on top, pushing Isaac’s legs apart, working his hips slowly, pumping his cock in Isaac, through the loosened opening, feeling it soften its grip, but still snug enough, the feel of it gripping his cock making him thrust faster and faster, full long strokes as Isaac lay back, head thrown back and his arms laying out over his head, as he took Ross’ fuck, the thrusting of his cock as it worked its way through his slick hot insides.

Ross soon rose up on his hands and feet, only his cock buried in Isaac maintained full contact as he hammered it through Isaac’s opening, pummeling it with his swinging hips, slamming cock into the hole beneath him. He fucked furiously, worked his hips hard, full arcing movements, as Isaac grunted and groaned underneath him. He felt the buildup, the sensation of his cock swelling up, of preparing to shoot again, to push out a second load, and he slammed down into Isaac over and over.

“Goddamn…fuck” Ross cried out as he came, pumping his second load into Isaac. As he pumped out the last of his load, he feel on top of Isaac, slowly moving his hips to work out the last of his cum and he felt Isaac run his hands over his back and down his sides, smearing sweat over his hot skin.

Exhausted and spent, Ross lay on top of Isaac, trying to catch his breath. They lay quietly spooned together until Isaac, then Ross, feel asleep. They wouldn’t wake till morning.

That November Isaac still thought constantly of his summer with Ross, of going out during the day and finding new landscapes to paint, or going back to the old abandoned barn to do some new perspective, he thought of the evenings when he worked on the portrait stopping often to have sex, marveling at the way Ross seemed to know no bounds. He remembered how Ross’ parents were so thankful for the portrait as he watched them hang it in their home. He wondered what Ross was doing now that fall was settling over the countryside. He felt the summer renewed him in some way and he knew the rave reviews of his landscapes in a gallery in Atlanta bode well for him for he became wilder with color, looser with his lines and the results surprised even him.

He made it home after another long day of classes and as usual for this time of year it was dark already. He went into his home and turned on the living room light as he put his personal effects on the table in the small foyer. He made it a ritual to look at the framed sketches hanging over the fireplace mantel each evening when he came in. Sketches that reminded him of his summer, the special time he had, of Ross and his renewed enthusiasm of his painting. Arranged over the mantel were the nude sketches of Ross; the various poses, the detailed drawings of a hand, his face, his penis, and the overall sketches of the long slim body. Isaac moved through the living room, crossed the dining room and went into his kitchen. To one side was a small desk area with his computer. He brought up the screen and saw the usual note of emails in his inbox. As it opened up he went and poured a glass of wine and set out something to cook for dinner. When he went back to the computer he had to stop and catch his breath. There was a message from Ross.

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To get in touch with the author, send them an email.

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Coach came into the apartment and found Tim getting everything ready for the upcoming events of the evening. “Hey, looks like you’ve been here awhile.” Coach said as he noticed all of the preparations that Tim had arranged.

“No, not too long really. I keep everything pretty handy so that I can grab it when necessary. So Coach, tell me about this new playmate of yours. You two haven’t tried the fist thing yet, I assume. Right?”

“No, we sure haven’t. We’ve only had about three sessions together so far, and Joe told me the first day we got together about how he thought he’d kind of like to see it done, and I told him that maybe you and Sammy would be willing to let us watch, and maybe give us some pointers on the whats and the hows of fisting. I’m glad we finally figured out a night when all four of us could make it. You know I’ve been putting you off in teaching me and letting me do it, but now that Joe and I are playing around and he has expressed an interest, well,—I kind of guess that has perked my interest too. I don’t know if either one of us will be trying it tonight, but at least we will have seen a guy get fisted up in his ass, and not feel so dumb and stupid about what goes on.”

“Hey Coach. You guys don’t need to do it if you don’t want to, but if either one of you do decide to try it for the first time tonight, you just let Sammy and I know. Got to admit, Sammy is a pretty good one to get your first fisting from. He is on the smaller side, as you have seen, and his hands are a lot easier to take up the ole ass hole than my larger hands. So if you guys want to try it, just let us know.”

Just as Tim was telling Coach to ask if he got interested in doing it, Sammy showed up at the door. He came in, all excited that he was going to be doing some fisting and having an audience while he either did some fisting, or while he got some fisting done to him.

“Hey guys, I’ve go to admit that it really turns me on when somebody is watching while I get a fist up in my ass or put my fist up in another guy’s ass. Actually I do kind of think I get more excited when it is a fist going up inside of me. I don’t know why, but I must be an exhibitionist when getting fisted. I guess in my mind I know it is like really weird for another guy to put his fist up in my ass, but then I like showing others that I can do that. I think it goes back to my childhood days when everybody said I was no good at sports and stuff. I have always kind of felt that letting a guy do that to me and also letting others watch it happen, was kind of like making up for my less than happy and accomplished younger days. I’d like to get fisted in front of all of my old childhood people and ask them how many of them could do this!”

Coach and Tim agreed with Sammy that perhaps his childhood days were the reasons that he got all excited about getting it up in the ass like that. Coach added, “Yea, I’ve been told, and I do believe, that the reason some guys like to get paddled so much is a reflection on their childhood days. I’ve been told that as a child they were paddled, and now they find excitement in it as an adult. I’ll tell you one thing! About six months ago I was with a guy at his house that really, and I do mean really, got all excited about getting his ass paddled as red hot as he could get someone to give it to him. I paddled him for a solid hour and I was actually afraid to paddle him anymore, even though he was still begging for it. Shit man, his ass was glowing red! Not kind of, but I do mean real red! And for him being a black man, that is not an easy task!”

Joe opened the door and came in just as the other three were finishing up the conversation about Coach’s friend getting a red hot ass paddling.

“Hey Joe!” Coach said as he went toward Joe and gave him a hug and a kiss. “Joe, this is Tim, and this is Sammy!”

As Joe extended his hand out to shake hands, he expressed his pleasure in meeting both of them.

Looking around the room, Joe then said, “Well, I kind of think maybe things are going to happen in here tonight, aren’t they? Being the only guy standing here with clothes on is making me feel a little weird, but I don’t think it is the clothing as much as the big can of grease and all of the other stuff laid out. Shit man, this almost looks like an operating room. Just a little more weird.”

Joe started to remove his clothes, and as he did Coach gave him a big hug and told him he was glad they were going to watch Tim and Sammy go to it.

“Joe, Tim has been begging me to get involved in this stuff for months now, and I’ve always put him off, but now that it’s you and I, I’m all turned on to learning as much as I can. Tim told me that if either one of us wants to try, either doing some fisting or getting some fisting, to let him know. He did point out that since Sammy has some smaller hands, he is a good one to get a first time fist from. He told me that Sammy’s smaller hands slide up and in easier than his bigger hands do. So anyway, if you decide that you want to do more than just watch, you let me know. I know right now I’m starting to get the idea that I just might ask for some action before this whole thing is over. Ever since you told me the other night that you want us to get with Tim and Sammy and watch them do each other, I’ve been getting more and more excited about doing it too. Now Joe, if I do decide that I want to try it, and you don’t feel comfortable trying it just yet, that’s OK. If you’d rather watch, I’ll have Tim or Sammy do me. OK?”

“Yea Coach, yea. I got to admit that right now I’m still feeling kind of like the little neighborhood boy that is going to be peaking through the fence and watching something that I am not supposed to see.

Maybe I will relax a little more once things get going, but I got to admit that right now I’m feeling pretty stiff about thinking about having somebody put their hand up in my ass or even me putting my hand up in their ass. I want to see what happens, but I sure can’t promise how involved I’ll get.”

“Hey that’s OK, man. Nobody is going to make you do anything that you do not want.”

As Joe and Coach were talking, Tim and Sammy had hit the bed, and quickly decided that Sammy would be the fister, and Tim would be the fistee.

“Tim likes to be on his back while he gets fisted.” Sammy explained. “Some guys, like me for example, like to be belly down while I get fisted, and as long as it feels good to the guy getting it, it really doesn’t matter. I mean after all, it’s all to just feel good getting it, so use whatever position you prefer.”

Sammy positioned the big beach towel up under Tim’s ass and lower back and rather jokingly told the two observers to always be as neat as possible, so that when the fun is over, there is as little clean up to take care of as possible. “Hey men, when you pull your fist out of some guys’

ass, you’d rather lay there and hug him, and not have to start doing the old washing everything down before you can relax. That is the reason I use the Latex gloves. When you smear this much grease on your hand, it is a whole lot easier to just rip off the glove and throw it in the waste basket than to try and quickly wash this much grease off of your hand. Now hey, guys! Some bottoms do not want you using gloves when they are getting fisted, so always find out first if you should or not. You sure don’t want to piss off some guy that you are just about to slide you hand up into.

Don’t make for too much fun that way.”

Sammy had gotten his hand and Tim’s butt hole all greased up and then slid some fingers in and out of Tim’s ass to kind of get it all excited and ready for an entry.

As he got Tim all ready, Sammy explained the whats and the why of what he was doing, and the best techniques to use to get his hand up in Tim’s ass as quickly as possible.

“After all men.” Sammy said. “When you’ve got a hunk like this on the bed, his legs up in the air, his ass all greased up and starting to get hot, you will find out that you get pretty excited yourself, and you get pretty anxious to be feeling the inside of his ass. Once you do this a few times, the rush of getting in there and feeling around will hit you.”

Sammy folded his hand, pointed his fingers and slowly started to enter Tim’s ass. He watched Tim’s face, and he watched his ass, making sure that everything was OK both with Tim, and with Tim’s ass. Tim let out a little groan.

“Hey men. That is what you want to hear. You don’t want your man just laying there all stone quiet and silent. You want him to groan some, so that you know he can feel you invading his most private hole, and you also know he is feeling good about what he is feeling up in there.”

“Oh shit man!” Joe exclaimed. “Coach, look! Sammy has almost all of his hand up in Tim’s ass already! Tim, don’t that hurt?” Joe asked.

“No not really.” Tim replied. “I’m not going to be a complete fool and try to tell you that for the first few times that it does not hurt, but after you get it a few times, your ass gets used to taking it, and your mind can only think about the joy you feel of having some guy’s hand up in there. Really guys, once you get used to having it some, you want it as often as you can get it! Fucking in the ass is good, but fisting in the ass is pure top quality sex!”

Coach and Joe bent over to get somewhat closer to the action, and both men gasped in surprised as Sammy pushed his hand on up in, far enough that his entire wrist disappeared up in Tim’s ass.

“Oh my God!” Joe almost yelled. “Oh my God Sammy, how far up in him are you going to go? Oh God, that has got to hurt! Tim, doesn’t that hurt? He has more than his whole hand up in your ass!”

“No Joe, it really feels good to me! He’s gone up in me, up to his elbow before, and I’m hoping he can do that again tonight so you two can watch it. Really guys, I know it looks like it has to be really painful to me, but it’s not. It’s a real turn on to me just knowing that he’s going up in me like that!”

With Coach and Joe sitting on the edge of the bed, the leaning on each other and watching what was happening between Sammy and Tim, was getting Joe all hot and bothered.

“Hey man!” Coach said as he noticed that Joe was supporting a major hard-on. “It looks like this is getting you kind of all turned on man! You have a raging hard-on.”

Joe looked down at his own cock and said, “Yea, I guess I do, don’t I? Shit man, I was so damned interested in seeing what in the hell was happening up here with these two guys, I didn’t even know I had gotten hard. Yea, I guess this is make me horny, and maybe just like you! Coach, look at the boner you are showing!”

“Yea I know! The only thing is, I knew I was supporting a woody.

I felt mine go real hard right when I saw Sammy push his hand up in Tim’s ass and let his wrist disappear up in there. That really got me all hot an bothered, and I knew it when it happened.”

Coach reached over to Joe as he spoke and rubbed his cock. Joe returned the favor. Both men sat there stroking the other guy, and at the same time watched what was happening between Sammy and Tim’s ass. As for Tim, they already knew that he was simply laying there in a complete glory taking all of the action in his ass with a complete joy!

“Yea Sammy, push man!” Tim said as he rather raised up to see how much arm was now up in his ass. “Come on man! I want to show these two guys what it looks like for a man’s arm to disappear up inside of another guy. Push it up in me. I want to feel your hand up inside of my chest area. Come on man! Fist me real deep!”

“I’m trying man!” Sammy replied. “Lay still there and give me some more time. I’m working my way up in you as fast as I can. When I get to my elbow, I’ll make sure you know it so you can look down and see it. I know from the last time we did this, that your seeing my arm that far up inside of you, is a real turn on to you, isn’t it?”

“Yea Sammy, yea! Yea man, I like it, but I don’t get it often enough. We have got to get Coach and Joe broken in so they can be fisting me too when you are not here. Hey man, I’d give up fucking all together if I could just get fisted about every day instead. I love it man! It feels so damn good to me! Put your arm up in me!”

“Oh God Coach, this is getting me all turned on! Coach, I did not expect anything like this to happen. Hey, Coach, I don’t know if I can take it or not, but the way I feel right now, please play with my ass.

Coach, finger my ass. Oh Coach, this has gotten me all hot and bothered.

Shit man, I’m going to be honest,—I’d love to feel your hand up in me.

OK! Now I’ve said it! I’m sure I will regret it if you even start to try, but that is the way I’m feeling right now, so I decided that I had to just day it. Coach, if you play with my ass and I change my mind, you will stop won’t you? I know I should not have said that, but my ass is getting real anxious to be played with, so if you will promise to stop if I ask you to, I’ll let you do some shit to my ass. Play with it! It’s hungry for some hand action back there.”

Sammy asked Coach if he wanted to use a glove, or go bare handed, and Joe rather interrupted and told them that he really doubted that Coach was going to be going in far enough to need a glove, but Sammy told Coach that he ought to use one anyway, since he would be smearing some grease all over Joe’s ass anyway.

Coach put on a glove, asked Joe if he wanted to lay on his stomach or on his back, and after Joe decided that he wanted to be on his back so that he could see, Coach started smearing some grease on Joe’s ass.

“Oh God yes!” Joe exclaimed with pleasure as he felt Coaches hand hit his ass hole. “Oh yea man, put a finger in my ass. Please Coach, finger my ass!”

For about the next 15 or 20 minutes Coach played with Joe’s ass hole and slowly but carefully started to open it one finger at a time.

During this same time, Sammy continued to work on Tim’s ass and continued to make additional headway in getting his arm up into Tim’s body interior.

“There Tim, I’m in to my elbow! Can you sit up a little and see it? See, I knew it was not a fluke the last time that we did that! You’ve got a lot hungrier ass hole than what you think.”

“Oh God that’s hot!” Coach said. “Shit man, that is fucking hot!

Joe can you see Tim’s ass? Can you see how fucking far Sammy is up inside of Tim?”

“Yea I can see it, and it is making me want your hand up in me that much more. Coach, I know damn well that I can not take that much up in me, but I want to get your hand up in me if we can. Can we try? Coach, I want to know that I got your hand up in my butt tonight. Oh God I’m crazy for saying that aren’t I? Oh shit man, I know I am going to be fucking sorry that I ever said that!”

“OK Coach. It kind of sounds to me like you have a man there that is ready to try and see if he can get fisted. You willing?”

“Yea, I’m willing, but I’m just not too sure of what I’m supposed to do.”

“Hey all you do is keep slowly pushing on his ass hole, and watch his face so you will know if he is feeling good or if he is having some pain, and just try to put as much hand up in him as you can. Just push on that ass nice and slow!”

Coach took Sammy’s instructions to heart, and slowly attempted to put his hand up inside of Joe’s ass. Joe jumped a few times, but each time, he told Coach that he was sorry because he did not want Coach to quit, but for just a moment or two it had hurt. Coach turned his hand a few times and actually found the best position to be in that he knew was the most comfortable for Joe. Often Joe would let out a, “Yea man, yea, –that feels good, push!”

When Coach heard those instructions, he followed his command, and he did actually gain some success. He could feel that he was opening Joe’s ass hole completely.

“Joe, you OK?’ Coach asked.

“Yea man, yea! I’m OK. I can feel your hand and I know it is really spreading my ass hole, but Coach, I may be weird, but feeling that hand up in me is really turning me on. You OK? Can we keep this up a little longer? Can we see if I can really get it up in me?”

“Yea Joe. Yea we can keep it up! I’m having my fun down here too.

I never thought that the day would ever come that I would be trying to put my hand up in that hot ass of yours, so we can stay at this until we do what we want. You just tell me if you have to stop, OK?”

“Yea I will, but not yet! I like feeling your hand. It hurts the way my ass hole is getting all spread open like that, but I guess I’m a weird guy. I like feeling it hurt like that! Oh Coach, I always wondered what it would be like to have some guy do this to you after I heard that guys do get fisted, but like I told you, I thought it was all just talk.

Oh Coach, thank God you got me into having gay sex. Oh Coach this is great!”

As Sammy continued to feel the insides of Tim, and also let Tim enjoy the feel of having a man’s hand, his wrist and his lower arm completely up inside of himself, he watched the progress being mad on the bed beside himself.

“Coach, I’ve got to tell you, you’ve got one hot hungry guy there.

You’ve almost got your whole hand up in him, don’t you?”

“Yea Sammy I do. It feels like I’m almost completely in. It feels like I’ve just got my knuckles to go. All of my fingers are up in there.”

“OK man.” Sammy replied. “You almost have him fisted. All you need to do now is push one more time, and let those knuckles pop in. Joe, I am going to be honest with you and tell you that when Coach pushes on you enough to let those knuckles pop in, it is going to hurt. It will only hurt for a few seconds, but I don’t want to lie to you and tell you that it won’t. Coach, when you pop in, do not pull your hand back out! Push it in, and keep it in there. Joe is going to have the natural reaction of trying to pull away from you when he feels your hand go in, but you have got to keep your hand up in him. If you pull back out right away, it will hurt Joe twice as much. Stay in him and let his ass relax on your wrist.

OK? Understand? Joe, you hear what I said? I know that when his hand pops into your ass you are going to have the natural reaction of trying to get off of it. Try to relax on it. As soon as the pain goes away, you are going to have the greatest feeling up inside of you that you have ever had.

Go for it guys, just take care of each other.”

Coach looked at Joe and smiled. Joe looked back at Coach and smiled but then said, “I must be crazy as hell. I know damn well from what Sammy has told me, that this is going to hurt, but Coach, I want to know I had your hand up in me tonight, and so I am willing to take the pain just to be able to say I did it! Whenever you are ready, just tell me that you are coming in. I promise to try not to pull off. Oh God Coach, I really do want to feel your hand up in there. Fist me! Put your hand up in my ass!”

“Joe, I’m coming in!” Coach suddenly said as Joe told him to put his hand up in his ass. Joe screamed in pain, and he jerked and did try to pull his ass off of Coach’s hand. Coach remembered what Sammy had told him, and he forced himself to continue to push against Joe’s ass, although he too felt like he needed to pull out.

Suddenly Joe relaxed. He took a deep breath and said, “Oh God man!

Oh God! I’ve got your hand up in me, don’t I? Oh shit man, I’ve got your hand up in my ass! Oh Coach, I like that! Yea, it did hurt for a second, but that quit. Oh Coach, wiggle your fingers. I can feel your fingers up in my ass. Oh God Coach, this is hot man, this is hot!”

Coach looked at Joe and grinned. He then looked at Sammy and Tim and just said, “We did it! I’ve got my whole hand up in Joe’s ass! We actually did it! I’m actually fisting him. Shit man, just a few days ago he had never been sucked off before, and now he is laying there with my fist up in his ass. My God he was ready for this. This guy was more than ready for getting active with some good gay sex. I’ve got me a gold mine here men! I’ve got a gold mine!”

Coach continued to play with Joe’s ass, and the inside of Joe’s ass, as did Sammy in Tim’s ass, although he was in much deeper. Joe had looked over once and told Coach that he wanted to learn how to take it in all the way like Tim had done, but he knew that had to be on another night.

After about an additional 15 minutes of true actual fisting, Coach watched Sammy pull his hand out of Tim’s ass, and he then followed suit on Joe’s ass. Once again Joe felt the pain of having Coach’s knuckles pop out of his hole, but the pain passed much more quickly this time, and all Joe could ask for was for Coach to massage his ass hole and kind of make love to it. It did not hurt, but he just felt like he wanted it to be loved and for Coach to make sure it was all still together so that it could be used like that again, and soon.

“Oh Coach,” Joe said. “Never in my wildest imagination did I ever think that I’d even ask you to put your hand up in my ass tonight, let alone my actually getting it up in me, but now that I know how damn good it feels, I really do want us to try and get me fisted like Tim got fisted tonight. I want it up in me all the way to your elbow,—like Sammy did to Tim. I know I may be crazy as hell, but Coach, I’m really, really ready for that now! Just as soon as we can, I want to try that! I want your whole arm up in me, as far as it will go!”

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To get in touch with the author, send them an email.

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He guys, I’m sorry that I’ve been gone for so long. I have had a lot of things going on in my life since 2011. I joined the Army and my job had me in training for a year. I was really busy with my job and then I started going to school, and I have a wonderful boyfriend who is now my fiancé so all my time has been taken up. Now since I’ve changed my job and don’t have as many hours to work. So now I have more to get back to my writing and if you guys see that I’ve made any grammar mistakes please feel free to comment and tell me. I will make sure that I proofread, but I miss something please tell me.

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Three weeks pasted and Darius was learning very quickly, he was even able to hold out for a few minutes when sparring with Markus. Darius was jumping and rolling out of the way as Markus shoots off shadow orbs at him. He stopped in place and put his hands together, then did a quick spell and faced his hands towards Markus and a sphere of electricity surrounded him. Markus began to fill it with shadows forcing the sphere to explode, the energy from the explosion sent Darius flying into a wall. Markus walked over to where Darius was laying dazed and he lean over and said “You actually did really good this time and your barrier seal was good, only thing is you didn’t put enough power into it.”

Darius responded “I put everything I had left into that seal. I’m completely drained me.”

“No you didn’t, you only put in what you can control. You feel so spent cause you’re not tapping into your true power yet, your only scratching the surface.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? When I get to a certain point I start to feel like I can’t push any hard and I feel totally drained.”

“That’s because you using your inherent magic, it’s what your body already has stored up. What you need to tap into is your natural magic and when you get to that point is when you can reach you true potential. Now that’s enough for today, it’s time to get you home.”

Markus helped Darius to his feet then wrapped them both in shadows and when then shadows cleared they were standing in Darius’s room then Markus said “Now get ready for school or you’ll be late and just because your my nephew doesn’t mean you can be late. I don’t know why you wanted to start morning sections.”

“I need to get stronger so I’ll practice every chance I get. Oh and you don’t have to worry about being late since you can teleport.”

“Yeah I can, but I’m going take my car as are you. You’re going to overdo it if you don’t relax a little too. You have too many other things going on to put this add pressure on yourself.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry so much about me.”

“Just watch it, don’t push yourself to hard kid.”

Then shadows swirled around Markus and he was gone.

Darius took a quick shower and got dressed then headed out of the house to his car and drove off on his way to school. He made himself extra busy lately with school work, swim practice, training sessions, and getting a new girl friend named Leanna. Darius hadn’t really been talking to Justin for the past three weeks since they had sex, he started feeling bad about what happened between them. When school ended for the day Darius went straight to swim practice since they made him the team’s new captain so he had to be at every practice. Leanna started to come to every practice to see him. Darius started dating Leanna a few days after his last time with Justin three weeks ago and since he barely had time for anything she would come to practices to be able to spend time with him. After practice they were walking over to Darius’s car when they see Justin sitting on the hood.

Justin looked at his and said “We need to talk.” so Darius told Leanna to get in and wait for him.

She got into the car and closed the door after she did that Justin tapped the car with his finger and shrouded the car in silence, so she couldn’t hear them.

Then Darius whispered “Get off the car and come over here.” so Justin got up and walked over to him.

“So why have you been avoiding me? Don’t tell me you freaked out again about happened.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you, my schedule has been full and will you keep it down.”

“Don’t worry about her, she can’t hear us. Look you don’t have to feel bad about what we did.”

“I don’t feel bad about anything. I’m fine with you being gay and I got caught up in the moment of everything that was happening.”

“Is that why you jumped into a relationship right after then?”

“Dating her has nothing to do with you and like I said my schedule has been full. I’ve got a lot of stuff going on right now.”

“So much that you can’t even talk to me in class. Come on now I sit right next to you. Just admit how much you like me and we can get past this.”

“Look I’m with her, there’s nothing between you and me, and I have to go. Bye.” then Darius got in the car and sped off. Justin snapped his fingers and the silence left the car

Darius had been having sex with Leanna almost every day to make himself feel better, but it didn’t really take his mind off of Justin or what happened. After he dropped her off at her house he returned home to his grandpa sitting in the entry way waiting for him. He walked to him and sat down next to him then asked “What’s wrong? Why are you sitting out here?” but he remained quite so Darius got up and walked towards the stairs. Demetrius stopped him by saying “Stop now and get over here.” he dropped his backpack on the stairs and walked over to were his grandpa was sitting.

“What’s been going on with you lately?”

“Grandpa what are you talking about?”

“You uncle has been worried about you. All the extra training, your schooling, the swim team, and trying be in a relationship. That’s pushing it kiddo. You’re going to wear yourself out.”

“Grandpa I’m fine I can handle it all. I’ve been doing fine.”

“Something has to give. You have to let one of these thing go.”

“Its fine I’m doing alright. I can handle everything I’m doing.”

“Yeah whatever you say and what happened to your friend Justin, I’ve heard you haven’t been speaking to him.”

“Justin and I’ve been busy with different things right now, that’s it.”

“Alright Darius since this is the path you’ve chosen I’ll let you go down it, but if I see you get overwhelmed I’m stepping in. Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir” then he grabbed his backpack and walked upstairs.

The next week Darius’s training had not been progressing and Markus felt he needed to do something to help him tap into his true power. That Friday after they were finished he walked over to Darius and said “Look no more morning sessions, father’s order and you know better than to go against anything he says.” then in a swirl of shadows they were in Darius’s room.

“So grandpa said no more fine then. When do we train then?”

“Ok first of all, when is your meet?”

“Not for another two weeks, just all practices right now.”

“That’s fine. I with teach you spell throughout the week and on weekends we’ll have dueling sessions, but only when you don’t have practice or meets. Do you have practice this Saturday?”

“No I don’t and I guess that will have to do.”

“Good so we won’t meet again today. I will see you tomorrow in the morning the same time we’ve been meeting and since its Saturday we have all day. Be up and ready when I get here, oh yeah and we’ll be there for a while.” then in another swirl of shadows Markus was gone.

The next morning the sun hadn’t rising yet when Markus stepped out of the shadows in Darius’s room. Darius had been woke for about an hour so he packed some food and his spellbook that his grandfather gave him. He was wearing black basketball shorts, a black tank-top, and a black zip up hoodie. Markus looked at him and asked “Are you ready?” Darius nodded then Markus wrapped them both in shadows. They’ve been training in a great hall that Demetrius created out of pure magic underneath Markus’s house so they would be concealed and undetected. When they appeared in the hall Darius noticed a figure standing off in the distance and when the shadows cleared he recognized who it was standing there. Justin approached them slow wearing black sweats and a black tank-top as if he knew what Darius would be wearing.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Darius asked.

“He’s here to help you. Obliviously my methods to help you tap into your true power aren’t working, so I figured someone around you own age that recently had to do all of this would be best suited to help you with this little problem you having.” Markus answered back.

“I’m not having a problem and I can do this on my own.”

“No you can’t and I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Plus since you don’t know away out of here you might as well learn something from him. He can’t even teleport so you’re both stuck with each other. Bye.” then Markus disappeared.

Justin walked up to Darius and shrugged his shoulders saying “Look your uncle showed up in my bedroom at 4:20 saying I need to come with him, made me get dressed, and teleported us here. When we got here he told me he would be back and I would find out what I need to do when I got here. So I’m thinking you made it to that point cause your mind is suppressing something and you can’t bust past your little mental block. It’s affecting your powers, so he wants me to help you.”

“Don’t worry about since I don’t need any help. Now if you don’t mind I need to find a way out of here.”

“Well I’ll be over here waiting until you ready to train.”

Then Darius walked over to a wall and charged his hands then started to blast lightning. He kept at it for an hour and an half now attacking the wall from many different points lighting up the room from the charges he was giving to the indestructible wall. Justin who had been sitting in a chair near a corner of the room had begun to grow tired of his pathetic attempt to breakout. So Justin stood up and walked over to Darius and grabbed his hand startling him causing him to power down then said “Can you quit now? This is a sad ass attempt.” angered Darius snatched his hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Darius said as he began to charge his hand again.

“You need to give it up you’ll never break through it.”

“You don’t know shit!”

“You’re an angry little man aren’t you? Look your grandpa made this place and you honestly think you can out do any magic he has? Do you know what your grandpa is? He’s an archmage, one of the most powerful magic users in the world, you can’t beat that.”

“You don’t know anything, you fucking faggot!”

“Oh, you really don’t want to go there.” Justin said as his eyes and hands started to glow white.

Then he blasted Darius with a wave of energy sending him flying across the hall.

“Who do you think you are?” Darius asked while pushing himself off the ground.

“Someone who can easily whoop your ass all across this place.”

Then Darius began blasting lightning across the whole room trying to hit Justin, but all Justin did was put up an energy shield to block everything he put out. Still blasting Darius felt his energy start to decrease and Justin noticed his power weakening so he jumped up and landed in mid-air and began to run at a quickened paced. He ran towards Darius feet still not touching the ground made a backhand motion sending an energy wave that knocked Darius into the wall. While still on the ground he shot off a blast that hit Justin in the shoulder knocking him out of the air. Justin and Darius both got up at the same time, but Justin was able to say a quick spell slapped his hand together and started a ripple effect of waves of energy. Darius who had been standing fell to his knees not know what was happening as the energy hit, Justin smiled and said “You feel that? That’s all you power being drained.” then he started walking over to Darius.

“I won’t lose to some queer.” Darius said with a smirk on his face.

“Shut up you self-hating little bitch! You don’t have the power to stop me.”

“You’re pathetic, chasing after some guy who doesn’t want you.”

“Me? Pathetic? No that’s you, I’m not afraid of what I feel for you. Now you on the other hand can’t admit how you feel about me.”

“I don’t feel anything for you and I don’t need your help.”

“Please you can’t even tap into your true power. My way of getting past that was the will to live when a coven broke into my house trying to kill my father and myself after killing my grandpa. I just was overwhelmed with my survival, but since we don’t have that luxury we’ll just play off your emotions. Like your deep sense of wanting me or the hate you have for yourself for wanting me right now. Whichever works best for you.”

Then Darius stood up and yelled “I don’t want you!” then his eyes began to glow light blue and he gave off an enormous amount of energy knocking Justin to the ground.

Darius walked over to Justin and put both hands around his neck then rushed him into a wall. Justin grabbed his hands barely trying to fight back while Darius was choking then Darius said “Why are you doing this to me?” as he leaned closer put his forehead against Justin’s. Rubbing his nose against Justin’s, then released his grip and slid his hand on Justin’s chest and roughly kissed him. Justin pulled away and looked at Darius then grabbed his head to kissing him passionately; Justin broke the kiss and said “I guess we found the emotion that helped you out.” Darius looked at him with a puzzled look on his face. Justin wrapped his arms around Darius’s waist and pulled him in closer while Darius was now resting his hands on Justin’s shoulders.

“What are you talking about?” Darius asked.

“You did feel something take over and yourself losing all control?”

“I yeah I felt a rush of power, so what?”

“Well you just tapped into your true power. That’s the only reason you were able to take me down, but I’m glad you did.”

“Fine, so what was my emotional trigger?”

“Possibly rage……………or something you’re finally ready to admit to yourself.”

“I’m………I’m not sure how I feel.” Darius said as he pushed Justin away.

“But you do feel something I know that much.” Justin said as he pulled Darius in close again and began to kiss him.

Justin stopped kissing Darius then held his hand out and said “Ostray vinto sacon!” causing a reflective swirling portal to appear on the wall. Darius asked “What the hell is that supposed to be?” as he looked at Justin. He smiled and let go of Darius’s waist then held his hand and making him walk into the portal. They walked through what appeared to be shimmering silver waves and when they walked out of the waves they were in a room Darius had never seen before. He let go of Justin’s hand and walked over to the window to look out and noticed the street he was on then asked “Where are we at?” Justin walked over to him smiling then gently kissed him pushing onto the bed. They were passionately making out and their tongues were swirling around each other mouths, but Darius stopped and smiled at Justin and asked “Come on, tell me where we are.” Justin just smiled at him again.

Justin showed a slight grin and said “It’s my room. I can’t teleport, but I can open portals if I know where I’m going.”

“So you opened up some pathway to get me into your bedroom. So you think I’m easy?”

“It was a portal and no I don’t think you’re easy. I just think you’re meant for me.”

“I’m meant for you? Is that right? So you would like this wouldn’t you?” then Darius climbed on top of Justin and started kissing and licking on his neck.

“You really know how to make your man feel special.” Justin then took off Darius’s tank-top then his own, sitting himself up began to suck on his left nipple.

“My man? I still have a girlfriend, who said I was ready to have a boyfriend or if I even wanted one?”

“Look you know how I feel about you and I get a sense of how you feel about. Why can’t you admit?”

“I do like you, but I don’t know what that means yet.”

“Then how about we find out, but I’m not going to be some sideline piece that you have waiting around for you. I want you to actually put effort into us, I hate see you dating someone else.”

“Oh so your jealous of Leanna? You hid it very well.”

“Yeah I did and I don’t appreciate all that shit you said to me back there, what was all that about? I remember you saying I’m a faggot.”

“I’m sorry for saying all that crap, I didn’t mean any of it. I really like you and I’m really sacred of how you make me feel. I can barely think when I’m around you.”

“Then just give into how you feel and we don’t have to put a title on what we are, but I’m not sharing you with anybody.”

“I think I can deal with that.”

“That means you have to break up with her.”

“Alright since I’m willing to give us a try, I won’t be with her anymore.” then Darius pushed Justin back onto the bed pinning his hand over his head and said “Let’s give this a try.”

Darius began to kiss his way down Justin’s body starting at his neck making his way to his nipples, suck on the right one then moving over to the left. He found his way to Justin’s belly button then down his happy trail until he was at the top of his sweats where he stopped. Justin sat up and said “You don’t have to do that if you’re not ready. I like sucking you off.” Darius looked up and smiled then said “It’s alright, I want to try. I want to see if I can make you feel good.” then Justin rubbed his hand through Darius’s short black hair.

Darius grabbed the waistband of Justin’s sweats and underwear to pull them down to reveal that beautiful 9′ inch dick. At first he took it into his hand and just looked at this semi-hard dick until he decided to stick his tongue out and licked the tip of Justin’s foreskin. Darius slid his tongue inside the foreskin until he pulled his skin back and started licking around the head, then he put the still semi-hard dick in his mouth and began to move his head up and down. Darius felt Justin’s dick beginning to swell in his mouth until he could barely keep it there, so he had to slide it out until only the head was left in. He started to slowly suck on the head building up a slow pace, and then he heard Justin softly moaning. Remembering what Justin had done to him before and tried to replicate it, but he started to gag which made Justin laugh a little.

Justin put his hands under Darius armpit and pulled him saying “You did good for your first time, but let me take over and next time you can try what I’m about to do.”

Then Darius said “I’m the student and you’re the teacher, so start teaching.” then he grabbed Justin’s shoulders and pushed him down to his crotch.

Justin pulled off Darius shorts and boxers making his dick stand straight up then slapped against his stomach when he pulled them all the way off. He licked up Darius shaft and felt small electrical charges in his tongue and this only made him want Darius even more. Justin started sucking Darius dick vigorously like he couldn’t get enough of it. He wanted to taste even more of him so he took his mouth off the now wet dick and began to lick his balls causing Darius to moan loud. Justin started licking further down until he came to Darius’s hole and I when he licked it he felt Darius’s body tense up and glow a little. Once he seen this reaction he began to lick and tongue fuck Darius. This was a feeling that he never experienced and he didn’t want it to end, so he grabbed Justin’s head and pulled him in to make his tongue fuck him deeper. Justin was making Darius feel so good his body was glowing and send charges through Justin’s tongue which was making his dick even harder.

Justin grabbed a condom out of his nightstand and put it on his dick then grabbed some lube. He poured some lube onto Darius’s hold started to rub it in. First he slid one finger in which made Darius gasp and clench his body

He looked at Justin and said “I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet.”

Justin smiled and said “You don’t have to worry I’ll make sure I don’t hurt you. I have a little trick that will make this much easier.”

With that Justin pulled his finger out and started to make it glow. Once the tip of his finger was glowing bright white he rubbed it around Darius’s hole a few times making him feel weird, but it was really good. The weird feeling began to turn into pure pleasure and had Darius grasping at the covers. Justin was making him feel so good he had to look down and see what he was doing; he was shocked to see that Justin had three fingers pumping into his ass.

See that made Darius want the real thing so he grabbed Justin’s wrist and looked into his eyes and said “No more playing around and give me the real thing.” Justin could see the want that he had in his eyes. So he laid Darius on his back so he could watch him while they fucked.

He got between Darius’s legs and slid his dick in one swift motion and made Darius moan loud. Justin started to move his hips back and forth. With each thrust he felt Darius sweet hole hugging his dick and sending charges through it and driving him crazy. He started to speed up his pace and was making Darius moan out loud, but Justin didn’t want his dad to hear them so he tapped his finger on the side of the bed and shrouded them in silence. When he was done he got right back into his rhythm and Darius was bucking his hips back to match Justin’s thrust. They were moving do hard that the bed was rocking hard, but it was making no sound. There was also no sound coming from Justin or Darius, from how he was arching his body and the faces he was making you could tell Darius was moaning really loud.

Darius dick started to spark a little, he put his hand on it and jerked it once and began shooting his load all over himself. First he hit his cheek, then his lips, and the last of it landed on his chest and stomach.

Justin pulled his dick out of Darius’s ass and climbed up and was over his chest. He jerked his dick a little bit then shoved it into Darius’s mouth and when he started shooting his load. A lot of it went down his throat, but when Justin started to pull his dick out Darius sucked it hard and go the rest of the cum on his tongue and liked the taste for some reason.

Once he pulled his dick all the way out he leaned down and licked the cum off of Darius’s cheek and lips. He snapped his fingers and sound came back then he asked “So how was that?” then he kissed Darius.

After they finished kissing Darius smiled and said “That was good and it tasted good too. We will be doing that again.” then he slapped Justin’s ass.

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To get in touch with the author, send them an email.

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Hey everyone. It looks like we’re finally here: the final chapter of ‘Could I Be…?’ This story has taken me four months to complete and all 453 pages and all 192,000 words have been worth it. I owe this story to all of you that have given the your wonderful support. Thank you all.

When I was writing ‘Am I…?’, I never expected myself to write a sequel to the story of Josh and Leo, but you all convinced me to write the story of Eric and Zane, and I’m incredibly grateful for that.

Let me know what you’ve thought of the story of Eric and Zane. Comments and emails are always read and appreciated. Thank you all again. I’ve already started to work on ‘Is It Possible…?’, which is starting with a prologue that leads up to the main story. I’m hoping to post the first chapter in two weeks, but if I don’t post a new chapter, please understand.

Thank you all one more time. Here’s the final chapter of ‘Could I Be…?’

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Epilogue

Goddamn, my shoulder is killing me. Nine straight innings of throwing and it feels like my arm is about to fall off. But I suck down the pain and focus on the dark center of the brown leather glove that’s calling out to me. I pick up my leg and let my screaming shoulder rotate forward and the ball leaves my fingertips.

A second later, I hear the sweet sound of leather colliding with leather. “Strike!” the umpire yells. “You’re out!”

The crowd roars and Ben Judi, a Yankee, takes his bat and jogs back to his dugout. Two more outs and we’ve won. I gaze around the stadium and see orange, black, and white filling the seats, the fans cheering at the top of their lungs. I see my teammates ready for whatever comes their way, pure determination in their faces.

My catcher motions to the umpire, who holds his hands up and steps back from the plate. I sigh to myself, thankful for a bit of a break. “How you holding up, Swanson?” Jack asks with his glove over his face.

“My arm is fucking on fire, Jack,” I say, holding my glove over my own face. “I’m not sure how much longer I can hold out.”

“Yeah, I can tell. And I think the Yankees are noticing it too.”

I glance over at the Yankee dugout and see the team members talking to one another and looking at me with a knowing look. “Damn,” I whisper. “We need to end this quickly.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to throw another few pitches?”

“I’ll have to. We’re up by one right now and there are runners on second and third. If they get a good hit, they win the game. So we need to end this.”

Jack lowers his glove, grins, and holds out his fist for me and I bump it. He jogs back to home plate and gets back into his position. The next Yankee batter steps up to the plate and takes a few practice swings. Jack gives me the sign for a curveball and I nod once. I rotate my shoulder once and stand on my plate, feeling my fingers find the right grip on the ball.

I take in a deep breath and pick up my leg and let my arm fly forward. The ball sails out of my hand and flies toward the plate. It starts to dip just before getting to the plate and it sails into the glove of Jack without the Yankee swinging for it. “Strike!” the umpire calls.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I catch the ball as Jack tosses it back. Just five more strikes and we’ve won. The roar of the crowd shakes my body with nervousness and excitement, but the excitement clouds the nervousness. I mean, we’re just five good pitches away from winning the World Series! My body shakes again at the words.

Jack punches his glove twice before holding it open and giving me the sign for a change-up. I glance at the batter and see he’s completely focused on me and not the ball in my hand, so a change-up is a good choice. My fingers surround the ball and I stand up straight and tall, feeling more than eighty thousand eyes on me.

Ready for whatever’s coming next, I tighten the ball and raise my leg. My foot slams onto the mound and my arm flies forward, blood rushing to the tips of my fingers as I release the ball. The ball’s speed quickly drops and the batter starts to swing his bat. Just as I think the ball’s about to land in Jack’s glove, I hear a wooden crack.

Time slows to a crawl and I see the ball start to move in my direction. Pure instinct taking me over, my body jumps back and I raise my gloved hand in front of my chest. Less than a second later, I feel a hard thud in my glove and I manage to keep my footing. I feel the ball in glove and I quickly reach for it.

I gaze at the runners and see they’re still on their bases. The stadium erupts in cheers and yells at the knowledge that we only need one more out. The Yankee who hit the ball, Diego Cruz, takes his bat and heads back to the Yankee dugout and the next batter comes out and heads to the plate.

I raise my head to the sky and scream at the top of my lungs. “ONE MORE OUT!!”

My teammates follow my war cry with each of their own and the crowd does the same. The Yankee batter, Arnold Gobs, steps into the batter’s box and watches me with fire in his eyes. This kid’s a rookie who started at the beginning of the season and has done some pretty great things, but his time to shine will come on a later date. Right now, I’m here to win.

I stand firmly on the plate and I scratch my left cheek with my finger. Jack punches his glove in response, exactly like he did before. What everyone in this stadium doesn’t know is that what we both just did is a sign that we both came up with a long time ago and that what we’re about to do has such a risk with it that we can only do it when we’re desperate.

Jack gives me a fake sign for a fastball and gives me a second sign that I recognize that tells me the Yankee on second is leading off the base. I see in my peripheral that the Yankee on third is leading off a good amount too. Jack readies himself and I get my arms and legs ready for the coming play.

Just as it seems like I’m about to throw the ball toward home, I pivot on my heel and take a step toward second base and feel my arm start to rotate toward second. The Yankee, Ian Helix, dives back for second and my teammate, Satoshi Nakamura, holds his glove open for the ball. Ian slides back into second and Satoshi looks around frantically for the ball.

Right on cue, the Yankee on third, Carter Meyer, sprints for home. The stadium erupts in screams of protest, but everything’s going according to plan. I quickly spin back to face home and see Arnold has moved out of the way for his teammate, cheering him on, and Jack is still in the exact same position as before.

I tighten the grip on the ball that still sits in my hand and bring my arm back behind me again. Carter is about hallway home when he sees I’m still holding the ball and his face pales at seeing it. My shoulder spins forward as a blinding speed and I feel the leather burning my fingers as it rockets toward Jack’s awaiting glove.

The beautiful thump of the ball in Jack’s glove fills my ears and he turns toward the third base line and holds the glove with the ball in front of his chest. Carter charges as fast and hard as he can at Jack and their bodies collide a second later, both of them landing in the dirt as a cloud of dust flies up.

As the dirt settles, I see Carter’s hand on the plate. But as I look at Jack, I see him holding his glove above his chest and the white ball is still tightly clutched in Jack’s glove. The umpire tightens his hand into a fist and holds it high above his head. “YOU’RE OUT!!”

Me, all of my teammates, and every fan in the stadium explode. I throw my glove high in the air and charge for home plate, where Jack is rising back to his feet. He holds his arms open for me with a gigantic grin on his face and I run into them. Our teammates surround us both and within a second, there’s a giant huddle of orange, white, and black on the field.

The stadium is going crazy with all the fans in the stadium screaming at the top of their lungs. I feel myself being lifted above my teammates and see Jack on their shoulders as well. The screams and cheers of joy continue and I see fans pouring out onto the field. They surround all of us and join us in the celebration.

As I cheer, there’s a single voice I can make out. “Eric!”

I look down and I grin at the man I’m looking at. Zane returns my grin and one of his and my teammates hoist him up as well and I pull him into a tight hug before giving the hardest kiss I’ve ever given him in my life. I try to start to talk to him, but my teammates start to carry me in the opposite direction of Zane.

I watch Zane be set back down on the field. “Zane!” I call to him. “I’ll meet you back at the apartment in about an hour and a half!”

“Okay! I love you, Eric!”

He smiles at me and is swept into the crowd a second later. I continue my celebration with my teammates, hugging all of them and cheering along with them. Once the energy manages to ease just a tad, we all thank the Yankees for a good series and I exchange a few good words with several of them before going back to my teammates.

Within no time, I’m back in the locker room with my teammates and coaches popping bottles of champagne and letting them soak every surface of the room there is. As the high from winning starts to calm down, the river of reporters and photographers starts to pour into the room, the flashes from the camera temporarily blinding us all.

But we regain our composure and slip on our 2022 World Series Champions t-shirts and caps and pose for the cameras. Jack and I stand close to one another and grin broadly for photographers, both of our faces dripping in champagne. As I smile for all the cameras, I start to remember everything that’s gotten me here.

Yeah, it’s 2022 and in case you hadn’t noticed, Jack and I are Giants. The Giants recruited Jack a few months before he graduated Stanford and he accepted the deal Randy offered him almost immediately (with the exception of being able to play in the 2015 College World Series).

I graduated Stanford a little more than five years ago with a degree in business law and a minor in economics (just so I can stay safe after my career with the Giants eventually ends nowhere in the near future), and a bit of new muscle and height, finally stopping at six foot four and two hundred and five pounds, but my physical appearance has stayed pretty much the same.

Although I look a bit older and am 27 now, I still have the same hairstyle I did back in college, I keep a permanent five o’clock shadow on my face, and my eyes are the same brown color they’ve always been. After graduation, I went right back into training with the Giants and, just two months after I started training, I was the starting pitcher.

Jack, who had been training with the Giants for the two years we weren’t playing together, was the backup catcher when I first came back. But after a bit of negotiation with Coach Mersin, the Giants head coach, he relented and allowed Jack to start in a game. The second the game ended Coach Mersin made Jack the starting catcher.

Ever since, he and I have always played together. If one of us was out, the other was out too. And if one of us was on the field, the other was on the field too. Jack and I were named the best Pitcher/Cather duo in the nation four years running, and we’re projected to keep that title until one or both of us step down from baseball.

The camera flashes start to ease and as I start to regain my vision, a hand falls onto my shoulder. I turn and see Coach Mersin standing next to me. Coach Mersin is a man in his mid-fifties with absolutely no hair on his head (which he always hides with a cap, to no avail), a few wrinkles nest to his eyes and mouth, and is about half a foot shorter than me.

He gets close to my ear so I can hear him over the noise. “Swanson, there’s a request for a press conference for you.”

“Really?” I ask. “Jack too?”

“There’s a separate one for him. C’mon. Can’t keep the reporters waiting.”

Coach Mersin weaves us through the locker room and we make it to the press conference room connected to the locker room. Within a second, the reporters start screaming questions and the camera flashes return. I just smile and walk over to my seat with a dozen microphones positioned in front of me.

I look out at the sea of reporters and point to a woman a few rows back. The noise quickly quiets down and everyone pays close attention to me. “Erica Belle,” the woman says. “Fox Sports Network. First off, I’d like to say congratulations on your World Series win.”

“Thank you,” I reply.

“Now, what does it feel like to have won the World Series?”

“This is probably one of the greatest days of my life. I’ve wanted to win a World Series ever since I was 6 years old, and now that I’ve finally done that is unbelievable. I’m on cloud nine right now and there’s now way my mood can be ruined now.”

With that answer, the other reporters find their voices again and scream for me to choose them. I point to a man in the front row and the noise dies again. “Paul Daniels,” the man says. “ESPN. About that last play you did with Jack Christian, how did you two accomplish something like that?”

I smile to myself. “Jack and I had been planning that play for some time now. It took us a lot of time to get it exactly right and it’s only possible under the circumstances that we were under. But Jack and I needed complete trust in one another, him to trust me that I would throw the ball right to him and me to trust him that he would catch the ball. And it looks like we trusted each other perfectly.”

And cue the reporters again. I point to a woman in the middle of the room. “Samantha Crosstie,” he says. “People Magazine. During the celebration after your victory, you kissed another man. Was that Zane Mercer?”

My smile relaxes into an easy one. “Yes, it was. As many of you know, Zane Mercer is my boyfriend of exactly nine years today. Yes, I do count the days. He and I are very happy together, very much in love and, despite our busy schedules, are as close as two people can be.”

“How is Zane doing, if I might ask?”

“He’s doing amazingly well. He has a gallery showing in Los Angeles in a few days and I’m extremely proud of him. I’m going to be there and I’ll be supporting him the entire time, even if I embarrass him by making myself look like an idiot. That’s all I’m saying on the gallery. If you want to know more, you’ll have to go and see it.”

The reporters smile and laugh a bit before yelling more questions at me. I’m about to choose another reporter when my reflexes suddenly kick in. My hand reaches up in front of my face just in time to catch a thrown water bottle. Looking at where it came from, I see a man who appears to be in his mid-forties with slightly greying black hair, a tall, muscular frame covered by a suit, and an angry look on his face at the back of the room.

Within seconds, two security guards swarm the man on both sides and hold him tightly by the arms. The reporters and cameramen turn toward the man, capturing every second of him struggling against the security guards. “Faggots should stay off the field and burn in Hell!” the man yells at the top of his lungs.

Yeah, it’s 2022 and we still have people like that in the world. Don’t get me wrong. I never expected the attitudes of Americans to change overnight ever since I first started with the Giants, but it still kind of hurts to hear people directing words like that toward me. The commotion in the room gets louder and louder and I see the security guards trying to pull the man toward the exit doors.

But I lean forward toward all the microphones. “Wait,” I say. “Security, please wait a minute.” Everyone turns to me with pure confusion on their faces. “Could you please bring that man toward the front of the room? I’d like to talk to him.”

A quiet whisper goes throughout the room and the cameras follow the security guards as they carry the still struggling man toward the front of the room. After a bit of effort, they manage to pull him to a stop on the other side of the desk and microphones. He and I stare at each other in silence for several second, his face seething.

I set the water bottle down in front of me and look back at the man. “Did you throw this at me?” I ask, gesturing to the bottle.

“So what if I did? Faggots like you deserve to burn in Hell.”

I sigh to myself. “But seriously? A water bottle? You could’ve done a lot more damage with your cell phone. This bottle isn’t even half full.”

The reporters and cameramen chuckle a little, but the man seems to get a bit angrier. “You want to say that to my face, faggot?” he snarls.

I scoot my chair back and rise out of it. “Actually, yes. I do. I feel a bit awkward with all of these microphones in front of me.” Several more security guards rush out of nowhere, but I hold my hand up and they all stop. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

They all nod and go back to where they came from. I step off the stage and my cleats find the carpet. I walk over to the man and two security guards holding him. “You can let go of him,” I say to the security guards. “He looks to be in a bit of pain from the way you’re holding him.”

The security guards glance at one another before slowly letting go, ready to grab him at any moment. Now, it’s just me and the man. “May I ask how you got in here?” I ask.

The man rubs his upper arm, where one of the security guards was holding him. “I snuck in when no one was looking,” he says. “I’m here on business and I just…stopped by.”

“Now, back to what I was saying a minute ago. Why throw a water bottle that had barely any water in it? If you really hated gay people, you would’ve thrown something a lot heavier. So why didn’t you?”

I see the man turn a light shade or red. “B-Because the Bible condemns violence against others! ‘The LORD trieth the righteous; but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.’ Psalms 11:5. “

I nod understandingly. “I know that verse. I’ve read the Bible a few times myself, although I’m not a religious person. It was mainly out of curiosity. But didn’t the Bible also say ‘The mouth of the righteous is a well of life; but violence coverth the mouth of the wicked.’? Proverbs 10:11. The Bible condemns verbal violence as well as physical violence.”

The man turns a darker shade of red. “May I ask for your name?” I ask.

“J-John. John Marshall.”

“John, why is it you find gay people so horrible?”

John’s teeth clench together. “Because it says so in the Bible! ‘If a man lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them’! Leviticus 20:13!”

I nod again. “Yes, the Bible does say that. But John, do you hate gay people because of who they are? Or is it that you just don’t agree with the actions they engage in when they’re in the bedroom? John, remember that the pornography industry today glorifies lesbian porn. And I can say with confidence that you’ve watched lesbian porn more than once.”

John face suddenly blanches and he looks to be at a loss for words. “John,” I continue, “also try to remember that this isn’t ancient times. It’s the twenty-first century. The attitudes of people have changed and the world is becoming a much more accepting place. Can’t you see that you’re spreading hate with your words?

“Couldn’t you be spreading words of love and acceptance instead? Remember ‘He who is without sin cast the first stone.’ John 8:7. ‘Love thy neighbor as yourself.’ Mark 12:31. ‘Do unto others as you would have done to you.’ Luke 6:31.”

I start to see John’s face fill with what appears to be a hint of shame. “Tell me, John. Do you have kids?”

He glances at me before tuning his head away. “I have a son: Thomas. He’s two days away from turning 17.”

“Let me ask you this: what kind of example do you think you’re setting for your son by acting like this?” John’s mouth opens a little, but not a single word comes out. “Do you love your son, John?”

His head snaps to me. “Of course I do! He’s my son! I’ll always love him!”

I breathe in a deep breath, take a step closer to John and lower my voice so the reporters and microphones can’t pick it up. “Even if he were to tell you he was gay?”

John’s breath stops short and he stares at me like a deer in headlights. “M-My son can’t be gay…” he quietly says.

I notice a slight change in John’s eyes. It looks like he’s unsure of what I’m saying, debating my last comment in his head. I take a step back and look at the reporters. “Could you all please leave the room for the next ten minutes? I need to have a private word with John here. We can pick up the press conference when we’re done.”

The security guards start to lead the reporters and cameramen outside the room and after a minute, there’s no one but John and me. “It’s good to know you got that anonymous invitation,” I say. “I was worried you wouldn’t show up.”

John snaps his head to me. “How did you know that?!”

I just smile innocently at the question. “And you haven’t answered my question, John,” I say. “Would you still love your son even if he were gay?”

John takes a seat in one of the reporter chairs and rubs his palms against his face, clearly unable to come up with an answer. I walk over and take a seat next to him. “You’re scared that you might not love your son anymore if here were gay, aren’t you?” I ask.

“I-I don’t know. I love Thomas more than anything. His mother passed away when he was 4 years old after a car accident. He and I only have each other…”

“I’m sorry to hear that, John.”

He turns to me. “B-But how do you even know if Thomas is gay or not? You’ve never even met him!”

“No, I’ve never met him in person before, but he has talked to me.”

John’s eyes widen and his mouth hangs open. “What? How?”

I reach behind me and slide my hand into the back pocket of my uniform pants and pull out a small, folded-up, paper square. I carefully unfold it and reveal it to be two stapled pieces of paper. “I got this letter from a fan about a month and a half ago,” I say. “It was signed by a Thomas Marshall, who is a soccer player that attends Foresthill High School in Long Beach. Is that your Thomas?”

John’s face goes white again. “Y-Yes…” he quietly says.

“Thomas sent me this letter and when I first read it, I almost wanted to go to his house and talk to him personally. But when I read the circumstance he was in, I decided against it.”

“What circumstance?”

“How about I read you what Thomas wrote to me? And afterword, I’ll ask you again if you’d still be able to love your son if he were gay.”

I look at the start of the letter and take in a deep breath. ‘Dear Eric. My name is Thomas Marshall and I am probably one of your biggest fans (or at least I feel that I am). Ever since I first saw you step onto the baseball diamond five years ago, I’ve been inspired by how you play and it made me want to become a better athlete. Well, I’m a soccer player, but I still wanted to play better.

‘When I first found out you were gay, I was so surprised that I didn’t think it was true. I didn’t think it was possible for a gay guy to be able to play. Yeah, I know Josh Rusden’s gay too, but that’s a different story for a different day. Eric, I think of you as my idol and you inspire me to try and work my hardest at everything I do, and it’s really paid off over the years.

‘I’m the top-ranked student in my grade at my high school, I’m the captain of my varsity soccer team, and I volunteer at a local animal shelter on the weekends and help out at my church youth group once a week. My dad always tells me he’s proud of me and my accomplishments, but I keep feeling like I’m lying to him because of what I’m hiding.

‘To be honest, my dad doesn’t like you because you’re gay and he doesn’t know that I’m such a big fan of yours. I’m actually afraid to tell him that all I really want for my birthday in a little more than a month is a jersey with ‘Swanson’ on the back. But if I were to tell him that, I’m scared of how he’ll react.

‘Don’t get me wrong. My dad has never raised his hand to me in all of my life and is probably one of the greatest dad’s in the world to me and I love him more than anything. But he’s never been a fan of gay people, and I don’t think he ever will be. He’s super-religious and I always hear him talking to his friends over the phone about how all gays should burn in Hell for their sins. And whenever I hear him talking like that, I want to pull my hair out and scream at the top of my lungs.

‘You can see where I’m going with this, can’t you, Eric? I’m telling you I’m gay too and that I’m too scared to come out of the closet to my dad. My dad’s the only person I have left in the world. My mom died when I was little and it’s always been him and me. If he were to kick me out, disown me, or stop loving me because I’m gay, I’d be crushed.

‘Even worse, I’m even more afraid about him finding out about me through someone else. A lot of my friends know about me and they’re all okay with it, especially my best friend, Cody. He’s a soccer player with me, a wrestler, and we’ve been best friends since we were in kindergarten. And he’s…the epitome of handsome.

‘He’s about two inches taller than me, about six foot one, with wavy dark brown hair, a really nice body from constant hours at the gym, and probably the most beautiful smile I have ever seen in my life. He was the first guy I came out to and, to my surprise, he kissed me, told me he’s been out to his parents for three months already and we’ve been secretly dating for the last six months.

‘He and I aren’t afraid to come out at school or at our church. There are already about a dozen gay and lesbian students at school that are out and no one harasses them about it. And there are a few gay people go to church with my dad and me and everyone at church accepts them, but my dad doesn’t know about them. If he found out, he’d probably find us a new church to go to, one that’s much less accepting…

‘I hate lying to my dad more than anything and I want to come out to him so badly, but I’m scared of what will happen to us if I do come out. So I’m incredibly torn here, Eric. I know it sounds like I’m dumping all of my problems on you, and I know I kind of am. But I don’t have anyone else to talk to about this. I only wish I had someone to help me with this, maybe talk to my dad about how being gay isn’t a bad thing. But I doubt he would even hear it.

‘But I don’t want to end this letter on a sad note. I’m mainly here to tell you that watching you defy every stereotype there is makes me feel a lot more confident in who I am as a person. You’ve shown me how to not be ashamed to be gay. I was born this way and I’ll never change, and I owe all that confidence to you.

‘I hope you read this, Eric. I don’t expect a response, but I just hope you think about it every so often. Thanks you for giving me the strength to carry on, Eric. I feel like I owe you so much, despite us never meeting. So, I’ll watch every single Giants game there is and I hope you bring home the World Series title.

‘Thank you, Eric. Your semi-closeted biggest fan – Thomas.’

I set the letter by my side and quickly wipe my eyes dry. I’ve read that letter enough times to know it word for word and it still gets to me. But how did John take it? I look over at him and find him hunched over in his chair. His shoulders are quivering violently and I see water leaking between his fingers as they press against his eyes.

He slowly lowers his hand and I hear shaky breaths escape his throat and more tears drip to the carpeted floors. “H-How could Thomas tell all of that to a random stranger and not tell me? His own father?”

“Because he was scared, John. He was afraid of how you would react to your own son being gay. And judging from how you were when you and I first met, I can’t say I blame him.”

John wipes his eyes dry, only for them to gloss over again. “I never want Thomas to be afraid of me. I’d be a failure as a parent if that were to happen. But…it looks like I’ve already failed him…”

“You haven’t failed him, John. At least not yet you haven’t. But if you keep acting like the way you do, I can see a very bad end result that leaves both of you devastated. Thomas would be left without a father and you would lose your son. Do you want that to happen, John?”

John lets out a few soft cries and looks over at me. “N-No…I would never want that to happen to me and Thomas.”

“Then try and fix your attitude about gay people. You’ve been casually talking to a gay guy for the last ten minutes and nothing bad has happened to you as a result now. I’m not going to tell you to do a full 180 right away. But try and start to understand gay people and start to show your son that you’re beginning to change for the better. Can you do that?”

John sniffs his nose and wipes his eyes dry a second time. “I…I really don’t know…”

I sigh to myself. “Well, think about it. Because you and I both know that Thomas will come out to you at some point and how you take it will be entirely up to you.” I rise out of my seat and look down at John. “I’m not going to press charges against you for throwing that water bottle at me. But be aware that your son may see what happened here tomorrow. You’re going to have some explaining to do to him if he asks about it.”

John nods dismally before getting up from his chair. “I know. But I’ll figure out how to cross that bridge when I get to it. Um…thank you for not pressing charges against me.”

I nod once and lead John to the door. I push the doors open and am met by several camera flashes and microphones being thrust at me and John. The security guards push their way to the front of the reporters and cameramen. “It’s okay,” I say. “He’ll leave peacefully.”

John keeps focused on the floor as the crowd parts for him. He slides his hands into his pocket and walks past the crowd and out of sight, the cameras following him as he leaves. They all turn to me, wondering what’s going to happen next. But I just smile for all of them. “Do you want to continue to press conference?”

—-

About forty-five minutes later, the press conference comes to a close and I’m finally able to go back to the locker room for a long-awaited shower, rinsing all the leftover dirt and sweat from the game. Most of the team has already left and gone back to their apartments to get a good night’s sleep for the victory parade tomorrow.

Once I’m cleaned up, I dress back into my casual white V-neck, dark jeans, sneakers, and place my cap backward on my head over my freshly washed and gelled hair. As I’m packing up my stuff, I see a familiar pair of feet standing by my side. I look up and smile at Jack, freshly showered, in his casual clothes, with his bags and bright and shiny World Series MVP trophy in his arms.

I rise out of the leather chair I’m sitting in and pull the strap to my bag over my shoulder. “Congrats on the trophy, Jack,” I say.

“Thanks, Swanson. But I don’t feel like it should be mine. I think it should be yours.”

“Jack, you’ve had the best season you’ve ever had this year and you’ve done shit in this series that people could only dream off. And that last play couldn’t have been done without you.”

“And it couldn’t have been done without you either. Eric, you’re the star pitcher of the National League, even the star pitcher of the entire Major League! Your name should be on this trophy, not mine.”

I take a step forward and place my hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Jack, think about it for a minute. You don’t have complete control of your left arm after what happened eight years ago and you’re still five times better than any catcher in the country. Your name has every right to be on that trophy.

“And don’t worry. My name will be on it when we win again next year. You better help me keep that promise, Jack.”

Jack grins to himself and glances down at the carpeted floor before meeting my eyes with a small fire behind them. “Count on it, Swanson.”

I return his grin and secure my bag on my shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the parade, Jack. Right now, I’ve got a boyfriend to get back to.”

I give Jack a hard pat on the shoulder and a wave before heading toward the team exit. Thanks to some genius architects, the team is able to walk to the private parking garage underneath AT&T Park and drive out without any fans or reporters seeing us. Don’t get me wrong, I love my fans, but there’s someone more important I need to get to right now.

After walking a bit, I walk into the cool parking garage and find my car almost immediately: a 2022 Porsche Phoenix. I unlock the car, stuff my bags into the trunk and climb into the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life and the sound echoes throughout the garage. I shift my car into drive and head to my apartment.

It takes me a little while to get through the fan-congested streets of San Francisco, but I manage to pull into the parking garage of my apartment building. I find my usual parking spot and shut off my car. I climb out and grab my bags from the trunk, I give my car a good pat before shutting the trunk, knowing I won’t see it again for a few months.

Once my car’s locked, I walk over to the elevators and walk in, pressing the top button. The doors shut and the low rumble of the elevator fills my ears and I feel myself start to rise. After a minute, the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open once again and I step out and turn to the right.

I walk down the hallway and get to my apartment door. Finding my key in my pocket, I slide it into the lock and swiftly unlock the door. My door opens and as soon as I step in, I kick the door closed, drop my bags to the floor, and hold my arms open for the man running at me. Zane jumps into my awaiting arms and I give him the hug of a lifetime, spinning him around several times.

Zane’s arms lock tightly around my neck and he plants a hard, electrifying kiss on my lips. “Hello to you too,” I say.

“Hi…” Zane quietly says. He and I stand in complete silence for several minutes, just holding one another. Zane’s really changed since college. For one, he’s put on a few pounds of muscle and has grown another inch. He’s kept his hair dirty blonde and still keeps it buzzed on the sides, but slicks it back, has a few more tattoos on both arms, two more on his back, one more on his chest, and often only keeps two or three earrings in each ear and none in his eyebrows. While he looks a lot different, he’s still the same Zane that I love with all my heart.

Zane looks up and meets my eyes and grins broadly. “I’m so proud of you, Eric. You were a star out there tonight and…and…you were just…amazing.” I smile and give Zane a loving kiss. “And I wasn’t the only one that thought so. There’s someone here to see you.”

Zane turns me around and after a second, I hear small footsteps running across the hardwood floor. And as soon as I see a tiny little demon run into the room, I feel myself smile brightly. “Daddy!”

“Orson!”

I drop down to the floor and let my son run into my arms. I hold him tightly and rub his head as his small arms wrap themselves around my neck. “Daddy, I missed you!”

“I missed you too, buddy! I’m so happy to see you!”

I get back up to my feet and keep holding Orson tightly. Yes, Orson is Zane’s and my son. He’s 3 years old and is going to be 4 in January. He really takes after me, with my light brown hair, jawline, nose (before mine broke), and a bright smile that always lifts my mood no matter how upset I am.

But while he got a lot of traits from me, he managed to get one from Zane: Orson’s eyes are blue and black and they shine with the same brightness as Zane’s. When Zane and I asked Meg to be a surrogate mother for us, she immediately said yes and we got DNA samples from both me and Zane and nine months later, our own little bundle of joy was born. I don’t think I had been happier than I had ever been in my life when I first held him in my arms.

Orson finally releases my neck and I give him a big kiss on his cheek. “What’re you doing here, buddy?” I ask.

“Daddy brought me with him! I went with him to see the baseball game! It was really fun to see you play, Daddy!”

I smile and look over at Zane. “I love you so much. I don’t think I could’ve spent another day without him. But…when the crowd was taking the field and you were with the mix, why wasn’t Orson with you?”

“He left him with a few friends.”

I turn around at the voice and grin widely and laugh. Standing in the doorway to the back hallway with their two kids are Josh and Leo. I hand Orson over to Zane and Josh and Leo set their kids, Aiden and Jade, down and I rush over to them. We all meet with a giant group hug filled with laughter and several backslaps.

We let go of each other after a minute. “God, it’s great to see you guys!” I say. “It feels like it’s been months!”

“Two weeks, but it was the same for us,” says Leo. “You were amazing tonight, Eric.”

“You really were,” says Josh. “That last play was something for the history books. There’s no way I’d be able to do something like that this season.”

“Josh, you’re having a fantastic season so far!” I say. “I bet my life that we’re going to be seeing you at the Super Bowl making an amazing play that will win it for the 49ers!”

Josh smiles and I hear a few giggles fill the room. We look down and see Orson, Aiden, and Jade laughing and chasing each other around the living room coffee table. Seeing as Orson is just ten days older than Aiden and Jade, they’ve all been together ever since they all were born, and it looks like they’re going to stay that way for years to come.

We all walk into the living room and take a few seats on the couch and easy chairs. We watch our kids play on the carpet and join in their laughter after a minute. “Sorry it took me a little longer to get back here,” I say to Zane. “I got caught up at the press conference.”

“It’s okay,” Zane says with a smile. “I think they might be showing it on TV now. Want to watch?”

“Uh…” I start to say, but Zane has already grabbed the remote and turns on the TV.

Orson, Aiden, and Jade immediately turn to the TV, watching with shining eyes. Zane gets to ESPN and the press conference has just started. We all watch the reporters ask me a few questions and I answer them, but after a few minutes, a familiar water bottle flies onto the screen and I snag it out of the air.

The camera spins and I see John (well, I know it’s John. His face is blurred out) trying to get out the room and the room erupts into chaos. I glance over at Josh, Leo, and Zane and see pure shock in their faces. I look back at the screen and see John being pulled to the front of the room and I hear our earlier conversation, but after a few minutes, the screen cuts back to the sportscaster.

She shakes her head in disgust. “In case you haven’t heard, that was the press conference of San Francisco Giants pitcher Eric Swanson,’ she says. “A water bottle was thrown at Eric and the man who threw the bottle, who we have not identified at the request of Eric himself, starting screaming very insulting words at Eric, targeting his sexuality.

“However, Eric didn’t get mad in the least. He calmly talked to the man, even disputing the man’s biblical quotes with biblical quotes of his own. All the reporters and cameramen were asked to leave by Eric for a few minutes so he could speak to the man alone. And when the two came out of the press conference room, the man looked to regret what he had done.

“None of us know what happened in that room when we all had left, but it seemed that the man had some things to think about. We continued the press conference and Eric was much the same as before, cracking a few jokes, answering every question honestly, and even discussing his relationship with world famous artist Zane Mercer.”

Zane glances over at me and smiles brightly. “I think we can all agree that Eric was the bigger man tonight, both on and off the field. Once again, here’s the final play of game seven of the World Series.”

I take the remote from Zane and press the mute button. There’s a shuffle in front of me and I see Orson walking up to me. “Daddy, why was the man mad at you?” he asks.

I lean forward and pick up my son and set him down on my lap. “Well, you know how your dad and I love each other very much?” I ask. Orson nods. “Well, that man didn’t like that your dad and I love each other.”

Orson makes a disappointed face. “Does he not like how Uncle Josh and Uncle Leo are?”

I glance over at Josh and Leo, who Orson started to call their uncles when he first started talking. “Yes,” I say, answering Orson’s question.

“But why?”

“It’s what he believes is right. Now, I respect his choices and am okay with him thinking like that. And you should too. If there’s someone who has a different opinion from yours, you should respect their choice even though you may think differently. Okay?”

“Okay, Daddy!”

“Now, if I were to like the color red more than the color blue, what would you think?”

“I like blue better, but if you like red, that’s okay!”

I smile and give Orson a tight hug. “I love you, buddy.”

“I love you too, Daddy!”

I set Orson back down on the floor and he runs back over to Aiden and Jade and the three go back into their own little world. Zane scoots over to my side and rests his head on my shoulder. “You’ve managed to teach our son about acceptance in less than a minute,” he says.

“It looks like I did,” I reply.

Zane leans over and gives me a light kiss. “I love you so much…”

I return Zane’s kiss with one of my own. “I love you too.”

Josh suddenly hops off the couch and claps his hands. “Okay! Who wants to head over to Confection and get some treats to celebrate Uncle Eric winning the World Series?”

On that note, all the kids jump up and run over to Josh’s legs, all of them begging him to take them to get some chocolate. I smile and rise off the couch with Zane and Leo gets off the easy chair. I grab Orson and hoist him up and sit him on my arm, giving him a kiss on his forehead. “You can get two treats for being my favorite buddy,” I say.

Orson grins, showing his baby teeth. Zane steps by my side and gives Orson a kiss on the side of his head. “And for being my favorite little man,” he says.

“Hey…” I whine.

Zane smiles up at me. “You? You’re my favorite man.”

I give him a smile in return and give him a kiss. Josh and Leo grab Aiden and Jade and walk over to the door and my family follows closely behind them.

—-

The parade was amazing. The feeling of confetti falling on me, hearing the cheers of the crowd as we drove through the streets, the sensation of being with my teammates on top of the world, it was all perfect. Once the parade ends, I meet up with the Zane, Orson, and Josh and Leo’s family and we head to the airport for our flight home.

No, I don’t live in San Francisco. I live in Santa Ana now, mainly because I like the weather, the great schools for Orson, and the fact that I’m living about two blocks away from Josh and Leo. The apartment we were in yesterday is the one I own so I can stay in the city during the season. The rest of the time, I’m home with my family. But it’s not smooth sailing getting through the airport, mainly because we have a famous baseball player, a famous football player, a famous artist, and a statewide known business owner in the same group. Good thing we got to the airport five hours early.

So for the next four hours, Zane, Josh, and I sign autographs while Leo’s on babysitting duty with the kids. He doesn’t mind. He likes playing with his son and daughter and Orson. And once we get all the autographs photos done, it feels like my hand is about to fall off. But we get on the plane and head home without any more interruptions.

Once we touch down in Santa Ana, we’re all exhausted after a long day and mainly want to get home and just get some rest. We part with Josh Leo, Aiden, and Jade with a few hugs and tell them we’ll see them at Zane’s art gallery in a few days and we’ll watch Josh play the Chargers tomorrow night before heading home.

But the rest and relaxation I wanted looks like it won’t be coming any time soon. We pull up to Zane’s and my home, a nice two story, stone and wood house, in my second car, a 2023 Ford Glider, and I see two cars in the driveway. I groan to myself, knowing whose cars those are. “Grandmas and grandpas are here!” Orson cheers.

Where he gets all that energy from I have no idea. But once I’m parked, Zane and I go to the trunk and pull our bags out while we let Orson charge toward the house and bursts in the front door. Zane and I trudge up the front walkway and walk through the open front door into our home, me taking in the smell I’ve missed.

We set our bags down and walk into the living room, where we find Orson sitting on the couch with two people and two other people sitting in the remaining seats. “Hi Mom, Dad, Richard, Monica,” I tiredly say.

They all smile when they see us and rise out of their seats, Orson in Dad’s arms. They all walk over to us and give us firm hugs. “We’re so proud of you, sweetie,” says Mom.

“My son’s a World Series champ,” says Dad. “I always knew I’d see this day…”

Mom and Dad are still happily married and are still living in Seattle, but often come down to visit us. Dad’s still a lawyer and Mom’s still a real estate agent and are still enjoying their jobs. They’re both now in their mid-fifties and it’s barely showing at all. Mom has a wrinkle or two more, but that’s pretty much it with her. Her hair’s still the same strawberry-blonde it’s always been, her figure is still slim, and her smile is still warm and comforting.

Dad’s hair is a bit greyer on the sides, but he still has that rugged look he’s always had. His body’s still the same fit look to it, his eyes are still the same shade of dark brown, and he has a few more wrinkles by his eyes and mouth from smiling so much. Dad’s pretty much been attached to Orson ever since he was born and he really enjoys playing with him whenever we visit him or he visits us.

Mom and Dad keep Orson occupied while I give Richard and Monica hugs. “I wish we could’ve been there to watch the game live,” says Richard. “It would’ve been a blast.”

“But we were working, unfortunately,” says Monica. “But we did manage to watch on the private jet ride here. We both screamed so hard, the pilot thought we were being hijacked.”

Richard, despite now being 55, still has the body of someone half his age. His dirty blonde hair now has a light shade of grey to it and he has the same wrinkles Dad has now, but his impressive figure helps people forget that he’s about ten years away from retirement. Monica is still beautiful with her light brown hair retaining the same shine it’s always had, her frame still slim and her skin wrinkle free (she refuses to tell anyone her secret).

Richard and Monica are still working hard with Mercer Industries, but Mercer Industries has had a significant makeover in the last eight years. For one, it’s not an oil and gas company anymore. Mercer Industries is now the biggest solar, wind, electrical, and geothermal energy company in the world. The shift came after the Mercer’s saw that the amount of oil in the world was dwindling. It took some time to close all of their gas stations and replace them with electric car charging stations.

The change was finished three years ago and the Mercer’s are now making twice as much money as they were when they were working with gas and oil. Their schedules are still a bit busy, but whenever they have free time, they come to Southern California to spend time with us.

We all find seats back in the living room and Dad sets Orson down on his lap and bounces him up and down on his knee, making Orson giggle uncontrollably. “You both look tired,” says Monica.

“We are,” says Zane. “We were attacked in the airport by fans. It took us hours to sign autographs and pose for pictures. I thought my jaw was going to fall off from smiling so much…”

Our parents chuckle a little. “Oh the problems of being famous,” says Dad. “Hannah and I are thankful we don’t know what it’s like.”

Everyone rolls their eyes. I even see Orson doing the same. “How about we all go out tomorrow and spend the day together before we head over to Jacob and Rachel’s to watch Josh play?” suggests Richard. “It’s been ages since we’ve all spent some time together.”

“Sounds like fun,” says Zane. “It’ll be nice to just spend a day to relax with everyone.”

“I’m in,” I say. “But it will have to be in the late morning and the afternoon. I’m taking a morning trip to Long Beach tomorrow.”

Everyone looks over at me confused. “Why’re you going to Long Beach?” asks Mom.

“There’s someone I need to talk to. Don’t worry. I’ll be back before noon. Then we can spend the afternoon together before we all watch Josh play tomorrow night.”

Zane gives me an odd look. “Are you hiding something?”

I look him dead in the eye. “Don’t worry, Zane. I promise you I’m not doing anything behind your back. This just deals with the guy at the press conference last night. I’m just going to set a few things straight. I promise you that if I come back home a minute after noon, I’ll get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness and let you rip my balls off and feed them to me.”

Don’t worry. Dad covered Orson’s ears for the last part of that sentence. All of a sudden, Zane breaks out laughing, leaving me a bit confused. “Eric, I trust you completely. I was just messing with you. And if you ever cheated on me, I’d know immediately. Remember, I still have connections to the Mercer name, so I have ways of getting information without you knowing.”

“And I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re bluffing. I know you’re just going to get Jason to follow me tomorrow and relay any information back to you.”

Zane turns bright red immediately, making everyone in the room laugh (yes, everyone knows about Jason). “Daddy’s a tomato!” Orson laughs.

I wrap my arm around Zane’s back and pull him close to me, kissing his temple. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” I say.

Zane smiles and gives me a kiss. “You’re just lucky I won’t ever actually have someone physically follow you and instead ask our ghost friend to float around you.”

I laugh and give Zane another kiss. We slowly fall back into the casual conversation with our parents, my arm still snugly around Zane’s back.

—-

As much as I wanted to sleep a little today, I have a 7:00 wake-up call. It takes me over an hour to get to Long Beach and if I want to have plenty of time to get this done and get back in time to spend time with my family. Once I’m showered and dressed, I grab the bag I packed last night and my keys and wallet and hop into my car and start for Long Beach.

Halfway along the ride, there’s a snapping sound in the car and Jason appears in my passenger seat. Unsurprisingly, he hasn’t changed a bit (ghosts don’t age). Jason makes for good driving company and my car is filled with laughter and conversation the whole ride to Long Beach (I probably looked like a crazy person to other drivers).

After about an hour and twenty minutes, I pull up to my destination: a modest two story wooden house with a bright green lawn and cobblestone driveway and walkway. I park my car in front of the house, slip on my cap and sunglasses (can’t let anyone recognize me right now) and grab my bag from the backseat.

I look over at Jason, who nods, snaps his fingers, and disappears. I shut off my car and step out, feeling the warm Southern California air on my skin. Taking a deep breath, I walk up the walkway and step up to the front door and ring the doorbell. After a few seconds, the door opens and a familiar six foot three man with a severe face and muscular body covered by a collared shirt and jeans meets me.

John stares in complete shock at me for a few seconds. “Good to see you again, John,” I say.

He comes back to reality and steps outside the door and shuts it behind him. “Eric, what’re you doing here?” he asks.

“I came up from Santa Ana to see how things were going with you. Have you thought about what I said two days ago?”

John gazes down at the cobblestones underneath his feet. “It’s the only thing I’ve thought about,” he says. “What you said to me really shocked me to my core, Eric. So…when I got home yesterday, I immediately went to my office and started to research gay people. I discovered some very…scary things…”

“Like what?” I ask.

“Like…gay people being attacked because of their sexuality, some even being killed. I read that when the people that attacked them were caught, a lot of them said it was because they were following God’s will. But what they were doing was not the will of God. What they did was cowardly, their actions were fueled by their hate, and they took the lives of innocent men and women.

“I’ve been taught ever since I first went to church when I was young to never harm someone and I still follow that to this day. What I did with you was a temporary lapse of judgment and I begged God for forgiveness. I’m so sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, John. Remember John 1:9. ‘If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’ I forgive you as well. I was never mad at you to begin with.”

John smiles a bit. “Thank you, Eric. But I’m more thankful for what you did with the reporters. When I saw my face was blurred out and heard it was at your request that it be blurred out, I thanked you for your compassion. I don’t know what Thomas would’ve thought had he seen that.”

“Um…has Thomas…?”

John shakes his head a bit. “No, he hasn’t. I wouldn’t expect him to come out to me anytime soon with the way I’ve been talking about gay people his whole life.”

“But my question is how would you react him Thomas coming out?”

“I-I’m still not sure at this point. I’m scared that I may say something that will make Thomas hate me. That’s the absolute last thing I want to happen…”

“Well, have you talked to anyone about this? About how you see gay people?”

John nods a bit. “I found an organization online that helps parents come to understand what it’s like to have a gay child and called them. I think it was Parents of…oh I forget the rest…”

“Parents, Families, and Friends of Lesbians and Gays. PFLAG. You found a good source.”

“Well, I called them and there was a man on the other side of the line who was very nice and answered every question I had. When I mentioned the Bible and my beliefs, he told me that he was the same as I am now. He used to believe that all gays and lesbians were to burn in Hell for all eternity for their actions.

“He actually had kicked his daughter out of the house when she came out to him, calling her an abomination. But he too called PFLAG back in 2014 and they helped him to understand what it was like to have a lesbian daughter. He spent the next three days looking for his daughter, not stopping for rest and barely eating anything.

“He eventually found her and he begged for her to come home and now his daughter is happily married to a wonderful woman and they have two children together. He now spends a lot of his time volunteering at the PFLAG organization near his home, helping people and telling them not to make the same mistake he made.

“He said that he’s still a Christian and believes that God loves all, no matter who they are. He and I talked for two hours, just about our beliefs and what it’s like having a gay child. He really helped me to see that having a gay son is really no different from having a straight son, but…”

“But while you see the similarities, you still aren’t sure how you’ll react to Thomas coming out to you.”

John nods dismally. “I love my son more than anything, and if the bond we have is broken because of me, I’ll never forgive myself. And I know my son’s starting to suspect that I know about his sexuality. I’m taking him and his friends out to breakfast in a few minutes to help celebrate his birthday and I’m afraid I’m going to give off the impression that I know about Thomas being gay. And if he comes out, I’ll mess everything up…”

I lightly place my hand on John’s shoulder and look him straight in the eye. “John, you’ve made leaps and bounds since two days ago. You’re talking to a gay guy like you’ve known him for years, you’ve come to accept that gay people and straight people, while they have different attractions, are no different from one another, and I can see that the feelings of hate you had two days ago have completely vanished.

“So, John. I feel that you’re able to accept Thomas for who he is and will handle it perfectly well.”

After a second, I see John’s mouth slowly turn upward into a soft smile. “Thank you, Eric,” he quietly says.

“Now, I have one favor to ask you,” I say. “May I please come in? I’d like to speak to someone.”

John nods. “He’s in the living room with his friends.”

He turns and opens the front door for me and I step into the house. Within a single breath, I can feel that this house is definitely a home. The smell of cedar wood from the hardwood floor fills my nose, family photos adorn the walls and furniture, and a well-loved small cross with a crucified Jesus hangs on the wall. John’s raised his son in a wonderful environment.

John leads me through the house and stops me just short of the corner. He walks around the corner and I head about a half dozen voices fill my ears. “Son,” I hear John’s voice say. “There’s someone here to see you.”

“Who is it, Dad?” says a voice (Thomas).

“You can come in now,” I hear John’s voice call to me.

I take in a breath and step out from behind the wall. In the living room, I see six teenagers, four boys and two girls, seated on the couch and in the chairs. But I see one with the same black hair as John with a blowback hairstyle, a square jaw, a blemish free face, light blue eyes, and confusion in his face.

I look at Thomas and smile. “Hi, Thomas, I say.

He glances at John before looking back at me. “Um…do I know you?” he asks.

“Not personally, no. But I really enjoyed reading the letter you sent me a month ago. It must’ve been hard telling someone you didn’t know all that.”

I reach up and slowly pull the sunglasses off my face and look back at Thomas. Within milliseconds, I see his face fill with shock and it’s the same with all of his friends. Thomas shoots off the couch. “ERIC FUCKING SWANSON?!!” he shrieks.

“Thomas!” John scolds. “Watch your mouth!”

“Sorry, Dad. But it’s Eric Swanson!” He walks around the couch and up to me, pure amazement in his eyes. I see he’s about four or five inches shorter than me. “What’re you doing here?!”

“I came by to talk to your dad about a few things and came in to say hi. I also wanted to see how you were doing.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out Thomas’ letter and hold it in front of me. “I read your letter a month ago. It must’ve taken you a lot of courage to write all that down.”

Thomas’ smiling face fills with a bit of sadness and he looks to the floor. “Yeah…it really did…”

“But I thank you for opening up so much to me. You should know that I carried that letter in every game after I got it. I felt that it gave me just a bit of a boost of strength.”

Thomas smiles a little, probably a bit uncomfortable that his dad is hearing all this, unknowing that he’s already heard the letter’s contents. I look past Thomas and see his group of friends, but one catches my eye. There’s a boy with a very impressive body packed with muscle, a head of dark wavy brown hair, and, with his mouth hanging open, I see perfect white teeth.

I smile at the boy. “I take it you’re Cody?” I ask.

Cody jerks from my words and jumps off the couch, revealing his muscle-packed body. “Y-Yes, sir…” he says.

“Nice to meet you. Thomas has told me a lot about you.”

Cody nods a bit and I can see the nervousness in his face. I look back at Thomas. “Thomas, do you think maybe…you and your dad have some things you want to talk about?”

Thomas turns dark red. “I-I think I do…” he quietly says. He turns toward John and walks toward him, unable to meet his eye. “Um…Dad? I really have to tell you something…”

John nods a bit. “Yeah, I have to talk to you as well, son.”

Thomas looks up at his father and I can see his eyes are a bit shiny. “Dad, you know much I love being a Christian and how much I love God. And I feel that He loves me in return. So…no matter who I am, I feel that God will always love me. Even…” Thomas coughs a bit, a nervous cough to try and collect himself. “Even…when He knows…I’m…”

Thomas stops again and I see a small tear fall out of the corner of his eye and very quiet sobs escape his throat. “Dad…I’m gay…” Thomas barely whispers.

I glance over at Cody and Thomas’ friends and see concern in their faces as they watch Thomas quietly cry to himself. “I-I know how you feel about gay people, Dad,” Thomas stutters. “I know you think they should all burn in Hell. And…and if you want me out of the house, m-my bags are already packed upstairs and your fag son will be out of your life forever.”

John suddenly moves forward and tightly wraps his arms around Thomas, pressing his son close to him. “Don’t you fucking dare leave this house,” John quietly says. “You’re going to stay right here with me. You’re all I have left, Thomas…”

I can see Thomas looks to be frozen in shock. “B-But, Dad…”

“No buts, son.” John lets go of Thomas and rests his hands on Thomas’ shoulders. “Thomas, Eric read me the note you sent to him when I was in San Francisco on business and I already knew about you being gay.” Thomas looks over at me for a second before looking back at his dad. “And let me just say that I still love you no matter who you love.

“You’re right. God does love all. But I know that I love you more than even He does. I know I’ve said some pretty harsh things about gay people in the past, but I’ve seen how much I was hurting you when I was saying them. Now, I see gay people in an entirely different light, a very good light.

“I called PFLAG and the man I talked to really helped me to see what it was like having a gay child, but I really owe my realization to Eric. He made me see that I was spreading hate and violence with my words, and I’ve repented my sins. Now, I’m going to work hard to stay on the right path, a path of love and acceptance.

“Thomas, nothing will ever change the fact that you’re my son. I love you more than anything. I always will.”

Thomas’ eyes clench shut and I see several more tears leak out of his eyes before he reaches around his dad and hugs him tightly. John returns his son’s hug and the two silently rock back and forth, neither letting go for several minutes. The finally do let go and Thomas wipes his eyes dry and smiles a bit. “I love you, Dad…”

“I love you too, son.”

John gives Thomas’ forehead a light kiss. Thomas turns and walks up to me. “Um…thank you, Eric. You’ve helped me in more ways than one. And…” Thomas grabs the sides of his head and laughs to himself. “And I still can’t believe you’re here! There’s a fucking Major League baseball player in my house!”

“Thomas!” John scolds a second time. “Language!”

“You already said ‘fucking,’ Dad. So I can say it too!”

Thomas looks up at me with a bright shine in his eyes and I smile down at him. “And there was one part of the letter you sent me that I didn’t forget,” I say. I take the bag in my hand and hand it to Thomas. “Happy birthday, Thomas.”

He gawks at me for a second before reaching inside the bag and staring at the gift I’ve given him. The bag falls to the floor and the jersey with my last name on it sits in his hands. Thomas stares at the jersey for a minute, looking at the autographed message.

‘Thomas. Your letter really touched me and I thank you for opening up to me. You’re a bright and talented kid and I see great things in your future. Keep it up and never change who you are for anyone. Your favorite gay baseball player – Eric Swanson.’

Thomas looks back up at me in amazement. “Y-You bought me a jersey and signed it?” he asks.

“No, I didn’t buy you a jersey,” I say. “I took the jersey I wore during game seven of the World Series, signed it, and just gave it to you as a birthday present. I hope you like it.”

I see Thomas’ jaw hit the floor and his eyes shine again. I look past him and see the same look on everyone’s face, including John’s. Thomas shoots his arms around me and hugs me tightly, me returning his hug a second later. “You’re…fucking awesome, Eric…” Thomas quietly says into my chest.

Thomas hugs me for a minute before letting go and wiping his eyes dry. After a second, his friends walk over to him and get a better look at the jersey. Cody steps up to Thomas’ side and slowly sides his arm around Thomas’ waist before kissing the side of his head, causing Thomas to blush. I look over at John and see him smiling at his son, love in his eyes.

And after another second, the room explodes into Thomas’ friends yelling for autographs and photos. I smile and relent, putting on my best smile for all of them. It takes about ten minutes to sign everything the kids want me to sign and pose for a few dozen photos, even taking a few pictures with John.

With one last photo, John steps up. “Okay, I think it’s about time we let Eric go. We’ve kept him here long enough.”

“Awww,” Thomas whines. “You can’t stay for a little while longer?”

“Sorry, guys,” I say. “I have to get back to my family. I’m spending the day with my parents, my boyfriend’s parents, my boyfriend, and my son.”

They all nod understandingly. “I’ll show you out,” says John.

Thomas, Cody, and their friends thank me again and I give them a wave before starting to follow John to the front door. We step outside and John and I stand in silence for a minute. “I really owe you a lot, Eric,” John says. “Had you not given me that talking to two days ago, I would’ve blown up at Thomas for being gay. I would’ve lost him…”

“I may have talked to you about it, John, but you made that change all on your own,” I say. “You handled Thomas’ coming out like a champ and now, you and your son are probably closer than you’ve ever been.”

John nods a bit. “Yeah, I got that kind of feeling. I still believe that the act of homosexuality to be a sin, but hey, we all sin at some point. And if Thomas sins for something he was born as, then I don’t see it as a sin. To me, he’s still my perfect little boy.”

“Good thing I didn’t read you that middle part of the letter Thomas sent me. You’d be singing a song of a different tune right now.”

John’s head snaps to me, his eyes wide. “What?!”

I burst out laughing and hold my sides. “I’m kidding!” I say. “God, you should’ve seen your face!”

John punches me in the shoulder, laughing himself. All of a sudden, John wraps his arms around me and hugs me, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Thank you, Eric. And I’m sorry about what happened when we first met. But from now on, you can count on me wearing a Swanson jersey whenever there’s a Giants game on TV.”

“Thanks, John. Now go get that breakfast with your son and his friends and boyfriend. I can feel your stomach rumbling.”

John chuckles a little before letting me go. I give him a pat on the shoulder before turning and walking down the walkway and climb into my car. John waves from the front door and I wave back before turning on my car and starting the hour and a half drive back home. “Nice work.”

Jason once again appears in the passenger seat, a smile on his face. “Thanks,” I reply to my ghostly friend. “I was a bit worried that John wouldn’t accept Thomas at first, but it ended really well.”

“It did. By the way, you have a little less than two hours to get home and there’s an accident on the freeway that will take a little while to get past. So…good luck with that.”

Jason snaps his fingers and disappears, leaving me a bit baffled. I quickly turn my car on and start to drive like a man possessed, praying I’ll get home in time to keep my balls.

—

Eric’s a lucky man. I was actually contemplating ripping his balls off before he got home. But his car was barreling down the street and pulled into the driveway just a few minutes before noon. He looked incredibly relieved that he actually made it back on time, but I was a bit disappointed that there wasn’t going to be any ball ripping.

But we managed to spend a nice afternoon together with our parents and son. Getting lunch, spending some time in the park, teaching Orson how to throw a baseball (we’re not pressuring him to be a baseball player like Eric is, we just think it’s a skill he should learn), and just having fun together as a family.

A little before 8:00, we all head over to Josh and Leo’s house to watch the 49ers Chargers game. We find that Josh and Leo’s parents are already here, along with Ryan and Nate and their son Cole, Brian and Justin, Mark and his wife Julie and their daughter Ally, Josh and Leo’s friend Danny Walters and his fiancée Selena, and even Governor Shawn Leif and his wife Heather (it’s still hard to believe that Josh and Leo are close friends with the Governor of California).

The game turned out great, though. The 49ers kicked the Chargers’ ass, winning 28-3. The night was a fun one and it was great to spend the day with my family. But right now, I’m stressing the hell out. My gallery showing is fast approaching and I can already feel myself start to sweat.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had dozens of art showings since I graduated from Stanford, but this is the biggest one since my 19th birthday. I have one hundred and nineteen paintings, sketches, and drawings going on display. If that doesn’t raise my blood pressure, the gallery is sold out and is being held at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, one of the most notable art museums in the country.

It took me five months to get all the art pieces done and by the time I was finished, I wanted to rip my hair out. Thankfully, Anthony was able to do all the business for me and he convinced the LACMA to put my art on display with little effort. Anthony became my private art agent after I graduated from college and he’s worked with me every step of the way (bad choice of words right there, huh?).

Anyway, the gallery showing is in just three days and I feel like I’m about to explode. Some of the art world’s biggest names are coming to see my art, and if I don’t live up to the expectation they have of me, I could be blackballed. That’s the absolute last thing I want to happen to me.

Right now, I’m sitting in my kitchen in the tank top and sweatpants I slept in, rubbing my hands on the back of my neck, trying to relieve the knots I have. Eric’s out dropping Orson off at preschool, telling me to try and relax a bit or I’ll get an ulcer. I probably already have two with the amount of stress I’m feeling right now, maybe even three.

I try to distract myself by reading the newspaper in front of me (yes, some of us still read the newspaper), flipping through the pages and trying to find something that will peak my interest. Same old stuff: recovering economy, declining unemployment, underhanded, lying politicians, an extremely talented, but hot-headed, L.A. Kings hockey player (I’ve heard of him a few times), and more debate over same-sex marriage (it’s legal in thirty-one states now, so we’re getting there).

As I continue to flip through the pages, I finally find something that catches my eye. A photo of Leo sits on the front cover of the lifestyle section of the newspaper and his workshop sits behind him. I read the headline.

‘The God of Motorcycles Continues to Impress! The Most Sought-After Workshop on the West Coast!’

Leo’s really come far with his workshop. I remember when he first bought the place five years ago. The workshop looked like it was about to fall to pieces. But Leo turned it around in just a few months and opened Leo’s Custom Motorcycles. Business started out a bit slow, but after a huge executive from Harley Davidson came by Leo’s shop and got a custom motorcycle, he put in a very good word and Leo had to hire a dozen workers to keep up with demand.

I read through the interview between Leo and the reporter who came by his shop. “So, Mr. Trigon,” the reporter starts.

“You can call me Leo,” Leo replies. “But my last name is Rusden-Trigon.”

“My apologies. I forgot you were married to Josh Rusden. Anyway, Leo, you’ve become a statewide name in the motorcycle industry. How do you feel about this?”

“I’m more surprised than anyone. It’s only been a little over five years since I’ve opened my shop and the success it’s had has put me on cloud nine.”

“So your shop creates custom motorcycles?”

“That’s what the name implies. We use top of the line materials from the best motorcycle part producers to create our motorcycles.”

“Is it difficult to create a design for a new motorcycle?”

“Sometimes. You have to think about what the customer wants and incorporate that into a motorcycle’s design, all while keeping the motorcycle high-performance and efficient. I sometimes have to explain to customers that we can’t do some of the things they want because they’re too far out there to achieve. I remember a guy wanted me to add a nitrous fuel tank for a faster bike, but the engine wouldn’t have been able to take the toll.”

“So how do you keep your customers happy while giving them what they want?”

“We have a face to face meeting with the customer and go over what they want, what it is we can and can’t do, and reach an agreement after a lot of discussion. Then I assign some of my employees to work on the bike together and we get the customers their fresh new motorcycle in a little less than a month.

“A lot of people have called you the God of Motorcycles. Do you consider yourself that title?”

“I just like to see myself as a guy who likes to work on motorcycles. I first started working on motorcycles when I was 15 back when I used to live in Maryland. I learned quickly from my mentor, Larry Hander, and got my first motorcycle after a client came in to get a tune up on his motorcycle and gave it to me after I finished working on it.

“I moved out to California in the summer of 2012 with all my knowledge on motorcycles with me. And…moving out to California was probably one of the best things that had ever happened to me…”

“May I ask what happened?”

Even without seeing Leo, I can tell he blushed when asked the question. “I met Josh Rusden on my first day of my senior year of high school.”

“Your husband?”

“Yes. Josh was, and still is, the most beautiful man I had ever seen when I first saw him. He just had this air of confidence around him that I found amazing, but he wasn’t cocky in any sort of way. He had a heart of gold and he warmed up to me immediately and I was drawn to his warm personality. And within a second of us shaking hands, I was head over heels for him.

“But there were two problems with my infatuation for Josh: I was in a pervious relationship that ended very badly and left some emotional scars, and I didn’t know if Josh was gay or not. But thanks to me being stupid at a Halloween party and having a bit too much to drink, I kissed Josh in my drunken stupor and passed out a few seconds after.

“When Josh told me about what had happened the next day, I was scared out of my mind. I thought I had ruined my relationship with Josh and was afraid he’d never want to speak again to me. But when he told me he was in love with me, I felt my heart soar and our first kiss was one I’ll never forget as long as I live.”

“That’s a very sweet story.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, do you feel that your sexuality is a problem when it comes to business?”

“I used to. Josh was already famous when I first opened my shop and much of the nation knew about our relationship. I was afraid that people wouldn’t want a gay guy to build them a motorcycle. But now, I don’t care what people think about me. I have new customers coming into my shop every day, and none of them care about my sexuality. They know I can make bikes and that’s all they care about.”

“I’ve seen several pictures of the bikes you and your shop have produced. Did you come up with the designs on your own?”

“Most of the time, I come up with the concepts myself. But sometimes, I get the help of my good friend Zane Mercer to come up with a design with me, at the customer’s consent of course.”

Did Leo just say that about me? “Zane Mercer?” I read the reporter’s next line. “The world famous artist?”

“That’s the one.”

“How did you and he come into contact?”

“Zane and I met in our freshman year of college at Stanford University and we were roommates. He was a bit shy at first, but he really opened up after a little while. He and I were roommates the next year, and for our last two years of college, we shared an off campus apartment with Josh and Zane’s boyfriend, Eric Swanson. Zane and I are still great friends to this day.”

“Wow. Is it hard to convince Zane to help you with the bike designs?”

“Not even. Zane was a graphic design artist before he switched fully to art. He loves helping me with the bike designs and jumps to the task whenever I ask. But I only ask when he has free time and not when he’s busy working on new pieces or if he has a gallery showing coming up, which he does.”

“I’ve heard about Zane’s gallery showing through a few colleagues. It’s said to be his biggest showing in years. Are you planning on attending?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Zane’s art has taken my breath away ever since I saw his first sketch nine years ago. I’d go even if both of my legs were broken and I had to crawl to the gallery.”

“It’s wonderful to see that you see Zane as such a friend.”

“He’s one of my best. If you’re reading this, Zane, I hope you like the shameless sponsorship I’m giving you.”

“Well, thank you for your time, Leo. I wish you and your shop the best.”

I stare at the newspaper in silence for several seconds before I set it down on the table. My hands rub across my face in exasperation. Yeah, I’m happy Leo said all those things and I’ll thank him later for it, but dear God, did he have to make it sound like I’m supposed to be on a fucking pedestal all the time?

Now I’m freaking out even more. Thousands of people read this newspaper and I know a lot of them are already coming to my gallery showing. Now, they’re going to think of me at a higher standard. If my artwork doesn’t live up to the expectations they have of me, goodbye art world, goodbye life.

I’m such a fucking basket case right now that I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t even hear the front door open and close as I sit at the kitchen table with my face in my hands. “Zane, I’m home!” I hear Eric call. “And I smell coffee!”

Eric’s heavy footsteps walk across the hardwood floor and I hear him step into the kitchen. “There’s my favorite man.” I want to respond, but my throat is completely clenched up. I can’t even make a tiny squeak to let Eric know I’m listening. “Zane, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

After a second, I feel something warm and callused fall onto my shoulder. My body starts to feel warm all of a sudden and my hands slowly lower from my face. I turn to my left and find Eric’s beautiful face just inches from mine, pure concern and worry in his dark brown eyes.

I blink a few times and smile after a minute. “Yeah…yeah, I’m okay…”

“Your skin is freezing and your pupils are huge. Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’ve seen a Jason.”

I laugh feebly at Eric’s lame joke. “Eric, I’m fine. I was just…thinking about my gallery in a few days.”

Eric rubs my shoulder a bit before standing straight up. “C’mon. Let’s go take a seat on the couch.” He helps me up from my chair and guides me to the living room before taking a seat on the couch. “Come and rest your head on my lap.”

I crawl onto the couch and carefully lay my head on Eric’s lap. After a second, I feel Eric’s fingers running through my hair, a gentle and comforting gesture, and I see his warm eyes looking down at me. “I know you’re worried about the gallery, Zane,” Eric softly says. “But I can say with confidence that everything’s going to go even better than you hope.

“The world knows the name Zane Mercer and holds it in the absolute highest regard. Your art has the ability to make people happy, makes them feel at ease, and can move people to tears. Even when you’re just casually sketching your every day thoughts, just seeing what you’re putting into a piece of paper or canvas is absolutely wonderful.

“So, Zane? You don’t need to worry about a thing. This gallery is your night and your night alone. So don’t let the fear of worrying what everyone else will think ruin it. I’ll be there, Orson will be there, Josh, Leo, their kids, their parents, my parents, your parents, Charles, Jason, Courtney, Meg, Jack, Ty, Shane, Damien, Brian, Justin, Mark, Shawn, Danny, Ryan, Nate, everyone that loves you is going to be there supporting you. Remember that, Zane.”

Eric bends down and lightly presses his lips to my forehead and continues to comb his fingers through my hair lovingly. In no time, my heart rate starts to slow, my hands feel less clammy, my body starts to warm up and I find my breath again. I reach up and delicately touch the palm of my hand to Eric’s scruffy cheek.

I smile up at him and his warm smile brings me back to life. “I love you so much, Eric.”

“Not as much as I love you, Zane.”

Eric bends down and softly presses his lips to mine. He rubs my head a few more times before helping me sit up. “Now how about I make you some breakfast, get you in the shower, relax a bit, then we can pick Orson up from preschool together and head out to lunch with Josh and Leo?” Eric asks me.

“I’d love that. Eggs benedict with caviar, lamb sausages, and baguette French toast please.” Eric raises an eyebrow at me and gives me an ‘are you kidding me?’ look. I laugh at the look. “Or scrambled eggs with some bacon and toast.”

“There’s the man I know and love.”

Eric gives me another kiss before helping me off the couch and we walk into the kitchen, my head resting on Eric’s shoulder the whole time.

—-

Yeah, Eric really did help me to relax a lot, but I still have a small bit of nervousness in the pit of my stomach. But of course I would have that. Hundreds of people are seeing my art in about an hour. It would be weird if I weren’t even a little bit nervous. But at least I know a lot of people I love will be there supporting me.

I slip on my black suit jacket over my grey dress shirt and adjust my clothing in the mirror. Taking a bit of hair gel, I run it through my hair and leave not a single hair out of place. And with a splash of cologne, I’m ready to go. “You guys about ready?” I call out the bathroom door.

“Almost!” I hear Eric call back. “Orson wasn’t listening, so I tickled him into putting on his nice clothes!”

I laugh to myself and hear Orson laughing hysterically, Eric probably ticking his sides again. I walk back into my bedroom and start to slip on my shoes when I hear footsteps walk up to the doorway. “Daddy, my shirt feels weird!” Orson whines.

“So does mine, but you’ll get used to it,” Eric replies.

I look at the doorway and see Eric in his dark grey suit with black dress shirt underneath with the top button unbuttoned and Orson in his arms, wearing a dark blue child’s blazer, black dress pants, a white dress shirt and a black tie. I smile at the two and rise off my bed. “You look very handsome, Orson,” I say, taking him from Eric’s arms.

“My neck itches…”

“Hey, my butt itches, so we’re in the same boat.”

Orson laughs at the word ‘butt’ and I kiss his forehead. “What? No love for your boyfriend?” Eric whines.

I roll my eyes and give Eric a very light kiss. “I give you enough love already,” I say.

Eric gives me a pouting face before smiling again. We head downstairs and Eric grabs our cellphones, wallets, and the car keys and we head out to the car. I slip Orson into his car seat before walking around the car and climbing into the passenger’s seat. Eric starts the car and he and I turn and look back at Orson.

He meets our gaze with an innocent look. “Now, Orson,” Eric says. “We want you on your best behavior tonight. We’re going to a very nice party and tonight is a very important night for Daddy, so please behave.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Orson says.

“Now, how are you going to speak when we’re at the party?” I ask

“With my inside voice.”

“If you get hungry, thirsty, or have to go to the bathroom, what are you going to do?” Eric asks.

“Tell you what I want and don’t throw a tantrum if it takes a little while.”

“What will you do if you get separated from Daddy?” I ask.

“Stay where I am and wait for Daddy to find me. If a stranger tells me they’ll help me find Daddy, tell them no. If they try to grab me, scream ‘I don’t know this person’ as loud as I can.”

“And what are you not going to do with Daddy’s paintings?” Eric asks.

“Touch them.”

“And who loves their favorite little man more than anything?” I ask.

“My daddies do!”

Eric and I both grin at Orson and give his legs a squeeze. We turn back around and Eric carefully backs out of the driveway and we’re off to the gallery.

About forty-five minutes later, Eric drives the car up to the front of the LACMA. Eric slows to a stop and the doors on both sides of the car open. “Welcome to your showing, Mr. Mercer,” says a gentle voice.

I take in a deep breath, unbuckle my seatbelt and put on my best face. I slide out of the car and am met by dozens of camera flashes. Even though I was expecting a few cameramen outside the main museum entrance, I didn’t expect Anthony to get so many! There must be at least fifty cameramen alone!

But I stay perfectly composed and pose for a few shots. After a second, Eric appears by my side with Orson in one arm and he holds out his other arm for me. “Shall we?” he asks.

“We shall.”

I take Eric’s arm in mine and we walk up the front steps of the museum, the lenses of the cameras following us. As we walk up the steps, I see giant banners hanging on the front of the museum.

‘Zane Mercer’s ‘Progression.’ A Story of Zane’s Life Through His Art’

I smile up at the banners, as cheesy as they are, and walk into the museum. “Zane!”

I look to my right and see Anthony walking over to me and I smile. “Hey, Anthony,” I say. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“Only the best for my client. I’m just glad everything was finished in time. Did you know we didn’t get the pamphlets until about three hours ago? I was damn near about to kill someone with my bare hands.”

I chuckle and give Anthony a pat on the shoulder. He may be a bit greyer, but his smiling face puts me back to when I first met him over eight years ago. “How’re my favorite homosexuals?”

We all turn and see Charles walking up to us, wearing a nice suit. “Hey, Charles,” I say. “It’s great to see you after so long.”

I give Charles a hug and Anthony and Eric follow, Charles giving Orson a light pinch on the cheek. Charles is in his early seventies now, but I don’t see any signs of him slowing down in the least. His hair is now fully white and is a bit thinner than before and his face has a few more wrinkles, but he’s still the same Charles that I know and love.

Charles gazes around the gallery, taking everything in. “It’s hard to believe you did all these pieces, Zane,” he says.

“I’ve had a lot of free time some months ago,” I reply. “And before I knew it, I had over a hundred pieces ready to be sold off.” I look past Anthony. “Hey, Anthony. I think I see someone trying to sneak into the gallery.”

Anthony whirls around and sees the man attempting to walk into the gallery. “Not on my watch…” he grumbles.

He reaches for the walkie-talkie on his hip and starts for the man, pressing the walkie-talkie to his mouth for security. “That guy really doesn’t take a day off, does he?” Eric says.

“Not as long as we pay him,” I reply.

With a sudden snap, Jason appears to Charles’ left side, wearing his formal army outfit. “I love it when I can put this thing on,” he says, running his hands over the medal-adorned blazer.

“I haven’t seen you wear that since 2014,” Eric says.

“That’s because there hasn’t been a night as important as this one since then. How’re you holding up, Pop?”

“Boy, I may be old, but I’ve still got a lot of kick in me,” Charles replies. “Can’t say the same for your mother, though. She’s always been one for staying at home with a good book.” He looks back at me. “Sorry I couldn’t get her to come this time, Zane. But she sends her best regards”

“It’s no problem at all,” I say. “Tell Susan I said hi when you get back home.”

“Zane!”

I don’t even have time to turn around as two bodies slam into my side. “Meg! Courtney! I can’t breathe!” I plea.

The girls laugh and let me go before hugging me again, with less suffocation this time. “This is amazing!” Meg says. “God, you’ve still got the same magic touch even almost ten years later!”

“It’s a shame you stopped sketching tattoos,” says Courtney. “But I guess you’re your own canvas for that!”

Meg and Courtney graduated from Stanford with me. Now, Meg is a bestselling comic book artist. Her comic series, Grey Hawk, has sold over seventeen million copies around the world, and she’s currently working on the fourteenth comic in the series. Courtney is now an English professor at Stanford, inspiring kids the way she was when she was a student. She loves her job more than anything and the kids seem to love her just as much.

Meg looks over at Eric and sees Orson smiling at her. “Mommy Meg!” Orson says.

Meg smiles brightly at Orson and walks over to him. “How’s my favorite little man?” she says, taking Orson from Eric arms.

While Orson may be me and Eric’s son, Meg was the one who gave birth to him. She often comes and visits him so Orson gets the chance to grow up with his birth mother and he loves her just as much as me and Eric. Orson started calling her ‘Mommy Meg’ after he learned that he came out of her. Meg loved the nickname and it’s stuck ever since.

As I watch Orson laughing in Meg’s arms, there’s a sudden tap on my shoulder and I see my ex-boyfriend standing next to me. “How’s my favorite artist doing?” Damien asks with a smile.

“Hey, Damien!” I say, giving him a firm hug. “It’s great to see you!”

I let him go a second later. Damien’s still as handsome as eight years ago, but I mean that as a friend. Damien’s also a professional baseball player, playing with the Washington Nationals as their starting pitcher. Just like Eric, Damien’s out and proud and couldn’t be happier with his life.

Standing next to Damien is a man who is just about two inches shorter than me with bright blonde hair, deep blue eyes, a handsome face and a fairly slim body. “Hi, Trevor,” I say, giving the man a hug. “It’s great to see you too.”

“Thanks, Zane.”

Trevor is Damien’s husband of three years now. He works as an accountant in Washington D.C. and the two are very happy together. The two met during Damien’s second year of college and really hit it off before they started dating. It was a bit awkward talking with him a first, seeing as I used to date Damien, but we pushed that aside and we’re now good friends.

As I catch up with my friends, a few more of them arrive. A lot more, actually. Yeah, there’s Josh and Leo and their old friends, but there’s also Jack, Ty, Shane, some of Eric’s old college teammates and some of his Giants teammates, all of my old friends from the art department, Xavier, Blake and Cassadee, Travis and Brandon and Luke and his family.

Mom, Dad, Todd, Hannah, Josh and Leo’s parents, and Ryan and Nate arrive a few minutes later, Sebastian arriving with Mom and Dad. Sebastian’s hair is just a touch greyer, but that’s the only difference about him. He’s still working for Mom and Dad and still enjoys his job. He and I stay in touch and, now that I’m older, he’s dropped the ‘Master’ and just calls me Zane.

Once I’m caught up with all my friends and family, Anthony comes back, huffing as he steps up to me. “Thanks for catching that guy for me, Zane,” he says. “He was a homeless guy who was trying to get to the food we have set up for the guests.”

“Did you give him some food and send him on his way?”

“That and $500 cash so he can try and start his life over again. I just hope he doesn’t spend it on booze or drugs or some shit like that.” Anthony looks down at his watch before smiling. “Time for you to shine.”

I smile and look at Eric, who’s grinning down at me. “Go and show off, Mr. Artist.”

He bends down and gives me a kiss before I walk with Anthony through the gallery. As we walk, I look at all my paintings, sketches, and drawings that adorn the walls. This gallery has a specific way you need to walk through it or else it won’t make sense. You need to walk through from the first piece and follow the pieces by number in order for my story to be told.

The pieces start out very dark, showing how I was when I was younger, how I was angry with everybody and how I felt about the torment I put up with through high school. The pieces depict the torment in abstract detail, finally leading up to my attack in the locker room. I see the group of people that are looking at this painting with worried and scared looks on their faces.

But as we continue through the gallery, the works start to become lighter after a single sketch: a life-sized depiction of a younger Eric, radiance behind his beautiful face and body. The pieces continue to brighten, showing how I started to open up more to people, how I made friends, and how all the hate I felt was starting to disappear.

We reach the final third of the paintings and these are my favorite ones. They seem to breathe life and love and I can tell by several faces that the patrons feel it too. These pieces show my life after Eric changed me for the better and how happy I was an am. My favorite one is of two abstract figures holding a bright blue bundle with a small face, me and Eric holding Orson just hours after his birth.

The final picture is a large twenty-foot sketch that took me two weeks to finish, but it’s by far my favorite piece out of everything here. The sketch is of my family, all my friends, and me together, smiling without a care in the world. This piece isn’t for sale and is just there to being the story of my first twenty-seven years to a close.

Just past the sketch is a leather chair meant for me. Anthony and I stop and he turns to me. “You know what to do, right?” Anthony asks.

“Sit here, look pretty, answer every question honestly, and smile,” I reply.

“You got it. I’m going to make sure everything’s going perfectly. Go ahead and take a seat. At 10:00, there’s going to be a small press conference that’s open to all the guests here tonight, so that’s a little over three hours from now. Good luck. If you get in trouble, security guards will be close by. Good luck.”

Anthony gives my shoulder a pat before going through the gallery, leaving me alone. I take a seat in the leather chair and wait patiently for anyone to walk up to me to ask any question, which shouldn’t be for a while as the gallery just opened. I ease into the chair and sit back, listening to the echo of the patrons.

But something catches my attention after a minute. It doesn’t match the soft dialogue of the patrons in the gallery or the light music playing. No, it sounds like…whimpering. I rise out of my seat and listen for the source of the noise. I see a hallway in the back of the gallery and I can hear the echo of the whimpering from there.

The security guards arrive and stand on both sides of my chair. “Excuse me,” I say to the guard on my left.

“Yes, Mr. Mercer?” he responds.

“Tell anyone that finishes walking through the gallery that I’ll be right back. There’s something I need to check on.”

“Of course, Mr. Mercer.”

I rise from my chair and walk slowly to the hallway. As I get closer, the noise slowly gets louder and louder. My feet quietly walk into the hallway and I peer around the corner. Sitting against the wall is a boy, with dark blonde hair and fair skin, with his fists pressed against his eyes and tears sliding down his face.

Concerned, I step over to the boy and kneel down in front of him. “Hey, are you okay?” I ask.

He lowers his hands from his eyes and green irises meet me. “I-I don’t know where my dad is…” he feebly says.

I look down at the boy’s clothes and see he’s in a plain t-shirt and jeans. Judging from that, I can tell the boy snuck in here (we really need better security at these things). “Why’re you in here?” I ask. “Did you and your dad get separated?”

The boy nods his head and wipes his eyes. “Dad and I got in a fight and I ran off,” he says. “I ran in here and I got scared because I was lost.”

“Do you know how long you’ve been here?” The boy shakes his head. “What did you and your dad fight about?”

The boy sniffs his nose a little. “D-Dad and I were about to get dinner together when he got a phone call and said that we weren’t going to get dinner. He’d promised me we would and I got mad, and he got mad back at me, and I ran off. Now, I’m here.”

If they were about to get dinner, he can’t have been here long. “Well, how about you come out of this hallway and we can wait for your dad together?” I say. “There’s a comfy chair just around the corner you can sit in. You want to sit in it?”

The boy stares at me for a second and I smile. He nods after a moment of silence and I help him up to his feet. I hold my hand out for him and he carefully takes it. “I’m Zane,” I say. “What’s your name?”

“M-Max.”

We walk out of the hallway together and walk over to my chair. The security guards give me a weird look as I walk up to them. “Call the police,” I say. “Tell them that a missing boy has been found at the LACMA. He has dark blonde hair, is about 7 years old…”

I smile down at him for a second. “Sorry, has green eyes. His name is Max.”

The security guards nod and walk off. I hoist Max up and set him down in the chair. “Thank you,” Max nervously says.

I can tell that he’s a bit scared. “Max, do you know what to do with strangers?” I ask.

He nods. “If someone I don’t know tells me to come with him, scream as loud as I can and try to get away.”

“Then why didn’t you do that with me?”

Max reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small pamphlet. I see that it’s one of the pamphlets for the gallery tonight and I’m on the front. “You’re the same man as the one on this thing,” he says. “You look like a nice man and you look like you want to help me.”

I smile at Max. “I do want to help you, but you really should be more careful. Would you have screamed and tried to get away if you didn’t know I was the one on that pamphlet?” Max nods. “Then okay. Just try to be careful in the future.”

Max nods and looks down at his lap. All of a sudden, I hear a small grumble and see it’s Max’s stomach. I reach into the inside of my suit jacket and pull out the candy bar I put in there earlier and hold it in front of Max. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?” I ask.

“A little…”

He takes the candy bar from me and unwraps it and hungrily devours it. Once he finishes the candy bar, he goes right back to looking down at his lap. God, this kid must be terrified. He doesn’t know where his dad is and he’s talking to a stranger. I scratch the back of my head, trying to think of what to do until the police get here.

As I gaze around, I hear a small voice come from the chair. “Um…are you an artist?” Max asks me.

I look down at him and smile. “Yes, I am,” I say. “All of the paintings in here tonight are mine. I drew all of them.” All of a sudden, Max’s face lights up and he stares at me in awe. “Do you like to draw, Max?”

He nods with a small smile on his face. “Art is my favorite class in school. My teacher always tells me that I draw really well and I like drawing a lot.”

I smile and reach into my jacket pocket and pull out a small sketchpad and pencil (just in case I come up with an idea for a new drawing or if I get a bit bored). I hand the pad and pencil of Max. “Do you want to draw a little? Maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

Max waits a second before taking the sketchpad and pencil from my hand. “Thank you,” he politely says.

He opens to the first page and immediately goes into drawing. On Max’s face, I see complete concentration, nothing but him, the pencil, and the paper. I stand to the left of the chair and continue to wait for anyone who finishes walking through the gallery, but several minutes pass and no one seems to be even close to the end.

I glance back at Max and see him still working on the first piece of paper in the sketchpad. “What’re you drawing?” I ask.

Max glances over at me and I see his face turn a bit red. “Um…it’s a dragon…”

“May I see?”

He slowly turns the sketchpad to me and I feel my eyes widen. This is…good. Really good in fact. It’s only been about ten minutes since he started his drawing and there’s so much detail in this. “Max, this is amazing,” I say.

“I-It’s not that good…”

“Yes, it is.” I look away from the sketchpad and look down at Max. “Why don’t you think it’s good, Max?”

He turns away from me. “Because guys aren’t supposed to be good at art. They’re supposed to play sports, get dirty, and make fart jokes. But…I’m not like that. I like to watch sports more than play them, I do get dirty sometimes, but I don’t like getting dirty, and I think fart jokes are stupid.”

I move a bit closer to Max. “You don’t like that you’re good at art, do you, Max?”

Max nods a bit. “My classmates make fun of me for it. They say it’s stupid that I want to draw more than go and play kickball with them. But I can’t help it. I hate that I’m the way that I am. I just…I just want to be normal…”

Max lets his head go limp and stares into his lap. I stare at the young man next to me, who reminds me of me when I was his age (God, I’ve gotten old, haven’t I?). I lightly place my hand on Max’s shoulder. “Max, there’s nothing wrong with liking to draw,” I say.

He looks up at me and I see his eyes are a bit shiny. “Then why do people make fun of me for it?”

“Because they don’t understand how fun drawing is. Max, do you ever just lose yourself when you’re drawing? Like…there’s nothing but you and the pencil and paper in front of you?”

It’s just for a split second, but I see a flash behind Max’s eyes. “Y-Yeah?”

“I get that all the time. It’s one of the most wonderful feelings I experience. Whenever I sit down to draw or paint or anything involving art, it feels like the world around me just disappears. And what’s left is just me and my canvas. That’s what I love about drawing. Just that little bit of time when I can escape the hectic world around me makes drawing all the better.

“Now, Max. Look at me. What do you see?”

Max gives me an up and down look. “I see a tall man with a really big body, but it isn’t the kind of big like my teacher. I see a really cool hairstyle on his head and a blue eye and a black eye. I see drawings on your wrists and jewelry in your ears that I sometimes see people on the streets having.”

“And I’m a guy that really likes to draw. Is there something wrong with that?”

It takes a few seconds, but Max slowly shakes his head. “No. It looks like you could beat anyone up that tries to make fun of you for liking to draw.”

I smile a bit. “I might be able to, but you shouldn’t try to beat anyone up. And if someone says it’s stupid for a guy to be drawing, I don’t care what they say. They may be allowed to say what they want about it, but their words don’t hurt me. And it should be the same for you, Max.

“Don’t let those kids from your class, or anyone, tell you that what you like to do is stupid. Show them that you don’t care what they say. You like doing it, and that’s all that matters. And if it continues, then tell someone, your teacher, your principal, or either of your parents. They can make it stop for you.

“You have a gift, Max. Embrace it, love it, and keep drawing. Maybe in twenty years, you’ll be in a gallery like this.”

Max stares at me in silence before a smile splits his face. “You think I can be in here someday?”

“If you work really hard, I’m sure you can.” Max continues to smile and I return it with one of my own. Out of my peripheral, I see a few guests finishing up walking through the gallery. “Excuse me, Max. I need to talk to some people. May I see your drawing when you finish it?”

“Yeah. I want you to see it. Um…thank you, Mr. Mercer.”

“Just Zane is fine, Max.”

I look back in time to see the group of patrons walking up to me. I put on my best face and smile as the guests walk up to me and I give them my hand to shake, thanking them for coming tonight. A few of them ask me a couple of questions and I answer them completely honestly, getting a few laughs in the process.

This continues for the next twenty minutes, guests coming up to me and asking questions and me answering them and shaking hands. I keep an eye on Max, but he doesn’t move an inch from the chair or even look up from the sketchpad. As I’m talking to a group of guests, I feel a noticeable change in the air of the gallery.

The noise seems to have gotten a little louder and the calm, echoed conversations I’ve been hearing have turned concerned. I look down the hall of the gallery and see several uniformed officers walking in my direction. As they got closer, I see a man in a dark blue suit is following them closely.

The officers walk over to me and flash their badges. “Good evening, Mr. Mercer,” the officers say.

“Evening,” I say. “I take it you’re here about Max?”

“Yes, sir,” says the officer on the left. “We had to get the boy’s father, Mr. Turin, before we could get here. We apologize if we took too long.”

“It’s no problem. Max was keeping me company.”

“Max!”

The man in the dark blue suit pushes past the officers. I see he looks to be in his early forties with short brownish blonde hair, green eyes covered by frameless glasses, an average frame, and is about an inch or two shorter than me. He steps past me and stands in front of the chair where Max is seated.

Max continues to look down at the sketchpad and keeps drawing, not acknowledging his father is standing in front of him. “Max,” Mr. Turin says, “where have you been?”

“Here,” Max replies in monotone. “I ran in here after you yelled at me and I’ve been in here ever since.”

Mr. Turin’s lips press into a thin line. “Max, I-I know what I said was really mean, but…but I was just stressed and you getting mad at me only made me even more stressed.”

“I only got mad at you because you broke your promise to me. You promised me last week that we would go out to dinner tonight, just you and me. But when you said we weren’t going out to dinner anymore, I got mad.”

“Because I said we couldn’t go out to dinner? Max, we could’ve gone out on another day.”

“It’s not that,” Max growls. “It’s because you and I haven’t spent a day together in a really long time. It’s always just me and Mom. When you promised that you and I would go out and spend some time together, I was really excited. But you broke that promise, and I got mad and you yelled at me.”

I see a look of regret pass over Mr. Turin’s face. “M-Max, please. I’m sorry about what I said, but…”

“You said that me liking to draw was stupid,” Max quietly says. He stops drawing and sets the sketchpad and pencil on his legs and stares down at his lap. “You called what I like to do stupid…”

Without warning, two small tears fall out of Max’s eyes. I see his father is at a complete loss about what to do, a look of sadness and confusion on his face. “Excuse me,” I say, stepping forward. “Mr. Turin?”

He turns toward me. “Kenneth Turin,” he says. “Uh…you’re Zane Mercer, right?”

“Yes, sir. I’m the one that found your son in the back of the gallery crying to himself. He was really scared when I found him.”

“Um…thank you for finding him. I’m sorry if there was any trouble caused by…”

“There was no trouble at all, but I must say that, as a parent myself, you need to start spending more time with your son.”

Kenneth gives me an offended look. “Excuse me?” he says. “I spend time with my son.”

“But how much time do you spend with Max? When was the last time you and he spent more than an hour together?”

He starts to open his mouth to reply, but no words come out. “Let me tell you something, Kenneth,” I continue. “I’ve known Max for not even an hour and I’ve learned that he’s being bullied in school by his classmates for liking to draw and that he has a gift that maybe one in a million people have.

“Tell me, Kenneth. Did you know any of that?”

Kenneth stares at me in complete shock for several seconds before turning to Max, who’s still letting his tears run. “Max, why didn’t you tell me that you were being bullied in school?”

Max sniffs his nose and looks up at his dad. “I tried,” he says. “But whenever I tried to talk to you about it, you told me to leave you alone because you were working…”

Kenneth continues to stare at Max and, little by little, I see his face breaking. “Kenneth, what do you do for a living?” I ask.

He turns to me, still in a bit of shock. “I-I’m an investment banker at United Liberty Bank on Central Avenue.”

“Tough job. The hours must be long.”

“They are. Not to mention the clients I deal with. It gets really stressful at times. I’m actually working more hours than I normally do now so I can get a promotion I’ve been working for months to get. But my boss hasn’t made a decision yet.”

“Excuse me for a second.”

I reach into my pocket and pull out my cell phone, tapping the screen a few times before I hold it to my ear. The dial tone rings through my ear for several second before the line clicks. “Hello?” says the deep male voice on the other side of the line.

“Hi, Tim?” I say. “It’s Zane Mercer.”

“Ah! Good to hear from you, Zane! Sorry I couldn’t make it to your gallery tonight. But my wife’s sick and I need to take care of her.”

“It’s no problem, Tim. Listen, I’ve heard from someone that there’s a promotion up for grabs at your bank.”

“Yes, there is. I’m currently torn between two of my workers: Kenneth Turin and Gary Baugh. Both are good bankers and I can’t seem to make a decision.”

Alarm bells start going off in my head. “Gary Baugh?” I say. “Isn’t he your really sleazy banker?”

“He may look sleazy, but he’s good at his job.”

“I’d advise against Gary, Tim. Through my connections, I’ve heard of numerous counts of sexual harassment being filed at your bank because of the actions of Gary, but none of them have gotten through.”

I hear a sharp intake of a breath through my phone. “Excuse me?”

“And I also have several friends that work at your bank. I’ve been told that there are numerous holes in some of your files of complaints in recent months and some are even missing. And all signs point in the direction of one Gary Baugh.”

“You’re not kidding me, are you, Zane?” Tim asks through gritted teeth.

“You’re too good of a friend for me to kid about stuff like this, Tim. I’d get an investigation going through your bank and get to the bottom of this. But I’ve also heard some reports about Kenneth Turin.”

I glance at Kenneth and see he’s as white as a sheet. “Dear God,” Tim says. “Please don’t let my two best bankers be deceiving me.”

“Thankfully, Tim, it’s only Gary. I’ve heard a lot of good things about Kenneth through some friends who have accounts at the bank. He’s always a friendly and approachable person, he’s on time, he’s courteous, and he gets the job done without any problems. If I were you, I’d give Kenneth that promotion.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line. “Hmmm,” Tim hums. “Kenneth is one of the best bankers I’ve seen in my years at the bank. He seems to enjoy his job, he’s nice to our customers, and a lot of people like him, including myself. He’s even added more hours to his schedule to show that he’s a hard worker. Zane, I have to thank you. You almost made me make a bad decision.”

“I’m just glad you’re going to make the right decision, Tim. Tell Mary I hope she gets better soon.”

“I’ll do just that. Thanks again, Zane. Good luck with the rest of your gallery.”

I hang up my phone and slide it into my pocket and look back at Kenneth, who’s staring at me with a wide-open mouth. “You should be getting that promotion by next Monday,” I say.

“H-How did you do all that?”

“It was easy. I’ve made connections over the years and Tim and I grew to be friends after I started an account at Liberty United Bank a few years ago. I have a few friends that work at the bank and some other friends that have accounts at the bank. When you have friends in higher places, you have a large web of knowledge.

“I think you can reduce your hours at the bank after the weekend.”

Kenneth lets out a large sigh. “You have no idea how grateful I am to you right now, Zane. With Gary maybe being fired for those sexual harassment complaints you said, I can stop doing his work for him.”

I quickly put two and two together. “Wait, those extra hours at the bank. Are those Gary’s hours?”

Kenneth nods. “A few years ago when I first started out at the bank, I made a small mistake with a few clients’ bank accounts. I almost made them lose all of the money in their checking and savings accounts. But thankfully, I managed to correct this mistake and left the secret under wraps for no one to find out.

“But Gary came up to me a few months ago and told me that if I didn’t start doing his work for him, he’d somehow make it look like that mistake I made all those years ago was me embezzling money from the bank. I was stuck and I couldn’t risk my career, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to take care of Max with my wife, so I had to listen to Gary. It was the same tonight.

“I was going to get some dinner with Max when Gary called me and told me I had to fill out some of his papers by the end of the day. I knew the papers would take a long time, so I had to tell Max we couldn’t go out to eat and that I had to get back home to work on those papers. Max got mad and all the pent-up anger over the last few months just…exploded out of me. And Max ran off…”

“So all the work Gary’s done over the last few months?”

Kenneth nods a second time. “It was me doing his work for him.”

“Sounds like you and Tim have some things to talk about next week. I think it will involve Gary and the police.” Kenneth cracks a smile. “And it also sounds like you and Max need to talk too.”

He nods and turns back to Max, who doesn’t seem to have been listening to the conversation and is still staring into his lap. “Max, please look at me,” Kenneth begs. It takes a second, but Max slowly lifts his head. “Max, I know I haven’t been the best dad lately, but it was because I was scared that something bad was going to happen to me if I didn’t work all the time.”

“You were being bullied too?” Max asks.

“Yeah, I was being bullied too, Max. But I’m not going to be bullied anymore and I’m going to start spending a lot more time with you. I’m going to start working less and I’m going to be home a lot more. I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I really am. If you like to draw, then I’m going to get you the best art classes I can find.

“I’ll make sure those kids at your school stop bullying you and, most importantly, I’m going to start being a better dad for you, Max. And that’s a promise I’m going to keep.”

Max wipes his eyes dry and continues to stare at his father. “Can we please go get dinner together?” he asks. “I’m really hungry and I want to spend time with my dad.”

Kenneth smiles at his son. “We can get whatever you want, buddy.” Max returns Kenneth’s smile and holds his arms out. Kenneth takes Max under the arms and lifts him out of the chair, holding him tightly against his chest. “I was so scared when you ran off, buddy. Please don’t ever do that again.”

Max holds his father in silence, just holding him around the neck. After a minute, Max lets go and Kenneth lightly kisses his cheek. Max looks over at me and holds the pencil and sketchpad out. “Thank you letting me use this,” he says.

I look down at the sketchpad and see that Max’s dragon is complete. And I’ll be damned, it’s freaking amazing. “Keep it,” I say with a smile. “I want you to fill that sketchpad with all of your drawings, Max.”

Max smiles and takes the sketchpad back. “I will.”

Kenneth turns toward me and extends his hand. “Thank you for taking care of my son. And thank you for helping me.”

I take Kenneth’s hand and give it a firm shake. “I’m just glad everything’s okay with you and Max. Now, go and spend some time together. You two need it.”

Kenneth smiles and secures Max in his arms. The two leave after talking with the officers for a minute or two, Max resting his head on Kenneth’s shoulder. After answering a few questions with the officers, they leave and I fall back into my chair, suddenly exhausted. I rest my head on the cushion behind me, closing my eyes for a minute.

After what feels like a minute, a voice appears in front of me. “Is Mr. Artist a bit tired?”

I slowly open my eyes and see my six foot four, incredibly handsome boyfriend standing in front of me, our son in his arms. I smile at the two. “You have no idea,” I say. “I’ll explain when we get home. It’s a bit of a long story.”

—-

A few hours later, about all of the guests have walked through the gallery, and all of them have given me positive feedback, even some of the hard critics that are here have said they enjoyed my artwork. And throughout the evening, people have been purchasing my pieces at a much higher price than I had anticipated.

I was expecting to maybe take in about a hundred thousand from my pieces. I had hoped to get two hundred thousand, but no. The hundred and ten pieces sold tonight have brought me a staggering final amount of over five million dollars. When Anthony told me how much I had made tonight, I thought I was going to shit myself.

The final nine pieces had been given large offers as well, but they aren’t for sale and are coming home with me. And now, I’m walking up onto a stage in front of a little over a thousand people. I feel every eye on me and while I can put on a strong face, I’m screaming on the inside. Finally, Anthony walks onto the stage and relieves me of some of the pressure.

He produces a microphone and holds it to his mouth. “I would like to thank everyone for coming to this gallery showing tonight,” he says. “I hope you enjoyed Zane’s artwork as much as I did. And I would also like to thank all of those who had purchased Zane’s works. Now, I’m taking all the air out of the room. Here’s the man I know you’re all here to see: Zane Mercer.”

The gallery fills with applause as I step over to Anthony and take the microphone from him. I look out at the audience in front of me and take in a breath. “Wow,” I say. “I’ve been doing this for years now and I’m still not used to it.” The audience laughs. “As Anthony said before, I would like to thank you all for coming to my gallery showing tonight.

“Some of you are my close personal family and friends, but many of you are seeing my art for the first time. I hope you have enjoyed seeing my artwork tonight. Some of you are also some of the biggest names in art and I’ve even look up to some of you. To have you see my art in person is a blessing.

“I just want to take this moment to thank each and every one of you personally for seeing my artwork. Now, I see a few people twitching in the audience, so I think I’m going to open for a few questions.”

Almost immediately, several hands shoot up in the audience. I pick the first one I see. “Zane, what was your inspiration for you gallery tonight?” a woman asks. “I’m especially curious about the first thirty-seven paintings and drawings.”

“I wanted to show people my life first hand and the first third of the gallery showed my life growing up. Growing up, although privileged, was a difficult one. I was a very small and shy kid growing up and I was constantly bullied for it growing up. My parents, Richard and Monica Mercer, constantly worked and I didn’t see them very often so it was a bit sad.

“During my high school age, I started to get tattoos and piercings and began to dye my hair in order to try and get a reaction from someone, to get someone to at least talk to me. Yeah, I was that desperate for a bit of human interaction. But the only thing that happened was that I was bullied even more for it.”

I gaze out at the audience and spy Damien. In unspoken word, he nods and smiles at me. “During my senior year of high school, that was when my life took a turn for the worse. I entered a relationship with Damien Branson, who was a classmate with me at the time. He and I secretly dated for two months and it was nice at first.

“But in March of 2013, I was found kissing Damien in my high school locker room by Damien’s baseball teammates. I don’t like to talk about what happened next, but let’s just say it ended with me in the hospital. My parents came by the hospital and, while I wanted them to at least hug me and tell me it was going to be okay, my parents kicked me out of my house because of their fear that me being gay would hurt their business.”

The audience quietly murmurs. The country knows the story of what happened between me and my parents, but it’s still a bit of a shock to this day. “I lived in a homeless shelter for about two months after I was kicked out of my house and, after I was accepted into Stanford University, I left Dallas without letting anyone know.

“That was the basis for the first third of the paintings and drawings here tonight.”

“What about the second third?” I hear a man’s voice call out.

“The second third helped to depict my time in college. When I first arrived at Stanford, I was angry with everyone and didn’t want to be close to a single person. But about three months after I first arrived at Stanford, I met my first real friend when he came into our dorm room.

“Leo Rusden-Trigon, Leo Trigon back then, was my roommate. And when I first saw him, I honestly thought he wasn’t real. I mean, you’ve seen him, right?”

Much of the audience nods understandingly and I see Leo blushing harshly. “I was actually intimidated by Leo at first, but I was able to open up a little while. Later that same day, I met Leo’s now husband, then fiancée, Josh Rusden. I thought he was a tank when I first saw him. He was seriously huge. But his light-hearted and calm personality told me he was a nice guy.

“But there was a third man I met that day who would change my life forever, and he was still as handsome as he is today: my boyfriend, Eric Swanson.” I find Eric in the crowd and see he’s smiling brightly at me. “To be honest, when I first met Eric, I hated him on sight because he reminded me so much of my ex-boyfriend.

“On top of that, he was a bit of a jerk, so I wasn’t interested in getting to know him in the least. But luckily for me, Eric was interested in getting to know me. We started talking a lot more and I started to like him. And when he confessed to me that he liked me, I was actually so surprised that I ran out of the bathroom he told me in.

“Things were pretty tense between us afterword, but Eric and I talked again and we had our first kiss about nine years ago. Since then, Eric and I have stayed together and he’s helped me with so much. Back at Stanford, he helped me with my art, gave me a boost of confidence, and I started to make lifelong friends.

“Eric even helped me to reconcile with my parents after almost a year of not seeing them and even gave me the confidence to confront my old high school bullies. I can’t ever thank him enough for all he’s done to help me and I love him every day for it. I always will.”

The audience suddenly starts applauding and I feel myself blushing at it. “I take it the final third of the gallery is your life after college?” a woman calls out.

“Yes,” I say. “After college, Eric started playing for the San Francisco Giants and I began to work as a professional artist. I had a bit of credibility after a gallery showing when I was 19, so it helped me get a start in the art world. Eric and I lived together after college and about two years after we graduated, we decided we were ready to start a family together.

“So we asked my good friend, Meg Schultz, if she would be a surrogate mother for us. She immediately said yes and nine months later, our son, Orson, was born and that was one of the proudest days of my life. Since then, our lives have been absolutely crazy. With Eric playing in baseball games, me working on my art, and us raising Orson together, we often looked like two people who belong in a nuthouse.

“But we’ve raised a wonderful son together, and we love him more than anything. We’ve stayed good friends with all of our friends from college and have made numerous new friends in the process. I feel absolutely blessed to have my life going the way it is, and I wouldn’t want a single thing to change.”

I look around the crowd and try to find my boyfriend, but he seems to have disappeared and Orson is now in Josh’s arms. Suddenly confused, I look around the room, but I can’t seem to find him anywhere. But a sudden pair of footsteps to my right tells me differently. I see Eric stepping onto the stage and I’m left very lost.

Eric walks over to me and smiles down at me. “May I borrow that microphone?” he asks. I hand Eric the microphone and he looks out at the audience. “Hi, everyone. Hope you all don’t mind me stealing the show for a few minutes.”

What the hell is he doing? I’m left standing on the stage, confused as all hell. “You’ve all heard how Zane feels about me,” Eric continues, “but a lot of you don’t know how much Zane really means to me. To me, Zane is…everything. He’s the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning, he’s the last thing I see before I fall asleep, and he’s the one person I want to see every day for the rest of my life.

“I’ve loved Zane every day since we first got together, and I’ll love him until the day I die. He’s the most wonderful man in the world to me and I’ll do anything just to see him smile. And…and I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

My heart suddenly stops at the words. Eric tosses the microphone to Anthony, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, black velvet box. And when I see him slowly fall to a knee, my tears fall without any warning and I choke back a cry, pressing my hand to my mouth. Eric slowly opens the box and sitting inside is a bright, gold wedding band.

Eric smiles up and me while my tears leak onto my hand and a grin hides behind my fingers. “Zane,” Eric says. “Will you give me the honor of being my husband? Will you marry me?”

The audience to my left erupts into cheers and applause but I can’t hear them at all. I’m too busy crying tears of joy. I finally pull my shaky hand from my lips and manage to smile past the tears. “YES!!” I yell. “Dear God, yes!”

Eric’s smile splits into a full-blown grin and I see two tears of his own fall from his eyes. He rises back to his feet and pulls the wedding band from the box and takes my left hand. I hold out my hand and Eric slides the band onto my finger and I feel it’s a perfect fit. Eric takes my face in my hands and presses his lips to mine.

I hear the audience continue to cheer, but right now, it’s just me and my fiancée. Eric pulls away after a minute and wipes my tears from my eyes before wiping his own. Eric keeps an arm around my waist as we turn and look out at the crowd. I find Mom and Dad almost immediately. Mom’s smiling brightly while wiping her face dry and Dad has the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on his face. Sebastian, who’s standing close to them, claps along with the crowd, all the while smiling.

Todd and Hannah both grin widely at us, holding each other closely. Josh and Leo cheer along with the crowd, Orson, Aiden, and Jade cheering with them. Meg and Courtney are screaming at the top of their lungs, jumping up and down like maniacs. Jack, Ty, Shane, Travis, Brandon, and Eric’s former and current teammates are whooping and pumping their fists in the air.

My old college art department friends, Xavier, Blake and Cassadee, and some of my high school classmates and are a mix of cheering, hollering, and crying, but they’re all smiling. Damien and Trevor are both smiling brightly at me, Damien’s arm around Trevor’s shoulders as they both cheer. Charles and Jason and Luke’s family stand close to one another as they smile and cheer for me and Eric.

The crowd is filled with smiles and the cheers continue to what seems like forever. Eric holds me tightly against him as we look out at the crowd filled with our families and friends. Nine years ago, I never would’ve seen myself where I am today: a successful artist with dozens of great friends and a family the loves and cares about me and a wonderful son and a beautiful fiancée.

—-

The me of nine years ago would never have expected that I’d be engaged to the most amazing man I’ve ever known. I probably would’ve punched someone who even joked about that. Now, I couldn’t be any happier than I am right now with Zane. I guess life can make you go through some pretty crazy things, but the crazy things I’ve gone through have been nothing but for the better.

I turn and look down at Zane, who meets my gaze with his beautiful black and blue eyes.

—-

Eric smiles down at me and I smile back at him. He and I wrap our arms around each other and just hold each other tightly, neither of us saying a word, but the love between us saying everything that needs to be said.

I rest my forehead on top of Zane’s head and breath in deeply and slowly, never wanting this moment to end. But as I hold Zane, thoughts pop into my head. Could I have been a straight man and gone and been in a relationship with a woman? Sure, I could have, but now I can’t see myself doing anything else besides marrying Zane.

Could things have gone well for me growing up and I would’ve stayed in Dallas with my family and old high school classmates and gone to college back home? Yeah, it could’ve been like that, but I’m so glad that it didn’t.

Could I have never met Zane and we would have never gotten together? Of course that could’ve happened, but I thank God every day that I met the love of my life.

Could I have never met Eric and I would’ve stayed the angry, hate-filled guy I used to be? Yeah, I guess it could’ve been like that, but I’m so glad Eric changed me for the better.

Zane wraps his arms around me tighter and I can feel his heart beating against my chest.

Eric presses his fingers into my back and I feel happiness spread over me.

Zane pushes his face into my shoulder and I feel his easy breaths putting me at ease.

Eric lifts his forehead off my head and looks down at me and flashes his prefect, white teeth.

Zane grins up at me and his beautiful eyes flash in the light.

“Do you know how much you mean to me?”

“Not as much as you mean to me.”

“I love you, Eric.”

“And I love you, Zane.”

Eric presses his lips to mine and goes back to resting his head on top of mine.

Zane lets his head sit on my shoulder and we continue to sway slowly back and forth.

And at this very moment in time, standing here on this stage with my friends and family watching…

With the love of my life in my arms as I squeeze him tightly…

I feel absolutely and perfectly…

Complete.

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