Date: Thu, 10 May 2018 11:39:07 -0500 From: MC VT Subject: The Battoir Chapter 11 The Battoir - Part 11 ©2017 MCVT August 17, 2017 mcvt2017@gmail.com *** One Saturday, Mr. Reggy showed me porn - he didn't like it much but he had plenty. Looked to me like Dad taught me a very popular practice - men loving men. Mr. Reggy explained that some were actors, and some exhibitionists. "It's fiction for masturbating. Better when skin touches skin." He smiled. Watching the videos made me so hard; I had to turn him over on the couch where we were sitting. I spit on his ass and entered him fast and came hard inside him. Porn made me so horny - or maybe it was because I had a constant teen-age erection. After we showered, he went to make us some snacks - he was a great cook without looking online like Dad. Mr. Reggy was doing everything he could to help me be comfortable with him, I could tell, and I tried. Still, my feelings and Dad's new expectations about Mr. Reggy and me weren't matching up very well in my heart. While Mr. Reggie was in the kitchen, I flipped through a few more of his videos and saw one named "Sauna Doug." "What's that?" I wondered and opened it and immediately recognized the dimly lit sauna at Mr. Grubb's place. It was from the security camera Dad installed. I looked closer and saw my Dad and me that first time he made love with me like a man. Dad was so earnest and incredibly tender as he fondled and kissed me. As I watched, I noticed how he touched me and nuzzled me; how his hands moved across my skin. His hands and thighs trembled occasionally. Turning up the volume, I heard how lovingly Dad spoke with me. I watched as Dad pushed himself inside me that first time and held himself still while my body became accustomed to his erection. Watching my own amazement, my tears and my lust stopped my heart as I recalled the overpowering sensations he gave me the first time... All the feelings of love and being his burned through me. Burned hot - my stomach jerked and I felt a big, hard brick in my chest. I only had that one time with him... As I watched the video, my hand went to my erection as I watched my face change expressions while my body took Dad's erection completely, then his deep thrusts. I studied my movements; I saw Dad's erection pumping slowly, then faster. His lips moved, telling me I was his. Tears. Sweat. My eyes began to burn from the memories that washed through me. My erection went limp in my hand and my throat began to close - I was ready to cry. God, I missed Dad, and my heart shattered. *** Mr. Reggy came and sat beside me, stroking my thigh when he saw me watching the tape of Dad and me. "That's when I fell completely in love with you." He said, handing me an Italian soda. "Beautiful sex. Your father is so gentle, and you're so tender and strong. Incredible warmth - such sensuality between you two. Few people ever have that in their lives." "Where'd you get this?" I asked. "Grubb saw it on his security tape and gave it to me. He can't have anything like that on his computer, so he ditched the entire security system and bought another one." "Do you love boys like Mr. Grubb?" I asked. Mr. Reggy thought for a long time, and then he reached over and took the remote control and turned the video off, and put his arm around me. He lifted my chin and kissed me, holding my head against his. "No." He said. "Little boys are okay, they're cute, but I never wanted sex with them. That doesn't interest me. I love you - and I'd love you if you were ninety years old." "So you're gay?" I asked. "To be honest, when I was your age, I thought I was gay." He kissed me deeply, so it seemed to me like he was gay. "I didn't know much, and we didn't have all the information we have now. Thinking I was gay made me feel cursed - I didn't know there were other ways to be..." "I went away to college and stayed away a long time because my father would have killed me before he'd have anything but a heterosexual son. When I met the guys at college, I had some fun, but never met anyone I loved. "There were plenty of women, and I made friends with them, and I had a girlfriend for a while, but that didn't work out. For the past thirty years I stayed alone and aloof until I saw that tape." His eyes began to tear. "Then, I remembered you and your dad at the fair. Remember me judging your goats?" I nodded, and wanted to move away, but he held me close. "No, don't go away from me. I'll be gentle, and it's time. We need to discuss this." "The people around here think I'm a peculiar old bird, but I've read and studied about why I'm different. No one really has any answers. And, well... for some reason, I saw you, I fell in love. "Surprised myself. Couldn't believe it at first, and fought off the feelings for a while - never thought it would happen. I love you - and I can't help it. Not so much because you're a man, but because of who you are - how you are." He paused and kissed my hand. "When I saw that videotape, I saw how sensual and loving, how responsive you are to tenderness - I wanted to give you tenderness. I wanted to pour my love into you and all over you. Never had anything even near that in my life. "It's about all the indescribable things that happened inside me when I saw you and your dad. Maybe some things I did were wrong, and I never meant to hurt anyone - especially you. In some ways, you have more experience with a lover than I do." I couldn't look at him as I thought about his words. Did I have more experience than a man so much older than me? "I love how gentle you are... My love for you is bigger than our bodies." "If you would have been a girl, well, I don't know what would have happened. Can't say how that would have turned out... I love you, and you're what I've been looking for all my life. Your packaging isn't important to me. Beautiful, but not the reason I love you. The ease of the love you had with your dad is unbelievably attractive to me. I want that same love and I want to give it back to you." My mind was trying to sort things out about love and gayness, other ways to be, sensuality and bachelorhood and all the things that happened inside Mr. Reggy. I'd never had a girlfriend or a boyfriend either, only Dad. "Dad and I - we weren't homosexual - or were we?" I thought. No. That couldn't be - he was my Dad, and he was married to Mom. Some how, something snapped in my brain - I felt sorry for Mr. Reggy. I felt sorry for myself, too. This was all Mr. Reggie would have - a "sensual" sixteen-year-old whore. No family to lead, protect... No one but an inexperienced farm boy to poke him once a week while his workers sniggered behind our backs. And I wasn't sure what made me tender as a lover, or how those kinds of things worked. I looked over at him, and there were tears in our eyes. "Do you understand why I love you?" He asked. "Not really." I told him. He held me close to him and told me he would try to find another way to explain things, "Until then, just know I love you very much, and I'll never hurt you. We'll date, and it has to be a kind of a secret how much I love you. Is that alright?" I nodded; I understood secrets about love very well. *** Through the next several years, Mr. Reggy took me to conferences, goat auctions, and shows, and an international convention of goat people where he judged. He showed me how to check goats for strength, and their natures - lots of good information on the goats and their owners and breeders. I learned a lot about behavior from Mr. Reggy about goat and breeder behaviors. "Conformation to standard," became part of my vocabulary. We downloaded a book about the specific breeds for our screens and the checklists - I would be judging goats like Mr. Reggy one day. He wanted to introduce me to international goat breeders and the opportunities they offered. When someone mentioned a scholarship, he made notes about the group or organization. We reviewed it and downloaded the forms. He explained the different requirements but he refused to help me write my essays if they needed one, but he did edit them for me. Education is expensive, and he had to teach me how to think in semesters and years; thousands and tens of thousands of dollars instead of tens and twenties like at the farmers market. Instead of being overwhelmed with it, we drew out a calendar and filled in the amounts I'd need. Much easier to see it that way, and I thought of the little blocks and years easily after that. Most of the veterinarians and big breeders we met reminded me of Dad in seldom-worn suits and uncomfortable shoes. They'd come from their farms and ranches - like me. They stood and joked and talked just like Dad did at the market and around town. I was comfortable enough around them and learned I could enter their professional, adult world with ease. Mr. Reggy encouraged me to find similarities between these events and my work with Dad; in the market, on the land. "The bigger herd or farm - the more it takes to run it right. Smaller ones run on the same principles." I understood more about cash streams and quality control. Proportionality came into my vocabulary. The bigger your business, the more workers and supplies needed. That's when I saw my father's wisdom - we didn't have enough land to be more than a family farm, so he would always be part-time on the farm and working side jobs. He was making a good life for us with what he had. Mostly, I listened to the adult conversations at the meetings and conferences and smiled as I overcame my reticence about being around so many big shots and well-known people. Mr. Reggy bought all my clothes; I needed to look like the other guys - not a kid or like I just walked out of the goat shed. He enjoyed dressing me, and made sure the clothes fit me perfectly - he took me to a tailor when my legs got longer. We usually got our hair styled at the hotels where we stayed, and I always looked good - better than I'd ever looked in my life. All my waves and curls bowed to the discipline from professional stylists, but the cowlicks still stood proudly in the breezes sometimes. Sure, I flashed my dimples and I could now imagine myself on a beach in France. *** Mr. Reggie and I dated a few times to different bars and clubs where there were plenty of gay men - that only happened when we were outside the state. The gay men didn't look at us twice but talked and joked with us as if we were regular folks. Mr. Reggy stayed close by, and even went to the men's room with me! He had to explain that to me. During our dates to the opera and the ballet, Mr. Reggie taught me appreciation of athleticism, super-talented voices and ancient tales told different ways. We never really went dancing, but on Valentines Day he took me to a place with a hot tub and we got massages and soaked, then went out to eat. I still looked like Dad - it stung my heart sometimes when I looked in the mirror and caught a glimpse of him in my hair and dimples. When I caught a hint of Dad in the mirror under the sun visor in Mr. Reggy's expensive car, my heart hurt. Dad and Rod were turning compost while I was playing the big shot with Mr. Reggy. Mr. Reggy kept me on track with my classes when we traveled; I could access them from anywhere and would work on them while we flew to different meetings. With all the experience I was getting, classes felt almost useless, but I studied hard to take my exams and complete them well. Mr. Reggy hired me as an assistant and split his consultant fees with me when he made presentations on goat breeding and exhibition. That was easy work from his laptop at the back of the room. *** I met younger people, like me from all over the world, women and families when we went to one big conference. It was held in Nigeria, and people came from India, Europe and all over came with all kinds of goats and photos. A lot of women kept and bred goats, and I enjoyed talking with them. I noticed they handled their goats a lot like I did. There were a lot of big companies at the conference selling all kinds of things; every kind of gadget and elixir you could imagine for goats. When they tried to hawk their products to me, I smiled and walked away. My goats were happy and healthy. I'd raised my herd by talking to them and being kind to them, and they seemed very healthy without all the frills - just clean, simple lifestyles for them - petting and talking to them. *** With a lot of encouragement from Mr. Reggy, I decided to go into veterinary medicine. Mom almost burst with excitement when I said I was going to be a doctor, and Dad was so proud. I felt awkward telling Dad - he didn't smile, but he hugged me for a long time, and then left in the truck for several hours. My classes got harder - a lot more Latin terms and complicated microbe lifecycles, parasites and genetic problems. But by this time, I'd cleaned and dressed several goats for Mr. Reggy's freezer and we carefully reviewed the organs, almost like an autopsy, I knew the insides of a goat fairly well. Didn't like eating it, though. Barbequed or not, it made me queasy. Goats were one thing, but I had to study the other animals as well, but I enjoyed it and all the information started dovetailing together in my brain. Soon, I went half a day at the agricultural college, and continued my courses online, and I was able to skip over some of them. *** The money from "working" with Mr. Reggy helped at home - our farm was in full production now, and Dad and Rod kept things humming. Now we had more money than time, and it almost got ahead of us, so we cut back the garden to ease up on our load. Yeah, Mr. Reggy paid an incredible amount of money for my "work." Dad blushed if I mentioned it. Mom thanked me when I gave her the envelope thick with cash every month. I missed skinny-dipping, and the days I was exhausted from farm work and fell asleep so fast. All the money in the world couldn't buy those days back - they were history now. The memories hurt - I missed loving Dad - those memories made my eyes sting. The memories of his love were growing smaller, but my feelings were still intense, hard knots in my heart. *** I worked toward full-time classes at the university when I was nineteen. Mr. Reggy helped with the scholarships and financing so I could continue without a semester off. Seemed the name Bluefeather is easy to remember when people handed out the funds and awards. Being associated with Mr. Reggie didn't hurt either - a lot of people knew him. Mr. Reggy continued to take me to different conventions and conferences about goats and farming. Now it was at least once a month. *** At twenty, I was well versed in goat problems and breeding; I learned who the problem breeders in our state were, and how to avoid them. Livestock from their herds could bring infections and problems to another farm easily. That could destroy the farm and the family as well as cause a state and nation-wide problem. Most of that knowledge was from Mr. Reggy introducing me to different vets and specialists working for the state. These people would be the ones hiring me after graduation, and Mr. Reggy wanted me to start at the top! I flashed my dimples; worked as well with that group. Some of the vets and breeders started looking for Mr. Reggie and me at the conferences and we became something of an informal group called a "goat gang." There were often spirited disagreements among them! That means they argued and cussed about some things. I stood to the side enjoying their repartee, wishing Dad was with me. *** My face, alongside Mr. Reggy's appeared in farming magazines and journals. On my first summer during my post-graduate work, I spent three months in India working on a farm with two other students and a large farming family. Mr. Reggy, Rod and Dad came over to visit me while I was there and took a lot of pictures and video. Yeah, I was proud. Never thought I'd be studying in India - but they had so many goats! It was an old and crowded nation, full of new things for me to learn. But goats are always nosy, noisy animals wherever they live. They all respond to calm, kind treatment, too. That farm in India wasn't much different from our farm, but used a lot more manual labor. I lived with a large family, so there were plenty of hands to help. They were a very active family. Strict, but fun - lots of children running around. Junie should have come, she'd love all their games and songs... Music was always playing in the house, and the women were beautiful. Their golden skin and dark eyes enthralled me and they wore beautifully colored scarves all the time. Indian food was very different, but I ate everything they offered, and learned to like it. I would never have survived if Mr. Reggie hadn't taken me to the toilet and showed me how to use it the right way. That was odd, but I adapted well enough to make it through the weeks and write up my reports. *** As I lived and worked alongside that family, I realized that I was different, I felt "chosen" for some reason - and I was grateful for that mysterious selection. It seemed strange in some ways - some parts of me felt out of place, but other parts felt comfortable. Was I chosen because of my tenderness? Yeah, tenderness - my gentle nature. Mr. Reggy said it was because of my thoughtfulness and an innate awareness - but I wasn't sure. Despite the lessons from the battoir, Dad taught me that a man could be tender and strong, and had given up the battoir to lead us with his love. Our leader even asked for forgiveness. What a big man he was. Without a constant need to impress others with bravado, our true selves came forward and we could begin to build our lives and ourselves on who and what we truly were. Dad hadn't taught me tenderness, but showed me when we made love - a strong, clear lesson each encounter. The more people I met made me realize that tenderness isn't a common trait among humans - this is what attracted Mr. Reggy to me. He spotted it the first time we'd met, then he appreciated and cultivated more inside me while he sharpened my instincts and intellect. The afternoon when Dad took me to Mr. Reggy played again and again in my head; my role, my sun rising, a different strength, my dreams of red earth and the smell of pines and sex. That was Dad's tenderness and generosity, even when it felt at the time he was tearing me away from him. As I look back, I could see that afternoon was not so tender on Dad's heart. *** Mr. Reggy made sure I was sexually satisfied, and he treated me like a lover or a son, depending on where we were. His love for me was profound and deep, and I loved him, in some ways, but he'd never replace Dad. Dad's touch was more comforting, much more comforting to my heart - he'd loved me before I was born. Mr. Reggy was always treated me tenderly and loved me gently. I always returned the same, and we were happy together, often of the same mind. Different hearts; same thoughts - especially about goats. God, I missed Dad.