Date: Sun, 02 Apr 2006 10:21:40 -0500 From: Lance Davids Subject: Life-of-Lance-4 [A Friend of the Family (July 1986 - Summer 1988) tells what followed from hooking up with Ben Clarke and trying to live a "normal" life with him and some of the old gang who had turned me on in the first place. As are all the stories in the series, this part is fiction, imagined from life incidents but not actual in the details and persons.] Ben Clarke fucked me that morning, July 5, 1986. It was a Saturday. He'd been wanting to for eighteen years ever since we first met and I was otherwise attached. I'd always found him handsome and in our freewheeling way, we'd even been physical before but never been very far down the hoary path of all-out sex. Although I'd been depressed over Wallace's death that May, now when I was back with the guys, within 18 hours I was hunkered down in bed with Ben. I was 36 and Ben 43, and I'm proud to say both of us were in excellent physical shape. I exercised, did free weights, jogged and worked outdoors. Ben smoked, but kept himself trim and muscular thanks to his construction work and a lot of screwing around. After sixteen years of monogamy, it was an alien feeling to be with a new man again, but Ben eased me into it. He'd been seductive and gentle the night before, and we'd fallen asleep without sex between us, having just fucked Glenn and Geo respectively when those two roister doisters rode our contested cocks as we were seated on the kitchen chairs. Ben had won the longest hardon contest, and mine was 20 or 22.5 centimeters. These things are hard to measure and really silly given that it's not the size of the wand that counts but the magic inside, as at least one coitus adviser has said. Besides, I go for the overall, and it was Ben's general trimness, musculature and glowing, freckled complexion that hit on me. Besides that was a good first fuck with him. Despite him being such a redneck, badass, tattooed and pierced biker, his romantic moves, caressing me all over and whispering in my ears, brought me round to him. I loved his deep, luscious, nicotine-scented kisses. We'd fucked at dawn, Ben nudging and kissing me awake, thrashed around and banged away for about an hour, and taken an early morning swim to rinse off before snuggling back in bed. It was midmorning when we got up and some of the other guests were arriving for Glenn's annual birthday bash. Celebrations had gotten a lot bigger since I'd been at his orgiastic party eighteen years before when we all took turns fucking him. Former students, fellow teachers, bartenders, professors he'd had (ahem!) and all their buddies - almost anyone that Glenn had turned on and tricked with - were welcome. About thirty guys showed up that day. Everyone brought food and booze. And some of them, who so well knew Glenn to be on the weed, carried along their stash too. I worried we would be raided, not so much for the nudity and public display of sex that routinely prevailed at Hidden Lake but because of all the drugs. Geo, whose house we occupied, took readily to supervising the logistics, especially all the food, though he delegated the bar, set up outside between the cottage and garage. Except for Geo and a few professor types, most were under forty and half under thirty. And because of that and Glenn's preference for athletes, it was a definitely an exciting throng with thirty-some hunks, all buffed up and tan, dressed in minimal bikinis, jocks, thongs or nothing. Activities consisted of sunning, swimming, volleyball, badminton and retreats to the bushes. A hammock set up in the back had several workouts that day. By evening, almost everyone was looped or stoned, and accommodating them all for the night began to puzzle me. But everyone double-doubled inside and the garage was cleared to put in air mattresses and serve as a bunkhouse for those who wanted an old-fashioned back room scene in the dark. That turned out to be Glenn, a couple horny devils like him, and about ten of the younger guys. Ben and I were reprieved by crowding in with Geo, who though sixty-eight, still wanted to crawl up my ass. However, Geo crashed shortly after we got naked, and Ben took the inside between us, cuddling with me until we, too, fell asleep. Nevertheless, the next morning was another matter. 'No fair, you bucks,' Geo startled us awake, as he climbed between us. Obviously he'd been up to relieve and freshen himself, and he was raring for action. 'It's not my preference to want a quickie, my lovelies, but I've got to get going soon on breakfast for this horde of starved sybarites. Just do me, and make it fast and hard.' I was a bit dumbfounded, not too quickly coming awake, but Ben was ready for or used to the initiative. 'I'll take the back, Lance; you take the front.' And he began jacking himself so that he could ram Geo's rectum. Though Geo was gray as a dusty sheep, his massive amounts of hair that had always turned me on were still there in abundance, and I began winnowing my fingers through his pelt, playing with his nipples and grinding against his cock. We kissed deeply, his hot, luscious tongue exciting me to a puddle of willingness. Geo held my ears and then directed my head down there. 'Lance Baby, darling Lance, suck me. If I can't have your ass just now, I'll want to fuck your mouth.' I eagerly obeyed this daddy of daddies who had always been kind and lovingly generous to me even though I thought him on the nasty old man side. In fact, I was so eager that my teeth clanked against the palang that he still wore through his glans. It took a few moments to adjust how to suck around it. I couldn't imagine being fucked by it. Geo began to moan with the pleasure of Ben in his backdoor and me at the front. Even though he must have crooned with hundreds of guys tens of thousands of times over the decades, he sounded truly appreciative and sincere this time as well. The wonder of sex, I guess, is that you can't get enough, and a decent share of the time when you get lucky it's a good lay, even when it isn't so great. I had to admire this guy who'd probably been banging away for over fifty years, and was still hot to get it on. While I plied and twisted his nips, Ben groped and pressed his nuts. Geo set up a pelvic swing, humping my mouth in sympathy with the slamming Ben was giving him. Geo's moan turned to a groan, rising in volume. One thing about this place at Hidden Lake, no one hid anything and no one tried to keep quiet. Who knew how many couplings or multiples were going on around us at that very minute? Likely one set of noisy action inspired others in a long chain reaction that took awhile to move through the group before it could die down. Geo shouted inarticulately as he shot his wad down my greedy throat, and an instant later Ben joined in the exuberation, pumping himself up Geo's much ravaged backside. Geo and Ben quaked in harmony and flopped back, I climbed between them with Ben swallowing my balls and Geo sucking my meat with more lusty energy than I'd ever felt. A bolt of lightning went through me and I felt like Frankenstein's monster coming to life, wild and free and very much alive. So this was what shock treatment was like. I spasamed my flood of joy juice all over my abdomen, chest and face, and both my buddies lapped at me sucking the viscous stuff off my upper body. I thrashed under their lips, it was so intense. We three lay spent and still for a minute except for our panting. Then we kissed and hugged all around, and Ben said, 'It's time for another dip.' Other guys were out in the lake soaping and rinsing off, likely recovering from much the same frolic of events as we. No one was dressed though they'd brought towels and robes out. Geo, always cheery and the champion of hospitality, greeted all around and soon was marshalling help for the bountiful breakfast that was to follow. He dressed as of yore in his red jockstrap, become so faded and tattered that his genitalia was mostly on view among the threads. All that time-tested equipment poked beneath the XXL t-shirt that brought a modicum of modesty to his bearish frame. I got to know quite a few guys that day, thanks to interesting conversations and more than my share of being touched in greeting, fondled in conversation, caressing in agreement, hugged in encouragement and kissed in brotherly expectation during one day than ever before in my 36 years. About 20 of us signed up for church at Geo's urging. I know we filled four cars with five or six each, more than I could get in my jeep. Father Justus, amazingly still alive though in his late eighties, looked elated at the sight of us. By the time we got back, people had already started to drift away, and by mid afternoon, it was just the four of us again. Geo broached the subject. 'Let's talk about the future. What are your plans, Lance darling?' 'I haven't said anything before,' was my beginning as I cleared my throat. 'But I decided in coming here, I was breaking with the past. Everything I own is with me. I thought maybe I'd travel a bit.' What an opener! Glenn wanted me to go with him, as did Ben. Geo wanted me to stay with him. Glenn offered to support me if I wanted more school; Ben would give me a job. Geo would dote on me, give me all the space I wanted, and only expect to fuck me every other day. On the off days, I could fuck him. I laughed them all off, and said, 'Thanks a lot, all of you, but why don't I just take off for a couple weeks, drive down to Texas and back to think things over, and see you then.' They threatened to wrestle me for possession of my car keys, but in the end agreed to a sure compromise. I'd come back after two weeks on the open road. Ben persuaded me more for my own good to return home with him for the night and have the benefit of a fresh start Monday morning. I could get to I94 and I35 easily from where he lived, and on 35 I could go all the way to Laredo on the Rio Grande if I wanted. That sounded a practicable deal, and I could have another night with my new found buddy and still be free of any commitments. I felt bad about leaving Geo to himself, wondering what this very sociable guy did when alone. 'Will you be all right, Dok?' using the nickname I hadn't spoken for 18 years. He smiled and reached out to me. 'I will be okay, knowing you're coming back to me.' When I kissed him goodbye, he held on to me for a long time and I felt his tears on my neck. Glenn agreed to stay until early the next morning when he'd have to hustle back to his school superintendent's job. I followed Ben on his Harley, speeding to keep pace with the man in his leathers, liking the way he moved his bootie on the cycle in front me. He'd located his business in Little Falls twelve years before, and his company took advantage of both lakeshore building and the sprawl that was spreading along 94 from Rogers to Alexandria. For a building contractor, Ben had a modest cottage on the Mississippi River. It was so wooded and secluded there, I doubt I could have found it myself. It was still light as we came in the drive, and I spied a lanky young kid sitting on the back steps. He stood as Ben got off his chopper and I out of my jeep. I could see Ben looking at him quizzically as he had never seen the kid before. 'Who the hell are you, and what the fuck are you doing here?' 'I'm Kirk Donnelly, your son. Yours and Lilly's kid.' I could see he had the lithe build and auburn haired, freckled complexion of his father. 'Holy mother of God, you're shitting me.' Ben sounded truly surprised. 'No shit, Dad.' 'Don't call me Dad, even if I am. Call me Ben.' 'Let's go in and sit down,' I said, hoping to quiet things. 'Kirk, I'm Lance; I'm visiting.' 'Sure. I know about Dad - Ben, I mean.' I liked the kid right away. We sat at the kitchen table. 'Tell me what the fuck is going on.' Ben was still worked up, so rudely surprised to be angry about it. 'Okay, it's like this. Long story short: You got Mom pregnant and told her you were too queer for guys to make a good husband for her. She married Joseph Donnelly and when I was four divorced him. There's been a series of boyfriends. She's stuck on the present one, and I can't stand him trying to boss me around. I've known for a long time that you're my biological father. When I complained to mom about Frank, the current guy, she said go to you. "It's your turn," she said; she's had me for 14 years. Your sister knew where you lived. I hitched here and have been waiting since yesterday.' Ben had listened, open-mouthed; nervously, he lit a cigarette. 'This isn't the best place for you. For one thing I'm gay, and I have a lot of guys around here. Horny guys.' I thought this a curious tack. 'Gay-schmay!' Kirk tossed his head. 'Big deal. I've been around.' 'What does that mean?' I was curious too. 'I know when to say yes and when to say no. I've gotten my rocks off with the guys a couple times. So what?' 'This is not your usual teenage mutual jerkoff I'm talking about.' Ben was shouting at him. 'Give me a break, fudge packer. Who cares?' Ben took a deep drag. 'I do if I'm supposed to be responsible for you and some guy rapes you.' 'Oh, for the sake of Jesus H. Christ, Ben. Get real. Either you have to show better taste in the trade you bring around or quit worrying. Besides, I'm not exactly easy to pin down.' Kirk looked over at me. 'What about you, Lance, am I jailbait for you?' 'Good point, Kirk. I'm not interested in boys; at least since I was a boy. Even then I went for older guys.' 'See, Ben. Nothing to worry about.' Kirk paused, leveling his eyes on his dad. 'Ben, could you give me one of your Marlboros. I'm out of cigs.' 'You're not smoking in my house.' 'Why not, you are.' Ben had an extra bedroom, but no extra bed. But, he soon set it up with his camping gear - an air mattress and sleeping bag. Meanwhile I rustled some scrambled eggs, American fries, franks, and steamed carrots. Kirk ate ravenously and drank about half a gallon of milk. By then he was yawning and went directly to bed. Ben and I went out on the front deck to smoke. 'Talk about the sins of the fathers,' Ben moaned. 'All it took was one fling with Lilly the filly. I was drunk, and she was all over me. I don't suppose she told Joe Donnelly she was preggers by me 'til he married her, the fucking bitch. She was 17 or 18 and as bodacious as a picture in a girlie magazine.' 'Sorry, not my experience.' I remembered Playboy and looking for the pictures of the naked guys showing muscle if not cock. Ben held is head in his hands. 'I can't do this.' 'Let's sleep on it,' I proposed. We got in bed and Ben said nuzzling against me. 'Wouldn't you know Lilly'd name the kid Kirk. She was such a freaking Star Trek fan.' He sighed deeply, sorted himself out against me and fell asleep, snoring softly. How good it was to be nested with a man again. I missed and needed that. I aroused Ben next morning, licking his balls and cock to a mighty erection and then rode him cowboy style till he came, jacking myself to pour my cum on him while he gave to me. Since I had him in a good mood, I said, 'Here's the deal. I'll stay with you as you offered, and we can have an open relationship if you really need that and can't keep kosher. I prefer something closer and safer. But I'd help you with Kirk. 'I was an orphan, and I know how bad and lonely it is to be unwanted and unattended. If we don't take him in, Kirk will be forced onto the streets, likely selling himself and being abused. We can't have that. After awhile, we'll figure out how I can work for you. Okay?' 'Okay.' That was easier than I thought. Then Ben said, 'I have to say, you're a godsend.' 'We'll see.' I was trying to be realistic. When I'd kissed Ben goodbye and sent him off to work, I got Kirk up and to the breakfast table. 'I'll be staying with Ben for awhile, maybe a long while.' 'I'm used to boyfriends living in,' he said; 'most of them aren't too bad.' 'Good,' I said. 'First off, I have to check things here, make a list, and then we're going shopping.' 'Shopping?' It must be a new experience for the kid, I thought. 'Right. I need a few things, and you've come here with nothing but a backpack?' 'I'm dying for a cigarette,' his principal concern. 'Me, too, a sure sign it's time to quit.' I'd been smokeless with Wallace for sixteen years. I ought to be able to go awhile for Kirk's sake, I figured. We hit the thrift stores in St. Cloud and a Ragstock on Division Street. I found three t-shirts I liked and another faded jeans. Kirk latched on to a dozen tawdry Ts and held out for a couple newer jeans. Then sneakers at Penneys, underwear there, socks and toiletries at Target. I got steel toe work boots. We looked at books everywhere we went, ending up at Waldenbooks in the mall, but I couldn't get Kirk interested in anything except hotrod magazines and comic books. For lunch we ate Mexican, a novelty for him that seemed to go all right. The kid was a master at being either noncommittal or disdainful. Thanks to the Salvation Army store, supplemented by other places, we furnished Kirk's bedroom: twin bed frame and spring, mattress (Daytons) and linens (Target), small dresser, and lamp plus shade (Target). It took renting a u-Haul trailer to bring the stuff back. We bought groceries in Little Falls, and once settled at the house started cleaning. Ben arrived home, surprised at what we'd done in a day and upset that Kirk was still with us. 'You're encouraging him.' 'Yes, I am.' I was surprised how happy I sounded. 'I don't like it.' 'Then put yourself in his place.' 'Fuck you.' 'Later, Ben.' I thought Ben was jealous of the attention I gave Kirk. He'd expected that Ben and I would be a totally fun-loving couple. Now that we were in the family way, it was another matter entirely. Ben worked hard during the day, and he expected his treats. For a while, I thought Ben might tell us both to hit the road. But within the week, he saw the benefit of my home cooking and cleaning, a steady diet of sex the way he wanted it, and help with the business. I took over the bookwork of Clarke Construction from him. By the weekend, everything was copasetic, as my late husband used to say. We debated a bit whether to take Kirk with us to the lake or leave him home by himself. When we briefed Kirk on how weekends at the lake worked, we gave him the choice to go or stay alone, and he opted for the lake, rather eagerly I thought. Geo was so overjoyed to see us, he became immediately grandfatherly and solicitous on Kirk's behalf, creating a room of his own for the kid out of space in the garage. Glenn, whose nudity went unabated, set a model for the kid to go just as natural - the first I saw Kirk had the goods to match his father's - and taught the boy to swim, canoe, bicycle, and play badminton and volleyball. Always the coach, bless him. Ben bunked with Glenn. 'I need variety,' he said, but I suspected he wanted to be sure Coach wasn't prowling around in the garage at night and he kindly wanted to give me over to Geo's tender loving care. So Dok had his wish with me. He liked to fall asleep cuddling and wake me when he was rested and eager, his palanged whanger between my legs. I learned Georgias was mostly into frottage and finger fucking my ass. For the geezer really loved 'to play' and be fucked himself. I have to say I loved him, unexpectedly, while with Ben, who was exciting and expert, we were comrades, teammates, fuck buddies. I found myself responding spontaneously with Geo, performing the nasty with Ben. Ben excited me; Geo engulfed me. I'd worried what plunking a 14-year old in the midst of four sex-crazed gay guys, 36 to 68, would do to Kirk. Bad examples that we all were in our various ways, we would surely affect a kid's precarious psychological development, whatever his bravado. But it seemed to loosen up the lad when he saw the mixed dimensions of his elders, from Glenn's athleticism and cannabis addiction to Georgias' brazen exhibitionism and devotion to the weekly mass. Kirk opened up in the group, laughed and talked more about his experiences, feelings and thoughts, than during our past week together at Ben's house when the two of us were mostly frequently alone together. He even told jokes with a gay spin, as follows. 'Minnie Mouse felt that things were not going right with her marriage to Mickey. Suspicious, she hired a detective to spy on him. When the detective reported back to Minnie, she said, 'I can't divorce Mickey because he's crazy.' The detective said, 'I didn't say he was crazy. I said he was "fucking Goofy."' At one point, I heard Dirk tell Dok that he missed the friends he had in his previous town. In the next week, I worked to find him friends. He had no background or interest in any organization like Scouts or 4H, or any team sport like Baseball. Church was out of the question since we were gone most weekends. Finally I hit on a job at the supermarket, bagging groceries and stocking shelves. It worked. The other boys there knew other boys and soon Kirk's circle of acquaintances expanded. Within a few weeks, they were organizing fishing trips, bicycle rides, hikes along the river, cards and board games, camping if only in the back yard. As far as I knew, Kirk never hid that he was living with his father and his father's partner, though I don't think he ever made clear which one of us was his father or just how we were partners. I realized I had to think ahead to the school year, getting Kirk registered for high school and all. When the school got his transcripts, the counselor's office called, and I went in. 'His father's always occupied at work,' I said; 'I'm Mr. Clarke's office manager and a friend of the family.' Despite Kirk's forward personality and verbal display, Kirk was a failing student. He had a fourth grade reading ability and sixth grade at math. He'd have to enroll in the 8th grade when chronologically it should be at least 9th, and socially he was at the 10th grade level. That's when I decided I had to school him at home until I could get him up to his proper level. Because I had a Minnesota teacher's license, they let me see all his records and diagnostic tests. Fortunately, he could take some classes in school at the freshman level- physical education and health, industriology, family life, chorus and band (percussion, of course), and art. But I had to work with him overcoming the flaws in his basic subjects - English, reading, math (from fractions and decimals to algebra)-and the core ones - social studies, including history, and general science. Brushing up on algebra was enough of a challenge for me, but language was going to be a killer. Then Geo heard about it and pitched in. 'Let's start with Latin,' he announced. 'Latin?' I protested. 'This is the 20th century, Dok.' 'Better than Greek for our purposes. Latin is easy to learn; I'll make it fun, and when Kirk's got the rudiments, we can go on with that foundation in the romance languages to Italian, Spanish and French.' 'You're the teacher,' I relented. As it turned out, I learned alongside Kirk, and by the end of summer we had heated Scrabble bouts with all the words on the board in the ancient Roman tongue. Better than the obscene slang scrabble we sometimes played. Over the long Labor Day weekend, Ben and I went to Chicago. Kirk and his friend, Nick, stayed at the lake. Fortunately, Glenn was at his 30th year high school class reunion, followed by an uncle's 50th year wedding anniversary. Ben had been itching to have me to himself uninterrupted for a few days. We took Amtrak from St. Cloud one early Thursday and returned at midnight the following Tuesday. Between times Ben bought me leathers, we did an onslaught of gay bars, and played around or fucked morning and night. I got tattooed and pierced. I have to say that although my urges in gay sex ran along vanilla lines - sucking and fucking in a variety of positions - other aspects of homoeroticism from the kinkier side turned me on too. I couldn't bring myself to S&M, but the mere appearances of tough and heated man on man sex were enough in themselves to get me hard. Among them were leather, tattoos and body piercing. First I had my nipples pierced like Ben's. He had a Prince Albert installed that day while waiting for me, but I wasn't ready for that. By preference, habit, learning or choice - it's hard to sort out why we are the way we are- I have been fussy about style. Ben's burly, macho, biker-oriented tats were certainly virile and stimulating, but really mainstream. In good weather, from the cool sunshine of May to the hot bake of August, he liked to show himself off in sleeveless muscle shirts, tanks or going bare chested. For business purposes, his Harley and Eagle designs were traditional and offensive only to prudes. I wanted something both artistic enough for my taste and more obviously giving a homo to homo gaydar signal. When Ben offered me the gift of tattoos, I already knew what I wanted having thought about it for some months. Two things were involved - expense for high quality and the time involved for a good job. So I started small. At $100 an hour, I got inked on the upper outside deltoid of each arm, just over the edge below the shoulder, both areas about the size of an orange. On the right, a multi-tongue flaming sun, molten red-gold in appearance; on the left, a crescent silvery moon with three blue-diamond stars in its horns. This first phase took a good part of a day of our Chicago time; later I would complement them with the more erotic figures. With my arms swathed in antibiotic cream and wrapped in gauze we went to make the spoon before eating at My Brother's Place, changing to our leathers and hitting the bars. I've already alluded to Ben being on the exhibitionist side. We navigated from place to place in bar vests, leather jocks, and chaps that exposed a lot of skin including our bare asses, the ties at the back of the chaps falling between our buttocks. On the el and in the street, we wore denim dusters over our come-on gear. With our long hair at the time, we each looked like we'd just stepped out of a Mad Max movie. And we met a lot of guys who were not hesitant to grope and fondle and proposition us from the Gauntlet and Bolt to the Vortex where we were competition for the go-go boys. It was the cap of our summer. Of course, both ways Ben pestered me to go for a fuck in the little toilet compartments of Amtrak. To him it seemed totally erotic. I wasn't about to be thrown off the train in the middle of Nowhere, Wisconsin. Instead, Ben pretended to fall asleep so that the jostling of the train threw him against me in the seat and his hand flopped "accidentally" between my legs. When we got back to Little Falls, Kirk had already spent the first day in his classes, he and Nick brought back to town by Nick's parents on Monday. 'Georgias was on his best behavior,' Kirk told me. 'I didn't know he owned shorts.' Kirk began to take to his studies, and I felt I was making strides with my tutoring. When Ben's piercing healed, he was back to fucking me on a regular basis and all seemed happy in our household. Nevertheless, Ben kept to his past schedule, going to Mexico with Geo. He took him down in October, making the trip in his pickup with his Harley in tow. I stayed with Kirk because of school until the Xmas holidays when we flew to San Diego. Ben picked us up to make the last leg to Geo's place near San Felipe on the Sea of Cortez. Geo, overjoyed, rushed out of his house to welcome Kirk and me, and the geeze had yours truly in bed within an hour of arrival. After the fuck, as he cuddled me, I realized how much I had missed him and how he could be so giving and appreciative of the smallest tokens of love and affection. Geo's home in the Baja proved remarkably different from that at Hidden Lake, more than a change in architecture and geography or culture. Character made the difference and how Geo used this setting, as though he was another person. Here stone, ceramic and plaster gave a rich, warm Mediterranean flavor distinct from the timber, glass and fabric of his cool, relaxed, but spare Minnesota dwelling. A riot of blossoms in hot colors replaced the conifers and foliage of the north woods. And here were all of Dok's books and papers. He actually studied and worked each weekday, went about in shorts, shirts and sandals, and was part of the San Felipe community, starting with the middle age couple - Mariana, the housekeeper, and Iago, the gardener and handyman - who took care of the place year round. They lived above the carriage house; the garage below. Dok drank moderately, only a couple glasses of wine at supper, and seemed less overtly sexual, more of a lover and less of a fucker or fuckee, as the case happened to be with me. His dwelling was ample with two stories and four upstairs bedrooms, one used as his office where he read and wrote. He had a lot of correspondents around the world, still did theology, and was writing his memoirs. His library of almost 20,000 volumes rambled through every room in the house except the kitchen and bathrooms. They were in a myriad of languages, accumulated during his life, and ranged from folklore to art, erotica, and science fiction, though religion, philosophy, linguistics and the classics of many cultures dominated - all very high quality in content and handsome examples in printing and binding of the book arts themselves. While Geo worked, always 9 to 1 every weekday, we explored, Ben eager to show us San Felipe and its environs. Kirk did a lot of wandering on his own, and Ben would take me out on his Harley. He liked to find secluded spots and fuck in the wilds where the crash of the sea or rush of tides contributed to his own excitement and gush of fluids. Admittedly, the whole scene made me hot and eager to do the rocket man thing myself. We'd arrived on the 20th and by the morning of the 24th were in the thick of holiday preparations, decorating with a tree, hand made ornaments of glass, painted and fired clay, papier maché, straw, and cohorts of candles. Geo rationed power from his generator and reserved electric lights for outside. Geo bustled in the kitchen all afternoon and by 7 p.m. guests began to arrive, a bevy of expatriates and locals. I was surprised he knew so many people, mostly retired academics, clergy or professionals, who all seemed to know one another as well. The place became a welter of languages, everyone speaking alternately Spanish, English, other European languages, others I could not figure, or even Latin. I swear, Latin. It was heady. About 30 people stayed for a six-course dinner, served by Mariana and Iago. About 11 p.m., as we finished the sorbet and liqueurs, the group joined the lively and colorful crowds in the streets outside, chatting and laughing on their way to various churches. Geo led us to an old church, humble stucco outside, but a baroque explosion inside - painting, statuary, wood carving, tapestry and gilt everywhere you looked. Despite the hymns and homily in Spanish, still unfamiliar to me, it was thrilling. I was surprised, though, how much of the Latin mass I could follow. The service lasted until after midnight, and the town was still alive with people and merriment as we returned home, just the five of us in Geo's 'household.' Geo, Ben, Kirk and I sat down with Mariana and Iago to a simple midnight snack of cornbread and honey, warm milk, and unsweetened strawberries. Everyone felt very mellow and we went to bed, Ben and I cosseted with Geo between us. 'Everything was so wonderful, Dok,' I remember saying as I drifted off. When we woke, Geo was already up and busy at breakfast. I didn't own a swimsuit having always gone naked or in my jockstrap at the lake, but Ben provided me one of his bikinis to do laps with him in Geo's pool. When I was through, Kirk, almost fifteen, used my suit, looking mighty fine in it. Geo had made it understood that at Christmas, we gave to charity and made only modest gifts to one another. I thought Kirk would be crushed over these restrictions, but he'd never been used to much at Christmas and nothing for his birthday. As it turned out, the gift giving was jubilant and all the more inventive for being restrained. To Geo, our jovial host, I gave a Saint John's University size XXX T and Ben gave a splashing black and white floral Hawaiian shirt. Glenn sent a book of Mapplethorpe photographs of male nudes, the most expensive item opened that day. Kirk had bought a new jock strap for Geo and tie-dyed it himself in scarlet, with bursts of black and gold. Geo gave Ben a studded leather, snap-on cock ring, and Glenn sent chained nipple rings in surgical steel. I gave Ben skin cream because I worried about all his exposure to the sun, and Kirk gave his father a Harley bandana. Geo, Glenn, and Kirk gave all the same gifts to me as to Ben. I thought we were more coupled in their minds than we were in our own. But Ben gave me a butt plug and dildo 'so you'll never miss me,' the card said. Kirk, who was made to wait until last, became the center of attention. Geo gave him a soccer ball. 'Leave it here, and come back and learn the game,' Geo invited. 'Your fathers can come too.' Ben and I looked at one another. Glenn sent a box of condoms with the greeting, 'These are to be used just in case.' cryptic enough and causing a good deal of nudging and laughter. Kirk blushed only mildly. I gave the kid Palmer's translation of the Odyssey, the edition I had enjoyed at his age. Ben gave (really I picked them out) a set of watercolor paints and brushes. Geo gave his servants a week off at the end of each year and a cash bonus to travel around to their several children's families. The four of us remaining toured the area up the mountains and south along the coast. We were worn out by New Year's eve, when Geo trooped us again to mass. Sadly, Kirk and I left the next day, while Ben would be spending six more weeks in the warm and sunny Baja. Ben came back to Little Falls mid-February, his usual schedule, and in time for Kirk's fifteenth birthday, February 17. He complained about the cold, but soon was busy, lining up contracts and checking with the crew he would need come groundbreaking season. In the spring, I began to put into practice around the house the landscaping plans that had been my winter diversion. By May, I had developed my own sideline renting a couple acres north of Little Falls and starting a Minnesota-hardy nursery to go into the landscaping business, Lance's Landworks. Corny, I know. Kirk was getting As in school, not surprising since all his subjects were not really conceptually challenging, working at the supermarket and doing a lot of reading. Geo had a greater influence on him in that department than I or anyone else. I think it was because Kirk realized Geo's interest was by choice and not necessity or obligation. Besides Geo had the gift of sincerity and showing that he really cared about someone. At fifteen, Kirk read the Asimov robot and empire books, and some of his collections of essays from the Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Clarke's Childhood's End and Rendezvous with Rama, Herbert's Dune, that I found too dense, Brunner's Shockwave Rider, The Lord of the Rings in trilogy, besides a host of classics and other books for the college bound, such as Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn, Cry the Beloved Country, To Kill a Mockingbird, Lord of the Flies, Steinbeck's The Pearl (set in the Baja), The Grapes of Wrath, and Of Mice and Men, and the Rieu translation of The Iliad. He topped off the spring with The Fountainhead. Then one March day, Kirk said to us at supper. 'What are you guys doing to protect yourselves from AIDS? Have you been tested?' Likely, he learned this concern in family life class. Who says the schools don't teach anything? I about choked, and Ben raged, 'What in the hell business is that of yours?' 'Mainly, Ben, I care about you and Lance, and I don't want to wind up either fatherless or having to take care of two gay guys with multiple diseases on their death beds.' I was glad Kirk brought up the subject; I knew I'd not been facing the issue as I should. 'You're right, Kirk, we need to talk about this with one another.' Ben shouted at me. 'You're going to let this kid tell you what to do?' 'No.' I tried to remain calm. 'But I'm going to follow up on his question. What am I doing? I'm limiting my sex partners to the few I know best.' 'But, Lance,' Kirk persisted, 'what are they doing. Who knows where Glenn, Geo, and Ben are putting their pricks when you're not around?' 'Enough of that.' Ben pushed away from the table and went outside to smoke. 'Thank you, Kirk,' I said. Excuse me while I go and reconcile with your Dad.' Tense and uneasy as I was, I asked Ben for a cigarette that he gave testily, glaring at me. He didn't light it but passed me his lighter. 'Do you want to tell me anything, Ben?' 'You know I never promised you anything,' he said. 'Draw your own conclusions.' 'I conclude you've fucked guys from Brainerd to Sur Baja.' 'So?' he flared back, not denying it. I was cool. 'I'm going to get tested tomorrow. Then we'll know one more thing.' Kirk stuck his head out the door and called, 'Here, Lance, catch. You may need these more than me right now.' He threw me his box of condoms. As it turned out, I did need them. Since Ben and I still slept together, and it took an anxious week for the test results, neither of us could go more than a day without some carnal action that involved sharing body fluids, and we weren't about to jerk one another off. When my test showed HIV negative, I assumed my buddies were too, at least for the time being. 'What do you want, Ben? Truth or dare?' 'A condom is like taking a shower in a raincoat,' he said. But he relented, having had time to realize he had a good thing going with me. 'Fuck with me steady, and I'll save my whangdoodle for only you.' I was relieved, and I chose to believe him. Despite his bluster, he'd likely been scared to reality too. For my birthday in April, Ben gave me a Harley to match his and taught me to ride it. He wasn't what I call loving, but he could be grandiose in his generosity. That chopper gave me incentive to finish off my tattoos, going to Minneapolis for them where I could shop around for quality. On my right below the sun went the centaur, rearing on his hind legs, his muscled arms reaching up to frame the sun. He was covered with horsehide, of course, except for his manly torso rising out of the beast where he was smooth, and he was bald, but with pierced nips like mine. On the left below the moon and stars stood the Minotaur, a hairy monstrosity with ring in his bull nose, his U-shaped horns framing the moon. He had bull feet but a broad human chest and human arms held out from his sides. And here's the erotic part. Besides emulating buffed up he-hunks, each of these mythic creatures was hung with sizeable balls and a considerable arching cock in the Tom of Finland style. These two guys pranced across my biceps so that I had to wear short sleeves to the elbow when I went out in polite public. Ben and I started riding with biker clubs, mostly the gay and leather Atons, but did a couple runs along the Mississippi so that we could go to bars and show off our sexy bods, accoutrements, and how obviously physical we were with one another. We ran the risk of getting beat up in some hetero biker bars, but Ben liked courting the thrill. I felt better in the gay bars of Lacrosse and Dubuque. That summer, Kirk went to work for Clarke Construction, mostly as a carrier and errand boy. It was hard work and long hours, but it kept him from fooling around, and he saved his money partly from not having opportunity to spend it and partly from knowing from childhood what poverty was like. Weekends were still spent at Hidden Lake where Geo gave Kirk intensive Latin sessions, but in his usual fun loving way. They read Caesar's De Bello Gallico with Geo acting out the scenes while simultaneously quoting the general's descriptions of peoples and battles; it was better than charades. He knew all of Catullus by heart and sang the naughty poet's erotica as dirty ditties. Here's one example [translation based on Copley, c1957]. See here- a poet's expected to have some sense of decency and taste, but no one ever said his poems had to be cleared by the Office of Purity. They'd have no fun; they'd have no dazzle without a dash of that ageless itch and something to rouse the oldest urges (and I don't mean just for you young birds but for those old boys who've kinda lost the way things swing). Not you; you read about a thousand kisses or so and want to make a queer out of me? Nuts to you, boys, nuts and go to hell. Meanwhile, Geo was spinning a plan and selling its action for the coming year. Kirk could spend his sophomore year near Geo's house, going to a private boys' school between San Felipe and Mexicali that Geo knew to be exceptional. Kirk could use his own savings as spending money and incidentals; Geo, Ben and I would split his tuition and fees. Kirk would emerge with a unique education, high placement entry for his last two years of high school back home and proficiency in Latin, Spanish, and English. Only Ben took convincing, mostly about the cost of the investment. Finally, all was agreed and because of the lateness of entry, Geo had to pull some strings to get Kirk accepted, but he knew the right people. At the end of August 1987, I took Kirk and Geo down in my jeep, pulling my Harley, and Kirk went off to the all-boys, Dominican-operated, boarding school. Geo and I, dressed in summer suits, saw him at school on Sundays for Community Mass and dinner, and, dressed in shorts, at home for various breaks, Saints days, and holidays. Even then he was studying half the time. Those weeks between weekends with Kirk, were the first times that Geo and I were consistently alone together. It was bliss. I realized how fully I loved his company, his total focus on me when we were together, and his sweet sex with me despite his experience, willingness to experiment and general rambunctious nature. 'In my old age, I've discovered I'm a bear and have been my whole life; you're a bear, too, Lance.' I was only beginning to understand what that meant. While Geo was occupied in his office, I looked for things to do, hiking the area, riding my Harley into town to do the marketing, helping Iago in the garden. Because none of it filled up my time, Geo recognized my restlessness. 'You need a project,' he said. And then he suggested, 'Use your imagination, write a gay porn novel.' Thus Hitchin' 69 was born. At first I was embarrassed at what I had done, but Geo, who refused to read it until I was sure I was through, offered a few editing suggestions, and I sold it to Brandon Books who published it. I got $200 out of the deal, about 75 cents an hour, and the satisfaction of being published. Ben came down as usual from Thanksgiving to Valentine's Day, and I rode back with him, leaving my jeep. At the end of the school year in which Kirk had excelled as Geo predicted, he brought Dok in the Jeep back to Minnesota and worked another summer in construction. That summer of 1988 our lives changed. It started with a series of phone calls Glenn made to Ben. A State Trooper had stopped Glenn for erratic driving one night coming home from Bemidji and found him to be holding a marijuana cigarette. Suddenly scared of the fracas that would erupt, Glenn resigned his superintendent's job and bargained out of jail time by getting a doctor to refer him to Hazleden for the full treatment on his addiction. Ben moved Glenn's stuff from his apartment to storage and arranged to sell Glenn's mother's house for him. Then Ben informed me that after Glenn's 30 days at Hazleden, he was going to withdraw his teacher's retirement as a lump sum, invest in Ben's business and go into selling real estate. Glenn would move into the house. 'Move in? But, Ben, there isn't room.' Ben looked at me levelly. 'There is when you leave.' I sat down in shock, not saying anything for several minutes. I'd let myself fall into assuming our partnership was for real and primary as far as we had mutual interests. 'What about Kirk?' I said finally. 'Yeah, what about Kirk? You would ask that first and foremost. I don't want your fucking hands on him.' I was dumfounded. 'I don't know what you're talking about.' 'You don't fool me, you and Geo, cozying up to my son. He's my son. You two can fuck one another shitless for all I care, but you're not sniffing around my son.' 'I can't believe you think I'd have sex with Kirk. You know I don't do boys.' 'That's what you say. I've seen the way you look at him, touch him, snuggle up to him.' 'You're mistaken,' was my final protest. Ben thrust out his jaw, all the more adamant. 'This is my house and you're leaving. Clear out now. And leave the Harley; I'm giving it to Glenn.' I had twice as much stuff as when I'd moved in two years before-leathers, boots, books, clothes-but I could still pack it all into my jeep. Only I had to wait to load the jeep when Kirk brought it back from his trip to the library. His eyes misted as I explained the situation to him, but he spoke with control. 'You know I'm used to boyfriends leaving, but I hoped this time would be different. I never expected Dad would jilt you. He's a fool.' 'I'm a fool for thinking Ben could be loyal to me when I had mixed feelings for him. My life is decided. I'm going to Geo if he'll have me.' 'He'll have you, I know. It's for the best.' What a mature, kind sixteen-year old. 'I'm sorry to leave you like this, in the middle.' I worried that all the work, all the progress that Kirk had made could be jeopardized. 'It'll be okay. Since Dad has a new partner, he's going to want a son on display to show the customers he's not too much of a homo.' Wise kid, I thought. Kirk is made of sterner stuff that most boys his age, I told myself. I drove to Geo that evening, and he took me in. 'Does this mean I have you to myself at last?' 'Yes, as long as you want.' 'Forever then,' he sighed. 'I'm sure you could stand a drink.' We made a good dent in a bottle of scotch, sitting out in the warm air in the dark, talking softly and crying over separation and loss. I think his tears were for Kirk.