Date: Sun, 27 Jan 2019 22:03:58 +0000 (UTC)
From: jagfantsw <jagfantsw@yahoo.com>
Subject: A Kid Named Ryan Chapter 9

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A Kid Named Ryan - Chapter 9

While I should have told him to dress better than his usual shorts, tee
shirt and sport shoes for the visit to see his grandmother, he surprised
me. Ryan was wearing a nice pair of jeans, a white sport shirt and boat
shoes.

"As my dad would say, 'You clean up nice,'" I said. Now, he might have
taken a cue from me since I was already in khakis and a collared-knit
shirt.

He smiled and said, "Thanks. Mom and Dad always made me wear something nice
when we would go to visit Grandma."

Boone was a two-hour drive and we were able to talk about funeral options
as we drove along.  Ryan wasn't sure he wanted to see his deceased parents'
bodies and, therefore, seemed to be opting for cremation. We talked about
having a service of some sorts, but he said he and his parents didn't go to
church much.

"Okay. If you think you want to do something like that, funeral homes
usually have local ministers they can call who will be happy to help."

That was, for the time being, agreeable with him.

He then asked, "What's going to happen to our house and all their clothes
and stuff?"

"That'll be something we address later on. But, that does bring up another
question I haven't asked you. Do you know if your parents had a will of any
kind?"

"Yeh. I think they did. At least, I think I remember them talking about it
before. Since dad worked for the bank, maybe someone there would know."

That bit of news was a huge relief to me. With his father having worked in
the financial industry, I wanted to think - and hope - that someone would
be able to assist Ryan with all the necessary things concerning wills and
probate as well as his financial future.

Ryan, thankfully, did remember how to get to the facility his grandmother
was in. We arrived just after lunch had been served, so the lady at the
receptionist's desk said she would more than likely be in her room.

As we walked down the corridor to room 406, Ryan's pace slowed a bit. "You
okay?" I asked.

"I don't want to do this, Mark."

"You know I'm here; I'll pick up with whatever you can't say. What's your
grandmother's name?"

"Lucille," he said.

"Is she your mom's or dad's mother?"

"Mom's."

Standing outside her room, I whispered in his ear, "Deep breath," and with
my hand gently on the small of his back, we made our way in.

"Hi, Grandma!" Ryan said as cheerfully as he could.

She opened her eyes; she was surprised and so excited to see him. He sat
down on the edge of her bed and she asked, "Where's your mom and dad?"

And with that, he began to lose it. Ryan tried through his emotions to tell
her what had happened, but he could only get so far. He looked at me and,
stepping closer to her, I said:

"Hi, Lucille. I'm Ryan's friend and high school teacher, Mark - Mark
Morrison. Unfortunately, we are here to tell you some sad news. Ryan's
parents were killed in a car accident this past Thursday."

Her face went blank and, in that next moment, she turned her full attention
to her grandson, who was wiping tears from his eyes. She reached for Ryan's
hands and, as best as she could, pulled him close to her and gave him a
hug.

"Ryan. I don't know what to say. Are you okay?" She thought that Ryan had
been in the car with them. He did a good job, though, of picking up the
story from there, explaining that he wasn't with them, that he had been at
a soccer camp and how I fit into the picture now.

"Oh my goodness. Lord, please have mercy on them," she prayed.

We stayed with her for over thirty minutes. As we talked she would remind
Ryan of stories and other memories that he, more often than not, would
remark, "I forgot about that." She asked about funeral plans, so I
interjected, "We'll probably be going to the funeral home tomorrow or
Tuesday. Do you think you want to come to the funeral?"

She declined because of her inability to get around well and not wanting to
"be a burden on anyone." We both assured her that she wouldn't be and that,
if she wanted to be there, we'd find a way to make it happen. It was
determined that once plans were made, we would call the facility and see
what our options were then.

We began to say our goodbyes. Looking at Ryan, she said, "Bye, sweetie. I
love you."

"I love you, too, Grandma." Ryan leaned over and gave her a hug. She then
kissed him on the top of his head.

As we got to the lobby, I put my arm around Ryan and said, "You did pretty
good in there."

"No. I really didn't. Thanks for stepping in when you did."

"But you really did, Ryan. Once you were past getting the hard part out,
you were focused on her and she needed that. I'm impressed, dude." He
looked at me and smiled.

Getting into the car I asked about stopping for something to eat. We went
to a fast-food place on the way out of town. Ryan ordered chicken strips
with fries while I had a chicken sandwich and fries. We took our drinks,
had them refilled and headed to the car.

The drive back was, for the most part, pretty quiet. As we left, he had
brought his ear buds with him. So he pulled them out and began to listen to
music from his cell phone. Maybe about 45 minutes into the drive, he pulled
the buds out, look out the windshield for a few moments, then put his hand
on top of mine.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Can we talk about last night?"

Waiting for a brief moment, I said, "I know we have to but can we wait till
we get back. I really would prefer to be able to give you my full attention
instead of trying to talk and drive."

He was okay with that and then said, "Mark, thanks for everything."

"You're welcome, Ryan. You're welcome." I patted him on his hand and he
went back to listening to music until we arrived home.

After we got inside, I asked if he wanted to talk now or, maybe, go relax
by the pool first. He immediately said, "Let's talk. I've been waiting to
do this all day." We both decided to change clothes so we could get into
something more comfortable.

After I put on an older pair of cargo shorts and a tee shirt, I went to the
living room and waited for him. A few minutes later, Ryan came in wearing
board shorts and a tee shirt.

"Help me move the coffee table?" I asked him. "Huh," he groaned. "Just help
me move it, please." And after doing so, I sat on the floor leaning against
the sofa. Patting the floor to my right, I said, "C'mon. Will you sit down
next to me?"

"What's with you always wanting to sit on the floor?"

"Leveling the playing field."

"What?"

"When I was young and my dad wanted to talk to me about something
important, he always had me sit with him on the floor, usually in my
bedroom so my mom wouldn't hear us talking. If it was serious, he had me
sit directly in front of him."

"Like I did on Friday afternoon."

"Exactly. It was his way of making sure he wasn't intimidating me. Dad's
former military and, when I was very young, I was afraid of him. After I
became a teenager, he found this way to talk to me and it lessened the
intimidation factor. As he called it 'leveling the playing field' for me."

Ryan nodded as if he understood. Then I asked, "Do you want to start?"

"Uhhhh...."

"I'm willing to let you go first. Say anything, ask any question you want
about last night."

"Well, first," he kind of stumbled to begin, "I really have to apologize
for the way I acted. For yelling at you. And for hitting you."

"Yeh. By the way, on that, you've gotten a helluva lot stronger. My chest
is still smarting from where you hit me last night."

"Really? I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know. I was just trying to break some of the tension here," as I
motioned with my hands between him and me.

"So, anyway; anything else?"

"Yeh. You told me some of your story before, but can you to tell me more
about how you knew you were gay?"

"What I'm going to tell you is very personal," I bgean. So, please, I have
to know I can fully trust you and you won't tell this to anyone." After he
said, "Absolutely," I went into a lot more detail about when and how I
figured it out as well as the very limited, gay encounters and
relationships I had in high school and college.

"Bottom line, I lived a pretty sheltered life, sexually, until I began to
room with Matt at college.  He started wanting to do stuff I didn't know
anything about. The more we tried, the more I knew I didn't enjoy most of
it. The worst was the anal stuff. I hated that."

He nodded his head, but I was pretty sure he didn't understood the last
part.

"The one thing I learned though from all that shit with Matt was that once
you let someone bring you to orgasm, your life is changed forever. It's as
if that person now has part of your soul."

After I asked if he had anything else, he shook his head saying, "No, don't
think so."

I moved enough so that I could see him better, particularly to be able to
see his eyes, and said, "Ryan, I'm scared. I'm scared being around
you. Yet, at the same time, I look forward to what a future possibly holds
for us because of where things are right now. I'm sorry you're parents
died, I really am. You don't know how it hurts me to see you going through
what you are. But I'm glad I can be here for you and that you're trusting
me and allowing me to be with you and help you through all this."

He went back to my first words and, with a quizzical look on his face,
said, "Why do I scare you?"

"Remember this morning when you came back from your run and you caught me
staring at you?  You looked at me and said, 'What?' Well, I was more than
'marveling at youth' as I told you. I'm jealous of you. You are so, so..."
and I knew - and he knew - I wanted to say 'hot,' but couldn't pull the
trigger on the word.

"Or, when we went into my bedroom Friday afternoon to take a nap and you
noticed I had a hard on. It was embarrassing, to be honest. But I did
because - being honest - you turn me on. So, if you and I want this thing
to work out for the long haul, this sexual tension is going to be an issue
that we have to figure out how to handle."

"Oh."

"So what happened last night scares me. I went too far and it really scares
the hell out of me." I stopped talking for a few moments, then said, "So,
can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"When you asked me last night to 'prove it,' were you asking me to prove I
was gay or were you asking me to prove I really love you."

Ryan looked at the floor for a few moments, then he interlocked the fingers
of his right hand with mine and then said, "That you really love me."

After asking him why I had to prove I loved him, or if he did really doubt
it, he couldn't come up with an answer. I suggested that, maybe, it was
everything he had gone through in such a short amount of time these past
few days and he just needed some assurance. He said, "Maybe. I guess so."

"One thing I learned is that love and sex are not the same thing. Just
because you have sex, doesn't mean there's any love between the
persons. And when people think they're in love with each other, it doesn't
mean that sex makes the relationship better." I finished the thought
saying, "Sometimes, as I found out, it can actually make things worse."

There was no response. He just kept staring at our hands.

I broke the silence by saying, "Okay, we've been at this for a while. I
need to relieve myself."  Time out, okay?"

I stood up first and then helped him to his feet. I headed to my bathroom
to take a leak and then washed my hands and face. Getting back to the
living room before Ryan did, I took the same place in front of the sofa. He
came out of the hall bathroom, but now he wasn't wearing a shirt.  As he
sat down next to me, I said, "More comfortable?"

"Yeh." And he smiled.

I asked about how he learned about sex and if he had ever done anything
sexually with someone else. His dad had "the talk" with him when he was in
seventh grade. He related one, very limited sexual experience he had up to
that time with another guy.

"So, last night, after I finished, what were you thinking?"

He hesitated, then glanced my way. "It was perfect."

""What little that happened was 'perfect?'" I sounded as if I was
astounded. And I was.

"It was to me," he said. He waited a moment then said, "Can I ask you
something?"

"Anything."

"Do you jack off?"

"There's not a guy in the world who's been through puberty who hasn't."

He laughed a little and then asked, "When was the last time you did?"

"Definitely before last Sunday when we left for camp. You?"

"Same."

And then there was this silence that came over us. I wasn't sure why, but
it did. For several minutes, nothing was said.

Then, all of sudden he turned, straddled me, cupped my face in his hands
and began kissing me.

I pushed gently on his shoulders, so he might let up for a moment and,
looking intently at him, I said, "Wait, dude. What's up?"

No answer.  For a few moments he looked deep into my eyes, then he went
back to kissing me as passionately as he knew how. My cock started to swell
and I could feel his was, too. When he came up for air, I wrestled him off
me. I straddled him and was able to pin his wrists with my hands to the
floor. Staring at him, I asked, "Dude, what gives?"

No answer, again, but I could tell by his eyes that he wasn't finished.

Now, I doubt, despite how strong he was, that Ryan could have take me if we
were truly wrestling, but he mustered a lot of strength and reversed
things. Now, he was back on top of me. Bending down, he started kissing me
again. "What's going on," I thought.

He stopped and sat up.

"Can you let me up, please?" I asked.

Ryan rolled off of me and now was on my right side.

"What gives, dude?" I asked again.

He moved to pull my shirt off, but I crossed my arms so he couldn't.

"Take off your shirt." He just looked into my eyes and then he said,
"Please."

So I let him.

Without another word, he started rubbing my cock through my shorts. It felt
great, but, shit, I was now really scared as hell. I did nothing to stop
him, though. I could feel pre-cum inside my shorts. He had his face near my
neck and ear; his breathe was thoroughly intoxicating. Then, with his
fingers, he started tracing across the top of my shorts. I sucked in my
stomach and, immediately, his hand went underneath my waistband. Gently
taking my fully erect cock in his hands, he repeated what I had done to him
the night before - just a few strokes. Then, he sat up, unbuttoned and
unzipped the cargo shorts I had on and, after removing them, he slid my
underwear off. Leaning on his elbow next to me, he started really stroking
me. I think he was mesmerized by what was happening. It didn't take long
and I knew I was about to shoot a load. I let out a moan. Four or five
ropes of cum landed on my chest and stomach. He kept stroking while what
was left oozed onto his right thumb. As my cock began to go limp, he looked
at all the cum and said, "Damn! Do I get you that horny?"

Sighing and heavily breathing, I said, "Yeh. Yeh, you do."

He was looking at the load I had shot, but didn't say a word. Some moments
passed and with his right index finger he dipped it in my cum and brought a
small bit to my lips. Taking a deep sigh, I sucked on his finger and licked
some of the jizz that was still on his thumb. Then, we just stayed there
for what seemed like an eternity - yet it was only a few minutes.

Taking a deep breath, I asked, "Now what?"

For several moments he said nothing and so we were just there, his head
resting on my shoulder. Then, he sat up, looked at me and said softly:

"You said a few minutes ago that when 'someone brings you to orgasm, your
life is changed forever. It's like that person now has part of your soul.'"

He smiled, laid his head back on my shoulder and I knew what had just
happened - and why.