The contents of this story is purely fictional although based on real life happenings in my life. All names have been fictionalize to protect the innocent and not so innocent. The content matter of this story concerns love and sex between males both youth and adult if this is not what you like reading or it is illegal for you to read this material because of age or laws go somewhere else. This story is copyrighted by it's owner and may not be copied or published elsewhere without the owners permission.
Age and Time
After about five minutes I calmed down enough to go look for my dad. I walked into the waiting room where I found my dad. We had an hour before the train would board.
"Where's Mr. Andrews?"
"He left. He said he had some errands to do," I smiled and changing to my version of an English accent I said, "We had a jolly nice ride in the motorcar, father. Mr. Andrews is a frightfully nice gentleman. Would have been here a bit earlier, but we had a bit of a nasty caper. Our rear right tire became flat."
"So, I volunteered to fetch the spare tire from the boot along with the tire spanner. I had to be awfully careful that I didn't get my clothes soiled."
My dad smiled, "Daddy, what are the chances of me spending the summer in London?"
"Slim to none," he said, "First of all I thought you said you were going to summer school, secondly I thought you were going to summer camp with the CAP and thirdly have you any idea how much it costs to go to England?"
Well, that deflated my balloon, I had to go to summer school; I'm already in the tenth-eleventh grade after summer school this year I'd be in the eleventh- twelfth and the following year I'd finish high school in the summer and be ready for college a year early. Maybe I could go for two weeks at Christmas. I could get a job this summer and surely by Christmas I'd have saved enough. Then I wouldn't have to ask if I could just go.
The whole trip from Denver to Ft. Worth, I spent figuring out how much I'd have to save and how many hours I'd have to work.
My first day home I wrote and told John of my plans. I wrote him at least once a week after we were back home and everyday was a disappointment because there was never a reply.
Sorry I haven't written but then you haven't replied to my letters so far
Three weeks after we got back my Dad called me into his study.
"Sebastian, I have some bad news. This afternoon I received news that your mother past away this morning."
I just looked at him. I didn't cry or feel sorrowful. I could see him trying to analyze my reaction, but I showed none because there was none. After a few moments I asked, "How?"
"She had a heart attack. She died very quickly."
"Oh, I guess that's good. I guess she finally got what she wanted."
I think that comment surprised him. He just looked at me for a few moments. I think he always thought I was close to mom; I was. Maybe he thought I'd burst into tears, but I didn't.
John, my mom was an unhappy person. She had attempted suicide three times. I had witnessed two of her attempts, the last one occurred during a short stay with us when I was eleven. She had slit her wrists. I got the honors of cleaning up after her because my oldest brother (not the retarded one) fainted at the site of blood and my oldest sister was hysterical and dad was on his way to the hospital with mom. It was pretty awful - inside I was crying my heart out because life was such a chore for her John, after we'd wrapped her cuts and Dad was downstairs waiting for the ambulance, she looked at me and weakly said she was sorry she only did it cause she needed help. All I could say was okay.
Mom was just mom, I always knew of all us kids I was her favorite. We used to talk a lot about all sorts of things sometimes very philosophical, but the one question I remember her asking me was when I was thirteen, just before we went to Colorado.
Well, it was almost summer and I was sleeping on the balcony because it was so hot and I had a neighborhood friend sleeping over, Kenneth Morris he was two years younger than me and cute, brown wavy hair and big brown eyes, not too fat or skinny. We'd known each other since I was eight.
Well, mom was staying in a room that had a window just off the balcony. I think she told us to be quiet once when we were giggling about something or other.
I was curious about sexual things and I'd heard stories about guys sucking each other off. So, I started trying to talk Kenneth into doing it to each other, but he didn't want to. I offered to do it to him first and if he didn't like it he wouldn't have to do it to me. He agreed but he said I had to wrap his dick in plastic like a rubber. I did that. Somehow I found a piece of plastic like plastic sandwich wrap and wrapped his dick up and then sucked on it, very disappointing for the two of us. Needless to say he didn't return the compliment, which disappointed me even more.
Two days later my mom asked me, "Have you ever sown wild oats?"
"What are wild oats?" I asked.
"Well, uh, having sex."
"You know spreading your seed around. Having sex with girls?"
"Oh, no ma'am. I said quite truthfully." I always wondered whether she knew what happened between Kenneth and me. If she'd asked me if we were doing stuff I would have told her the truth I think. How would my life have changed if she had known what kind of person I was?
Dad told me I didn't have to view the casket if I didn't want to. I could just keep my memories of the good time Mom and I had and that's exactly what I chose to do. I don't regret that decision. Mom and I were always honest with each other.
Finally, although you may find me cruel - I'm not sorry Mom died because if like she believed we live a again then perhaps she'll have a better, happier life and if we just die and that's it then it really doesn't matter, does it?
Not much more to say, March is half over. I love you John. Please, please, please write me.
I almost couldn't believe my eyes when I got home from school; I took the mail out of the mailbox and was putting it on Dad's desk when I saw an airmail envelope. My heart skipped a beat I'm sure as I slowly checked to see whom it was addressed to and I nearly cried when I saw that it was from John to me.
"My dearest Bastian,
Oh, how I have missed you! There hasn't been a day that has passed that I don't think about you. Bastian, I know I have never loved anyone in my whole life as I love you. You are so very special!
I arrived back at home this evening to find all your letters I've read them all. First, my condolences regarding your mother. I understand your feelings there and I do not think you are the slightest bit cruel. I also know that you love your mother - I could tell by the way you talked about her - remember when I asked you if you ever hated your mother for leaving your home? You said you've never hated your mother for anything she did - I think you understood she had problems and you never made her wrong and yes I think death was a relief for her and I'd like to think she's in a happier place.
I think you are right about keeping the good memories of your mom. I would be honoured if ever you want to share them with me.
I don't think I have ever tried sucking a guy's dick through plastic wrap - I can understand you disappointment, but if ever you get to try it without such things then I am sure you will find it most satisfying. By the way, if ever you have questions about sex just let me know and I will do my best to answer.
To answer your question, no I do not have a lover, actually I'm quite celibate, but that doesn't mean I don't take things 'in-hand' and yes when I do I think of you. As I said above there hasn't been a day that has gone by that I haven't thought of you.
An old Chinese proverb "Man who go to bed with stiff problem wakes up with solution in hand."
I think your plans of coming to London sound great with one exception. Save your hotel money for presents or going to the theatre because you should stay with me. I have a large flat(apartment) in the Hyde Park area with just me occupying it. The Tube is only a few blocks away and buses run frequently. I'm sure my housekeeper will enjoy having an additional person to care for her name is Mrs. Foster. She's a dear sweet lady, who I've known for many years. She keeps the flat impeccably clean.
You know one of my favorite things about you is your maturity. Reading your letters it is hard to believe that you are only sixteen.
Well, one last thing I know you say that you love me and I don't doubt it one bit and although I am flattered by your wanting to spend the rest of your life with me - I just don't think it would be fair for you. I'm a one-person lover. That is to say, I can only be the lover one person. My commitment is for life and I would expect my lover to be the same. I could never tolerate the other person having a love affair with another. I am not a believer in free love. I am and I expect my partner to be monogamous.
You are sixteen. I am fifty-five, yes I know I said I was forty-five, but I never expected to fall so much in love with you and for sure never expected you to fall in love with me. That's thirty-nine years difference. In ten years I'll be 65 and you'll be 26 still very sexually active. I will be much, much less active, way past my prime. It would be unfair of me to deny you those years it would just not work out and I think by that time the pain of separation would be great too for both of us. And yet I could not and would not tolerate infidelity. We can avoid all that by just being good friends - friends for life, not lovers. I think you should find a lover your age.
Your friend for life,
I think at first I was angry with John. Angry because he thought my love for him was so shallow. It wasn't but I needed time to think - to think logically not emotionally. So I put off writing but finally life and circumstances made me write to him.
At first I was pissed at you - find myself a lover! In my mind I have, that's been done, but I think my lover or rather the person that I love doesn't believe that true love transcends all barriers including time, but I will try to find someone else because I guess your love for me is purely platonic love as opposed to what I have felt and feel for you!!!
A lot has happened and I hope you don't mind me writing in this form sort of like I'm telling a story well I'm doing it because I've decided I want to be a writer and this is good practice for me.
So, here goes - the events since my last letter to you:
It was mid-April after dinner, Ida our maid/cook had cleared the table, and I asked if I could be excused from the table. (A silly tradition in our family, which although there is only Dad and I we seem to keep dinner is always at 6:30)
"In a minute, Bastian."
Uh-oh, what rule did I break now? Let's see grades, no I have straight A's. I was out late last Friday; no he would have jumped down my throat on Saturday if he'd been pissed. (I had no idea what he was about to say)
"Do you remember the lady we met on the train?"
"Yes sir, Leo's mom."
"Well, they are coming to stay with us. In fact Leo will be arriving a week earlier than Sylvia and Chrissy."
He smiled, "Yes really. We going to try living as a family so I want you to treat Leo as a brother a step brother and Chrissy as a younger sister and Sylvia as your mother."
(The latter two I couldn't have cared a damn about, Leo as my brother, I was in heaven!)
"Yes sir. Dad can I tell you something?"
"Sure, Bastian, what is it?"
"We said our good bye's in Denver, I knew that soon Leo would be coming to stay with us! Dad I knew it and it's happening. Will he be sharing my room?"
"Well, actually I thought Sylvia and I would take your room and you and Leo could have you old bedroom and Chrissy could have Delores's old room - your mom's room"
(I didn't think to highly of that, but then Mom is dead, so she didn't need it. I hate that room because I am convince that it has ghosts and demons living in it. It is the only room in the whole house that I don't like. I have slept in that room a couple of times and was shit scared and have always woken up with terrible nightmares.
Leo arrived from Denver. At first he seemed really shy. I was really nervous because I didn't want to seem over anxious no that's not the word over exuberant yes! I didn't want to appear over exuberant but the fact is I was!)
"I don't believe I've heard Bastian so excited about anyone or anything for that matter as he is about you being here," Dad laughed, "I swear Leo in the last week he has move everything around in you guys' room a hundred times. Daddy, do you think Leo will like this? Daddy, what about that!" I must have blushed ten shades of red it sure felt like it! Leo smiled. He is so cute when he smiles!
I carried his suitcases up to our room and he followed.
"This is our room!" I said. "You can chose which bed you want? It makes no difference to me."
"I don't care, I'm not going to be here long anyway. As soon as I hear from my Old Man, I'm going back to California. I can't believe anyone cads their Dad, Daddy, you're sixteen right?" His attitude sort of shocked me. "Well, what are you staring at! Are you queer?"
I wanted to just say, "Fuck you!" but I didn't. I just left.
I left, John, I turn around and calmly walked out of the door past my 'Daddy' and out the door. My dad called after me but I didn't stop because I didn't want him to see me crying. I got in my car and left.
I drove around for a while and I decided to go and see my friends Dick and Mary Sanderson. Dick is an airline pilot and Mary is his wife. I met them in the CAP (Civil Air Patrol). They have sort of taken me under their wing. Dick is so neat he's my flight instructor. Sometimes, I stay with them when I get really depressed. Dick says flying is my best medicine for my depression. He's right it is sort of uplifting (get it flying is uplifting).
I was told by a secretary that Dick was out of town. And I know what I did was wrong and stupid, but I went to the Flight office and told them Dick wanted to check me out in the Cessna 172 - I have only flown L-16s. They gave me the key.
I got into the plane of course after doing my pre-flight. Just sitting in the plane made me feel a lot better, but when I started her up I was in heaven.
"Meacham Tower, this Cessna 172, Zebra 1-2-1-4- Charlie, requesting clearance to taxi" I called over the mic.
"Roger, Cessna 172, Zebra 1-2-1-4- Charlie taxi to runway 1-8-0 and hold"
I taxi'ed the plane to runway 180 and held; did my power check.
"Meacham Tower, this Cessna 172, Zebra 1-2-1-4- Charlie, requesting take-off," I called. I swear my heart was beating faster than ever.
"Roger, Cessna 172, Zebra 1-2-1-4- Charlie, you are cleared for take-off"
I did it John, I took off. It was so totally fantastic! For the first time in my life I felt free! Nobody to tell me what to do, what to think, how I SHOULD feel. It was just me and the plane.
I went over to an abandoned airport that is used for take-offs and landings and did my first solo landing. I almost wrecked the plane! Thank God nobody saw me. I was so scared I didn't want to take-off again, but I forced myself to do it. And to land again and for over an hour I practiced my landings and take-offs.
I finally went back to Meacham Field and landed, perfectly. I thought I had gotten away with it. I got out of the plane. And walked into the office and who is sitting behind the desk? None other than Dick Sanderson.
"Well, young man, enjoy your flight? Because that is the last flight you'll have for a long time! A very LONG TIME! I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU BASTIAN! YOU STOLE A PLANE, WHICH YOU ILLEGALLY FLEW! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH TROUBLE YOU ARE IN?"
It was like being on the mountain top and falling into a pit a 1000 miles deep. I couldn't look at Dick. I just stared at the floor out the window anywhere, but at him.
"Give me your license."
I gave it to him.
"If you ever get this back - get yourself another instructor. Why, Sebastian, why did you do it?"
"You wouldn't understand, nobody would understand " I tossed the keys to the plane on the counter and started out the door.
"Bastian, if you walk out that door I swear I will never talk to you again," he said in a calm voice. I looked towards him but I couldn't see him through all the tears. I continued towards the door. I don't know how he did it, but he was over the counter and grabbed me by the arm before I set my foot out the door and slung me down into a chair.
"If you think I'm going to let you just walk out of my life then you'd better think again because I'm not. Not like this Bastian. Now, tell me what's wrong."
I shook my head no. How could I tell Dick about me and my feelings - how could he ever understand me - Sebastian, the queer.
"Yes you are cuz buddy you ain't leavin' till we gets to the bottom of this!"
I sat there for half an hour just staring at the floor, the ceiling, out the window, everywhere but at him.
"I'm goin'," I said starting to get up. He pushed me back down. "Why don't you just let me walk out of your life? You don't need me! I fucked up all right! I just fucked up. I stole the plane. I flew it illegally! Okay? Are happy now? Can I go?"
"Why?" I whined.
"Because you haven't told me why you did it?"
"I just had to. I had to get free."
"Free from what, Bastian?"
"Me. Life. I just had to get away up there. I didn't care if it was dangerous, or if I died! I just had to get away."
"But you could have died."
"So! Not a great loss to the world there!"
Again, the wrong thing to say to Dick.
He grabbed me by both arms and shook me saying, "How dare you say that! Don't you ever say something like that again!"
Something just set me off like a firecracker, "I don't care! I don't want to live here anymore! I'd rather died! I should have just stayed with John! I want to live with John! I hate living here! I hate Leo!"
"Leo, your new step brother? I thought you "
"I hate him! I never want to see him again! And he's not my brother!"
"What happened? What did he do or say?"
"It doesn't matter. You would understand anyway, only John understands me."
"It does matter, Bastian, it matters to me. When someone does something to you that upsets you this much it matters a lot to me. I love you very much as a friend I always have and I always will I know sometimes I can be a bastard to you, but I care."
I was definitely take back with what Dick had said.
"Sebastian, I'm going to ask you a very personal question, I'm sort of guessing here, but just be honest with me I'm on your side, now and forever are you a homosexual?"
I knew my face and expression gave me away at that point and I believe him when he said he was on my side so I simply whispered, "Yes."
"Okay" he sighed heavily. I had never seen him teary eyed. One tear rolled down his cheek and then he was in control again.
"I thought so, for a while and it doesn't bother me that you are and I don't hate you or think any differently about you. Seb, you are special, very special to Mary and me. Just promise me that you'll never do a stupid act like you did this afternoon again."
So, John someone else knows about me. Dick isn't queer, but he had a younger brother who was. He loved his younger brother very much. He never knew his brother was a homosexual until after his brother committed suicide.
He said he and Mary would always be there for me. I told them about Leo and what happened. They talked with Dad and asked if I could stay here a few days because he was flying out of town for a few days and would feel better if Mary had someone with her.
I also told them about meeting you and how wonderful you were and how much I loved you. Mary asked me if we had done anything sexually I told her the truth that even though I wanted to you wouldn't. I told her that you were a proper English gentleman and what you had said in your last letter to me.
She told me I should write you and never give up my friendship with you. She said there would be some trying times in my life and that having someone like you in my life is vital. I agreed.
John, I hate Leo. No, I hate me. I don't want to be this way anymore. I want to be like other boys. I don't want to like boys. Please tell me I have a choice, tell me I can change, that this is just some phase I am going through.
I love you.
|Thanks ot those who wrote. Well, whatcha think of this chapter? Want to still hear more? Comments welcomed - Sebastian firstname.lastname@example.org|