An Uncommonly Good Man 24

The Journal of Julian Corsair,

An Uncommonly Good Man

Julian Corsair – Chapter Twenty-four – "There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told." – (Edgar Allan Poe)

Ben interrupted his uncle's narration with a loud laugh followed by a series of devilish giggles. My first thought was he'd expended his joy juice in his shorts, but he didn't have that "relieved" look on his face.

"What?" Pauley exclaimed, looking up.

Ben just guffawed some more before sputtering, "I'll bet Chad gets spit-roasted before the summers over."

Pauley and I looked at him wondering where he'd heard that phrase, seen it, or perhaps experienced the action. He mistook the incredulous looks on our faces for ignorance and proceeded to enlighten us on "spit-roasting."

"You know, getting fucked from both ends by two different guys at the same time!"

He realized when we responded with odd looks, we knew too well what "spit-roasting" meant, but wondered how he should know such a thing.

"I've never done it," he explained hastily, "but I've read about it on the internet and watched guys on `tumblr' and other web sites doing it." With that he grew strangely quiet and his shoulders began to slump.

Pauley, recognizing the need, the longing, and sadness on Ben's face, reached up with one arm and pulled his nephew close to him. "Don't worry, Ben, someday you'll find some guy that thinks you're the most beautiful man in the world and will want to share his life with you. You know it always works out, don't you?"

Ben nodded!

"You also know Uncle Matt and I love you very much, right?

Again, Ben nodded his understanding.

This was the first time in our relationship I'd heard Pauley refer to me as "Uncle Matt" and it warmed my heart! I could really get used to be called "Uncle Matt."

It was a delightful summer for John and me. The lads cleaned up the cottages, settled on one for their residence, painted and repaired, enjoyed each other, and we enjoyed them. John and I had a long discussion about the fourth or fifth day we were at the lake concerning our relationship and what we might want to experience with our young men. We were devoted to each other, but horny as well and decided we wouldn't pass up a bit of fun with the boys, if, and only if, neither of us objected and we both were present.

It was the summer Island View became unofficially became known as "The Rabbit Patch." John and I happened to be sitting on the porch and watched all four of them fucking like bunnies on the dock. We watched, in amazement, as our youngest, smallest lad, proceeded to let the other three mount him and breed him masterfully with full strokes and ass clenching orgasms. Ryan, not wanting to leave Chad out of the giving end rather than only receiving, took a doggy stance, spread his ass cheeks for Chad and let him pump delightfully until he'd expended his essence into his friend's tunnel.

Chad was the first to make a move on us (figures doesn't it?). John and I just retired for the night when we heard the front door open and someone enter the house. We lay quietly wondering who in the world would be wandering around this time of the night. Our curiosity was satisfied when, in the dim light of our bedroom, a small, very naked, and very erect lad appeared in our bedroom doorway, walked over to our bed, climbed in, crawled across me, brushing his turgid rod against mine, and settled down between John and me. I must say, the first time I watched Chad being impaled by John, I thought the sight and act was preternatural, more like a stallion servicing a burro or shoving a telephone pole into a pint jar, but somehow it fit!

The first part of August, John received a call from Lester La Pont announcing he was getting married and asking John to be his best man. John agreed and in two weeks we were on our way to Ottawa where the wedding was to take place.

The night before the ceremony, at the "bachelor's party," I had the opportunity to visit with Lester's bride-to-be, Adele, extensively and enjoyably. When I first introduced myself, I received an odd, questioning, almost unbelieving look from her! Hesitantly, Adele, introducing herself, responded, "Adele Bentley-Hughes, soon to be Mrs. Lester La Pont."

My heart skipped a beat, my mouth dried, and a certain nervous apprehension overtook me as I breathed deeply, seeking to rectify my composure, unable to respond verbally to her. She noticed my reaction, reached over and gently placed her hand on my arm, asking, "Are you, by any chance, the young lad my father, Geoffrey Alistair Bentley-Hughes, met in the States and then wrote to while he was in the service?"

I nodded my head slightly, confirming her suspicion and what I suspected when I first heard her maiden name. The family resemblance was evident in her face, her eyes, and the twinkling, radiant smile. Seeing her and responding to her question brought a sudden sadness to my heart and tears to my eyes knowing Geoffrey died in that terrible conflict across the ocean. Noticing my distress, she said comfortingly, "I know, we miss him too, but life has to go on doesn't it? Our memories carry us presently and in the future."

Adele wanted to know how I'd met her father and how well did we know one another. Someone once said, "there are a lot of things better off left unsaid," so I described how I'd spotted a lonely service man sitting on a park bench, how he came home with me, spent the weekend with Miss Harrison and me, the laughs and stories we shared, and once he left for England, the letters we wrote. Most of all, I tried to impress on her how much her father's letters meant to me and how those letters brought the sufferings and hell of war home to me on a personal level.

Pauley paused, muttering softly, "I'll be damned!"

"I'll be double-damned," exclaimed Ben, "the Geoffrey Alistair Bentley-Hughes we've been reading about was my great-great-grandfather!"

Adele immigrated to Canada the year before, accepting a position with the Canadian National Government. Her mother and two brothers still lived in England, but she wanted to "try her wings," so to speak, and when she was offered the position she accepted it and moved. Lester worked in Ottawa for the government also and they'd met at a reception one evening.

"One thing led to another," she admitted and fell head over heels in love with him, even though he was quite a bit older than her.

Evidently, his age didn't present any performance issues for Lester because, as she confessed confidentially to me, "The randy old devil left a bun in the oven, due in about six months, and there was no way he was going to let me go." She giggled, covering her mouth slightly with her hands, "I swear, if there wasn't going to be people present on the morrow he'd take me a couple of times in church!" God, she loved that man!

As we visited, an older woman walked over and joined us. Before we were even introduced, I knew she was Geoff's widow and mother to Adele. I rose and Adele introduced us.

"Mummie, this is Julian Corsair, the young man Daddy spoke of so often!"

She immediately embraced me, crying tears of happiness and surprise. So was I! Once we settled down, I had to retell my story to her and I noticed, from the expression on her face, she was pleased I'd known her husband. Time and time again, she'd clasp my hand and tell me how much Geoff looked forward to my letters and how she, Adele, and the boys found comfort in hearing of the bright, young lad across the pond, who fed him, visited with him, and made him feel at home in a strange land during war time.

We visited most of the evening about those war years, what it was like in England during the "Blitz" and how Britain suffered, but "kept a stiff upper lip" in the face of what "He" was doing to them. I thought it strange how she referred to the mustached mongrel in Germany as "He" rather than by his name. She and the children evacuated and went "up-country" to live with her sister during the rest of the war to avoid the destruction being wracked on London and other cities as Hitler tried to destroy the spirit and the will to fight in the British people.

"And a good thing we did," she added. "One terrible night in September of 1940, `He' bombed a great number of cities, including our town of Coventry. We were fortunate our little place was not trashed on that occasion. Sadly, we lost it in another bombardment in 1942."

I, in turn, spoke of my life growing up and moving to Prairie du Sac, my mother's abandonment of me, Miss Harrison assuming the duties of mother, grandmother, and mentor, receiving my college degrees including my PhD, and my current employment status. There was no need for her and her family to know what I did to survive or how I'd met John Andrews. I only said John and I were extremely close friends and lived together. I'm certain they knew, without asking, what our relationship was, but never commented or acted as though there was anything strange about it. For that I was thankful; it would've have been slightly uncomfortable if she'd sputtered on about a couple of "poofs" as we might have been known across the pond.

It was a wonderful evening and the beginning of a long friendship. The ceremony the next day was a simple church wedding, but very nice. John insisted on sending them on a trip to England to visit her brothers and accompany her mother back, so bought them round-trip plane tickets to do so. Lester just shook his head, accepting it graciously.

Not once did I mention or hint, then or ever, at the real relationship Geoffrey and I shared. There was no way I'd tarnish her shining image of her father nor would I want to. Geoffrey Bentley-Hughes was a hero who needed to be remembered and honored for the wonderful things he did for his country and family, not thought of as some depraved man, who in a moment of indiscretion, entered into debauchery with a young boy! No, his image wouldn't be stained by me. Even John, when he asked, received the same story and I never changed it. It was a secret I was determined to keep as long as I was alive.

After we returned to the "Rabbit Patch" we finished off the summer before closing it up. The four original lads stayed with us each summer, continuing to take care of the grounds and us, until, one by one, they graduated from college. With their suggestion and encouragement, we put together a few short, one credit courses to be offered in the summers. The students were housed in the cottages, although we did eventually reduce the number of workers to two, and the visiting professors in the house with John and me.

When stories began emerging, both in the press and via rumors, of a sickness that was killing gay men, John and I decided to return to a monogamous relationship. Additionally, we began providing boxes of condoms for our visiting college students. There was no way we'd be able to stop them from fucking, but at least we could insure it'd be safe sex.

When John Thomas La Pont was born, some six months after the wedding, we tripped north again so my John could be his god-father. John Thomas soon became "Tom" to differentiate him from "Dr. John" as my John was now known. Dr. John doted on his god-son and when he persuaded him to come to the States to live and work, he was in heaven! Rosa coming into Tom's life was great for all of us. Dr. John insisted on helping them get started in Fox Creek by buying their house for them. As each of their children was born, Dr. John celebrated their birthdays with gifts. As each reached college age, we provided financial assistance through what we called the "Corsair Family Scholarship." Of course there was no such fund, the money was funneled from us to the bank and the children were never the wiser. When Dr. John passed away, I continued funding their education.

The most difficult time for me was the birth of Tom's youngest son, Paolo. John served as his god-father as well at the request of Tom. Paul, as he became known, was the spitting image of his great-grandfather. The resemblances were so evident to me; his eyes, his smile, hair color, slightly olive complexion, and body structure. As he grew, the characteristics of his great-grandfather became more and more pronounced. I often would catch myself ready to call him "Geoff" rather than "Paul."

Watching Tom and Rosa's family expand and grow brought great joy to John and me. Their children were the grandchildren we never would have, but we were able to share the joys just the same. Tom and Rosa never failed to invite us to meals or family gatherings. For John, whose parents passed away, and me, who was abandoned and never had a family, except for Miss Harrison and Dr. Andrews, beyond my mother, they were our greatest pleasures.

One shouldn't have favorites, but Paul was definitely John's favorite and mine as well. When Paul was little, he often would crawl up on John's lap, cuddle in close and soon fall asleep. As he grew, we became "Uncle John" and "Uncle Julian." He was such a cute little shit! The lad wasn't much of a talker, preferring to keep his own counsel I thought. I think when John died his death was just as hard on Paul as it was me. I don't think I ever heard him mention John's name again after the day we buried him. John loved his god-sons and often mentioned when he passed away, he'd make certain provisions for them. When that nasty girl accused Paul of knocking her up, I knew it wasn't possible. Paul was as gay as me and I set out to prove he couldn't have been the father. Hey, when you've got money, why not use it to help those you love?

The private investigators and attorneys I hired did the job and it wasn't long before we had all the evidence we needed identifying who the father was. Young Paul was so relieved and wanted to pay me back. The only thing I could think of (since there needed to be no pay back as far as I was concerned) was for him to do the yard work and caretaker duties at the "Rabbit Patch" making certain it was ready for use in the summers when I came up.

Pauley set the journal aside, sat pensively, evidently deep in thought, or perhaps, re-thinking what he thought he'd known in the past. "You know," he said, "it really wasn't until Dr. John passed away I found out he and Dr. Corsair weren't related. I always called them `Uncle John' and `Uncle Julian' and thought they were somehow either Dad's or Mom's relation."

He shook his head slowly in sad disbelief. "All along, I thought there was a `Corsair Family Scholarship' that helped me and, now I discover, my brothers and sister go to college. Instead, the money was a direct gift from Dr. John and Dr. Corsair. Those guys did it because they wanted to, because they loved us, and because they could! If I'd have known I could've thanked them personally instead of writing a letter to `Scholarship' in care of the bank. Dr. John was really great to Mom and Dad, helping them with their house and all, wasn't he?"

"Yes, he was!" I said confidently, assuring Pauley. "I'm certain Dr. John and Julian knew how much you and your family appreciated the help without you making a big deal of it. Just listening how you and the family talk about them gives evidence of your appreciation."

Pauley or the rest of the family hadn't said how well they knew Julian and Dr. John for a number of reasons, I should suppose. Pauley was concerned I'd be jealous (I'm not) or see him as presumptuous or attempting to interfere with my life here; besides, he was a close-mouthed La Pont, not unlike his father and grandfather, Lester. My curiosity concerning Julian's life, as Pauley knew him, would have to wait until another time. This wasn't the time and place.

The La Pont's were unaware of Julian's death until I appeared in Fox Creek. I had no idea how close they were to him. Julian left no instructions on who to notify and I took it upon myself to notify close friends and faculty members. Others noticed the obit in the paper and contacted others, especially those students who'd had him or known him over the years. Now that I thought about it, I didn't remember the original four lads at the service. Someday, we'd have to look them up, if they were still above ground. I think Julian's death hit the La Pont's harder than I realized and they'd spent the summer dealing with their grief in their own way.

Pauley couldn't recall any provision being made for him in Dr. John's will and I knew for certain none were made for him in Julian's. Pauley did know, shortly after Dr. John passed away, his dad became a member of the bank board of stockholders and retired early a few years later. He never questioned his dad and his dad never offered any explanation other than, "because I can." From that information, I surmised Dr. John left some type of financial inheritance to Tom. Like Julian, he'd take care of his own.

"Quite the story," sighed Ben in amazement.

"Well," I added as an afterthought, you'll be able to complete your paper on ancestors before Monday now."

"I wonder how much of this my dad knew?" he said in contemplation.

Pauley looked at his nephew, not sternly, but with a warning, "Nothing from what we've read in this journal or discussed need be known outside of the three of us- understand, Ben? There are many things in this journal that don't need to be repeated to family, even your dad or grandfather. I guess I'm like Dr. Corsair in that respect; there's no sense tarnishing anyone's image of those who are no longer with us!"

Ben understood completely, what the three of us knew, no one else was to know. Anything Ben found out from his dad or grandfather would have to be volunteered from them. He also thought he could contact his great-grandmother in Canada for some of the family history, if his dad approved him calling her. Although unnecessary, Pauley cautioned Ben one more time.

In our bed that night, as Pauley massaged my inner self, inserted deeply, gently stimulating my prostate on each push forward and pull back, his arms wrapped around me, face snuggled up to mine kissing me sweetly and erotically, displaying his love for me, I could easily imagine the same feelings, only on a deeper level, Julian felt when Geoffrey first eased himself inside his young body.

I awoke Pauley with a "birthday toot" on his stiff horn, humming happy birthday, while flicking my tongue across the narrow mouthpiece of his succulent instrument, and when, with a final buck, his crescendo ample, I withdrew, kissed him and wished him a happy twenty-fifth birthday.

Once he was off to work and Ben on the bus, I drove over to Lake View to the jewelry store and found a silver necklace similar to, but not exactly like mine. I had it engraved, "Pauley from Matt. – Love endures." I'd give it to him at dinner this evening.

Pulling into our drive, my cellphone jangled and it was Pauley asking, "Any reason why Darnell Chandler wants to see me at the bank? I'm right in the middle of something."

I had a good idea, but it wasn't for me to say, so I just replied, "Not a clue."

Pauley grumbled, but said he'd stop by the bank after he finished the job he was on. Time was running out for him to winterize the last of the cottages and we were getting married the first weekend in October. I don't blame him for being a bit grumpy.

No sooner had I walked in the door at home when the land line began ringing. This time it was Tom wondering if we were going to be home this evening. I explained I had reservations at the supper club across the lake where Ben and I planned on treating Paul to a birthday dinner.

"Mind if Rosa and I join you?" he asked. Why should I, they were his parents. Before I could say anything, he continued, "A rather large certified and registered piece of mail arrived for him today here at the house from the M and I Bank in Milwaukee. It looks pretty important so I'll bring it with me."

To be continued:

***

Thank you for reading Julian Corsair– Chapter Twenty-four–""There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told." – (Edgar Allan Poe)

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