The Journal of Julian Corsair,

An Uncommonly Good Man


Copyright© 2014 – Nicholas Hall



Julian Corsair – Chapter Thirty – "Through you I drain the pent-up rivers of myself, In you I wrap a thousand onward years." – (Walt Whitman)


Monday morning, I enrolled Zach in school in Big Timber High School in Fox Creek. He was happy to be back in school, even if it was in a different state, a different town, and an entirely new social environment at home and in school. Oh, there were a few bumps in the road, being the new kid in town and not overly big or aggressive, but it didn't take long for Ben to sort everything out and let it be known anyone messing with Zach also had him to contend with as well as his brother, Jared, and any other La Pont's and friends who wished to join in. Given the circumstances, Zach fared well and pursued his academic and extra-curricular activities with little or no harassment.

Life changed for all of us; Ben now had a live-in boyfriend and Pauley and I had formal custody of my cousin, a teenage boy, and informal custody of Ben, Pauley's nephew. With that came the requisite parent-teacher conferences, attendance at concerts, plays, art exhibits, and other school activities occupying our time as they do most parents with children in school. Momma Rosa and Tom, as far as they were concerned, had another member of the family to fuss over and spoil, which they did.

Hugh and Kathy, Ben's parents, received Zach as a member of their family as well since, if the attraction continued between the two boys until both were out of high school, they'd have a new son-in-law. Our home life took on a whole new meaning and became more comforting, warm, and inviting, a place for all four of us to retreat to and be a family. Pauley and I loved it!

Ben and Zach grew closer, more comfortable with each other and in our presence, open concerning their relationship, and caring. Often in the evening while they studied or watching a television program, Zach would lay with his head on Ben's stomach or wiggle his small frame in between Ben's legs and rest his head on Ben's chest, much in the same manner that Pauley would do with me, only Pauley was bigger than me, not small as Zach was.

One of Zach's favorite subjects to sketch was Ben, of course. He had Ben posing in all sorts of places, in all sorts of poses, or just caught him in sort of a "candid snapshot." They were all very good and in perfect likeness. One evening while Zach was showing Ben one of his latest sketches, by happenstance I caught a quick glimpse of a pencil drawing of Ben reclining casually on a bed, quite nude, raised up on one elbow, shifted slightly to the side, with his manly parts quite exposed. One might've thought it was a black and white photograph the detail was so exact. The light hairs scattered on his gonad filled scrotum, the individual hairs of his pubic bush, and the veins extending the length of his flaccid, uncut penis laying drooped over his left thigh, drawing attention to the end where the piss slit was just visible peeking out from under the velvet hood.

Pointing to that particular part of the anatomy, definitely larger than his uncle's similarly shaped love tool, I asked curiously, "Haven't you taken poetic license with that fleshy protuberance and inflated its size and length a little?"

Zach stepped back, held the picture up, scrutinized it carefully, and responded thoughtfully, "No, if anything, I could've made it a bit larger. It really is that size, you know!" Looking again, he continued, "I think the balls are bigger in reality also."

They looked the size of chicken eggs to me, but what did I know, he was the expert, it seemed!

Well, I didn't know, not having the same intimacy with those magnificent, plump rondures or the eloquent, long, and fat fleshy delight that Zach had, but evidently he was correct, since Ben just lowered his head, shook his head in amazement at Zach's response, and blushed! For my part, I raised my eyebrows in questioning toward Ben and he responded by nodding slowly up and down, confirming as correct what was illustrated on the paper. I guess what you see is what you get!

I made no other comment other than to caution the boys to keep the portrait under wraps here at home where no one, other than us, could get their hands on it. "I'd hate to think what Momma Rosa would say or if some kid at school glommed on to it."

Thanksgiving Day was spent at Momma Rosa's. She fixed a big dinner for Hugh's family and us, complete with turkey and all of the trimmings. Her pecan pie, apple pie, and pumpkin pie, prepared as only she can do, were to die for. Since this was the first Thanksgiving I'd had, outside of the Salvation Army centers where Uncle Julian and I both served and then ate, with a family, I overate, but was content in doing so. I vowed the next year to ask her to perhaps serve at a different time so we could either go to the Salvation Army center in Lake View or work at one of the local churches serving dinner to those who had no one else or the means to prepare or share with.

Pauley and I stayed up after the boys went to bed (now sharing what was previously Ben's room), to watch the news and weather. The broadcast over, we both had to hit the bathroom to drain the lizard, and, walking by the boy's room on the way down the hall, emanating from that room we heard Zach, speaking with a strained voice from either pain or pleasure I was unable to ascertain at the moment, say, "Honestly Ben, anatomically I didn't think it would ever fit or go in so deep."

We both stopped, voyeurs such as we are, and listened further.

"I told you it would," reassured Ben, "all it takes is a bit of stretching and a lot of lube, some slow, easy pushing, and in it goes."

"God," Zach responded in obvious erotic pleasure, "I feel so full, yet so damn good every time you twitch in there. Your balls even jiggle against my ass when you do!"

"You ain't felt nothing yet," Ben giggled and his bed began to squeak in a rhythm quite familiar to Pauley and me and Zach began to moan in delight.

Pauley and I quickly finished our business in the bathroom, returned to bedroom and decided if they could, we could; they did and so did we!

Christmas was a fun time for us. I hadn't had a Christmas tree in years or stockings "hung with care." When I happened to mention that at the table, Zach grinned, looked at Ben and sputtered softly, "that's not the only thing hung around here."

Christmas Eve we invited Tom and Rosa over for prime rib dinner and opened presents afterwards. The boys each had something for us and Tom and Rosa, and we had cell phones and lap tops for the boys. Ben gave Zach a silver necklace, similar to mine and Pauley's, and Zach gave him one also. That was a hard secret for Pauley and me to keep since each lad swore us to secrecy, "Since I want it to be a surprise." Well, it was for each of them and we enjoyed watching their faces as they opened the gifts and realized they'd both thought the same gift would be appropriate!

Christmas morning we were off to Hugh and Kathy's for more gift giving and receiving and Christmas dinner. It was a fun day all around! That evening, standing in the doorway to living room, looking over our home, Pauley sitting in Uncle Julian's favorite chair reading; Ben, sitting on the floor, leaning up against the couch, Zach safely tucked between his legs and head on Ben's chest, I thought nostalgically of Uncle Julian Corsair and all of the good the man accomplished in his lifetime, including discovering and the re-creating the family I now had, in Zach, my cousin, Pauley, my spouse, and Pauley's nephew, Ben. I could only hope he knew how thankful I was and of my concern and pledge to keep his legacy alive.

It was one of those perfect winter nights, snow blanketing the ground, covering the forest floor and meadows with its fluffy, thick whiteness; stars twinkling brightly in a clear, cold sky, and the interior of our home filled with warmth, securing us from the outside climate and the inhumanities of the world.

My reverie was interrupted when Ben asked, "Can Zach and I read Uncle Julian's journal? I think he'd really like to know what a cool guy he was."

When Pauley and went to bed, I heard Zach, now snuggled up between Ben's outstretched legs, as he read;

"The 1930's were not the best of times for a child to be born of a mother barely seventeen years of age, who, facing an uncertain future, a lack of steady income other than the waitressing jobs she was able to secure (at extremely low wages), and a family that rejected her completely, disowned her and forbid her appearance in the lives or homes again, resorted to whatever necessary to provide for herself..."


The End


Thank you for reading Julian Corsair– Chapter Thirty- "Through you I drain the pent-up rivers of myself, In you I wrap a thousand onward years." – (Walt Whitman)


Author's Note: "The Journal of Julian Corsair, an Uncommonly Good Man," is not only a story of love, despair, and triumph, but also one of reflection; hopefully cautioning us not to "judge a book by its cover" and think positively about the good in all of us. Sure, there are a few stinkers tossed into the mix, but we can sort them out, can't we, and understand even the least of us has something to contribute? I certainly hope so!

Writing for you, my readers, is both a humbling and pleasurable experience and I truly appreciate your support and encouragement and will continue to do my utmost to continue to secure it as we enter into a new year. Thank you,

Nick Hall


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Nick Hall


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