Columbus Avenue
Chapter Six

By John Yager

The following story is a work of gay erotic fiction dealing with a sexual relationship between an adult man and a boy of high school age. If such stories are not to your liking or if you are not of legal age to read such stories in your jurisdiction, please exit now.

Again, special thanks to Andrew for his proofing and editorial assistance with this story. Any errors remain my own.

This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. Any similarity to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental.

This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. The story is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author.

This is the sixth chapter of a story entitled Columbus Avenue, which is a sequel to the series entitled Montgomery Hall and runs concurrently with the series entitled Cutler House.

If you wish to receive e-mail notification of subsequent postings, please let me know by sending your request to the e-mail address below.

We got home from New Haven about nine o'clock. Neither of us was hungry. Dr. Halyard had served what he called "tea," but it was really a meal.

I just realized I said, "we got home." Does that mean I am thinking of Martin's apartment as my home, too? If so, that is quite a step, considering I've only been here about thirty-six hours and he certainly hasn't asked me to move in, at least not yet!

When we got up to the apartment, Martin said, "Okay, young man, run an bath in the tub and take a hot soak."

"I figured we'd do that together."

"We will, but you soak a while first. I'm going to call mother. That gives you about half an hour.

"Yes, sir," I said and went off to the bedroom to undress. Martin, I remembered, had said he called his mother every Sunday evening, unless he was traveling or something.

I went into the huge bath and started the water running in the tub, then returned to the bedroom to put away my clothes. Knowing Martin was a stickler for order, I neatly folded my sweater and put it on one of the shelves in the section of the closet he'd told me to use. I arranged my slacks over one of his fancy wooden suit hangers, making sure the seams were straight. It was almost as if I expected Martin to call inspection. My shirt and socks and underwear, I tossed in the hamper, remembering what he'd said about Yolan being here in the morning. Man, I thought as I was doing all this, I could easily get used to Martin's life style!

As I slid into the billowing tub and the hot water hit my ass and my dick, I realized that I wasn't hurting. Maybe that meant the raw skin was better, if not completely healed. And maybe that meant that Martin would have sex with me tonight!

I leaned back in the deep, bubbling water and felt my body relax as I began to think through the events of our busy day.

At church I had realized that even coming all the way from Mississippi to New York, I hadn't gotten completely away from home. Charles Hamilton, the rector at Martin's church here knew Peter Miller, our rector in Greenwood. They had been at seminary together, Hamilton had told me, and Pete had told him to look out for me. That meant Pete had written or called Hamilton to let him know I was coming to visit Martin. I decided, as I thought about it, that I didn't really mind. It was just one more evidence that I was really loved and there were people who cared for me.

I thought about our conversation over lunch. "Tell Tim how long you two have been together," Martin had said to Jim and Roger.

"Seven years," Jim responded. "None of my straight siblings have had marriages that have lasted as long."

"Don't look at me," Roger smiled at me. "I'm an only child."

"Me, too," I`d sort of blurted out, and immediately regretted I`d said it.

"Oh, doubly cursed," Roger grinned at me, "an only child and queer to boot."

"Really, Roger," Jim said, "don't use the `Q' word. You might shock the boy."

I had responded that I was okay with `queer.' "Only I wouldn't say `doubly cursed,' I think I'd say `doubly blessed,'" I'd added, thinking about my love for Martin.

"Well said, young Tim," Jim shot back.

"One issue I'd hoped we could discuss is what it's like for you to be in such solid relationships. The other obvious issue is the difference in our ages. Any brilliant thoughts about that?" Martin had said, raising the topic which I think was on everyone's mind, but everyone was too kind to mention.

"How old are you, Tim?" Jim had asked.

Before I could answer, which I would have been completely willing to have done, Martin put his hand on my leg and quickly said, "let's just say I'm old enough to be Tim's father and leave it at that. A very young teenage father, I should add, but it would have been possible."

"How much older is Allen Bridges than Nancy?" Jim asked, referring to their friends who had been part of the group we'd had dinner with last night.

"Twenty-one years," Martin said. "I had the same thought so I had a look at the personnel files."

"Well, there you are," Roger said with real confidence, "you certainly aren't twenty-one years older than Tim, so stop worrying."

"I wasn't worrying," Martin said. "I guess I just don't want to be accused of cradle robbing."

"Well," Jim said, "if Allen's twenty-one years older than Nancy, I'd just say `what's good enough for the straight gander is good enough for the gay gander.'"

It was an issue I had thought a lot about. The difference in our ages didn't bother me at all, but I knew it bothered Martin, at least to some degree. I suppose I need to reassure him, to let him know how unimportant an issue it was for me. It was something I would have to talk with him about in private, not with other people, even sympathetic people like those guy, were around.

But before I could even think of anything more to way, the conversation took another turn when Roger added, "Nancy is his second wife, you know. She's generally regarded as a sort of `Trophy Wife' around the firm."

"What does that make me?" I had asked.

"A `Trophy Lover,'" Roger grinned. "Definitely a `Trophy Lover,' and don't you forget it, Tim. Flaunt it, Babe, flaunt it."

I realized I had turned a bright blushing red and was suddenly silent. I just didn't know how to respond. Was that how they saw me? Here we were with some of Martin's closest gay friends and they were more or less saying that I was some sort of prize. I didn't know what I thought it about but I knew I didn't like that understanding of the relationship Martin and I had begun.

All those thoughts were going around in my head as I sat in the soothing bath. I must have dozed. It only seemed a few minutes before I heard Martin's voice over the sounds of the turbulent water in the big tub.

"You're looking relaxed," he said as he stepped into the tub to join me. I looked up at his naked beauty as he lowered himself down next to mine.

"Yeah. I think I dozed off."

"How's your ass?"

"Good. The water didn't hurt it at all. This morning it really stung."

"There is hope!"

"Exactly what I was thinking," I grinned.

"Stand up and let me look at you." I rose, as he'd asked and stood with my hands on his shoulders, feeling a little wobbly in the churning water. "Your dick really looks a lot better," he said as he pulled it down and stretched the skin. "Turn around and let me see your rear." I turned and he pried my buttocks apart and ran one finger down the length of the crack, pausing to press the bud of my ass. "The swelling is down and the redness is all gone. I'd say you were as good as new."

"Does that mean we can fuck?"

"Horny bugger, aren't you?


"Well, we'll see. For now just set back down and tell me what you thought of our day. By the way, mother said to say hello."

"That was nice of her. I wasn't sure she knew I was here, or if you wanted her to know."

"Of course I wanted her to know. I told her myself as soon as we had the dates firmed up."

"I really like you mom, Martin."
"I know."

"I hope she knows, too."

"She does, and she feels the same way about you."

"I keep thinking that if she hadn't hired me to work in her rose gardens last summer I might have never met you."

"Oh, we'd have met, but I'm glad we met when we did."

"How do you know we'd have met? It doesn't seem that likely to me."

"We'd have met because it was intended, Tim. I'm very certain of that."

I leaned over and kissed him softly on his lips. I felt such love for him.

"Um, that was nice," Martin said when I pulled back from him. I started to lean in for another kiss but he stopped me. "Wait, not yet. I really want to talk about today."

"Do we have to?"


"Okay, it was great. I really enjoyed myself. I really like your friends and the trip to New Haven was wonderful. I even enjoyed the interview, if you can call it that. It really just seemed like a friendly conversation."

"I wanted you to meet with Dick first. I hoped it would give you more confidence about the other more formal interviews."

"I think it will. I really liked Dr. Halyard."

"Well, he was certainly impressed with you."

"How do you know that?"

"He told me, when we were looking around in his garden. You wondered off a little to look at one of his old English roses."

We were silent again as Martin's hand found my thigh beneath the foaming water and began to stroke it.

"What did you think of the guys this morning?"

"I like them a lot. It was good to have met Jim and Roger last night, though, to have seem them so accepted as a couple by some of your straight friends."

"They really are accepted, too, Tim, it isn't just some social pose."

"I know that, at least I felt it from the others." I paused and then went on, thinking about the way John and George seemed to be so in love with each other and the way is showed in everything they did together. "John and George sort of surprised me, though."


"Well, for one thing...I don't know how to say this, Martin, I don't want to sound rude, but you and all you other friends are so good looking. You all look like they could be models or actors or something. I don't know, I don't mean they aren't, well, you know."

"It wasn't because of their looks that I wanted you to meet them."

"I know."

"So why do you think I wanted you to meet them?"

"Because of their relationship, because they're so much in love and it shows so plainly."

He squeezed my thigh. "You are very perceptive, young man." His gentle stroking of my leg, from my knee up almost to my crotch, then back down again, had gotten me aroused, even though I don't think that was his intent. "What did you think of the comments about Allen and Nancy?"

"They sort of worried me, I guess."

"I thought so. Tell me way."

"Well, in a way they were talking about us, Martin, about our relationship, or at least how other people will see it."

"And that worries you." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, it worries me a lot."

"The comment about trophy wives and trophy lovers, right?"

"Yeah, I don't want them to think I'm some sort of paid Toy Boy."

"Do you think that's how I see you?"

"Certainly not!"

"I wanted you to face up to that perception, the perception other's may have, Tim. But what's important is how we see our relationship. Nothing else matters. I've got to admit that it worries me, too, mainly because of the age issue, but if we build the kind of relationship we are happy with, a strong, loving relationship like the one John and George have, it won't matter. In time everyone who is important to us will accept us as a couple and that will be the end of it."

"I guess your closest friends are willing to accept me just because you've told them to."

"That sounds a little harsh, but yes, they will, they'd accept anyone I loved the way I love you. But I'm sure it won't be long before they love you as much as they love me and accepted you as your own person, for your own obvious qualities."

I leaned over and kissed him again. "Thank you," I said. "Something occurred to me this evening as we were driving back from New Haven."

"Some new enlightenment?"

"Well, maybe. It didn't seem all that related to the conversation at dinner last night or with the guys at brunch this morning, but now I wonder if it isn't more related than I thought."

"Okay," Martin said as he nuzzled my neck, "tell me."

"Well, Dr. Halyard said I was a very mature young man, for my age, I guess he meant."

"You are."

"Maybe I'm getting a little ahead of where we are in our relationship, or ahead of where you see us, but I guess you know that I want us to be together any way you are willing for that to work out."

"I sort of got that idea," he grinned as he began to nibble my ear. His hand, which had been on my thigh, had come up to grasp my balls and I was having a little trouble thinking. It was the first time I'd ever done such a thing, but I pushed him over a little and made him stop. "Don't you like me touching you?" he said as he backed off.

"I love it. I just need to say this and I don't think I can hold my thoughts together if you keep that up."

"Okay, let's hear it. I'll behave."

"Well, I hope we can be together."
"Yes, I want that, too."

"I want us to be together for the rest of our lives. If there was a way for two men to be married, I would want that, if you'd have me, if you asked me."

"I guess I sort of thought we had agreed we were moving in that direction."

"But there hasn't been any commitment between us, Martin. You haven't asked and I haven't said yes." I felt very awkward.

"Okay. Are you proposing to me?"

"No. I don't think that's my place. I'm just saying that if you asked me, I would say yes. So don't ask if you don't mean it, okay?"

"I will only ask when I meant it, Tim, when I know the time is right." He kissed me again but it was a light kiss and when our lips parted, he moved back, giving me space.

"So, if that were to happen, if we ended up together, me at say seventeen and you ..."

"Older. Leave it at that," He grinned.

"Yes. I realized today on the way back, that I would in effect be giving up my youth, or at least the part that involves exploring, experimenting."

"Are you telling me you want to wait a year or two so you can mess around with a few hundred cute guys you own age and then settle down with an old guy like me?"

I jabbed him on the shoulder and laughed. "No, Martin, I'd saying that by settling into a relationship with you, I would be skipping all that, and I wouldn't mind missing it at all. I think maybe I was given a sort of gift."

"Me, my love for you?"

"I know that's a gift, one I can never merit. But what I mean is that maybe Dr. Halyard is right, maybe I have sort of jumped over the stages most young guys, especially most young gay guys go through."

"Interesting." He paused and looked at me. "But don't think merit has anything to do with it. I know I don't merit you."

"Are you saying we don't deserve each other?"

"I guess I'm saying we have to be thankful for what we've both been given, my love for you, your love for me."

"Thank you, Martin. That really helps me a lot."

"Do you remember how the Catechism defines Grace?"

"Yeah, I do. `Unmerited favor,' isn't that it?"


"We can never merit God's love."

"And when we are given what you and I have together we can never merit it either, only be thankful for it."

"Yeah, I guess I do understand." I waited for a moment, not knowing whether I wanted to say what I had intended. Then I realized I had to go on. "Remember me telling you that Dave and Monty and I messed around a little that weekend I spent with them?"

"Yes, I remember. I also remember that I told you last July that I expected that to happen, not necessarily with my nephews, but with someone nearer your own age."

"Well, I kept thinking that through the time Dave and I were having sex I was sort of removed, not really there. It was as if I was only there to show him, be his teacher. I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it, but I kept thinking about you, wishing I was with you instead of him."

Martin kissed me again.

"What I realized today, Martin, was that I just don't need that. I don't need anyone else. Everything I want from another person I have with you. I think I really have been given a sort of special gift, an unusual maturity, so the difference in our ages just doesn't matter. It doesn't matter to me and I don't ever want it to matter to you."

"God, Tim," Martin whispered as he moved over to draw me into his embrace, "I love you so. I love your body and your cuteness, but in some ways I think I love your mind, your spirit, even more. I'm just so proud of you I!"

Words ceased. We pressed our bodies together there in the foaming water and the currents of heat and steam surrounded us. Martin's hand again claimed my cock, which had gotten a little distracted as we'd talked, but was suddenly hard again. I reached for him and ran my hands over his sculpted chest.

"Come on," Martin whispered in my ear. "Let's get out of here."

As we stood in the bubbling water, Martin reached for towels. We dried ourselves and each other, not wanting to break the physical contact between us. Dry, but still steaming, we stood on the lush mat and again embraced. Our nakedness and the heat of our skin from the long soak was so erotic that I almost swooned. Martin's arms went around me and we swayed a little as our mouths met and merged.

We had to disengage long enough to get from the bathroom to the bed, but once there, we were all over each other again. Martin had already turned back the covers and the top sheet. He must have done it before undressing and joining me in the tub.

I moved to my side of the huge bed and Martin was on me in a flash. The weight of his body pressed against me, completely dominating me, completely subduing me to his will. I was once again in that warm place. I never wanted to leave his embrace. Martin's lips found mine and pressed against them. The opened a little as I knew they would, and the hard, demanding tip of his tongue pressed in, running back and forth across the width of my lips, wet, urgent, asking to come in. I opened to him, drawing his tongue into my mouth, devouring it. He grasped my wrists and held them in each of his strong hands. He forced my arms up, pressing them against the vertical wooden bars which formed the head of the bed. He withdrew his mouth from mine for a moment, just long enough to say, "grasp those bars, Tim. Don't let go. Hold on to them as if I had tied you to them."

I grasped the bars, realizing that with restrained hands I was defenseless against whatever he wanted to do. I some odd way I felt even more restrained than I would if he had bound my wrists to the bars. My restraint was the result of my own choice to obey him. I could let go at any moment, but he knew I wouldn't until he told me I could, until I had his permission.

Martin moved up over me, forcing his chest against my mouth, pressing the hard muscle of his chest against me, forcing me to take his it, suck it. His nipple hardened in my mouth, swelling, protruding. I bit it hard with my teeth, felt his moan, knew I was causing him pain. I sucked the little point of hard flesh between my lips, running my tongue over it, wetting it, soothing it. He moaned again and shifted his body so I could give his other side the same attention. I didn't go easy on him. I made him feel my passion, feel my need.

As I worked on his chest, he ran his mouth along the insides of my extended arms, licking, kissing, finding sensitive places on the inside of my arm I didn't know I had. His legs were between mine, my own legs spread wide to make space for him. I raised them up to circle his, to pull him closer to me. I couldn't use my arms, my hands, but I could use my legs.

The weight of him on me was incredible. Our hard pulsing cock were pressed between us. I wanted him in me, wanted him to take me, fill me. I was moaning now, a steady wave of sound from deep in me. He had to know my need, had to realize I so wanted to be fucked. Why didn't he take me? Why did he wait?

Martin moved down slowly, bringing his lips down to kiss my eyes, then to leave a wet path over my nose to my waiting mouth. My mouth opened to his and our tongues met, did a little dance together and then moved deeper, his plunging to the back of my mouth. I moaned again, wanting him.

Martin rose over me, his chest coming up supported on his powerful arms as our mouths continued to merge, blend. I immediately missed his weight on me. He finally broke the contact with my mouth and rose up to tower over me.

Yes, now he'll fuck me, I thought, take me, claim me.

But instead he moved further back and moved his legs from between my legs, repositioning himself to straddle me. I looked up at him questioningly.

"Keep your grip on the bars," he said as he leaned over to the bedside table and retrieved a tube of lubricant.

Then in quick secession, he squeezed a sizable dollop of the clear gel onto the palm of his hands and tossed the tube back onto the table. He ran the gel over my pulsing cock, covering it generously. He made a second pass along his own butt, stopping, I could tell, to work the lube into his own ass. He raised up again, hovered over me and then lowered himself, reaching behind him to grasp my cock and bring it to his hot hole.

"I thought you were going to fuck me," I protested.

"I know you did. We're not taking chances with you ass yet. Give it another day." The head of my cock was at his ass and he began to press down on it, lowering himself slowly, stopping to allow his body to adjust, then moving down again.

I gasped at his heat and the tightness.

"Oh, Martin!"

"Yeah," he groaned, "yeah."

When he was completely settled on me he stopped again. I removed my hands from the bars of the bed and reached for his hard, dripping cock.

"No, Tim," he said, his voice sounding forceful, demanding, "I said to keep your hands on the bars."

I did as he said.

Martin rose up the entire length of my cock, almost to the point where I would have lost him. I could feel the flair of my cock head nudging the tight ring of his ass muscles. He stayed there, suspended over me, then in one smooth, swift motion, lowered himself again. We both gasped with the thrill of it.

"Oh, yeah, Tim," he hissed and did it again.

When he reached bottom he stayed there, letting our bodies calm down. He leaned forward and kissed my lips, running the palms of his warm hands over my chest.

"I love your body," he purred, "so smooth, so beautiful."

He rose up again but only about half the length of my cock, then lowered himself and began over again, establishing a steady rhythm, fucking himself on my pole, keeping the pace slow.

Martin's cock was dripping now, forming a pool in the valleys of my abs, threatening to overflow them and run down the sides of my body onto the bed.

My eyes widened as our climax grew near. I looked up at his sculpted body and felt as if I was been taken by a god.

"Oh, Marty, oh, yes," I moaned.

"Do it, lover, fill my gut," he crooned, "shoot your seed in me. I want it, Timmy, I want it all."

I felt his body draw up and knew he was there before me. His cock exploded, sending jets of his hot sperm up onto my chest. A second volley hit my face and my tongue darted out to retrieve it.

The muscles of his ass clenched and I was gone.

"Oh, yes, babe, fucking yes."

"I love you so."

"I love you more."

"No way."

He leaned down to kiss me again, my cock still pulsing in his ass. He licked the strands of his own cum I had not been able to reach, bringing them to my mouth to share.

Martin lowered his body onto mine as we both slipped into a shimmering daze. His hands slipped up along my arms and gripped my hands, pressing them more tightly to the bars of the bed. The rhythms of our breathing came together and we must have dozed.

When I woke I tried to roll a little to the side, but our bodies had fused and I was held, a willing captive, under Martin's weight.

He purred into my ear, telling me he loved me. He told me little private things I can not share. He whispered to me of trips we'd take, to London and to Rome. He told me of a secret beach he'd take me to where we'd swim naked in the surf and make love in a thatched cottage by the light of a tropical moon.

Martin told me how he'd seen me working in his mother's rose garden the morning last July when we'd first met. "The sun was at your back and the morning light surrounded you." He paused to kiss me once again and then said softly in my ear, "I loved you then." He held me to himself with such force, and yet such tenderness.

I knew that this was home.

To be continued.