This story contains graphic descriptions of activity of a sexual nature involving a man and a minor boy. The story is not true; the sexual acts described herein derive solely from imagination. It is not intended to promote illegal acts with/to/by minors, nor does it condone child abuse of any sort. If you object to the subject matter, stop reading. If your reading of this material violates laws in your place of residence or where you are currently located, stop reading. Thank you.

This story is protected by the copyright conventions of the United States.

For the most part I see my stories as fantasy, though especially with this story, I hope there are elements that ring true. For those of you expecting extended scenes of torrid sex, you may be disappointed, though you will find—I hope—sensuality and eroticism. This perhaps reflects my own journey and what I feel is important about this story. (And for those of you who do want more graphic encounters, you might visit some of my earlier tales.  You can find them listed under my name on Nifty's Prolific Authors page.)  will1599s@yahoo.com.



Coming to Terms

Will S

Chapter 11

In the morning, when I woke up, Running Bear had gone. I went to Eric and lifted him into my lap. In so many ways, he'd become a man on this trip, but in these moments, he seemed like a small, vulnerable boy, sweet and innocent. In his slumber he conformed to my body, and then he settled in for a long, relaxed sleep. That's how we were when he awoke.

He just smiled a dreamy, dimpled, toothy smile.

"Pretty good, huh?" I mumbled.

His smile said it all. And then almost growing self-conscious of his seemingly oblivious state, he responded with a soft, "Yeah." He lay there completely contented, and as if to prove it, a long, slow sigh collapsed his chest.

Eventually we both seemed to accept the fact that we couldn't stay like this forever, and so, knowing this would have to end, we rose and began to pack our gear. As we packed up, I'm sure we were each thinking the same thing: this was the beginning of the end of our time together. At one point, when most of the gear had been loaded into the canoe, I realized I could no longer hear him. I turned, and he was standing there in front of me. I smiled, and he stepped to me and hugged me tight - almost desperately - laying his head against my chest. We stood like that for many minutes. My eyes filled with tears, and I felt hot tears spill from his eyes, and trail down my chest. Neither of us spoke; our embrace was sufficient. I would miss him - oh God, how I would miss that boy! And I knew he would miss me.

When it seemed we each came to understand we could no longer stand there like that, we slid the canoe out into the currents and headed downstream. These had been the most momentous days of this boy's young life. No doubt he, like me, would think back to these days with only a sense of wonder. He had changed, no longer a child, but a young man. As I paddled along, gazing at the perfect body of this incredible human being, a tear spilled onto my cheek. I was so...grateful...to have been a part of this time. I owed him so much. We paddled on in silence.

By mid-afternoon we were home.

"I guess it's time to change back into your civilized clothes, I said when we'd emptied the canoe and sorted everything out. He stripped down right then and there, giving me one last glimpse of his beauty. I truthfully think he didn't realize what an incredible youth he was, and not just because of his body, but because of who he was. It was gratifying - more than words can say - to see that he was well on his way to knowing himself in part because of our time together.

"Eric," I began, "I..." Tears welled up in my eyes, and it was like a trigger for his waterworks as well. And before he had put on a stitch of clothing, he ran to me and again hugged me with all the ferocity of a young man who's just discovering his passions.

"I don't want to go," he sighed.

I grasped his head and pressed it to me. And that's how we stood for countless minutes. I confess to a moment or two of discomfort, worried that perhaps his mother would appear and find us that way, but then I decided that this was precisely what she'd been hoping for her son, and so if she appeared, so be it.

"Eric," I whispered, "these few past days have been incredible."

"Yeah," he replied.

"I'm glad you've come to terms with who you are," I said, trying to signal a serious moment.

He looked up at me and grinned. "I'm just glad I've cum..." He giggled and blushed and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh my God," I responded, "I've created a monster!" He giggled more, and I squeezed him tighter.

"And cum, and cum, and cum..." he added. We laughed some more.

"Yeah, that may be true," I said, "but I need you to hear a few things."

"Okay." He grew more serious.

"First, assholes don't stop being assholes. You'll still have to put up with their shit - even though your school should stop it. What they're doing is wrong. The problem is if you complain, and the school isn't on top of it, then the assholes are going to find a way to get back at you, and you'll need to figure out just how you're going to deal with all that crap."

"I was thinking I might ask my guidance counselor about starting a Gay-Lesbian group or something. I've heard of other schools that have groups like that."

"Not a bad idea. Of course, it kind'a puts it all right out there. You'll have to be pretty strong."

"'Cuz of the capital 'F'-ucking assholes."

"Mm-hmm. Chances are good there'll be people threatened by that...so, it's a big step. Find some people you can talk to about it. Your mom, your guidance counselor, teachers you trust."

"Can I call you...or email."

"Of course you can."

"Jason, I can't tell her - my mom."

"I think maybe you're selling her short." I paused. There was something else I needed to say. I pulled him closer to me. "Eric, never stop being the great human being that you are."

He looked shyly up at me and smiled. Again we stood there in silence. Then he spoke: "Someone recently told me I had to admit who I am." He turned, lifted his head, and with a little grin, gazed at me with twinkling eyes. "Jas," he said softly, "I am gay."

"Yeah, Eric, I know you are."

"You knew all along."

"Well, a gay guy kind of gets his 'gaydar' going, and can pick up on stuff, but you can't always tell, not for sure. Anyway, gay or straight doesn't matter: I am just so glad I got to know you."

"I'm glad, too. And thank you for...you know...being there for me."

"Well, don't forget about Running Bear. He really had something to contribute, too."

Eric grinned. "Yeah, but..." He paused now and seemed to uncertain as to how to proceed. "...I knew you'd always be there. Even when I was being a - you know - kind of a jerk." His cheeks reddened slightly, and he shifted uneasily; he looked down for a moment, and when he looked back up, his gaze never left mine. "I trust you, Jas. I always will."

We smiled at each other, and reached out and our fingertips met, as if we were touching a mirror. "Eric," I said. "Just promise me you'll stay in touch. I want to know everything that's going on - especially when you find that special friend."

Eric grinned and blushed delightfully, clearly excited at the thoughts of a "special friend."

"I will. I already have a couple of special friends."

"Is that so?" I asked with a hint of a grin. Our fingers entwined.

"Yeah. You and Running Bear."

"He's quite a young brave," I said.

"So, Jas, is it true what they say about Indians names, you know, naming their kids for the first thing they see? You know, like did they see a bear running just after he was born?"

"Running..." I couldn't help but chuckle. "No. His name is Calvin." Eric looked as if he wasn't sure if I pulling his leg or not.

"What's so funny then?" Eric asked still sounding confused and perhaps just a little miffed.

"Running Bear is his uncle's name for him. Sammy's called him that since he was two or three." I continued to chuckle. "I'm afraid you've got it wrong. Sammy's name is Running Bare...B-A-R-E!"

Eric smiled a wicked grin. "No way. You're kidding."

"I swear!" We chuckled at that. "Cal always seemed more comfortable running around naked. We all sort of thought name just worked."

"It does! Perfect!" Eric added with a twinkle in his eye.

As we settled down from our bout of giggling, I wanted to make one more point.

"Eric, you'll always be careful, right?"

Eric blushed and rolled his eyes skyward. "I will!" he said with a note of exasperation. "Jeez, you're like a parent!" Instantly, he realized what he'd said. Both of us reddened some, and after a moment, he added, "I'd really like that - if you were," he said quietly, and both of us shed more tears.

Now I hugged him again. "Wait here for a minute." I went into the house and came out with a package.

"What's that?" he asked when he saw I had something in my hand.

"Thought it might be something you could use...just to try a little something different." I grinned. He took the bag, opened it, and saw the big letters "KY". He beamed, and immediately opened the box, took out the tube, and squeezed some gel out on his fingers.


"It feels even better in other places." He grinned and reddened. "Explore!" I reminded him.

He slipped the tube into his knapsack.

"Well..." I said, realizing we were both trying to put off the inevitable. "...maybe we should go see if your mom's here."

He looked chagrined, but knew I was right. We walked over to my mom's cabin, and saw Dee's car in the driveway.

We walked up on the steps to the porch as Dee came through the door. She wore an odd look on her face - one of clear expectation.

"Well, how was it?" she asked. I knew, of course, what she was really asking.

It was Eric who answered. "It was awesome, mom! Really awesome!"

I think in that moment, she had her real answer. I smiled, hoping to convey my great pride in her son - my great love for him.

"It was awesome, Dee."

"Anything special..."

"Oh," Eric interrupted his mother. "I forgot something. I'll be back in a minute." And he was gone.

"He's a great kid, Dee."

"Did you talk?"

"We did."

She fell silent for a time. "Is he?"

"Dee, he knows who he is, but that's really his conversation. Maybe there'll be a time for him to share that with you. He's just got to feel all this out for himself."

"I want to do whatever I can to be sure he's happy."

"Then just be there. Be supportive. He's still going to take grief from those bullies at school. Let him know he's one incredible kid. And I'd encourage him in his art. He's got some real talent."

With that Eric burst into the door.

"Sorry..." he said, with a look of mischief.

"Your mom was asking about what we did."

She flashed a look of concern, as did Eric. I wanted him to consider the opportunity he had, but I also wanted him to know it was his decision, and I had not violated his trust.

"I was telling her about the surveying stuff."

"It was awesome." Then Eric quieted, becoming more serious. He looked back at me. I knew what he was thinking, or at least I thought I knew. "Mom," he began, "do you hate Dad 'cuz he's gay?"

Now his mother knew what he had in mind as well.

"Eric. There was a time when I had little use for your father...yeah, I suppose maybe even hated him...but it was never because he was gay. It was because I felt betrayed...and if the truth be known, even a little stupid, because I didn't recognize it. But it was never because of who he was. He is what he is - who he is. It's not like somebody wakes up one day and says, 'Gee, I think I'll be gay from now on.'"

Eric nodded. "Yeah, that's was Jas said." He looked at me and seemed relieved. He continued. "You know the kids at school have been giving me a hard time...calling me names."

"Yes, Eric, I know." She quieted, becoming almost unmoving, except for a gentle, understanding smile.

"For a long time, Mom," Eric began, "I've been struggling with something, something very important...something about who I am...and I've been trying to bury it...to pretend I wasn't." He looked over at me. I smiled and nodded, offering my reassurance. But it wasn't enough. Eric looked at his mom, then got up and came over to me. He sat down on the arm of the chair I was sitting in, and put his hand on my shoulder. He looked down at me, and I glanced over at his mother. I put my arm around his waist and held him, and he eased of the chair arm and slipped gracefully into my lap. I could feel little tremors, and this time they weren't from sexual tension; this was pure nervousness. It seemed to ease when as I held him. I felt a little uncomfortable with this display of affection in front of his mom, but I realized this was exactly how he was going to tell her. He needed that physical kind of support for this.

I was glad he was going to do it - going to tell her - because now at home, he'd have at least one ally.

"I'm not sure I understand," his mom was saying.

"Mom," Eric began. He took a deep breath. "I want to tell you something...but...I'm afraid."

"Eric, you can tell me anything. I love you so much. I just want you to be who you are; I want you to be happy."

Eric looked at me again, and I nodded my encouragement.

"I'm..." He bit is lower lip, and I could tell all his uncertainty was flowing back into him. I understood why. This was, after all, a big step, and although I knew his mom would be supportive, he couldn't quite envision his mother's understanding. I suppose he felt like me when I told my parents. At some level, I felt I had to be letting them down; I reasoned they would want a son who would grow up and be "normal", and everything that goes along with that: marriage, children, but instead they were getting...me. Plus, he knew, I'm sure, all the horror stories about kids coming out to their parents. "Mom," he said, tears welling up in his eyes, "I'm gay."

Now his mom sprang out of her chair and came to him and hugged him, pulling him out of my lap and to her, kissing him on every inch of his face.

"Eric, I've been so worried about you. For so long, I've thought you weren't happy and I wanted so bad to talk to you about it, but I didn't know how. I was afraid, I guess. That's why we came here. Jason's mom thought he'd be a good one to talk to."

Eric shot a look at me.

I shrugged. "My mom called, and kind'a set me up. You know how mom's are."

He looked over at his mom, and grinned. "Yeah, I do."

Dee looked at her son and spoke again. "I'm glad you're coming to terms with your...sexuality. I know there'll be times when it won't be easy, but don't ever forget this, Eric: I love you. I'll always be there for you. No matter what. You are who you are, and I'll always, always love you...because you're my son. And I'm so proud of you. You are so special, Eric."

Now I had tears streaming down my face, and so did Eric, and so did his mom.

"Jas says that Indians say, 'I am a human being.' That's what I learned on this trip, Mom. I am a human being. Maybe I'm gay, but I am a human being...and no one's ever going to take that away from me - not now." He turned and looked down at me. "Jason helped me do this. I couldn't have done this without him." Then, digging into his knapsack, he pulled out a sketchpad. He opened it up and talked as he did so.

"Mom, it was like we were one spirit. I felt like we were Indian braves. That's why I drew this." He held up the picture. It was of Eric and me in just our breech-clouts, standing on a mountaintop. The sun was setting, and somehow with just a pencil, he had managed to capture the feeling of a glorious sunset. We stood there back to, facing the sunset beyond. He stood with his arms around my waist, and his torso pressed against my hip. My hand rested on his shoulder. Above us an eagle soared. "I don't usually put titles on my drawings," Eric said, "but I did on this one. I call it, 'Coming to Terms.'"

It was magnificent. It somehow captured the bond that connected us. It talked of triumph, not the bold, aggressive triumph of some sports victory; instead, it captured a quiet, supremely confident spirit triumphing over the shackles of oppression. There was something else, too: a palpable, unhidden sensuality, almost eroticism. And truthfully it was this innate sensuality that made me just the slightest bit uncomfortable being with his mom. I looked over at her, and I could see at one level, she shared my discomfort. She flushed visibly as she gazed on the picture, but tears began to flow again. "It's beautiful," she said, and I wept, too, for I was in awe of this remarkable, caring woman and, of course, her son. She would learn a lot in the coming months and years, and so would Eric, but with her support - and the support of others - he would always know how special he was.

"Eric," his mom said finally. "I'm afraid it's time to go."

A momentary flash of panic spread across his face.

I knew she was right, and I eased away from him. In no time, it seemed, we were out at the car. He hugged me tightly, and responded, as two gay men would naturally do. I bent down, and kissed him lightly on the lips. It was a sweet, short kiss, and then he smiled at me. We stepped apart, and then he was in the car, but not before we'd made a plan for him to return for a visit in a few weeks.

And then he was gone. I listened as the sound of the car eventually faded in the distance, and I was all alone. I sunk to my knees and wept. It would be a long, long time before I'd get over this boy - this Eric, with a "C", the boy, whom at first, I wasn't sure I wanted anything to do with.

"You're young friend has heard the call of the loon."

I turned. It was Sammy Soaring Eagle. He smiled.

I nodded.

He pulled me to my feet, and wiped away my tears. Then he hugged me tightly, and kissed me lightly on the lips.

"It's a good thing we're a couple of old faggots," he said, "'Cuz straight guys would feel awkward doing this."

I snickered. "Old faggots! Speak for yourself."

He took me by the hand, and we started walking back to my place.

"You probably felt old, watching two hot young braves blowing each other time after time."

I thought about that. Running Bare could not have possibly gotten home already. "You're just guessing," I said.

"Sammy Soaring Eagle sees things, white man."

"Well, then your hand must have been busy bringing pleasure to yourself while you watched."

"Ahh...I have spilt much seed these few days," he said in his emphasized Indian intonations. We laughed, and it felt good.

"Sure...go ahead and waste it! You're leavin' me high and dry, here."

"Ahhh, paleface speak with forked tongue," Sammy said in his soft, deep voice, then continued: "Forked tongue...Ahhh, now wouldn't that be a trip." He glanced with a look dripping with lewdness down toward my manhood.

"And before I forget it," I said, growing a bit more serious, "the next time you see that nephew of yours, tell him he is one awesome brave!"

Sammy smiled, pleased at my compliment. "Running Bare is a fine boy." His eyes softened as he thought of his nephew.

Now we were at my cabin and I invited Sammy in for a Nantucket Nectars libation.

"Green Tea and honey, if you've got it," he ordered.

On the kitchen table, I saw a rolled up paper. There was a note with it.

"Dear Jas," it read. "Thanks. You are so awesome. Talking with you was great. Being with you was even better! I love you. Love, Eric. P.S. I do love you. It is so awesome to be able to say that to another guy! P.P.S. Hope it helps you when, you want to, you know, do it."

Sammy looked the note over and raised his eyebrows in anticipation. Carefully, I removed the rubber band, and unrolled the paper. I knew it was from his sketchpad. What was revealed first was his beautiful head of hair, then his forehead, eyebrows, eyes, nose, ears, slightly open, expectant mouth, chin... It was him. Standing there, looking straight into my eyes. With that intense look of desire, desperate and demanding. He was totally naked. He was in an in-between state of arousal, semi-hard, yet his balls hung at their full extension. One knee was slightly bent, and his hands hung at his sides.

Even his toes were perfectly captured. At the left, he had sketched in a partial rear view. It showed his butt in all its glory.

"Very nice," Sammy said. "I'm sorry I didn't meet this young brave."

"I bet," I said. "Maybe next time...if you're very, very good."

"You know I am, babe. Always." He leaned into me and began to explore the topography of my body. "And if you're asking, I think the kid has a pretty good idea." I felt his hand slip under my shorts and find my hardness. We gazed at Eric - at what he had left me - and settled in for what would be a long night of gratification. Sammy was the one whose touches did their magic, but it was Eric I held in my thoughts. I remembered his feel, his smoothness, his firmness, his smell, his taste, his laugh.

I knew Eric had changed on our trip into the wilderness.

But then, so had I.


The End