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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Every family has its secrets, doors that are locked from entering rooms with repainted walls and closed drapes. It is these private spaces that were once like sponges absorbing words and graphic visuals never to be repeated or seen again. No family is totally transparent, a truth that is a given, and attempting to seek openness only results in disappointment and frustration. Outside the family circle we can "pose" and "put on" airs for the strangers we confront, our co-workers who we casually engage, or for our acquaintances that we attempt to impress. While we might deceive these superficial humans in our life, we cannot hide our true identities from those who know us only too well--our family members.
Such is the Briden household, a family of six children and two adults who have learnt and matured in the evolution of growing minds and bodies. By parenting I've learned there are times to teach and times to share. One can be perceived in judgment and rejection; the other a lesson in giving value of giving and providing the example ourselves. This is one of those stories of sharing, a convergent experience of life without boundaries.
As a father of six I would not bore you with a story that most families have experienced or want to. I'm a simple man, a product of the recession and part of the nine percent unemployment rate of the infamous Bush era. I've recovered somewhat in the Obama years, though I sweat having another Republican takeover. This vacation from a vocation was the impetus for the initial seed to this tale. Being common means living in a middle class community like Kettering, Ohio, a block from Oakview Elementary.
Our two-story, yellow exterior house was formatted on an American dream of the 1950's, Kenosha Street, with dozens of other families who survived by fighting to keep their homes out of foreclosure or being found out by their neighbors that the air we put on was just the surface of our problems.
I complicated my life by marrying a Mormon girl, committing my family to being brought up under the Amway plan of getting to heaven, based on performance and contributions to the church. That's not to mention depriving myself and sons of certain luxuries and culinary tastes, including cold beer, cokes and coffee. Through the first eighteen years of marriage these sacrifices were routinely endured by all concerned, all due to blind faith and ignorance.
Alas, this novel is not about my Mormonic suffering or my hiding the fact that I belonged to a church that was nothing more than an extension of my weekly job at a monolithic corporation known as NCR, National Cash Register.
What this novel is about is four boys: my sons, my genes, and each a study in uniqueness. I pretended to know these four boys for their entire youthful lives, when in fact we found each other over a period of two months off the coast of the Caribbean Islands. What I can't do is begin this tome on the open seas, but in a four-bedroom home with a family of eight, trying their best to circumvent each other and hide all possible appearances of sexual wont and personal inadequacies.
My oldest child is Cynthia, a young lady who is currently residing at Ohio State University, but was seventeen at the time of this life eruption. Much like my eldest son, Keith, a year younger than his oldest sister, both my eldest teenagers were diligent clones of my wife's attempt to make good Mormons out of naive minds. One wanted to venture to Ohio State and major in the arts; the other had visions of spending two years as a Mormon missionary. Only one of them would fulfill their dreams. I shied from my oldest daughter because her sophistication was beyond my patience, her snobbish demeanor of an immaturity that only time can cure.
Keith didn't need a father, he needed 2 years in boot camp to rock his arrogant ass a few notches down. I neither had the time or the ability to mold him. A briefs man, it matched his anal retentive nature.
My middle children were in fact that, twins, one boy, one girl. Diabolically different in personalities, they shared far more than what either wanted to admit. Kyle, at fifteen, is in fact the nucleus of this adventure, a young man so emotionally removed from this family of pretenders that his soul had to be saved at the expense of the other seven members of this family. The boy loves European cut briefs. He is, and forever will be, daddy's boy, my innermost favorite that every parent possesses but never admits.
As blond as California surfers, the twins' hair makes them more likeable at school and definitely more available to be sexualized. Katy, the other half of this twin combination, is a ponytailed cheerleader, the charismatic sibling with a life tied to a pseudo acceptance from her peers. I have to admire her dedication to the church with the peer pressures of her generation. Her detachment from anything family oriented gives her a sense of adolescent independence, if not ambiguity.
Kory, another male a year younger than the twins, is the family detective, a watchful, suspicious, somewhat psychic, and mentally gifted boy who makes me wonder if he's really my son. Being somewhat paranoid, I often think that he's a plant for his mother, a sleuth for a teenager whose whole life is spent spying on his father. I think he had to question his identity to me, as well. Kory is the charmer, caught between the cuter brother and the most handsome in Kyle. He has the Cody personality in relationship to Zach in a show my children often watch: a neat freak, compulsive groomer, boxers (as compared to briefs), student of all things moral, and has to have everything in its place. He scares me. Forever the antagonizer, the boy thrives on knowing the innermost secret of any nemesis to protect himself from future humiliation. This also includes gaining insight on his father. While his brothers don't mind being seen in their underwear, Kory has an inhibition like his eldest brothers, a belief that sex is something done by other religions and should be kept secret from all scrutiny. I actually went along with this belief for eighteen years. Backward boxers to subdue flapping penises and surprise erections.
Last, but never ignored, is Kit, our left behind twelve-year old and the only boy without a crewcut as this novel takes shape. After five siblings of discipline and structured growth, which was a failure, Kit was left to his own resources to make the best of what we did right and wrong with his previous siblings. Probably the most rebellious of our children, I believe his parents were just too tired to try to mold him to be this upright Mormon youth. Instead he turned out to be the most normal and hilariously funny. No doubt the best athlete, the boy challenges the family's morality, values, and religious foundation by exercising his options at the most inopportune times. Little did I know he had a better comprehension of his likes and dislikes than his own father. A true 21st century teenager, he's the future for the gay icon--a boy who wears T-shirts that doesn't mince words: I'M GAY, GET OVER IT. This, mind you, was after our families' catharsis. He's a Mormon nightmare; yet, he's God's sidekick. While his brothers and sisters share a combination of brown and blue eyes, blond to brunette hair, Kit glories in his auburn mop with butterscotch eyes. God forbid anyone to ridicule the boy, for tears come quicker than a harsh remark, as he melts his guardians to instant reprieve and forgiveness. The sign on his bedroom door says it all, BEWARE, HIGHLY SENSITIVE PERSON. Oh yeah, total commando, with church the exception--his mother checks.
Regarding their father, when I was a near college graduate I met a young lady, the daughter of one of the men in our foursome on that sunny afternoon at our local country club where our college golf team practiced. Not that I was a member, but an invitee of a college roommate on that particular Sunday afternoon. I had always felt that the members on this course resented our brash herd of hormonal men with their own fraternity for the love of golf. This attitude allowed me to give strokes away to the two senior members accompanying us that day. It worked well enough that this pompous old fart--a name I would adopt for my future father-in-law--to invite me to meet his daughter. Of course I had to endure his verbal polygraph: Did I smoke? Did I drink? How many vices did I have? I believe I mentioned masturbation, which got a laugh from this demonic bird. Otherwise my slate was pretty clean.
Hardly used to rubbing elbows with the elite and wealthy, I sensed Lucy's attentiveness in my direction and, by the next evening, we had begun our dating ritual. To this day I highly doubt her parents' gave their consent to this eventual marriage, but my acquiescing to raising our children Mormon had helped erase most of their animosity to my Methodist upbringing and middle class nurturing. I suppose it helped that I made sure her father beat me at golf every time. Just being allowed to play at the country club was worth the effort to add a few strokes to my game to stay in the loser's bracket. One of the few times I had a chance to shine was on a best ball tournament, when my father-in-law said we were teaming up. I shot a 71 on that day and made us the course winners. Ten shots better than I usually played with the old man, I said it was just a lucky day.
Possibly the only connection I had with my father-in-law was our appreciation for old baseball cards. His recollection was far more extensive than my own, a period when collecting baseball cards was at its glory, a nickel a pack and a boyhood memory of living a Christmas moment every day when you could afford that single pack of Topps' cards, praying that one of those cards was a Hank Aaron, Pete Rose, Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays, or any other of the greats. The losers were attached to their bicycle spokes. Yes, the old coot and I would ramble on about the value of certain players and how the new companies of baseball cards have ruined the pride of collecting.
Only my middle son, Kyle, took up my fascination for baseball cards. He knew the value of pre-1975 cards, the adrenaline rush of touching a piece of cardboard from the past with real value that it had escaped a mother's rush to toss in the trash, or minimizing a boy's memory by proclaiming that baseball cards were a childhood hobby that was best left aside when more mature hobbies should take place. It's what Kyle and I found as our bond, knowing little that another mutual attraction would bind us forever beyond father and son. Maybe I should have picked up subtle hints when, as a twelve year old, he once told me that he watched golf on television because he had a crush on Ricky Fowler, and that Mike Trout with the Angels was a baseball card he had on his pillow for nights on end. Subconsciously, I began buying him bygone, handsome baseball players from the counter at the card store. Ewell Blackwell might have been pushing it, but Herb Score lit up Kyle's eyes.
Thus, you have the family tree with its interesting roots, branches, and odd leaves. They were in fact strangers I found out. This flourishing part of nature might not have ever witnessed a gust of wind had it not been for a recession and adolescent angst over sexual image. If there is an interesting sidebar, I watched it coming in a surreal fascination, as if nostalgia had revisited my subdued conscious to remind me that, what goes around comes around.
With two paychecks our family lived well enough to afford the luxuries of life and the expectations of a father-in-law. Lucy had ten years of tenure at the local elementary school. Tenure does not exist at the National Cash Register Company. To soften the impact on my delicate pride, I would like to say I was laid off. The truth being, I was fired as a means to scale down the overage of executive privilege.
It was, at first, a pleasant experience being unemployed with enormous time on my hands, while our six children didn't have to worry about being laid off from the demands of education. Such boredom and idle time allowed me to dabble in Internet temptations to snooping through my children's rooms.
Only one discovery was forthcoming, and then it wasn't a complete surprise. Under the mattress of my twin's bed, the male one, there were two books by the same author, Alan Stroup: THE HUCKLEBERRY PIRATES and THE ART OF LOYALTY. Neither title distinguished the genre that would raise an eyebrow of a parent. My quick perusal did nothing but create my own interest in what it would be like to be an orphan. I had to wonder why Kyle would find such a dilemma interesting. Three times I came back to these books, to sit and read on my son's bunk bed that he shared with his oldest brother, Keith, who found the bottom bunk claustrophobic and had no hesitation in saying he didn't want to look up and see Kyle's faggy butt. The brothers were a contrast, Kyle's bedspread a Cincinnati Reds collage, while Keith had a mundane taste of dull green that even the Green Bay Packers would find disturbing.
What started as a few minutes of reading turned into two hours. Within a few chapters the obvious helped me fill in the blanks of my son's interest. After finishing the first book and halfway through the second—there was no denying the truth--both books had gay characters. At one point I'd caught up to one of Kyle's earliest bookmarks and discovered the page splattered with coconut oil. I checked the waste basket next to his bed and saw numerous wads of tissue. A quick smell verified my son's predisposition to certain pages. It wasn't the first time that a page had wet markings, so I used my trip to the store to purchase a tube of KY Jelly to replace his mother's bottle of lotion that had kept puzzling her as to where she had placed it. To be discreet I mentioned to my son that I'd noticed his heels becoming calloused with his occasional tennis matches after school. Kyle gave me this curious expression, checked his feet, which were as soft as any swimmer's, but accepted the lube when other things apparently clicked in his mind.
The following day I'd excitedly looked forward to my reading time and sharing my son's fascination. No one had told me it was a half day at school, so when I heard the front door burst open and my children chatting with exuberance, I hastily closed the book and saw Kyle's bookmark drop on the floor. Hardly a time to find its proper placement, I tossed the book under the mattress and exited just in time to witness my sons racing up the steps.
Throughout the afternoon I waited for an opportunity to replace the bookmark. Usually neither my wife nor I intruded on our children's rooms, so the risks of being seen outweighed the periodic opportunities.
By evening I was beginning to panic. Certainly Kyle would know that someone had violated his space. He would accuse Keith, which would start a squabble of monumental proportions, at which time one of his parents would have to separate the two. Not something I was looking forward to. At ten o'clock I saw our eldest traipse down the hallway to take his shower, a common occurrence for a teenager who had to share his bedroom with someone he wasn't really affectionate to.
I waited five minutes until I heard the shower on and Keith was well entrenched. With the boys' bedroom door ajar and darkness permeating the interior I figured Kyle was already asleep. This was a good sign that he hadn't decided to read.
It was the combination of covers drooping over the top bunk and Kyle's raised knee blocking his mini flashlight that created a false sense of security to my presence. I walked right into view of a fourteen-year old in the throes of ejaculation. If his eyes hadn't been closed I would have never been able to approach this close. In one hand was his penis; the other held a small photo that had supplied the stimulus. In that split second I made a move to retreat, only to step on an open tube of gel that went splat on this wooden floor.
Kyle's eyes shot open, the photo flipped to the floor, a white sheet exploded upward like a parachute, and startled shrieks came from both our mouths.
"I'm sorry, son, I just came in because I found this bookmark on the floor," I said with the fastest speech of my life. I reached down to pull this crushed tube from under my toes and, at the same time, slide that picture back underneath his sheet. The timing was a nightmare.
"What's going on?" Keith asked as he entered in his pajama bottoms.
I darted my hand backwards. "I had something of your brother's."
There are times in life when slow motion just kicks in, but this was life accelerated. Keith saw my hand come from underneath the sheet, and his words surprised me.
"I know that smell. Why are you jacking off my brother?" Keith grabbed his brother's sheet and tossed it back to reveal Kyle's nakedness. It didn't help that his chest was coated with white liquid and his fingers were still wrapped around an erection.
"Excuse me? I was hardly masturbating your brother. I am as surprised as you are," I said while pushing off my one knee and, for possibly the first time, I realized that Keith was three inches taller than I was. I wished I hadn't said it in such a way to put Kyle on trial. My eldest glanced at my hand.
"Your fingers are coated with gel. What am I supposed to think when I see your hand come flying from underneath his covers? God, Dad, at least fess up to the obvious."
This was too unreal. I picked the leftover tube of crushed KY from the floor and decided not to explain myself to this interrogator for a son. Instead I ripped the covers from Keith's hand to allow his brother some privacy.
"I'll buy you another," I said holding up the tube and with the recognition that this debate had a third party, a boy who was crying from the embarrassment.
Keith postured himself with supreme arrogance that he had something on his father. "You bought my queer brother an ointment to jack off with? Now I've heard everything. I realize you and Mom are having some difficulties, but, come on, your own son?"
"Watch your mouth, Keith!" I exploded in anger at this accusation, but then Kyle stopped my tirade.
"Fuck off, Keith! Dad didn't do anything! You're such an asshole!" He swung out of that bed to march directly from the bedroom and down the hall without a stitch of clothes on. That was definitely a first for this family.
It had been years since I'd seen any of my sons in less than their underwear. In this family, modesty was a given and likely a sin to be caught in anything less revealing than swim wear. To actually say a swear word in your parents' presence was unheard of. In a matter of minutes a major breakthrough had fractured this family's moral stability.
"Get your faggot ass out of my bedroom and don't come back!" Keith vented to the departing nakedness of his brother. He then glanced back at me. "Dad, you better leave, as well." Keith said it with such a smug demeanor I wanted to laugh, but I found myself like a child wanting to explain.
"I will leave when I'm good and ready. I'm going to change these sheets and ask if Kory wouldn't mind sleeping here until we can come to some rationale behavior between you two."
"It would help if you'd stay out of our room to begin with," Keith replied.
I will have to admit that my relationship with my sons had been distant. Keith and Cynthia might as well be their mother's and no one else's. To be talked to like this by one of my children was both shocking and embarrassing. I certainly didn't wish to explain myself to someone who had a very wrong impression. My anger could have been no less than to a stranger, finding that I truly resented this kid in front of me for those few seconds.
"Get in bed before I put you there myself! I've had enough of your rudeness and insinuations," I said with more bravado than I'd used for years.
Fortunately he complied. I removed the soiled sheets from Kyle's bed, wiped the floor of a slimy gel, and took a good look at a school photo of a boy in a Speedo. I didn't know this boy called Rodney Miller, but he appeared a year or two younger than Kyle, a half-foot shorter, but outrageously cute. I shoved it in the waist of my pajamas and departed the room.
Content that Kyle's bed had been prepared for Kory's satisfaction, I went in search of Kyle to apologize and balance a world that had turned topsy-turvy for a young teenager. I found Kory and Kit fast asleep, which means they hadn't been disturbed by our voices. There was no sign of Kyle in any room of the house.
Out of a mere curiosity I checked the garage when I heard a faint sound that wasn't the refrigerator. The odor was almost overwhelming of carbon monoxide, with my vehicle humming in its temporary parked position with the garage door closed. My finger on the button to open the garage had never been faster, in addition to flicking on the garage light. Three quick steps to the driver's side and I saw Kyle slumped over the steering wheel. The boy had even locked the car door.
To my right were bolt cutters and these I hurriedly used to shatter the driver's side window to where I could unlock the door and drag my unconscious son out onto the driveway. It was all pure reaction, a desperation that no one can fully understand unless they have had someone so close literally die in your arms. My hands shook and I wanted to scream to God that this could not be real. In the moon's dim light, Kyle showed no life; his breathing had expired. Out of pure adrenaline I shoved open his mouth and began to give him puffs of air.
"Oh no you don't!" I shouted between my gasps for air. Tears came to my eyes that this couldn't be happening to me, not this family of perfect church-going children. What felt like minutes, my son coughed once, then twice. I had breathed life back into his lungs. A quick dash to shut off the car, when a neighbor was at the base of my driveway.
"Anything wrong, Brad?" he asked, as if seeing a naked fourteen year old laying on concrete was normal.
"Call the paramedics, Bill," I said with more calm than I felt inside.
I didn't know when to stop or if I should, as I held my son in my arms and rocked him back and forth. My slaps to Kyle's face did nothing to arouse his sleep, but then the sirens had more comfort than the deadly silence of this late hour.
A fire truck arrived first, then the paramedics. Lights went on in all the surrounding houses, before neighbors began to open front doors or their darkened images appeared through swept back drapes. Lucy was the first family member to appear from the house, her white sheer nightie fluttering in her haste. She was near hysterics on why her son was naked on the driveway. The timing of the first paramedic allowed me to hastily explain what had happened as I rested Kyle over my bent knee. No more had a paramedic moved my son on a gurney then I grabbed my wife to assure her that our son was breathing and would probably be okay.
Within minutes I was following the paramedics to the hospital in a car that still smelled of death, a stay of six hours before they would allow me to bring my son home. My wife would call me twice from the hospital to check on Kyle's progress. During the second conversation I knew that our eldest had revealed the underlying truth.
"Keith says that Kyle is a homosexual," she said and left it hanging.
"That's not the end of the world, my dear. Whether he is or not, we have to support him."
There was the standard hesitation that my wife was so good at in her ponderous thought that was rarely supportive. "We'll have to get him into reparative therapy. Our pastor will know just the place."
I controlled my temper, as usual. "Lucy, our son has just attempted to kill himself and all you can think about is fixing him."
"Do you blame him, Brad? God, what kid wants to grow up to be a queer? Get real here."
"Now I know where our eldest picks up his judgmental attitude toward those who don't fit their expectations of normal."
"It's better that Kyle confronts this now, rather than go through life being called worse names than queer."
"Is that why you're not here?" I asked and hung up.
When I was allowed in my son's room he burst into tears again when he saw me. Kyle was like a rag doll in my arms, a teenager who felt worthless and just knew he was the pariah of the family. I hugged him for minutes. His apology wasn't necessary, but mine was. Only at that moment did I realize the distant relationship I'd had with my family, the lack of trust from a child that he couldn't tell his father anything about his personal life or what his loves were. I was destined to change this distant relationship at that very second. The only words I said were the most needed—I love you with all my heart.
Though I checked out of the hospital with Kyle around six o'clock in the morning, I decided not to go directly home to face the scrutiny of his siblings. With the clothes I had brought him from home, he was adequately dressed to go to a restaurant for breakfast. This would allow everyone to go to school before Kyle arrived home.
Though he said he wasn't hungry, I still bought him his favorite pancake breakfast. My eyes wouldn't leave this precious boy, like God had given me a second chance to be a friend and a father to him. Every time he glanced up I told him how much I loved him. He smiled.
"The nurse told me what you did, Dad. Thanks," he said with a face that longed for me to hold him again. Though I wanted to whirl around that booth to do just that, a fourteen-year old has his boundaries in public.
I made the mistake of addressing this issue of sexual orientation before he had established that he was hungrier than he thought. I passed him the picture of the boy in the swimsuit.
"I believe this is yours. He's very handsome," I said.
The tears started slowly, then the fork was dropped on the plate. Instantly I regretted the approach. "Son, I know. It's no big deal."
"Easy for you to say," he blurted out and the sobbing became even more pronounced. His embarrassment might have been worse if there were other teenagers in the restaurant. I'm glad there were just adults.
I finally did move around the booth and sat next to him, to put my arm around his shoulders, to tell him I felt his pain. He sobbed on my shoulder. The truth being, I couldn't remember the last time I hugged any of my sons. Maybe when Kit was ten, he hugged me over a Christmas present he had received from his mother and me.
I guarded my words closely. "One of these days I'd like to ask God why he didn't discuss with us before we were born on what we wanted out of life. You know, like being left-handed with blue eyes and blond hair. It doesn't work that way, so God knows we'll each be different in unique ways. Does that mean that being gay is wrong? Not hardly. You can love someone of your own sex just as much as someone who is the opposite."
Kyle moved his head up to give me this strange look that I wasn't prosecuting him. "Our church thinks I'm evil," he said.
For a boy to say that about his own religion really crushed my heart. "I think that any church who lays judgment on another is speaking from ignorance. We don't need the Mormon religion, they need us."
"Mom will disown me," was his second fear.
"She has much to learn about tolerance and people different than herself. You have your father as your support."
The squeeze meant I had said something right; plus, he took a few more bites of food. I thought this was a good time to reveal a secret I thought I'd never tell.
"Kyle, when your father was fifteen I was nearly caught by my sister while I was having sex with a close friend. By accident one of us left our underwear in the living room when we scrambled in opposite directions, since we were both naked and aroused. That night I was interrogated by your grandmother on my intentions. I denied everything."
My son swung his head up, a sort of pleased but disappointed look. "Yeah, but that was with a girl," Kyle assumed.
"No. Actually it was with a boy I had an amazing crush on. The boy never came to my house again, though I still feel a love for him that I'll never forget. Bad timing? Yeah, and one I'll never forgive my sister for coming home early. I don't have to tell you what it feels like to be a teenager and think that no one will value you for who you really are."
Kyle perked up with a delightful chuckle. "But, Dad, you married Mom! You're not gay."
I paused. "Kyle, my boy, maybe it's time we both accept who we are and what we need from life." I knew I was being more honest with myself than with my son. He never let go of my arm for the rest of that meal.
There are words in life that one easily regrets saying. In those few seconds I thought I had made a mistake in disclosing something so personal to someone so young. It's one thing to think of yourself as gay, quite another to realize that your own father thinks himself as gay. Silence prevailed and we wouldn't speak for the next twenty minutes until we had arrived home to the absence of family. I kept glancing over to my son, a calm serenity possessed his countenance.
A young teenager doesn't realize that they can't believe everything they think. This idea of being gay might be a passing fancy, a mere crush on a boy that will turn into a practiced behavior for a future female. For me, I knew what being gay meant, the anger and passion that goes with an attraction that doesn't pass with age. The longing to see a boy, his every move, his every breath a hi-light to my day, and then finally to disrobe this god-like creature and visualize a hard-on that must mean a mutual attraction. I had all of that at fifteen, minus enough minutes to fully express the chemistry of desire and lust my mind and body needed. To purge these hidden thoughts to a fourteen-year old, let alone my own son, were held in reservation.
When we arrived home I sent him to the shower with instructions. "If I see this door closed I will personally break it down." Kyle smiled with my threat.
I checked to see if there were any razors or sharp objects, and then left to change mattresses from Kory's bed with that of Kyle's. Upon returning to the bath area, my son was drying off. I tossed him a pair of his pajama bottoms, a more worn out pair of rags I hadn't witnessed before. The fly had no button and the back seat was loose enough to drape over half his rear. His once modesty was gone, and he seemed to want to tease me with his lackadaisical means of dressing.
I walked him to his old bedroom, by his choosing. I told him he needed a day's rest; something we both desired from a bizarre night.
"Rest with me, Dad," Kyle said as his first words since I shocked his sensibilities of his father.
I thought about this because I had certainly planned on catching a few winks. Off with my pants and shirt I rested beside my son, who had flopped to his stomach to reveal a bare back and a few inches of a swimmer's butt. He was my boy, my flesh and blood. I turned on my side to stroke my son's back with casual touches, a caress I hadn't done since the boys were tots. He purred to my touch as my fingers glided down his spine and over the upper gluteus that was visible above the loose garment.
"That feels good," Kyle mumbled from his head buried deep in the pillow. A tickle up his crack had his butt cheeks tighten, but then his hand whipped backward to pull his pajamas lower. To sexualize my son wasn't in my plan, but this was a boy who had attempted to kill himself only hours before. What kind of message was I sending him, or was this the love he needed, to be accepted and treated as a lovable creature? Eyeing this amazingly gorgeous butt had me hard in seconds. A tremendous guilt swept over me that I'd actually got a hard-on next to my son.
My eyes gravitated upward to view pictures on his wall. Why hadn't I taken notice of all this before? A boy skateboarder named Ryan Schecker was the centerpiece, a clean cut teenager who any gay boy would fall head over heels for.
When I sensed Kyle was asleep I covered his nudity, laid down on my back to contemplate this near loss of a child I loved so much. An arm swept over my chest, then a kiss to my cheek.
"I love you, Dad," Kyle said and snuggled his head into the nape of my neck. The smell of a fourteen-year old boy I had never really known heightened my throbbing arousal as if I was that fifteen-year old teenager again infatuated with another boy.
With my left arm I held him close until I heard the soft murmurs of sleep. I now had no regret to my disclosure. Five hours later I awoke in the same position and Kyle hadn't moved one inch. His left leg had swept over my groin, a knee that covered my erection in sleep. Slowly I rolled my son on his back and saw the tent below the sheet. I peeked under the blanket and saw this stiff woody free of the loose garment. It was an unacceptable voyeurism into my son's sex, so I thought. My heart speeded up with a pulse that had never surfaced in my entire marriage. His giggle had me lower the cover quickly.
"Hey, you're supposed to be asleep," I said and kissed him lightly on the nose.
"Sleep with me longer," he pleaded and proceeded to huddle me closer, groin to groin, which meant erection to erection. His pre-come wetness was felt on my bellybutton. My mind spun as he pressed into me with a soft sigh.
I panicked. "I have to fix us lunch, kiddo, so sleep until you feel rested before you come downstairs. You're way too randy when you wake up."
"What does randy mean?" he asked without relinquishing his press against my groin.
"That missile between your legs is saying it all."
"Well, you have one too," Kyle said with the softness that he knew me better than anyone now.
"I hadn't noticed," I lied and managed to slide out of bed away from my way too amorous son. As I started away he called my name and told me to turn sideways. He laughed at my less than recovered sex, a large wet spot at its tip.
"It's often like that when I wake up," I said on departure. That didn't exactly explain the wet spot, but the boy had me flustered. He even laughed to my obvious explanation.
This was no time to ridicule or find fault. There was a euphoria of freedom I felt when I left the boys' room with a swinging dick. In a way I was extremely happy on the way to the kitchen to make us lunch.
A few swipes of cheese over bread and two grilled cheese sandwiches were on the oven. In came my son, sauntering like a model in pose down the runway. When I turned to see him, his penis was well exposed in these loose pajamas. I had obviously picked the oldest pair he had and no doubt one he had long outgrown. Kyle didn't miss a beat and noticed that my eyes had stayed on his exposed sex for a second too long. He gave me his best pleased look, like a realization that his penis was a power that he knew a parent now appreciated.
To put a little life in a scene more fitting for an erotic movie, I switched on the kitchen IPod. YOU MAKE ME FEEL SO NEW by the Stylistics blared through the speakers. The music took a few seconds to register, but as I turned to pour us both a glass of milk, Kyle's face was a few inches from my own. He had this longing expression that I hadn't seen since his mother couldn't get enough of me the first year of marriage. That has since changed, the longing, that is. 'Lord help me out here,' I whispered to myself.
I hugged him. "I thought I lost you last night. Now I'm holding you in my arms. God has blessed me."
Kyle didn't let go. We stayed like that, two lost souls who had discovered each other after fourteen years of living under the same roof.
"Hey! I don't want our sandwiches to burn," I told him.
Kyle released and let me continue being this cook that I'm not really good at doing. I flopped his grilled cheese on his plate and watched my son approach me again and wrap his arms around me with several kisses to my face.
"I love you, Dad."
All of this was going way too fast, but I kept saying to myself, 'Slow down, don't reject him.' I had to humor the moment. "I love you, too, but people will tell me I'm too old for you."
Surprisingly he didn't laugh but moved his face away from mine with his same hold in place. "When I'm on the Internet dating services, men and women are always looking for younger people."
"You're trying to get a date on the Internet?" I asked in panic.
He finally smiled. "Of course not. I just find it interesting to see the pictures and what kinky things people will do. But, Dad, did you know that we all came from twenty-two women, and they say in every family there's been incest."
My mind was doing a mathematical equation on exactly what he meant by all that. "Um, but see, Kyle, parents and their children usually don't make a great mix."
"I'm not a child, Dad, and I owe you my life. I can love someone older. I love you."
I sat my son down so we wouldn't jump to conclusions here. "Yes, of course, but love is so much fun when you experiment with someone your own age." That came out really well.
"Not really, Dad. We should each learn from someone older and wiser, more experienced so we know what we're doing. I read that a Greek philosopher said that."
"They did kinky things in Greece," I admitted. "Let's eat first and talk about Rodney. Are you in love with him?"
"Rodney is gay like me and really hot, but I can't go to his house because he's afraid of his parents getting suspicious. Mom would totally freak out if she knew, and there's never any privacy with all my brothers and sisters around here. So, you see, all we've ever done is kiss and grabbed a quick fondle in the locker room."
"Yes, a quick fondle. I should have been so lucky. Actually I was, but I had more in mind."
Kyle laughed, but that's when Michael Jackson's THRILLER came on. My son bounced over for more open space and began to dance--I mean, really dance. His pajamas hid nothing, but they also weren't designed anymore to stay on the hips. In seconds my son had stepped out of these and showed me far more talent than I ever knew he possessed. All I could do was smile and sweat that no one would come home. Another startling revelation, my boy was not only gay, but knew how to dance like a live Michael Jackson. My eyes drank up his blossoming body; the nectar of his slim waist, long limbs, lushness of narrow hips and bouncing genitals had saliva coating my tongue. I clapped and quickly had a fourteen-year old in my lap.
"You're the best dad ever," he told me with a kiss real close to the lips--actually, it was right on target.
My mind told me not to reject, as this was a sensitive time in recovery of a near suicide. I didn't know this son. A day before we were all but strangers. Now he wants to show me he can dance, and do it in the nude! I can to a conclusion that he might even be delirious from the trauma. I patted Kyle on the butt and told him I had better get the house in shape before his mother arrived home. Kyle volunteered to help, but only after I made him promise to do it with clothes on.
A detour back to Kyle's prior bedroom and my goal was to retrieve the two books under the mattress. Instead I found them in the trash where I'm sure his brother put them. I took the time to remove his favorite pictures from the wall, knowing he'd want to put them up in his new room. I remade the bed and removed any tale-tale signs of anyone sleeping in it. Assured that the room looked spotless I adjourned to the other boys' bedroom. I had the good intention of wanting to slide the books under his new mattress. There was Kyle laying on the bottom bunk in full masturbatory pleasure, and he didn't bother covering up this time.
"Obviously you're feeling much better," I said and tried not to look at his blatant exhibitionism while I shoved the books under the mattress. I handed him two tissues, kissed him on the forehead and left. I knew in the past sixteen hours a father and son relationship had done a full one-eighty with a new role that had me shaken. I had the suspicion that my son thought of my new role as something other than a father.
I was like a hummingbird in an attempt to clean the house. `Distract your mind!' I kept telling myself. In minutes, probably thanks to an ejaculation, Kyle help me. He even had shorts on. We were progressing to normalcy.
The family gathered for dinner with no less tension than a verdict at a murder trial. I hoped that someone would talk about school or their sport activity for the day. Leave it to my wife.
"Kyle, do you have something to tell the family?" she asked. I sighed with discontent at her drawing attention to this twin.
Kyle looked up and I was afraid he was going to cry. Instead he took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry for the disruption. Guess everyone should know I'm gay." He resumed eating.
Lucy looked at me like that answer was totally inappropriate. I scanned the family and gave my point of view. "Now that that is settled, let's continue with our meal."
"It's not settled at all," the missus intervened. "This family has been impacted by our son's decision and we need to resolve this problem before it gets any more serious. We almost lost a son."
"Problem? More serious? What does that all mean?" I asked. "Is being heterosexual a problem? Our son has an attraction to his own sex. It's not a problem unless one makes it so."
Our children began moving their heads back and forth in this ping pong conversation. The lines had been drawn and the rally continued. Lucy quietly placed her fork by her plate. "Our church does not condone this type of behavior, nor should this family. I recommend that Kyle start therapy immediately."
"So he can become disillusioned with someone trying to change something they can't?! You'll end up making him a basket case. My pup is not being thrown to a den of wolves."
Kyle smiled and Kit laughed.
"This is not funny," their mother scolded them with a stern look that had kept her fourth grade class as disciplined as a military school. "As a family we need to take a stand. Those who feel this behavior is wrong, raise their hand."
I figured if she went democratic on us we were in trouble. Cynthia, Keith, Katy, and their mother shot their hands in the air. I waited for Kory's to follow. He stood by his guns and never flinched. Kit started to raise his hand, glanced at his mother and then me. A look at Kyle and his brother didn't plead or show any emotion. I have no idea what went through Kit's mind but he kept his arm down. It was now four against four. My wife was like a scorned witch. If Kit had been a student in his mother's classroom at that very second he would have found his nose up against a corner. She dismissed us as if we had sided with the devil and resumed her eating. For the time being we had a draw on the battlefield.
Reluctant to enter the bedroom until she went to sleep at her usual nine o'clock departure, I casually roamed the hallway and wanted to make sure that Kory was okay in his new sleeping arrangement. I'd almost entered their room when I heard Keith snarl at his brother.
"If I feel one rocking of this bed I'm going to kick your ass," he barked.
I was a second from moving in to defend a younger brother and come to blows with a son who had grown too big for his pants.
Kory's higher pitched voice stopped my entrance. "If you lay one hand on me, don't ever plan on going to sleep because I will get even. You're wake up with twenty-six less teeth and a titanium bat sticking in your mouth," Kory warned and I was damn proud of the kid. Not another word was said so I departed.
One check on Kyle and Kit had a new surprise. Their bunk bed had been dismantled and they both were sleeping on ground level, but three feet apart.
"We like it better this way," Kyle said without explanation. "Dad, will you read to us before you leave?"
Kit nodded and wanted the same thing.
"I don't have a book handy," I said.
Kyle tossed me THE ART OF LOYALTY. I gave him this expression that his brother might not appreciate it. Kyle gave me a thumbs up. A half-hour of reading through some very sensual passages when I mentioned it was nearly ten, so lights off. As I kissed both boys, Kyle wanted his back rubbed. There was the absence of pajamas again, but I did manage to put him to sleep after ten minutes of soothing fingers. I assumed this tactic was a way to impress his brother that dad was on his side.
"Dad, rub my back," Kit whispered before I left.
I jumped beds and gave him another ten minutes until I thought he was in deep slumber. A quick jump to his knees and Kit gave me a mighty hug. "Thanks for being so cool with Kyle, Dad."
I covered him up with another peck to the forehead. My role as father had taken on a love I never knew existed for such precious souls. The most interesting perspective in all this was why it had taken me eighteen years to do this.
I whispered in his ear, "Keep an eye on him for me."
Kit shot his eyes open. "Sure, Dad, I'll be his protector when you're not around." I thought that was so cute.
A week earlier I was foolishly convinced we were the quintessential Mormon family. A gay boy in our midst had created a quasi, civil war that had separated the family into equal factions. When I crawled in bed that night you could have cut the tension with a knife.
Saturday night dinner had my wife suggesting that Kyle meet with President Thierian in church the next morning.
"I'm not going to church," Kyle simply blurted out. Every eye turned to this near fifteen-year old.
"That's not an option," his mother told him.
I cleared my voice. "My dear, we have told our children that church was of their own decision, a decision made between them and their commitment to God. Obviously, our son doesn't see the church advocating for him at this time. I personally think we should respect his decision."
"So do I," Kit spoke up.
"I'm with those two," Kory added.
Their mother stood up, threw down her napkin and stormed out. Two daughters and one male teenager, who couldn't think for himself, joined their mother. I told the boys to eat up because there was plenty of food left. They laughed in agreement.
I had avoided the boys' room for the previous two evenings. Kyle was either sexualizing his father or testing my resolve. I sort of knew the answer and didn't want to test the waters. Checking in I saw that their beds were now separated by a blow up football dummy that acted as a pajama rack for discarded sleeping apparel.
"Read to us, Dad," Kyle quickly suggested.
I caved in and saw Kit quickly toss the inflatable five-foot doll out from the middle of their beds to slide them together. He swung out of bed stark naked and pushed the beds together. Whatever had happened between these two brothers had changed my youngest son into a nudist. He was close to turning thirteen and signs of puberty were quite apparent with sporadic brown hair above his penis. I sat in the middle of my sons and had both their heads on each shoulder.
After an erotic chapter of a fifteen-year old getting an erection by seeing an older man's muscular chest, I asked Kit if he was okay with all this. Kyle pinched me on the arm and whispered in my ear. "My brother is gay."
Immediately I knew this was Kit's way to side with an older sibling he respected. Gays just don't come two to a family. I let this be.
"Sleep with us, Dad," Kit commented without making it a question.
"I'm not sure your mother would find that acceptable," I said.
"She's already asleep. You can get up in the wee hours and she won't know the difference," Kyle suggested.
I relented, knowing I'd allow them to fall asleep before I slipped out. Both boys waited until I had tossed my robe to the floor and then snuggled in close. I turned out the lights and felt Kyle's hands pull down my boxers with a profound order.
"You have to be like us," he told me.
I felt them each partially slide their bodies next to mine, knowing they expected back rubs. Trouble was, they had planned this carefully and were returning this finger drawing on my chest, often times dipping to much lower extremes. My immediate thought was that Kyle had disclosed his father's predilection to males.
"Be careful," I warned only to receive giggles.
Boundaries finally drawn, they didn't exactly touch my penis. Inside my thighs they wait with anticipation. Up it sprang to their satisfaction. I suppose I could have said that we shouldn't be examining each other's erections, but a father is a boy's masculine ideal. They had achieved the arousal they wanted and compared their own to mine. Kit examined his as a comparison to his brother. Two inches shorter but another six months and they'd be the same, I informed. For the time being I was the stud.
Thankfully there was no suggestion of masturbation. We huddled closely and I suggested sleep. Wouldn't you know it, I fell asleep as well with my sons' head cradled on my chest.
I woke up near sunrise with Kyle cradled like a spoon in my lap, and Kit had his arm wrapped around my waist, with his own body pressed into my back. I was just glad I woke up before someone discovered this threesome.
Dressed and sitting at the foot of their bed I had a few moments of pensive thought on how close I had come to two sons I'd barely known through their youth. I could not be their buddy, per se, I told myself, though their self-confidence, if not maturity, had jumped leaps and bounds in the past few days.
Already up with her cup of coffee in hand, my wife did not question where I slept, she simply went for the jugular.
"I'm assuming you slept in one of our son's beds. That hardly demonstrates a parental distance. I'm sure they would appreciate having their bed back." She was far more civil than I expected.
I was glad she didn't say with my son, but I decided an explanation was in order. "I forgot what it was like to read to our children. Something we both did when they were younger. I was thrilled when the boys asked me to read to them. I fell asleep."
"They're quite capable of reading themselves. They're playing you for a sucker. Who can blame them? Listen, Brad, you don't have to worry that I don't want us sleeping in the same room. You and I obviously differ on this problem, but I have no doubt our sons will see their error and realize that their faith is the truth here. My father thinks you're being irrational, foolish, and supporting a lifestyle that has nothing but heartaches ahead. I don't always agree to his standard assessment that you're a loser, so let's just hope that your sons don't come to that same conclusion."
Her words were a way of insulting me without direct confrontation and insinuating that our daughters already thought of me as a fool.
"Your father has always felt that way, regardless of the issue. This just gives him an opportunity to express his disdain that you didn't marry into blue blood. As for our sons, I want their decisions to be based on logic, common sense and empathy, not on religious dogma because someone thinks that God loves some people more than others."
"Play the fiddler for three sons and see how long they follow your lead. Even at their age they can see it's a dead end."
I held my tongue and proceeded to watch this split family slowly gather and eat breakfast in dreaded silence. While the four church goers departed, my other three sons waited patiently for my instruction.
"Okay, get dressed in casual shirts and shorts and meet me in the car," I said.
We drove to the mall where I instructed the boys to pick out a kite of their choice. They each had to write a prayer and attach it to the bow, before adding something that they loved about themselves along the tail of the kite. At first this puzzled them, but they were soon enjoying this challenge.
Below the hillside where Charles Kettering had once resided, we used this massive field to elevate our kites into the warm breeze of that beautiful Sunday morning. Just the majestic backdrop of blue skies and floating drops of white clouds had each of us thinking we were communicating with God in our own special way. No one asked what the other had prayed for, but our loves were readily available for those with good eyes.
Seeing Kyle's kite tail brought tears to my eyes: THANK YOU LORD FOR LETTING ME LIVE. Kit's kite had a simple: I LOVE MY BROTHERS, and Kory's had written on his six-foot, blue tail, THANKS DAD FOR BEING THERE FOR KYLE. I had a statement that was more personal: I LOVE BEING A FATHER.
This energetic morning of sharing and running to and fro with our kites was a blessing in disguise. I'd never known such joy during my entire marriage of those precious two hours with three of my sons. When Kyle and Kit whipped their shirts off, Kory didn't hesitate. Leave it to a twelve-year old to drop his shorts and run naked across this massive acreage of green grass.
Kory was sure his brother had gone bonkers in total rebellion against his upbringing. He expected me to admonish this behavior and question Kit's morality for being so blatant. Once I started to laugh, Kyle encouraged his younger brother that much more. As a means to express this new him, he lowered his shorts and underwear and joined Kit in racing their kites in absolute abandon.
"Dad?" Kory questioned my eyesight. "Mom would kill us."
"Mothers often don't think outside the box, Kory. Your physical form is a gift from God, so don't be ashamed of your beauty. I'm not telling, if that's your concern. I brought you three boys here to feel good about yourself and express a love for nature we rarely have time for. Just be yourself."
Kory thought about my attitude, a father that was far different than the one he had come to know for his first fourteen years. He sat and smiled at his brothers's nudity, their laughter and encouragement for Kory to join them. After much thought and cautious observance to make sure no one was looking, this budding athlete of the family succumbed to his brothers' pressure and fell into splendor by showing he was as male as they were. I should have known they would want me to join them.
"At your age, boys, you're just having fun. I could get nailed for indecent exposure," I said sitting on a small bank on the hillside with a long blade of green grass in my mouth. They swarmed over me and had my shorts off in less than a minute. It took five more minutes of chase before I realized that teenagers were way too quick for their father. My dash from one son to another, smacking their butts one by one had us laughing to our hearts' content. With laughter and pleading, I convinced everyone that we had beaten the odds of discovery, except for the satellites above. That had them eyeing the heavens with smiles.
In the car, Kit was the first to admit, "This was the best Sunday morning ever!"
His brothers agreed. Being in church was actually quite safer, if they would have asked me--yet maybe more insane.
There was quite a contrast between family members during the rest of that Sunday. Three of my sons had a countenance of being blessed, though the other four members of the family had no idea what that blessing was.
While my other three children had their sour faces of enduring a church service of bigotry and rules for heaven hierarchy, my other three sons knew a secret that wasn't to be revealed because it was their joy and pleasure not to be given to those who didn't experience it. As a father, I can be thankful for such loyalty, a loyalty that Kit and Kyle said they were beginning to understand by the reading of a novel about loyalty.
Their mother didn't appreciate the boys' smug faces at dinner, even accusing me of taking them to an arcade or a waterslide. I assured her that we had used the morning to be one with God in the great outdoors. The boys nodded with appeased grins. She then tried to ruin my day by saying that this Mormon tribunal wished to meet with me. I slipped one of Kit's favorite offerings.
"As if that's going to happen."
Lucy gave a theatrical performance of crying. It was her way of getting sympathy, which almost worked but for me seeing this act for the thousandth time.
Kyle and Kit came to me that evening and expressed their concern that Kory wanted to move in with them. Kyle talked around the truth, until I filled in the reluctance of agreeing to this.
"You're afraid that Kory won't be as open and accepting with your sexual habits once he moves in."
My sons nodded, though I wasn't sure the involvement of Kit, but I was pretty sure that Kyle had told him that they had a gay father.
"I think it's best that we sit down with Kory and tell him the truth. He's not one to panic and want to tell the world that he has a brother who masturbates."
"Two brothers," Kit reminded me.
"I want you two to take this new sexual knowledge of each other carefully," I said to both of them. They laughed which gave that up.
We called in Kory on the back patio near nightfall. In lawn chairs I brought up the delicate subject. "Kyle tells me that you'd like to move in with Kit and himself. I'm sorry that I had you move out of a bedroom you were most comfortable in."
"Keith's a jerk," is all Kory said in fact.
"Yeah, and I had to live with the creep for fourteen years," Kyle added to the subject at hand.
I struggled for wording. "Son, to my understanding, you'd be moving in with two gay brothers. Twelve-year olds are only too willing to be like a sibling they admire, so I'm not so sure you actually have two gay bros. Given the fact that twelve-year old girls aren't too willing to crawl into bed to enjoy a boy's hormones, it is what it is."
Kory sprang his eyesight to his youngest brother. "You, too?"
Kit smiled. "Sex isn't all that big of a deal."
"So," I started again. "This isn't about walking into an orgy, but you might not feel comfortable with, how does one say? that much testosterone."
"Why should I care that they act gay?" Kory asked. "Kit has flashed me his boner since he was three and thinks masturbation is an art form."
"You're an expert at it," Kit sort of praised.
I intervened. "Well, when boys realize that they like the same thing, they're more open about their sexuality and don't feel that they have to play with themselves under the blanket, if you get my drift."
"Or run to the shower like Keith," Kyle added. Everyone nodded but Kit, who hadn't been privy to this nightly ritual.
"I like to jerk off," Kory admitted. "What's the big deal?"
Kyle went right to the facts of this arrangement. "Kit and I have combined beds. Mom doesn't know, but we like it."
The moment of truth had arrived. Kory shrugged his shoulders. "I don't care what you two do."
"You say that now, but people have a tendency to be envious when others are having fun and they're left out."
Kory leaned forward as if this was just between us four. "Look, guys, I'm into girls, but that doesn't mean I'll reject a little fun."
Kyle and Kit absorbed this, smiled, and agreed to the move. Twenty minutes later there were now three beds in one room. Keith was more than happy that he finally had a room to himself. Their mother thought it created even more fracture in the family and wasn't the least happy about it. Such is life.
The move would be a positive one for me, I thought. The straight boy would impose restrictions and their mother thought that being around two "normal" brothers might help Kyle adjust back to hetero heaven. She had no clue.
Not the best of timing, the twins turned fifteen that Monday, followed by Kit's 13th, with Kory's 14th another month away. The family made an attempt to be unified. Kyle appeared to wear the strain of the family's problems on his sleeve, a big concern of mine that he would backslide. His twin offered no support, immune of any empathy. Possibly the twins should have shared their uniqueness together, like bathing. Their mother was always the puritan. This was not the first sign that we had made mistakes in raising our children with puritan values.
Kit loved the PSP that I had bought him, a gift his mother had avoided for morality issues all these years. My first visit to their room that evening to kiss the birthday boy had him leap up on his bed, stark naked.
"Show Dad your own birthday present," Kory said from his adjacent bed.
"I'm not sure I can do it again," Kit replied and brought himself to an erection with two fingers and a thumb. Two minutes later, as I leaned against their door to make sure no one entered, Kit ejaculated a teaspoon of clear liquid into his palm. "I'm a stud," he declared to our laughter.
They were taking turns reading the novel, as I listened. These three boys had established a rapport that was nonexistent for fifteen years, an acceptance of trying to understand what it means to be a teenager. I read for sixteen minutes, which took us to the end of the story. A huge discussion took place on the aspects of the book, a father's betrayal, a boy's love for an older man, and the confidence issue in being able to defend oneself. Its influence on their new Japanese words was amazing. Their mother and siblings thought it was a plot to drive them batty with this communication of Japanese.
Kyle and Kit appeared to have a new pride in their sexual sharing, though I still questioned my youngest son's self-assessment of gay identity.
Though it was their last week in school for the year, I enforced the ten o'clock curfew and proceeded to tuck each boy in bed. Kyle wrapped his arms around me and devoured my mouth.
"What was that all about?" I asked rather overwhelmed by a too sensuous of a kiss.
"You had to do the same thing to bring me back to life, the doctor said, so I'm returning the favor," Kyle said and smiled at me. I bopped him on the head. He brought my ear to his mouth. "Dad, is it okay to swallow, you know what?"
"If you're referring to what I'm think you're referring to, it's fine. I read once where the stuff has nutritious elements as part of its makeup."
"Is it?" I heard Kit ask from a few feet away.
"Dad says it's the breakfast of champions," Kyle replied and got a laugh from his brothers.
I moved to my youngest son and got a smack on the lips, before his own private question. "Is it okay to do the thump'im thing, Dad?"
I dreaded to ask. "Not sure what you mean by that."
"Well, if you were doing it with a girl, it would be the thump her, but with a guy it's the thump him." He giggled his usual jokester snicker.
"Well, Mr. Thumper, as long as someone uses plenty of lubrication and goes real slow, I'd say it's very pleasurable in the future."
Kit sat up in the darkness and proclaimed to his two brothers. "The LDC is a go!"
"Latter Day Church?" I asked.
"Kit calls it the love-disposal canal," Kory informed me. I added Kit to my bops.
Kory had to be the easiest of the three sons with his kiss to my cheek. He wasn't done either. "Dad, Kyle and Kit say you're gay. Why did you marry Mom?"
My chuckle was a nervous one. "Look, guys, I'm just saying there are passions in life that can't be ignored. Some people like chocolate ice cream; others are into vanilla, but that doesn't mean that some people don't try both, though they have preference for another."
"So, you're like, bisexual," Kory told me with certainty.
"If there's a scale for sexual orientation, I'm probably a six or seven on a scale of ten."
"For sucking dick, right, Dad?" Kit said from the middle of the three beds.
After I got these three to stop laughing, I had to define this more. "For being non-straight, yes. I do have six lovely children, which means I can get it up at the right times." They laughed again.
"So you love Mom," Kory did not make it into a question. This was an important statement for any child. My parents divorced when I was twelve, so I sensed their angst.
"I love your mother very much, just not in a sexual sense like I might love someone of my own sex. Is that being too honest?"
Kory looked up in my eyes from his pillow. "Thanks for telling the truth, Dad. You're the coolest dad a boy can have. I'm glad you married mom because you had us."
That meant a lot, since I always got the impression my sons didn't respect me, probably because I never spent much time with them. I departed their room with an uneasiness that I'd said too much. Every child would like to think that their parents are madly in love and that their father is this sex machine. If sex is dirty and unspoken, your kids find it disgusting to even view a parent as actually doing it. This astute assertion was according to Kory at a later date.
Adjourning to the bathroom I masturbated that night because I was very horny and any sex with Lucy was not going to happen anytime soon. Several times images of Kyle came to my mind, and I had to sweep this fantasy from my mind. Whatever had happened had reopened a sleeping giant of sexual attraction for males.
The next morning I sent an e-mail to Alan Stroup, making my message more of a letter as I explained how his two novels had inspired my sons. The attempted suicide wasn't something I wanted everyone to know, but I needed to get it off my chest to, of all things, a stranger. A response came back within the hour. He wanted to know my address so he could send two more books; plus, he wanted to speak with me personally on my quick thinking and my support for my gay son.
For three hours that afternoon we spent talking on the phone. We knew each other like old friends by the time we were done. My off-hand remark brought a far different response than I had expected.
"I think Kyle fell in love with Huck. In my mind, while reading the book, I envisioned my son in a movie, finding that another boy shared this desire to love someone of his own sex," I had said very openly.
"Make Huckleberry Pirates into a movie," Alan said very nonchalantly. "I can probably get you the money."
I laughed, but a very haphazard laugh that he was actually serious. "You're kidding?"
"I'm quite serious. Look, Brad, you're out of work during a recession and you love your sons. What better way to express this affection than to do your own movie."
"Alan, I've never directed even a school play, and then there would be twelve boys who would look at me as an idiot."
"Directing is like jumping off a springboard. It's too easy. Put twelve boys together and they'll forget they're even acting. Trust me, by the sound of it, you're a natural. I'll make some calls and see what kind of funding I can get, while you think about it."
"I think you're setting me up."
"Only to have the experience of a lifetime. I might even join you on set, if you don't mind."
"Don't think for a second I would have it any other way." I couldn't believe I was even conceiving this idea.
My quick trip to the mall had my spinning on this ridiculous concept. Before I had second thoughts, I bought three of my sons tubes of KY Jelly. I also stepped into a bookstore and bought a book on making independent movies. This can't be serious!
Lucy wanted us to see a marriage counselor at church. I agreed, only if it wasn't at church. She stalled on this idea. We admitted we had come to an impasse on our views about homosexuality. I wasn't budging and neither was she. Lucy was sure our sons would come to their senses and leave Kyle and me to our own accord. She had no idea.
That Sunday I took the boys to a water park. If we were going to be accused of having too much fun on a Sunday morning, we might as well please our accusers. Before we indulged I brought out my only talent, outside of golf, and that's the harmonica. My sons all have good voices and love to sing as a group. In this case they were a trio. Kit's voice could challenge those of the Vienna Boys' Choir, he was that good. So I started in with Savior's Day, and the boys took to the melody like they were in a concert. Within minutes they were arranging who sang what and creating quite a musical composition. From Savior's Day to I Can't Stop Singing, we had a great time for an hour of singing.
Two hours at the water park, a great lunch, and we arrived home to be snubbed again for our dissension. Kyle said it best, "Whatever!"
A mild surprise happened when my eldest came to my side as I was reading the morning paper.
"Dad, I'm sorry for my insinuations. Kyle explained what happened."
I was impressed and implied I held no resentments. That was step one of his set-up. "Then you won't mind if Katy and I use the car?"
"What's your mom doing with hers?" I wasn't going to make this easy.
"She said the rest of you were going to celebrate Cynthia's last day at home before she takes off for her summer session at Ohio State."
"And you're not going?"
"We already had this trip to the lake planned with some friends," he told me.
I tossed him the keys with my usual warning to be careful. I wasn't aware that Keith and Katy did things together. So we all piled into the family suburban, minus two. No more were we in the vehicle as a family doing something together than the woman of the house told Kit to buckle his seatbelt.
"Guess I felt safe being crunched between Kyle and Kory," he said in humor from the back seat.
Lucy had not smiled in weeks and hardly had patience for her youngest. "It doesn't matter, young man. Always use protection when riding in a car."
Kit chuckled. "Ah, Mom, it just doesn't feel right when I have to use protection."
We all caught his little joke, but his mother turned in her seat and slapped the boy right across the face. "What has gotten into you?! It just goes to show that your father is losing control of his sons with your filthy talk." She glared at me. "This is all your fault I hope you realize! You better teach your children some matters before they embarrass someone beside their mother."
I put the vehicle back in park. "There was no reason in the world for you to slap our son. You and your illustrious church have made my sons scared of their own sexuality. It's not me that needs to straighten out their act."
"Now you're blaming the church. Great! It's the one foundation these children have against the evils of the world."
"The evils, my dear, lie in the ignorance of hypocrites and lack of tolerance."
"So now I'm ignorant," she said flatly and took her favorite victim stance.
"We can start there." I regretted saying that in front of the children, but Kit's whimper had me burning inside.
Without further words I backed out and drove us to the restaurant where we, once again, were in complete silence as if this was a meeting between Israel and Palestine. No one misunderstood Cynthia's decision to travel to Columbus before the evening was done. We had a hug of fatherly support, while her mother cried tears of losing her first child to college.
I'd talked to my youngest about the stresses on his mother over the past few weeks and how she would likely apologize in due time. I think we both knew that wasn't going to happen. Kit had stop seething and accepted my hug that the world wasn't falling apart.
There would be no meeting of the minds or my wife tossing my pillow out in the hallway. I did it myself by preparing the living room couch to sleep in. By midnight I was at the dining room table in examination of the thousands of things to do in making an independent movie. Then common sense flashed--who would even want to fund a movie with an amateur director and no-name actors? I'm not sure what made me glance up, but I noticed my eldest son walking to Katy's bedroom with just his pajama bottoms on. Whatever that was about, I'm sure it would be quick.
A half hour went by before I closed my laptop, which put me in complete darkness but for a blue glow coming through the drapes. I was ready to adjourn to my new sleeping arrangements on the couch when I noticed Keith coming out of Katy's bedroom with his bottoms draped over his shoulder. A barely recovered penis looped in its glory. His hasty retreat back to his own bedroom was one he was sure no one noticed. My self-righteous son was making out with his sister? How convenient. So much for the Church of Latter-Day Saints and their morality lessons.
Two books, gratis Alan Stroup, arrived in the mail the next day. I put them on Kit's and Kyle's bed, knowing that these novels would make their day. We were now greeting each other with konnichi wa's and mushi mushi's. Kyle, especially, wanted to start training in a martial art, but that wasn't in the cards with his mother's temperament.
I received a call from Alan that a so-called angel was going to call me. He explained the vernacular of types of people who put up money for movies without stars or directors who have track records--that's me. These people either had a peculiar interest in the subject matter or had money to burn. He also told me what to say and the questions that would be asked. I was to immediately buy a HD movie camera and experiment with every opportunity I had. My bank account had $16,000 left with no clear job opportunities available. Either he was crazy or I was.
I made sure my cell phone accompanied me everywhere. I went shopping for my first digital camera, a movie one at that. When I explained to the salesman my intentions, he drew me away from the family specials and into the professional realm of movie making. I walked out spending over five grand on a used Panasonic. As long as I was burning money I bought a tiny spy camera that would send instant video to my computer. I might as well know what's going on with my perfect children.
The call from Bob Turner came as I was in the parking lot, excited about this new equipment and scared to death of spending money I couldn't afford. He was friendly, yet a man who let it be known that this was his call and he had the gold. I tried to picture this soft gentle voice as a huge Mafia figure with two gigantic bodyguards beside him with their hands on guns. He would have already checked me out and knew I had a family that he could threaten if things didn't go his way. That's my imagination at its best.
Mr. Stroup had given him enough information to intrigue his interest. A bit hesitant on revealing his own interest in fronting such a project, he asked me several questions about who I would select for the boys in the film and about my own son. I was vague in the details but let him know that one of my boys was gay and was the perfect fit for one of the main characters in the film.
Did I have a mission statement? A screenplay? What was my budget? How much time did I need for filming? Location? I hemmed and hawed with a multitude of half-truths and downright lies; directives given to me by Alan Stroup. My timeline I'd established the night before was six months after funding. Paul asked me if I'd be ready in sixty days.
"Uh, yes, I think that could be arranged," I answered.
"Alan mentioned you needed five million. Could you do it for half that?"
"Ummmm, that shouldn't be a problem."
He wanted one-hundred percent of net until his investment was recovered, than 50% of gross after distribution costs. I suggested he send any contract to Mr. Stroup, who would advise me thereof. He wanted to avoid attorneys' fees, as in more than one. I thought that was best. He wanted to be one of the casting directors, which I had no problem with. He wanted to be on set when he was available. No problem. He wanted final edit and total ownership of the film. I said no. Exactly what Alan said would happen happened; he chuckled and said it wasn't all that important, but he wanted his name as executive producer. No problem. He wanted to handle distribution, publicity, record label rights. I'd have to get back with him on all this; meaning, I'd talk to Alan.
"I want to see the screenplay and timeline by next week," Bob said and I quickly said it wouldn't be a problem. "By the way, are you planning on making this a straight movie, since you're obviously married?"
This was the deal breaker. Was this guy gay? Did he want the movie to be more of a Lord of the Flies epic or a Disney adventure where boys just pretend to like each other? I read once where Mel
Gibson, before he acted in Man Without a Face, wanted to make sure there were no insinuations of any relationship between man and boy. The author of the book threatened to withdraw her support if the book's intent was tampered with. Gibson caved in. Whatever I answered was the answer I'd have to live with.
"Bob, I'm a gay married man with, possibly, two sons who happen to be gay, as well. I'd prefer to make a movie my boys will be proud to be in, which means upholding their integrity and self-esteem of being gay."
You could have heard my breathing I was that scared I'd blown the deal.
"Good! I'm in. If a director isn't in touch with the subject matter, it will show, trust me. Why you got married is your own business, but your sons are lucky to have someone who can empathize with them."
"Thank you for saying that," I responded.
I had no idea how to do a screenplay or prepare a timeline for actual production. It's why I would spend eighteen hours a day doing nothing but learning film making.
I was so excited I e-mailed Mr. Stroup immediately. He congratulated me that I'd sold the project myself. I knew better than to think I'd said something impressive. The truth was, he had been wanting to do a movie himself for many years on one of his books but wasn't sure he had energy to organize all the particulars. Alan also figured he lacked the patience to tolerate twelve boys and a crater full of headaches. I was the sucker. He had done my leg work and found an angel who loved boy movies.
Through my adulthood I had followed rules and guidelines to the letter. Now my new friends were telling me to avoid permits, film any location, anywhere, any time. If trouble arose I was a tourist, a film student working on a project. Their verbiage that this was an indie film stuck in my head as an amateur's attempt to make a movie. If they only knew I was a true amateur they might have second thoughts.
With my imagination at the highest stress level, I saw my youngest boy practicing golf in the backyard with a junior club I had bought him when he was ten. The little stick looked ridiculous in his hands, so I headed for the garage and brought back two of my own clubs, carbon shafts and very professional.
"Here, son, try this one." We hit a few thirty-foot chips and pitched between two lawn chairs. Another lapse in my fatherhood in doing these things with my boys.
Kit was a natural and began to do better than I did when I taught him how not to use his wrists. What better time to get to the bottom of my son's premonition that he was gay.
"So, youngster, what makes you think you're gay?" I expected a shrug of the shoulders, a mere guess that, because his pecker stood up at the oddest times, he must be gay. Instead he pondered the question and gave me his most intellectual grimace.
"Remember when I started gymnastics, Dad? I think I was ten. But me, Jake, and Chris are like real buddies 'cause we practice together and take our showers at the same time. We got boners to be funny, but I was thinking mine was because I liked looking at his. Now Jake thinks he might be like me, but he hopes to like girls eventually. We still get boners, but now Chris thinks it's gay and isn't all into it anymore. I just look at Jake's butt and mine rises like it wants to stretch the distance and, well, you know what. I wanted to kiss him more than Spider Man, and you know how much I loved him."
I chuckled and thought that was about the best answer anyone could give. Of course then Kit wanted to know when I knew I was gay. I almost told him a few days ago.
"I'm thinking when I was twelve I messed around with another boy, but gay or homosexual weren't exactly in our vocabulary. Then around thirteen this friend and I masturbated all the time. Through my teenage years I found assorted boys to play with, but we didn't really know what we were doing. Mostly masturbation and feeling each other up. Maybe a kiss or two. It's not like we had the Internet to see what boys really liked or did with each other."
Kit smiled which gave that one up. These kids were too smart for their own good.
I chipped a fifteen-footer into the center of a hula hoop. "When your mother came into sight I figured marriage might just change things. It didn't."
Kit patted me on the back. "That's okay, Dad. We boys have to stick together because dick is just a whole lot more fun than what women have."
Though I was close to laughing, I hardily agreed with this new teenager's insight.
That night I got on the Internet to learn more about parenting a teenager. This woman psychologist was some type of expert, I guess, so I read her advice. She didn't advise coddling teens in an attempt to shield them from every harm. She thought this was counterproductive. She also agreed with a recent study that said early sexual experimentation by teenagers, as long as it was consensual, improved their social behavior, had less delinquency, and created more intelligent human beings. I wasn't to raise my voice when talking to my teens because they often sensed fear and alarm from adults and would retreat. By spending more time with my boys they would be less likely to drink or take drugs.
Lucy came behind me and had her usual criticism. "I see you're not exactly looking for job openings. How long do you expect to live as a freeloader?"
"The bills are still being paid, if I remember right."
"We'll see how long that last," she said as a departing remark.
Back to my shrink, I learned that teenagers are natural risk takers, mostly because they think they're immortal, but their brain is revved-up to push them to limits they don't understand or fathom the consequences. That made sense. The fact that I should teach care and compassion with sex seemed important. It's one thing, she said, to be a walking hard-on, and quite another to be thinking what the other person needs or desires. She thought that parents should allow their children to see and observe the romantic side of you.
"When our children begin to embrace their own sexual feelings, curiosities and urges, cause them to connect this new and expanding experience of themselves with an inner sense of joy and celebration, not guilt and shame."
I knew by her words that she didn't know my wife. I read on. "So talk about sex with your children, laugh about sex with them, teach them, allow them, remind them, and show them how to celebrate their sexuality. You will know the age-appropriate way of dealing with the incremental arrival of your child's sexuality if you are clear, if you are finished with your own "unfinished business" about all of this."
"Cool', I was thinking, but this was a psychologist and not a spokesperson for the religious right. It was easy for her to write, "Naked bodies, whether of the parents or the children or their siblings, are seen and treated as being totally natural, totally wonderful, and totally okay--not as things of which to be ashamed. Sexual functions are also seen and treated as totally natural, totally wonderful, and totally okay."
I had to double check and make sure Kyle's name wasn't on this. In my first eighteen years as a parent I'd been a dismal failure; over the last month I might receive the father-of-the-year award by this doctor.
This exceptional psychologist, in my opinion, admitted that God gave teenagers a reason for strong bodies, impulsive natures, and curious, flexible minds. They are made to produce babies, but our culture has grown away from that ideal. She suggested that it's okay for teens to have kids, as long as older adults raise them. Now that one I can agree to. I was behind the times to her recommendation to start teaching sex long before their teenagers. Maybe it wasn't too late, and the boys were asking me questions that should have been answered years ago. But then I remembered the swallowing question, then the sodomy one--those are pretty advanced sexual events. Wait! Being gay, those are exactly the questions that are interesting!
I was a failure at many of her wishes, which no doubt led to my son's near suicide. I could kick myself for such ignorance. At least there wasn't rampant back-talking, door-slamming, bedroom-retreating, fickle boys and girls in our house. Then I thought about that and most of these were common. Our home had been dysfunctional sexually, so says the expert. If I thought for a second that Lucy would be even slightly open to this, I'd present it. This is where the wife has the husband committed. There was no doubt she'd been around 4th graders for too many years.
Her last comment was excellent: "One way parents can do this is by setting a good example by not pretending to be something you aren't. Happiness, creativity, and the innovative spirit are crushed when kids believe they need to fit into the perfect box or they see the parent preach one thing and do another."
I was thinking I could set boundaries and still be an example of how a gay man behaves and thinks. That was my goal that night. Really, those were my intentions.
A Federal Express man came to my door early the next morning to hand me a cashier's check for two million dollars. Contracts had been signed, per mail exchanges. Five hundred thousand had been kept by the author as his payment. I wasn't going to argue. Another package was delivered a few hours later with Alan's input into a screenplay. I could have kissed him.
My mind spun beyond comprehension, so I spent the afternoon at Kit's gymnastic practice, then Kyle's swim workout, and finally Kory's baseball game at six o'clock. While watching other boys' butts and crotches, while exploring the new gay me, I'd learned something terrific about my sons; they were really talented. Kit had no reservation on giving me a hug and including me in his entire workout. Kyle introduced me to Rodney, with words that few fathers hear.
"Dad, this is my boyfriend. Isn't he cute?" I hugged both boys.
Kory was beside himself that I was watching one of his games. He did spectacular, but when I went to hug him after the game, he stuck out his hand. Any physical contact with a parent wasn't a good sign amongst his peers. Only after we got in the car with his two brothers, did he bend over and kiss me with a squeeze around the neck.
"Thanks for coming, Dad. That was so cool."
"Glad I could share part of your lives. I'm sorry I've been remiss doing this as a father. By the way, Kit, your mother expects your hair to be cut, now that you've turned thirteen. Not that I wish to piss her off more than she is now, but I think that family tradition has run its course. Crewcuts are a bit too......"
"Ungay," Kyle said and had us laughing.
I set up a LLC, Limited Liability Corporation, per Mr. Stroup's suggestion. The money was deposited with this new venture of responsibility to someone who believed that a movie about twelve orphans would be exciting. I began to wonder if I could put together a movie that brought Mr. Stroup's book to life.
The time had come to see if I had the boys' support or even if they wanted any part of this fiasco on my mind. I couldn't envision having to find twelve boys to play these parts by myself, especially when I had two gay sons of my own. That night I sat the three down on Kit's bed, as they stared at me that something bad at happened. Kit had such a sour look, he just knew it was about his mother and me.
"How would the three of you like to make a movie about that book you've read, THE HUCKLEBERRY PIRATES?"
They each had wide eyes, a glare of disbelief. "You're teasing us, right?" Kyle asked me.
"No. I've been in touch with Mr. Stroup. The money has already been put in the bank."
The three looked at each other, arms shot straight up into high fives, and then yelps of approval. Kyle yanked his head toward his brother and then toward me and that's when I got swamped; actually, more than swamped. Kyle reached and clicked off their nightlight, while Kit and Kory thumped on my chest. Kyle ripped off my shorts and underwear. How he got me hard so fast won't be mentioned, but then Kory tossed Kyle a tube of KY and none of my resistance or threats appeared to dissuade them. I tried to remember some of those words from that psychologist. Is this part of that totally wonderful logic?
Their laughter over my predicament was of my expense. I can't say, after being shocked, that I could go from my state of excitement to a foul mood. Then Kit called me Helmet Head, which created another round of hysterics. They were incorrigible.
Released from my bondage, I reminded them that this new nickname was not to be repeated for the ears of others. Just because I had an appendage that was rather thick was not a reason to give their father a moniker. They laughed.
"Okay, Helmet Head," Kit said and I had my first red ass underneath my hand. Trouble was, he still laughed. I departed with my legs shaking and the stark realization that three of my sons had masturbated me to orgasm. I was caught between feeling like I'd just lost the biggest game of my life or won the lottery of love.
In this lull I began to experiment with lighting, camera angles, and my new peek-a-boo lens, attached to the bottom of the boys' light fixture in their bedroom as a justified revenge for ganging up on me. It looked like a logical attachment. If I expected some routine boy roughhousing, I received that and more. Linus has his blanket, but Kit has his Fred Flintstone nightlight. It saved the day as far as lighting was concerned. Their romp and circumstance had advanced farther than what I knew as a teenager.
They had this game of getting one of them lying on the bed naked, while the others ran their fingernails along the skin. If the brother flinched or laughed he had to perform whatever was requested. None of them lasted more than a few seconds and a gay movie had nothing on these guys. If Kory wasn't gay, he had adjusted well to his brothers' nuances.
All this I captured from the dining room on one laptop computer. My libido had been so escalated, I had to resort to an internal discipline to focus on my project in completing a screenplay and timeline for the movie. As a means to distract this hormonal room of boy togetherness, I invited them each to assist me in how a teenager thinks or says under certain circumstances. There were a few cross-eyes until I offered a ten thousand dollar bonus for their participation. It's amazing how cooperative they became.
Mr. Stroup called toward the end of the week, so I calmly asked him how much I should expect for directing this movie.
"What's your estimate?" he turned the question back on me.
Not wanting to seem greedy and expecting a laugh at my overestimation of abilities, I said, $25,000.
"Too low. Try again."
"Fifty thousand?" I asked in disbelief.
"Add a zero and you're in the ballpark. Pay your stars a hundred grand each; the other boys ten, plus all expenses. Your workers will all be happy with ten thousand. I receive a lot of correspondence from teens who have read my book. There's this hottie twink who goes to South Florida now, who will be your assistant director. The kid's a genius and will melt in your arms. I know."
This was something I had wondered about; how many letters from teenage admirers he received. "How old is he?"
"He's eighteen now, but sixteen when we first met, okay, maybe fourteen. A bundle of joy I tell you, and he's studying film. Not a pushy bone in his body, but he'll be your right hand man. Name's Tad, and I'll have him call you. By the way, plan on paying the kid fifty grand. He's worth it."
"A godsend," I replied and knew I'd been saved for knowing nothing about directing.
The call finished, I calculated my expenses and realized I still had over a million to do the film. The only surprise so far was when I asked Alan how much we should expect to make after the film is made. 'Nothing,' he hadn't hesitated to blurt out. Between the investor, distributor, art houses, publicity, and the other greedy fingers involved, net proceeds had one definition--zero. What was to be made was up front. For a half-million I could live with that.
The Briden household was a combat zone under truce. Everyone went their own way with few words and a tacit understanding that a blow up was bound to occur at any time. I was happy in thinking that Lucy was under the assumption that things would be back to normal when she came to the reality that she didn't rule the roost. There was now a new chain of command because her husband had grown balls in a month's time.
In the meantime she decided to take a few days of her summer vacation to visit her daughter at Ohio State, as if Cynthia needed her mother to show up at college after only a few weeks of independence.
My work was exhaustive from morning to night. Like a kid in a candy store I dove into the movie business with all my heart and mind. The boys well earned their bonus money, working together with ideas that were ingenious. We reread the book three times and began to define each character to their role, looks, age, and dialogue. Keith ignored us, yet his curiosity was so intense he kept asking each brother, when he would catch them alone, what we were up to.
Exhausted after every meeting of the minds, we adjourned to our respective bedrooms--mine in the living room--at midnight. I was too tired to play voyeur to three teenagers, though it was a new sexual awakening like I was nineteen again. I'm thankful that I'd kept my body in the same shape as my college days.
I've been told that I'm a heavy sleeper, actually a family joke, and I rarely remember my dreams. On this night, as in a few others, I had a tendency to put myself back in high school. I had a particular crush on a boy, which is a whole other story. As part of this dream his scent distracted me from my dream of being on the golf course with my buddies. Immediately hard, I sensed his willingness to have intercourse. It was too good to be true, yet so surreal in my dream. He came in my mouth after I'd finished satisfying myself. The immense kissing put my dream deeper and deeper to a satisfying sleep.
I woke up with Kyle in my arms, his naked back to my chest. I hadn't remembered him climbing in bed with me. I began to panic, but then I remembered that Lucy was in Columbus and the kids slept in late because it was summer. My dream came rushing back after tasting a dry mouth, a touch of saltiness.
Quickly stepping over my sleeping son, I examined my crotch and saw a coating of lubricant and a few pubic hairs stuck together. I raised the covers and examined Kyle's rear end. A glistening coat of KY Jelly. Nah, not possible, I told myself.
Throughout the day I took the boys shopping at the camera store, before buying them new summer duds that were in style, according to them. I kept glancing over at my middle son, Kyle, to get a perspective if anything happened the night before. Occasionally he'd wrap his arm inside mine, a tint of possessiveness that I was all his. "Nah!" I said out loud to bring the biggest grin to his face. This kid knew something I didn't.
Keith and Katy were objects of my attention, as well, for different reasons. Their coyness was too evident, but when no one was looking--or they thought no one was looking--they acted like two lovebirds. One Peek-a-boo camera was changed to Katy's room.
That night, while my three sons were huddled around the drawings of prospective scenes, thanks to our family artist in Kit, out of the corner of my eye Keith was tiptoeing to his sister's room.
I didn't expect any video would be possible with the absence of night lights, so I excused myself to the bathroom and located the family stethoscope, occasionally used by my wife when someone was sick. Going to Keith's room I pressed it against the wall and had my fill of two incestuous lovers.
"God, Keith, what if one of our brothers is looking for you?" I heard Katy ask.
"The old man is downstairs with the faggots. They are into their little project of make believe. Probably a play for scout camp. Get on all fours; let's try it doggy style."
"My ass will be up in the air!" Katy had protested.
"Yeah, and you have a great ass."
"I mean, hot, girl!" Keith apparently knew how to manipulate to get what he wanted.
Between the "Oh, yeah's!" and the "God, that feels so good!", I had enough evidence to blackmail my eldest if he ever saw something he shouldn't.
I admit the sexual tension had my arousal at its height. Finally making sure all three of my sons went to bed, I was looking forward to some time with myself. Kyle came bouncing down the steps in his altogether and slid in next to me.
"Son, I don't think this is such a good idea."
"Mom's gone, Dad. No big deal. I don't like seeing you sleep all alone."
"What if Keith or Katy see us in the same bed?"
"He's in with Katy. They sleep together."
"You know about this?"
"Who doesn't? They've been diddling since Katy was twelve. She thinks she's all mature because she does it."
A father is the last to know. "Look, no shenanigans and don't steal the covers in the middle of the night."
I rolled over and kept my distance. I usually spent the first few minutes before I fell asleep in an attempt to concentrate on what still needed done with the outline for production. With my back to his back I felt pretty safe. It wasn't a dream, per se, but my mind told me it was Lucy, horny from weeks without sex, attempting to make up for lost time. I tongued the opening, an act I never really enjoyed, but this scent was different. Her mouth was on my organ for the longest time as my mind wondered. I must have turned over to feel my own anus receiving such pleasure, then the insertion. She must be wearing a dildo and pleasing me because she knows I'm gay, I dreamt. I remembered little else.
I woke up with my back away from Kyle, my son snoozing away. This is good, we must have slept like this all night, yet I knew I switched positions throughout the night as part of my ritual. As I swept away, my hip felt the wetness on the sheet. I couldn't believe I had had a wet dream. Maybe the last one was twenty years ago. That showed how aroused I was the night before, I thought.
My stretch in the nude was invigorating, but my rear had a tightness to it with a feeling of sponginess. Brushing my hand back there, it came back wet with jelly and a smell of sperm. A mere glance under the covers at my son's woody, there was no doubt it was coated with the same substance. I knew one thing, my rear wasn't coated when I went to bed.
During college at Ohio University, I had a close friend who became a psychologist. We knew each other for three years in school and never thought of being intimate because we were afraid what the other would think. I called him.
Now Joe Sproveri is another private crush of mine, a guy who has the perfect life, a handsome partner, and still makes me drool when I see him. I could never tell him all this, though we see each other all the time at the country club. He's another person I have often shanked a shot on the golf course to make sure that he beat me and to insure a future invitation in the future to play in his foursome. A bad habit that my father-in-law had installed in my game.
All I knew, I was going to go insane if I didn't tackle this problem. My explanation was a peripheral of the problem, but I'd never actually been to a shrink before.
Joe smiled at my issue, he called it, and sank back into his easy chair behind the desk. "So, Brad, what I'm hearing is, you think you're having sex with someone underage, but you're not real sure."
"I'm pretty sure," I replied. "The person is a teenager, so I'm relieved at that. I think I'm resorting to an adolescent again."
Joe laughed, which made my heart jump at his gorgeous smile. Where had I gone so wrong? Then I reminded myself I had six beautiful children.
"We haven't actually resolved to how this person got into your bed, or where everyone else was. How do you know that you had sex? Were there signs of pubic hairs?" Joe asked.
"The person I was with is a swimmer, no hair but for the head."
"So you're a coach or youth leader?"
I hadn't wanted to reveal all those secrets. "Let's say I'm responsible for a group of teenagers, Joe, and it just happened."
"Right, Brad, things just happen and you want someone to say it was okay because you thought you were asleep. Let me ask you something. Was this the idea of this teenager to do this?"
"Absolutely, Joe. I didn't impose my desire on him....this person. My wife says I could sleep through a nuclear holocaust. I do sleep rather soundly."
Joe lit up. "You hadn't exactly implied on the sex of this person. May I assume it was a male?"
"Okay, you can assume."
"Aside from society's expectations and the laws of this state, let's deal with this side of Brad Briden."
"Okay, I like that," I admitted.
"How did you feel about having sex with another male?"
"I was, well, excited. I liked it. I mean, I must have because, well, in my dream I thought it was Lucy, but how could it be my wife when I had this cock in my mouth? Anyway, it was one of those dreams that you don't want to wake up because it feels so good. I had a sensation that it was too real, but my eyelids were so heavy I just wanted to enjoy it."
"How long have you known about this attraction?"
My turn to smile. "Since I was a teenager."
"And you didn't tell me when we roomed together. Shame on you."
"Brad, let me make this as uncomplicated as possible. A man cannot make up for what he didn't get as a child. By using sexual fantasies and play, this desire can be satisfied on a temporary basis. That's the great thing about fantasy; you can live a life based on any joy you want to achieve. It's not uncommon for a man to get aroused by twinks because he came out late and desires to recapture his own youth. Hell, we all find twinks to be a mind blower; you just can't act on the attraction. Your birth certificate will say you're this thirty-eight year old man, but in "gay years," you're still pushing twenty-one."
"You're implying I'm gay, Joe?"
"If your passion is for the male sex, and this passion and eroticizing makes your dick jerk with pleasure and excitement, you're gay. Bisexuality is a cop out. Do you have the same emotional reaction to your wife, Brad?"
I hesitated. "Not really."
"Congratulations on just coming out. Now, let's deal with this twink. First of all I don't want you to get all stressed out. Is this boy unhappy with the results?"
"Not hardly. He wants to keep doing it."
"That's where your maturity and his immaturity have to come to terms. A teenager is quite capable of knowing who he wants to suck his dick. Society might not give him credit for this, but that's the psychological truth. The goal is to protect your future and restore common sense in relationships. It's one thing to teach and mentor a gay youth to learn more about himself, quite another to think this is going to be a long-term, satisfying relationship based on mutual interests and social acceptance. You will find that you two have little interest outside of an impending orgasm."
"I love this boy," I admitted.
"And I have no doubt he loves you. We have to adjust your goals and his. Can you bring the teenager in for a session?"
Joe offered one more insight. "Knowing how teenagers think, this boy is reluctant to ask you to have sex with him, so he's giving you an out, Brad."
"How's that?" I had to ask.
"He's figuring you want do to this, so doing it in darkness is allowing you to say you had no idea who it was or even remember that it did. He might even know that you're a heavy sleeper, if you actually asleep."
"Whoa there, Joe! I never felt like I awoke. That's the truth."
"I believe you, but does the boy really know that you're a heavy sleeper?"
"Ah, he knows. My wife often makes fun of it. I can't really tell you how this boy knows this, but... Anyway, so you're saying that Kyle, I mean, this boy, believes that I want this on a nightly basis."
"You got it. The boy must know your wife pretty well."
"Ah, he spends a lot of time around our house."
This sounds really crazy, but I had to know for sure that night. I allowed Kyle to crawl in bed with me for this last night before Lucy returned from Columbus.
An hour previous at the dining room table the four of us had had our laughs over my video replay of their brother and sister. I didn't mention they had been caught on candid camera, as well. Though the lighting was insufficient, there was enough moonlight through the window to watch Keith humping his sister on all fours while she bragged about his size and moaned. Kit thought it was a comedy.
There was no doubt that Kyle was bright enough to take advantage of his father after I had fallen asleep. Either it was his rationale that he could claim I was unconscious, or he was allowing me this excuse. The truth was, the dreams felt too real. I must have struggled to stay awake for another hour before I succumbed to sleep.
After feelings his lips on mine and getting caught into this dream, it was the orgasm that awoke my senses. I was on my back when my eyes shot open. Kyle had his head arched back and was riding me, but there was no way I wanted to break this union, as crazy as that sounded. I even reached up and tweaked his nipples to send him into a Katy frenzy. I had ejaculated inside of him in him while he began to shoot all over my chest. His soft groans convinced me that Kyle was really into this union of bodies. We both froze in our orgasmic state and I'd never experienced quite an orgasm or number of spasms as I felt that night. There was little I could do but mouth my own verbal satisfaction of being spent sexually. The boy had taken me to places I never knew possible. I'll have to admit, it was the best sex I had ever had.
My eyes shut quickly. I pretended to be asleep in this dream as Kyle quietly ran to the kitchen and came back with a wet towel--cold water, mind you, and wiped my chest down. I jerked with both the coldness and how ticklish it was when he wiped my penis off. I actually grew hard again in his hand. Even when I felt he had finished, he put his body on top of mine and French kissed me for five minutes. I called him Bud to verify my dream and to convince both of us that it was only a dream.
"I love you, Brad," Kyle whispered, which almost had me laughing that he was acting his role. I rolled over to resume sleep and tried to formulate my words to where Joe would actually believe me.
In the morning I mentioned to my reserved and secretive son that he was going on an appointment with me. Kyle gave me this most curious look, which made me feel rotten that I was taking him through this therapy that he hadn't exactly volunteered for.
Kyle grabbed me before I had a chance to climb over him. He was daring in going groin to groin with me like it was perfectly natural for father and son to be sensual.
"Dad, I'm sorry if you're mad at me, but I love you more than you can imagine."
I felt like shit for taking him through this. "My boy, I'm not sure how close God intended fathers and sons to be. You're part of me, as I'm part of you. What's normal or not is best left up to God."
"God doesn't mind, I just know He doesn't," Kyle tried to convince both of us. "Noah and Ham did it."
I paused, not really caring that our penises were touching. "That's in the Bible?"
"Sure. God had a lot of boy-companions. Elisha and Elijah pressed themselves naked on boys, and don't forget David and Jonathan, Saul and David."
"You must have had one kinky Sunday School teacher," I said.
"Rodney has one. He tells me all about the homoerotic scenes in the Old Testament."
I smacked my lips. "I could have used a friend like that in high school." I didn't mean to crack a joke, but this was far more serious. "Look, Kyle, your dad can't build a boat like Noah, so maybe I don't qualify as a likely candidate for your love."
I hugged him close because I never wanted to lose him again. If we were only both fifteen again we'd stayed in bed until we both couldn't get it up again. "Trust me on this, Kyle. If I allow this I'm doing you an injustice. You're too beautiful for a man my age."
"But Mr. Yamato was perfect for Kami," Kyle pleaded.
"That was a book, son, just a book."
"Tell that to a samurai and he'd cut your head off, or make you love me. I'd prefer that."
"Ah, yes, but I guarantee that few were father and sons." I squeezed his ass and suggested we both get our butts in gear.
My tendency not to keep a straight face was way too apparent when I introduced Kyle to Dr. Sproveri. I loved the look on his face, though he covered it up well and treated my son like the boy was his own flesh and blood. Kyle was near panic, but he relaxed with the jovial nature of the talk and that Joe and I were the best of friends.
"You didn't mention he was a knockout or your son, Brad," Joe began and put Kyle at ease. "So, young man, do you love your father?" Joe asked.
"Yes, sir. How did you know I was his son?"
"By God, you two look like twins," Joe said and had my son light up like a Christmas tree. "And you know your father loves you?"
"If I may ask, what do you like best about your father?"
Kyle considered this for a second. "He saved my life and he's just the greatest dad a kid can have."
Joe winked at me. "What do you know about your father's sexuality?"
Good question I thought. Joe is making this more about me, than Kyle.
"Dad told me he was gay." Kyle turned to me. "Is it okay that I say that, Dad?"
"You already did," I replied and laughed. "Joe knows everything."
Kyle's face turned white. "Everything?"
"Dr. Sproveri is gay, too."
"It's a blessing," Joe replied and had my son smile. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
Kyle perked up. "Yes, but his parents don't know."
"Ever do anything sexual with him?"
"We kissed twice, no three times. We've felt up each other's boner, I mean, erection."
"Trust me, Kyle, we don't have to be grammatically correct here. Use whatever words you like. Boner is find." Joe looked at me. "Ever thought of having the two boys sleep over?"
"Kyle's mother frowns on sleepovers. She thinks it may lead to acts that are unbecoming."
The doctor wanted to laugh at that one. There's been timing in my life, and there's been timing. This was timing. My cell phone rang and it was Lucy. She said she was spending a few more days in Columbus because the car was acting up. I appreciated her call and told her everything at home was going well.
I shoved the phone in my pocket. "I'm thinking that's about to change." I looked at my son. "Would you like to have Rodney sleep over?"
Kyle smile and nodded. "Arranged," I said.
"How do you view your dad sexually?" Joe asked my son.
Kyle glanced at me. "I think he deserves what my mother can't give him."
"And that is?" Joe asked.
"Love. He deserves pleasure."
"Are you good at that?"
"Kyle, I'm not judging here, nor is this about right or wrong. Each of us construct particular sexual fantasies and erotic desires that are not pathological but a form of self-help, erotic blueprints, per se, that can help us discover ourselves, along with the right partner for each of us. Can you understand that?"
"Good. We also have sexual preferences that negate self-denigrating beliefs and feelings, thus allowing sexual excitement to emerge. In order to feel aroused, we transform ourselves from frogs to princes. Sexual acts then undo rejections, turn helplessness into power, redeem feelings of unworthiness, and eliminate even the slimmest vestiges of depression. For just a few moments, just long enough to have that great orgasm in the sky, we become powerful and feel good about ourselves. Can you relate to that?"
"I think so. That's how I feel when I'm with Dad. He's the best lover a boy can have. He's not abusing me, if that's what you think."
Joe smiled and paid me the compliment that he had missed out on this sexual dynamo. "It's not that any sexual union is really wrong, unless it's forced or coerced, but some relationships aren't beneficial for both parties. To discover sex and feel that powerful orgasm with someone your own age is the ultimate goal."
"But Dad is more than that. He's like..." Kyle started.
"You love the feeling you have when you're with your father," Joe interjected.
"Yes. He makes my mind do crazy things."
"Like what?" Joe asked in amusement. I didn't want to hear my son's answer.
"I don't know. He just makes me want to kiss him all over, and I can't get enough when he's inside of me. No boy can do that for me. He's the perfect lover."
"Profound words from someone so young. Ah, but you don't know that until you try someone your own age, right?"
"I have with my brothers, but Dad is so much better."
"Your father will have an adult relationship, just as you will have a relationship with Rodney. Use what you've learned and the love you have shared to help you establish a meaningful relationship with a boy. Erotic sex is fun, but you need permanency in your life and those emotions that every day you can wake up and love that person openly."
"I think I understand, but is it okay...."
Joe raised his hand. "All sexual fantasies are healthy, but some just shouldn't be acted on because they might put the one who has them, or someone else, at risk. The sexual connection of a father-son fantasy lets both parent and child experience a tight-knit bond. It is not a sickness because you can't be sexually aroused and unhappy at the same time. In this day and age, such a discovery would bring misery to both your lives."
"Yes sir." Kyle had this puzzled look in examining me. "Dad, have you found an adult male?"
I couldn't resist laughing. "Not exactly, but maybe I'll work on that attachment."
We had this great agreement of the minds, I was sure. As we were leaving, Joe had to ask my son what he had discovered in his short sexual life.
Kyle gleamed with the question. "Having my butt licked is awesome," he said with pride.
Joe busted up. "Must have been one hell of a dream, Brad." I nodded and gave Kyle a stare.
"You didn't have to talk about that one," I said under my breath, but both of them heard it. Kyle laughed, so I was glad he wasn't traumatized by his first trip to a shrink.
A quick call had Rodney ride over on his bicycle for dinner. Naturally Kyle couldn't wait to tell Rodney of our movie scheme. I looked at this cute youngster, as short as a jockey and perfect for a diver, and saw Huck in him from head to toe. This was too good to be true. My actors were coming to me.
Kory and Kit wanted to know where we went and why they weren't invited. I winked and pretended it had something to do with Kyle's state of mind. They figured it out that they understood and would keep an eye on him. We were on two different wavelengths, but that was okay. Something told me that these two knew why Kyle slept with me but were okay with it.
Katy and Keith had these condemning frowns on their faces that their mother wouldn't have condoned this overnight visit. They couldn't wait to tell. With Rodney a part of our nightly colloquy for film school, he threw himself quickly in all the proceedings. Kyle caught my ear and told me he'd switched the video camera back to his own room. I was amazed he could find it.
"Ah, Dad, once you know what to look for, it was easy. Just thought you'd want to see the master at work."
Fortunately his brothers weren't in on this.
Anyway, I examined Rodney like I would have if one of my sons brought home a girl. He appeared polite, well-mannered, and blended in well with my other sons. Boys can be so different than girls when they're around parents. From angelic beings to hell on wheels in a manner of minutes, Rodney had a feistiness to him that was intriguing. His black hair contrasted to my sons blond locks, yet his handsome features were stunning. I kept my eye out for signs of gayness; his touchy-feely hands were consistently his giveaway. Around me Rodney was hesitant at first, but I put my arm around his shoulders and he melted to the attention. Kyle smiled at me, like I was hitting on his boyfriend, but would later tell me that Rodney's dad was cold and demanding.
Much like my own son Kyle, a more serene kid would be difficult to find, but allow the boy to have a hard-on and there would be no doubt he'd be this sexual awakening that Kyle needed to replace his father. When the boy pressed his hands to mine to keep them tight against his chest, I thought he was hitting on me. Kyle didn't mind one bit and I quickly envisioned the nightmare of having both of them in bed with me.
Teenagers are so much more attune to technology than I ever thought of being at their age. Rodney knew all about Star Wars-Episode II, which was filmed digitally. He spouted off that George Lucas had had a $12,000 a week camera package rental for a 24P Sony HD900 from Panavision. I pretended not to be ignorant and nodded. I had learned enough to convey that we were shooting at 1920 x 1080 lines of resolution. That impressed the group.
Rodney wasn't bad with a pencil as he assisted Kit with the making of a few storyboards. His knowledge of ships wasn't bad either. Then Kory ran upstairs and retrieved THE HUCKLEBERRY PIRATES for Rodney to read a few passages. Kory waited for a reaction like we all did. The boy glanced up.
"These guys are gay. He expected my censure, a refute of what he had just read.
"You okay with that?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Is Kyle okay with it?"
"Come on, dude, I'm gay," Kyle said with pride.
"I'm gay, too," Kit announced.
"You're playing with me," Rodney said as a surety. He made sure to stare at me.
I shook my head. "Meet my two gay sons," I said.
Rodney glanced at each. "Cool. In this scene I get chased around the cabin because the pirate wants my booty. I hope he's cute."
We laughed and Kyle hit his boyfriend. "You're not supposed to let him catch you."
"Maybe we can practice that tonight," Rodney said and just knew he'd said the wrong thing. Instead he got a "Hubba-hubba," from Kit.
My cautiousness had me wondering if my son and this kid had ever really kissed. As the night progressed Rodney became more interested by the page. He was beginning to read, visualize the scene, and then give his novice advice, sketching two boys at the bow of the ship, kissing. He and Kyle giggled and almost kissed but for Kit coming in between them to critique the storyboard. It was midnight when I sent the four of them to bed.
Tired myself, I brought the computer to my sofa bed and placed it on my lap. This could be either boring or way too exciting for my own good. There was a lot if idle chit chat, boys too excited to sleep. I ran up and brushed me teeth and had all four boys join me with toothbrushes in their hands. The boys had a playful push and shove waiting there time in showing off their cool father who didn't discipline them for acting like fools. I think Rodney was taken back by my sons' openness in peeing in my presence.
They hastened back to their room, while I departed back downstairs again. In their teenage domain Kory brought out his football and said there was an easier way of getting undressed for bed. Marking one, he said that whoever had the ball point at him, they lost an article of clothing. Then the ball twirled between two of them and an argument ensued. Okay, if it landed between two of them, both would lose. Kory was like a negotiator for gay boys. In minutes their pensive nature had turned to laughter with two of them naked. Then new rules were instilled by majority vote. Even with the dimness of a nightlight, three boners stood out. Only Kory wasn't immediately excited in the midst of all the testosterone.
From kisses on the cheek to mandatory ones on the lips, everyone had soon kissed someone. Kory ran to retrieve a baseball this time, marking it with the letters LB and SD. I had no idea. The first loser was Kit, when he had LB spin to a stop in front of him. He bent down and licked Rodney's balls. Kory ran out of luck and had to give Kyle a SD, which meant suck dick. Rodney was no longer this hesitant, wary teenager in the middle of the Briden boys. He straightened his legs and roared with laughter, his boner for all to see. It got to a point where they were even arguing that the ball spun in front of them, often saying it was a tie and they both had to give each other a blow job.
Leave it to Kyle to arch back on his elbows, with Rodney between his legs, and look up at the camera above them. He smiled. Nothing left to imagine, Kyle took the game to new heights with rimming. Kory resisted, but not in receiving such delicacy. When called chicken and wuss, he caved in and went down on Kit's ass.
"I want that ass," Kory said after putting his cock next to the hole.
"Spin the ball!" Kit said with a challenge that whoever lost, got the reward. He won and had his first straight boy. Though Kory winced, he was soon pleading with Kit not to pull out.
It was Rodney who wasn't too sure that this sodomy thing was something he was ready for. The four of them adjourned to their beds, with Rodney sleeping with Kyle. Kyle was hardly finished, coating his own ass and Rodney's, then asking Rodney if he wanted to and he could go first. Without including the other two, the covers were thrown off, I believe for my observation.
After a few minutes of Rodney's initiation into sexual intercourse, they switched roles. Kyle was as gentle as any lover could ask for. He had Rodney purring after a few strokes. Kit crawled over and watched with delight while stretched out on his stomach.
Way too erotic for my renewed gayness, I jacked off as a true voyeur. Where were boys like this when I was their age? What I had concluded before I calmed down, Kyle and Rodney were my two leading men for THE HUCKLEBERRY PIRATES. Now to convince his Presbyterian parents to allow their son to go on vacation to Florida and act in his birthday suit. First things first, he had to come out to his parents, or did he?
It had been a hot night without an air conditioner cooling the house down. This was an expense we had decided to forego to save money. Leave it to Keith to wake up first and peek in his brothers' room. Four boys, lying in the nude, barely covered, if at all, gave Keith the ammunition he thought sure would put him in good graces with his mother. Thankfully he had his caustic remarks directed at me first.
"Care to go upstairs and see your faggot sons expose themselves?"
I poured my hot chocolate, as calm as I managed to stay without strangling the little bugger. My hand went over his shoulders as I pushed him to sit at the breakfast table. Sitting across from him I smiled.
"Check this out, sport, you've got some nerve being this pompous intruder into your brothers' lives."
"You don't see me showing my ass for everyone to see. And Kyle has his arms wrapped around that other kid up there."
"Don't suppose they did it doggy style, do you? Maybe they told each other that they liked the view of each other's ass. Of course, there again, they're not into their sisters, are they?"
Keith got this panic countenance. "What do you mean? I don't have the hots for my sister."
"People's eyes dilate when they're lying. And here I thought you were ready for the Mormon mission."
He stood up. "Did one of my brothers snoop on me? Don't believe a word they say."
"Probably no more than you spying on them while they're sleeping. You better be using condoms, young man. I suppose we can discuss this at the dining room table, your brothers' nudity and you screwing your sister. By the way, I also did my own snooping. It must run in the family."
"You can be such an asshole," he told me and departed.
"Way to deflect, son. Blame it on your old man! Love your loving words for your old man!" I think he flipped me the bird over his shoulder.
There were four drowsy boys for breakfast when they stirred at the sound of the lawnmower, thanks to their older brother. That was his passive-aggressive way at getting back at me and his brothers. Kyle had loaned Rodney his board shorts, as they each dressed in as few clothes as possible for this hot summer day. My own sons kissed me as they entered, though Kit patted me on the head with his greeting, "Morning, Helmet Head."
Kyle slugged his brother a good one on the shoulder. "Use your head, bozo. We have company."
"What does helmet head mean?" Rodney asked.
"Oh, nothing," Kit rescued his faux pas.
"I know what a turtle head is," Rodney admitted.
Kyle gulped, which gave that one up. "Let's just say that my dad has a bigger dick than your dad."
I was glad Rodney laughed. "I can barely see my dad's dick with his belly."
"Our father is an athlete," Kit tried to get back in my good graces.
"Yeah, I'm a golfer, so we all have long putters and polished balls," I interjected into this conversation.
Rodney thought that was hilariously funny. "Your dad is cool," he admitted to Kyle. "Mine is such a dork."
I just hoped he didn't go home and tell his parents that I was cool because of my penis.
A golfing engagement, which I'd put off for lack of income, was on my day's schedule. Now that I had a few extra bucks I could play eighteen once in a while. A list of chores and warnings not to spend the day in sexual acts with each other, I left the boys in hopes they weren't at each other's throats upon my return. I did whisper to Kyle and Kory that their brother was aware I knew about the affair with his sister. Any retaliation was likely not to happen, if he knew what was good for him.
By the tenth fairway I had a mental burp to survive this humidity. My golfing buddies wondered if the heat had gotten to me, as I flipped my cell phone shut. The store said they would deliver and have it set up in less than two hours.
My favorite shrink was my partner in this best ball club tournament. I made sure he wasn't disappointed in inviting me to play with him. Joe and I had time to talk about Kyle in an around-about way. He said, through the years, he had had many father and daughter incest cases in his family counseling. Quite often the daughter had developed a crush on their father which the adult found irresistible. Most often the girl broke off this relationship by the time she turned fourteen. I found this information rather interesting as we drove along in our golf cart. It was the talk of male incest that had my ears perked while we watched another golfer struggle from the sand trap.
"Don't think you're all alone in this, Brad. Though it's not as common, boys can become quite attached to their fathers, especially if the father is receptive. There are fathers who abuse their sons, but this is abuse, not mere incest. Boys' libido is six times that of a female, so any sex is inviting, even with an adult male who happens to be their father. They rarely break it off through adolescence until they find a partner of their own age. The father is more dependent on such a sexual outlet than the boy, once the kid finds another source. Cases I see are ones that are discovered. Unlike Kyle, most of the boys are embarrassed or in denial. They certainly want to protect their fathers at every turn."
"I had no idea," I admitted. "I've never sexualized my sons until Kyle's sexuality became an issue. I find it difficult to believe that I enjoyed the whole thing."
"You're human and have a passion toward males. Boys can be major players in bed because of their ability for multiple orgasms in a very limited period of time. Nature only slows them up for twenty minutes, at best."
I laughed, addressed my ball, sixty yards from the flag, and then hit a pitching wedge a foot from the pin and watched it roll in the hole. "I feel like a fifteen-year old who just got rid of his virginity."
I'm glad my shrink thought it was funny. As we waited for one of our opponents to find an errant ball, Joe placed his hand on my shoulder, followed by very interesting words for a psychologist.
"Let me call foul here for all gay boys, Brad. Boys grow up with a mother-child relationship that is often the primary determinant of the quality of all later experiences of love. A boy who learns that he can basically trust the world develops a secure center of self that is capable of withstanding the normal vicissitudes of life. If a boy believes he belongs as part of the human race, that there is a place for him and, more importantly, doesn't have to prove it, he adjusts fairly well. For a gay kid who discovers his attraction is for his own sex, this perception leads, consciously or unconsciously, to the judgment that life sucks and that there is a reasonable expectation that he is not going to get his needs met, both by others as well as through his own searching.
"Your son had already felt rejected, had no confidence that his emotional needs were going to be met. This formative unhealthy attitude toward the world, oneself, and others counters an essential psychological paradigm for the capacity to love as an adult. In my terms your son lacked primary narcissism--a high regard for oneself that is part of an enduring and healthy sense of self-worth and self-love. I've gone to various therapy groups as a visitor and watched my peers tell these so-called sex offenders that they're too narcissistic. I have to shake my head. It's just the opposite. People don't get it, the straight populace is the problem in how they treat gays in our society, starting with its youth.
"Now with you, Brad, if I may guess, I'd say Kyle is your favorite son, though fathers rarely admit such favoritism. A father's love for his son is conditioned by how well the son mirrors his father's values and conforms to his expectations. Unlike the attention the son receives from his mother, which is usually unconditional, your love is earned through the son's successful mastery of your expectations. Kyle figured he couldn't perform in order to keep your love flowing, at least not as a gay boy. This model of father-son love introduces a destructive potential that becomes manifest when love and power become fused."
My friend had just sent me back on my heels. He was a genius in his analysis. "I can sort of understand, Joe. Kyle saw that his mother's love really isn't unconditional, but mine was."
"Good point. If your son loses his feminine nature due to ambivalence toward women, women become just objects. Your own acceptance of femininity models for Kyle a respect for women. There are aspects here why Kyle is a bottom for you, outside that you're a dominant figure in his life. In many ways he finds you an equal gay partner, but wants to play the passive role to replace your wife. I haven't even brought in the truth that you saved his life, and then told him you were one in the same. That's like saying he found his other half. I can't tell you what new psychological revelations we're beginning raw ground on here."
"Your making me a test case, aren't you?" I responded in humor and watched our opponents bogey the hole.
"Only because your son appears at his happiest and mentally healthy. I strive for father and sons to have a strong positive emotional bond characterized by trust and mutual respect. Good luck in finding this in present day families. It's more like judgmental, mistrustful, competitive, and overly powerful. Why should you change when the world is balanced, outside of the fact that society would crucify you if they knew?"
"You're giving me a green light? I better take sleeping pills so I don't remember a thing."
"To tell you the truth, Brad, no one has ever discovered either the origin of the incest taboo or the reasons for it. Both Freud and Jung made incest one of their favorite studies, but they both conceived incest as innate in the individual. Jung saw incest as an archetypal structure portraying the push toward union--not so much a physical union, but a spiritual one. You might say it's a natural urge and therefore not pathological. Having both a gay father and a gay son becomes a recipe for such a relationship to foster.
"I recently read a book by Robert Stein, Incest and Human Love. Stein says that the function of incest prohibition is to stimulate the sexual imagination and to bring instincts into the service of love, kinship and creativity. This means that essential to the psychological health and maturation of the child is that he experiences an erotic flow and connection to parents and siblings without fear, guilt or violation. The negative side to understanding other's viewpoints is that they often think of incest as mother and son, father and daughter. Most sex abuses are from the child's family, with father and daughter incest accounting for almost 80 percent of the cases. Brother and sister acts are the second highest. Incest is as old as mankind and widely accepted as an early form of procreation."
"Like the Oedipus myth," I said with my limited knowledge.
"A little," Joe replied. "See, the Oedipus myth simply explains the child's wish to sexually possess one parent, as well as the wish to replace, or do away with, the other parent. There again, Freud was thinking the biological urge of the boy for his mother, not vice versa. Yet, I can certainly understand Kyle's desire for his father as a sexual wish rather than as a symbolic regressive longing for what you represent. For most parents and children there is a natural abhorrence of actually committing incest, even while there is a fascination. While the shrinks of the world might like you to think that such a relationship is devastating for the victim, it's hardly psychologically damaging. In my research I've found that this imagery represents not the child's own innate desire but the child's unconscious perception of the parent's wish."
"Do you mean, Joe, that Kyle thinks this is what I want?"
"Possibly. He sees his father as this unhappy gay man stuck in a marriage with no other recourse. He's fulfilling your happiness by giving you a ready partner. When he spoke in the office the other day, that's exactly what he was saying. He certainly doesn't fear his father's retaliation against him for his wish to have his mother for himself because he has no desire for his mother. This is what the Oedipus complex is all about. Kyle's acts are purely a definition of libido, or psychic energy, which for him is primarily of a psychosexual nature."
"All Greek to me, Joe. Am I screwing with the kid's brains? No pun intended."
"Not if you don't insist on this relationship. Eventually Kyle will move away from this in the natural processes of psychological differentiation."
"Right. Sure. Could you put that in golf lingo for me?"
"Of course," Joe laughed. "The boy will soon out drive, out putt, and out finesse his father. This will define that there's a new man in town and that the old can't keep up with the new. He'll find someone else to compete with and discover a hole in one."
"Cute. Joe, I can't keep up with him in bed now."
"I wasn't talking sex, Brad. Gee, is that all you have on your mind?"
Leave it to a psychologist to have the last word. I figured as long as we were winning this thing I might as well tell him about my movie idea. Found out that he once wanted to be in this industry but chose something with listening skills rather than acting. Joe did listen intensely to my movie script and slipped me a hundred dollars for a pirated copy.
My popularity as a father had risen faster than the stock market as of late. The above ground pool was almost full when I pulled into the driveway and stepped into the backyard. Kit jumped into my arms which spoke volumes. Katy had a different response.
"Mom is going to kill you. You don't have a job and you're out golfing and buying a pool. Have you lost your mind, Father?"
"At least you don't call me old man like your lover."
She stormed off in tears. It wasn't my role in life to make people miserable, but revealing hypocrisy felt rather good.
Rodney wanted to be a permanent fixture at our home. With the addition of a swimming pool at his friend's house, Rodney really liked being around the Briden kids. His call from his mother wasn't a desperate plea to have her son returned, but to give permission for me to keep him another day. I sensed this was like a vacation to them.
Keith asked for the car keys, very politely, mind you. Wherever a brother and sister take off to discuss how much trouble they're in or to find a bed is beyond me. Though my boys wanted to go swimming, pronto, I made an agreement with them. I'd make hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill, if they continued the storyboards for me. Kory surprised me by showing how they had practiced that afternoon on several scenes. They were now experts at table reading and recording the script. Acting wasn't part of this, just exploring what worked best with words.
While Kory played the sea captain, Kyle and Rodney acted their part in one of the cabins on ship. The acting was pathetic, though funny. This wasn't a comedy, so I gave them my honest viewpoint.
"Guys, your acting is....well,.....it comes across as unnatural, superficial, and laughable. This isn't what being in the scene is all about. Forget the words from the book, and put yourself at that moment what you would do and how you would feel."
"Pretty bad, wasn't it?" Kyle admitted.
"It's not that you're not trying, son; it's that you're trying too hard. If you had the same spontaneous, emotional outpouring that you had last night in bed with Rodney, then acting becomes real because the audience believes you're sincere."
I saw Rodney's, Kit's and Kory's ears perk up. What did I know about last night? Kyle saved me.
"Fathers know all, sees all, and hears all. I'm not ashamed of anything we did last night."
"Neither am I," Kit said.
"What did you see, Dad?" Kory asked.
"Let's say you were auditioning and you were on tape. Trust me, there was no acting and you all got the parts." I reached in my wallet and pulled out four hundred dollar bills, handing one to each of my sons and one to Rodney. "Call it an audition."
The smiles replaced any trepidation they had about an adult eavesdropping on their sexual play. While devouring barbecued burgers in the evening air, the boys' suggestions were the best brainstorm a director could have. I agreed, Kyle would start martial arts training immediately to play his role as a boy who was self-confident and could stick up for Huck. Rodney would have to learn as much about frigates as an experienced seafarer. All this information was found on the Internet, once I chased them away from the gay porn sites.
The house on our left was a single family dwelling, but the one on the right had two stories, a teenage girl and a twelve-year old boy. The kid was often too busy with Little League and soccer, but he occasionally played with Kit in our backyard whiffle ball games. With the pool taking up most of the backyard, such entertainment would have to be sacrificed for awhile.
Kit thought it would be a cool idea to indoctrinate the pool, sans suits. I didn't mind, only that they should wait until darkness. Since the pool didn't have a pool light, they would be safe from our neighbors' peering eyes from any second story home.
The pool was much bigger than I thought. A square, above ground pool, it came with pool basketball, two rafts, and a rubber dart game. When four pairs of butts hit the water, Marco Polo and water polo became the games of choice. Fifteen minutes later, four naked boys came running to me, saying I could make it easy or hard. I lowered my shorts and darted to the pool. Though it was eight-thirty, our backyard was hardly pitch black. I knew if the neighbors weren't blind, naked bodies were glistening for their perusal.
Kit leaped on my shoulders and we had a free-for-all in dismounting the other team. No more had we been dethroned, then Kyle jumped up, then Kory, and finally Rodney with a near boner sticking in my ear. I now was beginning to get Alan Stroup's version of what hanging around twelve boys might be like. I wasn't sure I could survive their hormones.
Two hours went by in minutes, when I saw Keith and Katy walk out on the patio. Both had swimsuits on, but when Katy saw Rodney's glistening bare bottom on one of the rubber rafts she realized that she was amongst penises and balls.
"You guys are disgusting!" she reacted and retreated.
"We have nothing different than Keith!" Kory yelled and had Katy stall in her tracks.
She calmly turned around. "Look, guys, can't we show a little maturity?"
"Maturity is accepting people as they are," I spoke up. "You certainly don't have the right to ridicule your brothers and then pretend your behavior is beyond rebuke. The boys aren't asking you to take off your swimsuit, but you've certainly seen a naked boy before, so don't act all self-righteous."
"Rah! Rah!" Kit agreed. "Come on, Katy, we need you for our basketball game.
Katy relented, as did Keith. This was too much fun for any teen to ignore. It wasn't like nudity was blatant; the water was up to our chests and one would have no idea that freedom from suits was prevalent. Fun was the result for a group of teenagers and one parent. I'm sure our neighbors now knew we had a swimming pool.
The boys had no reservation in taking time off to enjoy ice cream sandwiches, though Katy stayed in the pool with me. She paddled over on the raft until her nose was practically bumping into mine.
"Do you still love me, Daddy?" she asked.
Dads have their little princes and Katy had always been mine. Cynthia was offish, above it all and indifferent to anything her father could offer. I knew Katy's games when she wanted something. In this case she wanted to know I wasn't going to blow the whistle on her to her mother.
She wanted a kiss on the lips as she puckered them up. I kissed her on the forehead. Katy didn't get what she wanted, so she pretended to fall off the raft and into my arms. Her hands managed to slide over my groin.
"Gee, Daddy, you're naked, too." She giggled, then put her back into my chest, grabbing my arms and circling her body. "My brothers are so sexy," Katy said with her eyes on four naked teens moving around the yard catching fireflies.
"They are, but it's important you find a male who you can take on dates and romance. Keith should have the same motivation."
"You're right, Daddy. I've tried to stop his antics, but he keeps persisting."
"I'm not buying all of that, but I'll talk to Keith."
"She spun around to put her front to mine. "Thanks, Daddy. This pool was such a great idea. Mom is still going to kill you."
"Probably," I replied and picked up my daughter to place her back on the raft.
Time had no relevancy with such fun, but the noise was likely to keep up our neighbors. I told the boys they could sleep outside on the patio. Keith and I were finally alone so I could address a very important issue with him.
"Your sister would like a little separation," I said. "Whatever you two have had going I'm sure has prepared you for any romantic endeavors."
I expected resistance, but he concurred. "Katy loves the attention. I've been hoping she'd find her own boy. I like this girl at school, so don't think I'm all stuck on my sister or anything."
"Good, then we're on the same page here."
"Mom's not going to tolerate my brothers running around without their clothes on," he reminded me.
"And your thoughts on this?"
"Way too gay for me, but to each his own." He swam away from me with this conversation showing more civility.
Thankful that four boys were in their own sleeping bags on the porch, I fell asleep quickly on the sofa bed. In the middle of the night I awoke and was sandwiched between Kyle and Rodney. I'd find out later that the mosquitoes had driven these two inside. Sandwiched was the word for the night because they both had their legs and arms slung over my body. There was a relief that my son wouldn't be all sensual with another boy in bed. Guess I forgot about the showing off part that teens like to do with their peers. Having sex with your father was never one of these things I thought a boy wanted to brag about. As Kyle swept his naked body over mine, I complained of a headache, which had Rodney laughing. I put both boys' heads on my chest and worked their natural male weaknesses--their backs with soothing finger brushes.
Almost asleep Rodney's silent slumber was blissful. I doubt if he'd ever experienced such a closeness with a male adult. Kyle had other things in mind. He lowered his head to my groin, then proceeded to give me what I hadn't experienced in eighteen years of marriage. Swallowing, his eyes rolled upward to give me a teasing smile. Some boy will find this kid the perfect lover someday. He relaxed in my loose arm without giving me a clue that he wanted his turn. I had a feeling this was sex on credit and I now owed him big time.
Lucy arrived home while I was at the golf course the next day. Joe wanted to celebrate our victory by rubbing it in in front of his fellow snobby members. He had to ask how my evening went.
"Two boys, both naked, one in each arm," I said with casual ease. He chuckled, just knowing I was kidding. I let it hang, which is a great way to frustrate a psychologist.
Naturally, my wife went bananas when she saw the pool and immediately told the boys to take it down. They went so far as to drain the pool, hoping I'd come home and save the day before they began on the nuts and bolts.
To make matters worse, our good Catholic neighbor, Mrs. Higgins, wandered over with a tale of catching her twelve-year old son, Zach, playing with himself while watching a group of naked boys swimming. Of course she had taken it upon herself to see who these naked boys were and identified them as the Briden children. She wasn't positive that I had a swimsuit on either.
Another great round of 71 had put me in a happy mood when I arrived back at the house. Lucy vented her wrath that I had corrupted her children and the neighborhood kids with indecency. She wanted that pool removed within the hour and all traces of pestilence gone from her eyesight. I told her it wasn't happening. As a matter of fact I made sure the pool was refilled so she wouldn't have it taken down by the time I'd come back with my sons for dinner.
During breakfast, Lucy had stepped out of the kitchen for a few minutes when her cell phone rang. I answered and the party hung up. Half-hour later the phone rang again, so I listened on the other side of the kitchen door. Hearing only one side had me intrigued.
"Hi.........I must have gone upstairs for a moment..........Yes, I can make it. What time?............Love you too."
I dashed to the living room and contemplated what that was all about. There was some relief in knowing I wouldn't have to stick around the house on a Saturday to make sure the pool wasn't torn down. With Kyle invited over to Rodney's for a change, I decided to follow my wife like a private detective. When she pulled into the Imperial Motel, I really had to wonder. I'd never want to be an investigator, but this really intrigued me. Two hours later she came out with the president of our church, both looking way too refreshed to think this was just a meeting of the minds. Sure, the guy was good looking and had the charisma of a politician, but he was also married with eight children. There were rumors he had two women living with him, but that was kind of kept on the hush and hush. There are certain Mormons who hang on to the original Mormon customs, that being polygamy.
My sons wore their swimsuits to appease all concerned, though their mother wanted nothing to do with the pool. She wasn't speaking to anyone, especially me. As the night wore on, Kory was the first to discard his suit and float around on the rubber raft, hoping that Mrs. Higgins was watching. Naturally, Kit followed his brother, but with a hard-on to really excite the neighbor kid, if not his mother. I remained neutral on this aspect. It wasn't long till Kory floated over and asked me questions that I wouldn't have dared asked my own parents.
"Dad, which is tighter, a boy's butt or a girl's vagina?"
A logical question from even an adult, I thought. "Son, there's no straight answer to that." He laughed because of my pun. "Really, it depends on age, experience, and body type. Naturally a woman who has had a few children won't be like a virgin. Butts are pretty tight. Not that I'd know this, but I have a little experience in comparison."
"Like Kyle's to Mom's," he mentioned casually.
"Let's keep that to ourselves," I said without further comment.
"Do women like you to go down there with your tongue?"
"About as much as you like someone going down on you. It helps if they are clean and that's your thing. I'm not much for that myself, but other men find it arousing. Girls go bonkers."
"Like licking assholes, huh?"
"That's pretty arousing, if I remember your expression on camera. Like most sex acts, take a shower first and smell super clean. It helps the giver as well as the receiver."
"Yeah, that felt really neat. Do girls like it up the ass, too?"
"Not as much as we do, but many don't mind. We have a prostate, which makes a big difference in our enjoyment. Anything else?" I can't tell you how great I felt having one of my sons ask me sex questions. Not in a million years did I ever expect this a few weeks earlier.
Kory thought about this. "Do women get wet like we do?"
"When they get turned on, they get very wet, just like you drip from your penis. You've done a good job in foreplay if you can get her wet."
Kit swam over, wondering what we were talking about and listened intently. He asked why our penis had a helmet on it. "God's cute factor," I told him and had them laughing. "Really, guys, no one really knows that answer. There's a guess that, when men were competing for women in cavemen days, evolution gave us this aspect to swoop out other men's sperm so they wouldn't compete with their own."
"You'd win for sure, Dad," Kit said with praise. I guess being a helmet head had its advantages.
Come Sunday, I took the boys to a baseball game in Cincinnati. Rodney was now an adopted son for all occasions, and Kit had invited Jake. If I remembered the conversation, Jake and Kit were hot for each other, but Jake had hopes that this was just a stage. Didn't we all.
Jake was the perfect audience for my youngest son's antics and jokes. Always a giggle and encouragement, these two were a handful when they were together. Thankfully I had Kyle and Kory to punch, tickle and harass this younger pair. All I had to do was keep their mouths stuffed with hot dogs, peanuts, and ice cream during the game. Their finest moment came when they retrieved a foul ball together, then shared it back and forth every inning like it was gold nugget.
When we returned very late at night, my wife was absent, so I mentioned I was going to the store, but Kyle and Kory piled in. My little detour pass the Imperial Motel made their mother's car quite visible from the road. Fortunately my sons didn't notice.
Since I no longer slept in the master bedroom, Lucy thought I wouldn't notice her absence. I was actually hoping she wouldn't return in the middle of the night because I allowed Rodney and Jake to sleep over. Kory volunteered to sleep with me on the sofa bed, as we watched with great laughter four boys playing twister in the nude with their bodies covered with baby oil. If Jake honestly felt he wanted to change after that sexual escapade he was crazier than I thought.
After four ejaculations I knew I had to intervene to save my sons' butts from their mother, let alone, her wrath at me. Kory followed me upstairs in our birthday suits, now that we were sure these four were out of energy and sperm. Opening the bedroom door might have shocked Jake, but the other three only smiled with the mess they had made on the floor and each other. With a towel in my hand I wiped each of their feet and pointed toward the master bathtub. If Lucy came home at that time, there would have been hell to pay with six naked males, four of them covered in baby oil, traipsing around in her bedroom. Leave it to Kit to pour his mother's bubble bath in the water. The bathtub barely fit four teens, so I let them look like bubble kids for a few minutes in play, and then directed them downstairs and out into the pool. They thought this whole adventure was hilarious, while I had to go room to room as a cleaning service. There was one gratuity, I heard Jake tell Kit that he had a cool dad. My one redeeming quality was this word.
Lucy came home at four in the morning. Kory informed me of this. I waited with bated breath the next morning to hear my wife's raised voice that she noticed something out of place or that the bathtub had been abused. My cleaning had been spotless to succeed in this mission. Fortunately she went to bed and slept through the morning, while I quietly fixed breakfast for seven teenagers and managed to get all of them out of the house before they woke up the woman of the house.
That same day I stopped by the motel, checked in to the same room and planted my video peeper. This was definitely felony caper material, but I was getting really good at this. Now all I had to do was keep an eye on my wife's comings and goings.
On Tuesday my father-in-law wanted me in his foursome. I knew what that meant and the lecture that would come with it. Though he knew I wasn't working, he still expected the $50 a hole bet, just knowing I'd lose by a stroke or two. I brought Kyle as my caddy.
"Make it a hundred a hole," I said.
"That desperate, huh? You're like a gambler, Bradley, putting all your money on one bet and hoping for the best. I hate to see you fail again in front of my grandson. He's going to think of you as a real loser, if he doesn't already."
"My dad's not a loser, Grandfather," Kyle abruptly said and put his arm around me.
"You're too young to know better, scamp. You can come to me for your allowance from now on because your father will be bankrupt."
"Then let's make it a thousand a hole and a thousand a stroke." I said it out enough to put the old fart on the spot.
His two cronies would have loved to see the old man back down. His pride was too big to cave in to a wuss for a son-in-law. I knew my game had been excellent as of late. I just didn't know how well. With Kyle as my caddie I birdied the first three holes. My putter was on fire. At the end of the first nine I had a 33, eleven strokes ahead and hadn't even lost a hole. By the eighteenth, my birdie made it a 66, my best score ever, and I won by twenty strokes. Kyle gave me a huge hug with multiple kisses on the face.
"That will be thirty-six thousand," Kyle told his grandfather.
"Watch your mouth, boy!" the old man snapped back. Kyle retreated closer to my side, having seen a side of his grandfather that he'd never witnessed.
In front of his golfing buddies he wrote the check out for the total amount, called me the luckiest stiff he'd ever known, and told me I'd need the money to pay child support.
"I should have beaten the stuffings out of you years ago, but I felt sorry for you," I said.
"Is that so? You and my queer grandson aren't invited on this course again!"
Even a fifteen-year old isn't immune to cruel words from someone he thought loved him and who he had loved dearly. I moved the old man to this side by moving my arm around his shoulders in a friendly escort.
"I'm not one to strike a senior citizen, but you either apologize to your grandson or I'll deck your homophobic ass right here in front of your snobbish cohorts."
This piece of shit jerked himself out of my grasp and walked solemnly over to his grandson, whispered something in my son's ear and moved off without looking back. Later on I found out that he had told Kyle that I was coward for a father. I went looking for him in the club house a few minutes later. Found out that he had hastily departed the country club.
Kyle hid his tears while we walked to our car in the parking lot. This time my arm went around him. I apologized for the way some people behave. My boy snuggled up shoulder to shoulder with me in the car. If he expected all adults to love him and accept his sexuality he was going to be very disappointed with life.
"Hey, kiddo, if you get bored tonight and need to talk, the couch is open," I said to cheer him up.
"Won't our shrink get a cow?" he asked me with a subdued smile.
"We were doing pretty well without a third party. It helps at times to get a spectator's point of view."
Kyle giggled and hugged me tighter.
By Wednesday I had my first successful wife tracking and computer imagery right from the parking lot. Lucy had thought she was so coy and sneaky for me not to notice her tryst with another man. Truth be told, this guy had abilities in bed that weren't in my repertoire. No wonder she wanted to extend her stay in Columbus. She hadn't done those things to me since our first year of marriage, and she wasn't very good at them then. One thing for sure, my expertise in bed was no match for Thierian.
My future ex had acted quicker than I was willing to give her credit. On Friday she handed me the divorce papers, told me to move out, and had split our account, which meant half of my $500,000 was hers. She didn't care where it had come from because I owed it to her. Her boyfriend was excommunicating me from the church, as if that hurt.
God I hate lawyers, but I contacted one to understand my rights here. Discussing this with my sons, only Keith wished to stay. I rented a townhouse with two bedrooms. There wouldn't be any skinny dipping, but we had our freedom. It was the beginning of a custody fight and I had some reserve ammunition.
We had a family meeting to explain what a divorce meant. Lucy expected to retain custody of Kit and Kory, almost demanding their cooperation.
"I'm gay like Kyle," Kit spoke up which surprised everyone but Kyle, Kory and me.
"You're just saying that to appease your father," his mother retorted.
"Check the gay porn between my mattresses and tell me I'm faking it. Why do you think I love gymnastics? It's boy heaven to me."
"Enough!" Lucy vented. "You boys can side up with whomever you want for the time being, but you will end up living with me in the end. Don't expect to run amok when you return. There will be rules and responsibilities that every teenager must learn."
"Don't count on it," Kyle said and stormed out to pack his belongings.
"Let's not to this," I said. "I mean, I understand our differences have become irreparable, but our children are not possessions that we have to fight over. They are each old enough to know who they want to live with. It's not like we won't live close enough that visitation is available."
"Maybe for you, Bradley, but I'm their mother and the best parent for them. The church can become their father, a better one than you have provided. I can't believe you have your own sons naked for all the neighbors to see. And then my own father says you threatened him with a golf club. How could you?"
"Yes, of course, let's keep our children bundled up in secrecy and shame. God forbid they express themselves with the beauty they have. While you think you've protected these kids from reality, they have found the truth and do what they want behind our back. As for your poor excuse for a father, he called Kyle a faggot, and he's lucky he hustled home before I flattened his fat ass." I wasn't exactly telling on my incestuous son and daughter, but I had my kids on the edge of their chairs hoping I wouldn't.
"As if you're privy to our children's lives," Lucy told me.
"Rather obtuse thinking," I shot back.
Damn if she didn't have the pool removed by that afternoon.
The townhouse had three bedrooms, but one of them was my office, studio, and storage area for the boys' possessions; plus, I bought some weights and a bench to add a little weight. The truth being, it was sort of cool having teenagers sexualize me. I didn't realize how quickly the boys would make this their hangout.
We made an agreement that one of them could sleep in my bed each night. I spent twenty thousand on furniture and five of this on the 55" digital screen the boys wanted.
Kyle was in his second week of martial arts training, private lessons in tae kwon do and Aikido. With his money Kyle bought three Jackie Chan movies and began practicing the choreography of amusing antics with Rodney. My concentration on these two was focused on creating a desire for each other, not just a friendship based on sex. They didn't know it, but I kept interfering with their little escapades of horniness. I asked each one, like this was an assignment for the movie, to write down what they liked about each other, their attractions, and expectations. Resistant at first, they gradually discovered they each had these thoughts and feelings. I also let it be known that there would be new boys and these teens would be a challenge to their relationship with each other. Of course they denied that anything could come between them. Gradually I was building a bond around possessiveness.
As entertainment in the evenings, I showed films that related to their age: Get Real, Beautiful Thing, Lakki the Boy Who Could Fly, and others. They worked. The boys couldn't wait to see a new movie every night. Their self-esteem was already good with their sexuality; now it was building to martyrdom.
Alan Stroup called on a daily basis, not surprised that my marriage had hit the dumps, but always supportive. He recommended that I bring the boys to Florida, where we could do rehearsals and begin the groundwork for a month of filming. This sounded premature, but I'd think about it.
Our new townhouse was about five miles from where we used to live and a block away from a golf course. The boys were very helpful in the move and unpacking. Preparing a new home with kitchen ware and furniture was a job by itself. As a gift for all their help, we also went on a shopping spree to purchase underwater equipment for filming. The SCUBA gear would be rented when we got where we were going. I made several last minute trips to the store to buy all that we had forgotten.
I was tired and ready to take my sons to a restaurant so I wouldn't have to cook. In the middle of the living room were seven naked boys doing break dancing on a wet piece of plastic. Two of these youngsters I'd never seen before. Their faces went white with fear, while my sons, with Jake and Rodney, smiled with my presence.
"Ah, what's this all about?" I questioned. The new boys dashed for their clothes.
Kit spoke right up. "Dad, this is Mike and Louis, they live a few doors down. Mike has this slip and slide which really works well for dancing."
In the last month I was this new father, the cool dad who didn't trip on boyish humor or the secrets of sex. It would have been real easy to slip to the pedantic parent, but I took a deep breath because I had two scared boys, fourteen or so, afraid that the world had come to an end and their parents would know they were in another townhouse dancing in the nude.
"The only problem I have here is the carpet. Water and shag carpets don't get along and we'll have a floor of mildew in weeks."
"We'll dry the carpet, Dad," Kyle said to assuage the situation. "Can we show you our moves?"
I tossed the packages on the sofa and took a sit. "Okay, who's first?"
The newcomers relaxed and placed their clothes back down, wondering if this was a trick. Kit went first and did these spins and crazy antics that showed assholes and balls. It was funny, I'll give them that much. Mike was the expert, but it took a lot of persuasion for the boy to show me his moves. An offer of dinner at the local pizza place was a reward for their performance, so everyone took their turn.
There were new ground rules on a daily basis. This slip-and-slide was a one-time thing. I showed them the underwater camera and said they could practice, but with suits on. That established the next morning's plan of excitement that had everyone anticipating fun in the pool.
My next goal was to visit Rodney's and Jake's parents for permission to take him. Mr. Miller was a successful athlete in his prime, a man who had aspirations for his son, their only child. I saw in this man a hard-nosed individual who wanted to continue his frustration in achieving athletic glory in his son. Instead of football, Rodney had chosen diving. The boy's father wasn't this pot-bellied, beer drinking, couch potato that he had described. Personally I wouldn't want to tangle with the character.
They wanted to know everything about this movie that their son would act in and was talking nonstop about for two weeks about. I sat there with a smile on my face as Rodney glared at me with hope. For that split second that our eyes met I saw the beauty of his soul, a son his parents didn't know but I did. Few people rarely watch another human being doing sexual acts, the energy, facial contortions, raw animal animation that makes us sexual beings. Porn is hardly reality. In one night their son had gone through a smorgasbord of gay sex, minus fisting. What if his parents knew that their son held my boy's legs spread apart into a V and fucked him with a skill that just seemed inbred? What if they knew that this gorgeous son had slept naked next to me and had held our bodies close because, for some reason, he wanted to be held by an older male? I could guess that Rodney's dad had no idea how to raise a gay son, but I didn't either until a few weeks earlier.
I ran the scenario down. "It's about an orphanage for boys, and one of them would be your son. He loves ships, is a loner, but has a grandfather who sends him things discreetly without revealing who he really is. Another boy has just lost his parents and becomes your son's friend. Every summer the orphanage has excursions. This summer twelve boys are picked to go out on a sailing vessel. Because of your son's love for the seas, he's named Huck; thus, the title of the movie, THE HUCKLEBERRY PIRATES. When the selected sailing vessel is found unavailable in dry dock, the harbor offers their eighteenth century frigate, a ship they allow out on the seas once a year."
I watched closely for any negative impact. So far they were listening. "It's quite an adventure when the orphanage's director is accidently killed and this nefarious sea captain takes over the ship with ulterior aims to sail toward the Bahamas."
"Sounds like quite an undertaking, Mr. Briden," Mrs. Miller said with an impressed grin.
"My boy has no acting skills and is never been on a boat in his life," Mr. Miller told me, but more of a reality check than a rebuttal. The man was actually demoting his own son because of his own conceived deficiency in acting.
"No problem. Huck, I mean, Rodney, has been studying his nautical skills and seamanship. He will have plenty of coaching. Acting isn't all that great of a skill, and kids have a tendency to do it naturally when given the proper leads."
"You sound way too optimistic with a boy who has to be nudged constantly just to do his homework," Mr. Miller said as another put down.
"Sometimes a kid has an internal inspiration to do something that just seems right for him," I said honestly and wasn't so sure I was talking about acting. "There is one more thing. The boys have scenes of skinny dipping and we need parental permission for nude scenes."
Mrs. Miller laughed. "My son is as modest as they come, Mr. Briden. He won't let me see him in his underwear. In fact he wears two swimsuits because he's afraid one might slip and show someone he has a cute butt. Maybe you should get his permission first."
"Ah, Mom," Rodney blushed. "Off the platform a guy's suit can come right off."
"Ever think that the girls might find that cute? Might be a way to find a girlfriend in your life. It's about time, if you ask me." Obviously Mr. Miller was skeptical with his son's sexual orientation.
"I didn't ask," Rodney said under his breath.
"Don't get smart with me, boy, or you can sit on your butt all summer."
"Sorry, Dad. I guess skinny dipping is fun," Rodney said as if to somewhat agree with his father.
"And you know this how?" his father asked.
A slight hesitation, and my gulp, Rodney blurted out, "It's not like there aren't backyard pools in the neighborhood."
Fortunately his father chuckled. "Next thing we know he'll be looking to get laid." The man looked at me for support. I faked a smile.
"Sweetie, that's no way to talk to your son," Mrs. Miller admonished the man of the house. She turned toward me. "He will be able to call every day, right, Mr. Briden?"
"You baby the boy too much, Alice. I don't want to hear his whiny voice tell us that he misses your cooking."
I chuckled. "I'll make sure he's well fed and taken care of. My own sons will make sure of that." The contracts that Alan had sent me were signed for what they were worth. When I mentioned the one-hundred thousand their son was getting, I thought Mrs. Miller was going to faint.
"That'll reimburse us for all the stress the boy puts us through," his father said.
"Now, Carl, Rodney will need that money for college," Mrs. Miller replied to her husband's smile.
From the Miller's to Jake's home, the two-story Tutor was only a half-mile from our townhouse. That meant these two seventh graders would be inseparable from now on. The Thompson's home was very middle class with three other children, two older, one younger. By the lack of interest from his siblings, I figured that Jake just sort of existed in this family and no one really knew he was this gay thirteen-year old who was in love with my son.
John Thompson was a couch potato, a button pusher at the local sanitation treatment plant. He offered me a beer. Since I wasn't a practicing Mormon anymore I gladly accepted. Mrs. Thompson was busy putting together a snack tray for me. I ran the scenario down, which was all news to Jake's parents. They were concerned that he'd miss his gymnastic workouts, but I assured them I'd have Kit and their son practice daily. I had no idea how I would do that.
Rodney was as quiet as Jake was at his house, deciding on a rocking chair that no one else seemed interested in. He smiled through this whole ordeal and declined a bottle of beer that Jake's dad offered in all sincerity. Mrs. Thompson made sure the boys had Pepsi's.
"We can't afford to send our kids to any camp," Mr. Thompson came right to the point.
"That won't be necessary, your son will be paid for his service," I said, which brought a gleam to this father's eye. "There is a scene of the boys swimming in their birthday suits. I'll need your permission to film your son."
"Where do I sign?" his father joked. A girl taller than Jake, but a year younger, strolled through this family room in a bikini bottom and a sock top. Her father grabbed her arm, swung his daughter over his lap and spanked her bare bottom in front of me after he had lowered his suit. She giggled with the attention and didn't seem fazed that her rear had been exposed. "Don't suppose you need a pretty female in your movie? Leah is one hot number."
Not that I would call any of my daughters one hot number, but, to each his own. Jake was hardly shocked by this show of affection, but I politely said that this movie had all boys as the main actors. Mr. Thompson had no qualms of pulling up her daughter's top and showing off her growing breast. I thought of Dr. Sproveri and his interpretation of this affection.
"My little girl would make a perfect mermaid for all your naked boys," Tom told me without the slightest hesitation. Leah stood up and all but auditioned for me as a nubile Brook Shields.
"Yes, she would turn heads, all right, but I'd never get our boys' heads straight again," I humored.
"Oh, their heads would be straight, that's for sure."
"Don't be so crass in front of visitors," Mrs. Thompson corrected her husband, as if this hands on approach was a daily event. Actually, I think she was a little embarrassed. The lady of the house was sweet and very supportive of Jake. She actually took the contract and signed it without reading the particulars. "Better keep your eye on this one, he's madly in love with your son."
Jake just smiled and accepted this truth. Mr. Thompson's face didn't show any concern either way. No one asked the dates or any other particulars like Rodney's parents had. Rodney just sat there in amazement and was appalled at this young nymph who was practically naked in performance for her guests. My thoughts ran to Joe's comments about family incest. I suppose this is how it starts, if it wasn't going on already. Joe had said that mother and son relationships were far more common but far less reported. While men were considered dirty old men in such affairs, women were nurturing, loving, and just needed loved by a surrogate male in place of an absent father. Boys saw this as a rite of passage, a gift from a loving female. Girls like Leah might love this attention at first, but resent it as she matures. I wasn't in position to rain on anyone's parade. She didn't bother raising her bikini and sat on her father's leg, while he wrapped her chest within the confines of his fingers. This was a prime example of daddy's little girl.
A scan at Jake and our eyes connected like I had with Rodney's expression about his father at his house. I had to wonder if I was the only adult who had seen him with practically a constant hard-on, a boy like my own son who saw his sexuality as a constant play thing. The excitement of going through puberty had to be confusing and fun.
I brought Rodney and Jake back to the townhouse and we giggled without saying much during the two-mile ride. They ran off to the pool while I made dinner. This wasn't exactly something I was good at, cooking. The boys didn't mind my version of hamburger and beans, hot dogs and beans, and trout and beans. It did make for interesting farting contests.
Their underwater photography was about as sexual as if they had taken off their trunks. There's dry humping and water humping I discovered. Projections in their swimsuits were enough to drive any other swimmer from the water. I was glad there were no other residents wanting to use the pool that afternoon. My sons were learning more about these cameras than I was, so I listened closely and took notes. I volunteered to do the photography the next day if they weren't so blatantly horny for each other.
Kory mentioned that Mike and Louis wanted to be in the movie. As easy as that sounded to have two more actors, we were in Ohio and most parents just wouldn't give permission for their boys to travel to Florida with a stranger for a month. I sat the boys down.
"What do you know about acting?" I asked with hopes that this might scare them off.
Louis had been in a school play, could swim, and didn't mind doing anything naked. What will your parents say? I had given him the major obstacle.
"My parents won't mind," Mike said rather abruptly.
"What do you think of gay boys your age?"
"Who cares?" Mike said. "I've fooled around."
"I'm not asking if you're gay, just that there won't be any remarks or homophobia on set or off," I warned.
"What's homophobia?" Mike asked.
"If you don't know what it is, that's a good start. I have to have your parents' permission to film you nude. There's skinny dipping in the movie. Any problems?"
"Not here," Mike said and added, "We have a pool in the backyard. My parents swim naked when we're not around."
Louis, on the other hand, wasn't so sure. His father was a local police officer, so I handled this one with kid gloves and received a polite 'No thank you.' My sons didn't see much of Louis again.
I took a good look at the characters of the movie and decided that Mike would fit in. I still needed two blacks, a Mexican, and an Oriental. With seven spots filled, I'd saved the hardest for last.
That evening I went to visit this boy's parents. They looked me over as if I was a pedophile or their son's lucky star. A movie director had found their boy attractive and wanted him in a movie. That's how they saw it. Of course I made sure to take my three sons with me. It's better for someone to know you're married and my children were at least smiling.
Mike beat me to the punch that would likely be the deal breaker. "I get to skinny dip."
Both parents glanced at me. "No sex," I blurted out. "We feel it's what boys would do given the scenario. They're out in the ocean and do what comes natural."
Mike's father glanced at his son. "Watch out for sharks. I don't want to send my son out only to have a daughter return."
We laughed. Matter closed.
Having seven boys running around in an 800-square foot townhouse was maddening. Kyle had ripped up an old sheet, to hear him tell it, and made eight fundoshi; those are loincloths like in the novel, The Art of Loyalty. I suppose it beats having all these penises flopping about, though we agreed this was now a man's castle.
They spent the evening searching the Internet for boy stuff. Not porno, per se, but boys put some really crazy antics on the Internet. Some of their antics bordered on porn, yet this is the world we live in today when kids know all about what gay boys do and how to gross out adults who think boys shouldn't know all this. My childhood was void of the Internet. An occasional Playboy was pure luck. Now my sons go on the Internet, type in nude boys or girls and they get an instant sex education class.
What I wouldn't have ever thought of doing when I was fourteen, boys put on their small video cameras to show the world. I had to adjust my eyes to these shagging videos where boys had instant hard-ons to tease the viewer. There were these webcams from all over Europe, kids showing off their talents, their skin, and their humor. Kory wanted to know if they could put their swim video on site. I'd have to think about that one.
Kyle and Rodney weren't too happy that I wouldn't allow them again to sleep together. They didn't like my little experiment of keeping them at distance until we were ready to film. I saw the tension build, that spark of longing that went beyond mere friendship. Maybe this was working, but I didn't want them to go looking for others to be intimate with.
When I arrived back after taking Rodney and Jake home, Kory and Kit were in my bed ready for sleep. Kyle was in a rotten mood and wanted to sleep alone. The new king size bed was becoming more useful than I thought. With a son on each side, those two started rehashing their day and creating giggles. It was a chore to get them quiet. There's something about teenage years that kids should stay up till midnight and sleep until nine.
So we're finally at peace when Kory says, "You can jack off if you want, Dad." Of course Kit found that hilarious.
"Are you saying that to give yourself permission? Do your own thing if you're in the mood," I said.
"My dick is sore. I jacked off two times in the pool, once this morning and once in the bathroom," Kory informed us.
"Why would you guys masturbate in the swimming pool?" I had to ask.
"We wanted to see if the sperm started swimming. They didn't put on much of a show."
"Do you have any idea that you violated pool policy? There's a sign there that says no more than 50 people can occupy the pool, but now there's hundreds of millions of baby sperm swimming about. You'll have to report yourself to the manager around here."
Kit was busting up and thinking this was now comedy hour. "What if a girl goes swimming, Dad, can one of those sperm swim up her bathing suit?"
I smacked his bottom. "Sure can. You guys will impregnate every female who goes swimming there in the next few days." I had them both thinking, but Kory was analyzing that one pretty good.
"I bet the chlorine will kill the suckers," Kory thought.
I played this one to the hilt. "I don't know. Sperm are really tough little creatures. They survive in a woman's vagina for up to three days. I'm thinking you guys could be fathers within nine months."
"Wow! When I'm 21, my son will be eight. That will be so cool," Kit said. Kory and I pulverized him.
None of us were exactly tired, and Kory started asking if males had G-spots, what's a prostate good for, can we have multiple orgasms, or how does one stop a really quick urge to ejaculate? These were questions I hadn't even considered in college. The Internet was exposing these kids to a world ahead of their times.
There was a little practical application since we had three anatomies present, and we assisted Kit through his ejaculation by giving him some pointers on masturbation. All in all, it wasn't a typical night out for father and sons, or maybe it was for the Briden household.
I did feel sorry for my twin boy, so I strolled out. Kyle told me he knew I'd come, flipped his boner out, and the debt was paid. It was amazing how quickly his mood improved.
With one complete bathroom there was no privacy. Shit, shower, shave and brush teeth; one boy at each station with me on the shaver. Kit had no qualms about peeing between your legs while you were on the throne. A little misdirected urine to the balls Kory flick his brother's penis. Pee flew and splattered three other boys. Into the shower another parade started.
No clothes became the norm because no one had secrets. We had one rule: sex was about giving, not receiving. Even if you came first, you always made sure the other person had his pleasure.
Every night a person was given a full body massage by the other three. This became so popular I even looked forward to it. A standard expectation was that everyone showered before pleasure. My sons were the cleanest kids in the neighborhood.
In the morning I took the boys to a non-denominational church. We didn't have a Metropolitan church in the area, like many of the bigger cities did for a variety of sexual orientations and beliefs. This church was accepting and far more tolerant than the fundamentalist congregations in the area.
I realized the boys were questioning their faith, their beliefs, and why this might be different than Mormonism. The pastor was this young, terrifically good looking man, who had the charisma of a young Billy Graham. He took particular interest in my boys, a new addition to his growing church. We had caught eyes halfway through the sermon, and my heart speeded up with his repeated glances. It was the first time I ever had an erection during church.
After church service we were quickly sought out by the reverend. I made sure to loiter and expressed that the boys were brought up Mormon, but we were looking for answers elsewhere. The pastor offered to sit down with us and help the boys with this transition. A quick invitation by me to dinner would accomplish this.
My boys went swimming to see what females would show up to get pregnant, I'm sure, while I went grocery shopping. I returned to find my sons and friends on an Internet gay porn site. They knew this was off limits, so I sent their friends home and put them on restriction. The three of them marched into the kitchen and wanted to discuss this punishment.
Kyle was apparently chosen the spokesperson. "Dad, we know how you feel about being eighteen and all, but those sites are just teenagers like ourselves. Why can we express our sexuality and not watch others? We even learn a few new things."
This was a tough situation for me. I'd created an open environment for the boys, one they could feel comfortable being themselves without judgment. My hypocrisy was being questioned and I could have stood my ground like a stubborn parent who pretended to know everything.
I invited the boys to the dining room table, which was fashionably arranged for the night's occasion. "There is a healthy way of being sexual, and an addictive way of acting out. I'm not saying that watching boys have sex is wrong, but it can present a compulsive need to make this your sexual outlet. Watching porn can be as addictive as gambling, drinking, or taking drugs. It becomes an obsession. You sexualize any male or female as sexual creatures that are only good for one thing. I suppose it's why I'm keeping Kyle and Rodney apart. I want them to want each other out of love, not because they need to get their rocks off. If they can see that sex is a result of their desire for each other, love will become the impetus, not the emotion before orgasm that you love this person because he makes your balls tingle."
They laughed, but I knew they'd deny any potential for addiction. "Look, guys, I appreciate that you weren't sneaky by watching porn behind my back, though you knew my boundary on this and you still did it. Just because I allow you in my bed and we share some intimate moments does not make me one of your peers. I'll always be your father, for better or worse. You can sexualize me, too, think of me as just an older guy who has a thicker penis than you do. I love and respect you boys; I expect the same in return. Okay, an occasional boy web site isn't going to hurt you, but don't make it a habit."
This time there were smiles, a massive leap upon me and hands and kisses all over my body. Resistance was futile with their combined weight and lightweight punches to my body. The doorbell rang. The boys scrambled, with Kit the first to the door. He faked opening it, with me hustling to get up and way too disorganized in an attempt to get my bearings. My sons laughed, shoved me in the kitchen, before inviting Pastor McKinley inside. Seeing three boys' smiles had him wondering what he had walked into.
"Be right out, Pastor!" I yelled from the kitchen. I moseyed out a minute later to the giggles of my sons. In corduroy shorts, my shirt was in disarray and I was red in the face. I shook hands and departed to grab a towel. It wasn't my best greeting, but I made sure when the pastor wasn't looking that I pointed my finger at these three that there would be revenge.
During dinner the topic came around to Mormonism. Pastor McKinley told us to call him Paul, so that was now his name. He was tactful in how he approached this with the boys.
"The Mormon Church strives with great effort to masquerade as the Christian church complete with an exclusive message, infallible prophets and higher revelations for a new concept that the Mormons would have us believe began with Joseph Smith Jr. They use biblical terms and phrases and even adopt Christian doctrines in order to claim allegiance to the Christian faith. The Mormons believe that they are already the sons of God and that the acceptance of God merely enables them to "continue to be the sons of God," a direct contradiction of the biblical record, which states according to John 1:12, "But an many as received Him, to them gave the power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His name."
Paul took a sip of water and wanted to know if he was being too aggressive with his denunciation of Mormonism. The boys shook their heads that this information was interesting. Kyle, my religious expert on the Old Testament couldn't resist.
"Pastor, sir, was there really naked prophets dancing for God?"
I wasn't so sure about all this and thought Paul would laugh. He didn't. "Son, nakedness not only meant to be possessed by God but also to be possessed by phallic powers. It became a badge of identification with and submission to the erotic power of Yahwah, as they called God at the time. Men and boys prostituted themselves to being faithful with ecstasy long before Saul and David wanted this phallic power."
"What's a phallic?" Kit asked. Kory grabbed his brother's dick and that settled that. I was glad Paul found this humorous.
Kyle was really pleased. "So whirling and dancing in the nude is being possessed by God? That is so cool. I do that all the time."
Paul laughed so hard he ripped a fart. He was already one the boys, adopted, that is. "I would hope you're a prophet, young man, and it is true that possession by the spirit of the Lord is an overpoweringly erotic, indeed sexual, experience. They were called nabi'im as a bodily sign of being chosen as God's favorite."
"So God had his boy-toys," Kit surmised and actually got a nod from Paul.
"They became his "armor-bearers", like Saul and David," Paul explained. "Naked cavorting in ecstasy is something "prophets" do."
I knew Kit would say he wanted to be a prophet. "It really says that?" I questioned out of curiosity.
"Samuel ten," Paul answered. This man really knew his Bible.
"Prophets had sex with boys and offered sexual services as a way of honoring God," Kyle informed us. This kid had learned too much.
"Samuel, chapter seven," Paul complimented. "The mysterious qedeshim, the male cult prostitutes, as they are sometimes called. They were associated with the temple in which Yahwah is honored. You have studied, young Briden."
Kyle beamed with a smile. "I just like sex. But I also feel that God likes me because he gave me my father."
I was humbled, to say the least.
Paul wanted to put this discussion into perspective. "I sense an acceptance of homosexuality here. God's emotional and social life is certainly directed to human beings. Insofar as God is represented as a person, and even a male, the erotic finds expression not in relation to a consort but in relation to the humans he has chosen as his companions, friends, and lovers. It's a study that provokes Christianity, less than the Jews. God's love for beautiful boys is a topic best left for beautiful boys and prophets."
"That's us," Kit replied.
"I like these guys," Paul announced catching his breath and added, "I don't want to bore the boys with Christian doctrine, or the Mormons intolerance of blacks or homosexuals. They are simply a cult within themselves, with their own language of God's choosing. But such nonsense cannot be ignored by anyone who takes seriously the revelations of Scripture and apostolic authority."
"Why are they mad at us?" Kit perked up to question.
Paul appeared puzzled. "Why would they be mad at you, young man?"
"Kyle and I are gay."
"Oh," Paul said and glanced at me to see my reaction. I waited for his response. "For the same reason other denominations aren't tolerable, they use biblical doctrine to support their prejudices. The Bible doesn't say anything about homosexuality and one has to understand the laws of the Jews and what the actual Greek words of the Bible actually meant. They've been construed, twisted, revised, and formulated to meet the biases of men who weren't even alive during Christ's era. They certainly had no idea about sexual orientation, its origin, genetic structure, or God's plan. Man has simply decided for themselves that God loves some people more than others. A disturbing misconception. God doesn't judge, nor care what sexuality you are. If one truly interpreted the Old Testament, even with the watered down version of the Chronicler, it would appear God loved nothing better than a naked male."
"That's what I think," Kit admitted.
"How about dessert?" Kory asked to get off the uncomfortable subject and probably because he didn't consider himself homosexual.
"How about you guys going for a swim, then we'll have sex afterwards," I said.
They all gave me this stare, but then Kit busted up and Kyle asked me if I knew what I'd said. Paul had to take a sip of water again, he was laughing so hard. When I found out my slip of the tongue, I apologized immensely, but Paul found it too amusing to take it back now.
Kyle and Kory asked the pastor if he wanted to go for a swim, as well. He agreed, but hadn't brought a suit. "I have one that's kinda big for me," Kyle said.
"I hardly think that our visitor can fit into one of your swimsuits," I said.
"I'm pretty thin in the waist," Paul admitted and off they went to the boys' bedroom.
I heard laughter at first, then a thump. I dashed to the room and saw our visitor on the floor with these Speedos around his thighs. He'd given it his best try, but 30" racing trunks weren't quite large enough for an adult. Kit was naked and had a hard-on, which had me snap my fingers for him to get his trunks on.
"I wish I had such an effect on a few men in my congregation," Paul admitted and pretty much gave up that he was gay.
I recommended a pair of my shorts for the pastor, and he had no reservation in walking stark naked to my room. He had a great body for a preacher, but we found out later that he was a true jock and conducted all sorts of athletic teams as part of the church. This really enthused my sons to part of his congregation, especially Kory.
Off we ventured to the pool, as the boys teased the pastor about not gulping any water. I gave them this warning stare not to go there. Paul was great with the boys, and they fell in love with him in minutes. I was concerned that the boys were getting too comfortable around adults, being too open, which could easily embarrass an adult who wasn't quite concerned about reputation and how any acts of a sexual nature could be perceived. Paul already had an idea that my sons were uninhibited and were fairly open-minded. For Kit to show his erection to practically a complete stranger concerned me, but was waved off by Paul as a gay boy's reaction to a nude man who had stumbled with all parts revealed.
On the pool deck the subject soon became one of the movie, and Paul showed great interest. He wanted all the details and if I needed any extras or cameo appearances. I expressed I was looking for a director for the orphanage, though I had projected an older man. Paul lit up, saying if I didn't find anyone, he would like the role.
"You would have to put up with twelve teenage boys," I said to see his reaction.
"That would be a challenge, but so is a church full of men and women who have found that life isn't always fair," Paul said.
I liked this guy and felt I could tell him anything. "I have two gay sons and two straight ones. Kory blends right in because sex with his brothers is a lot easier than finding the right girl. Keith, my oldest, isn't ready to be part of the lives of his siblings."
Paul sat up on the pool deck and placed his hand on my forearm. I liked the romantic gesture. "They grow up quick, Brad, so love them and give them proper direction while you can. I'd rather see a loving boy than one who's on drugs or is violent."
"Can I love them too much?" I asked but wasn't so sure I should have. It might have revealed too much.
"You know what you have to do to maintain discipline and control of your sons. Sometimes mothers and fathers can become too close of friends and kids will take advantage of that. Other times they can see that this love is honest and giving. It has to be their choice, Brad, not yours. If they can trust you that you have their best interest in mind, nothing is inconceivable.
With the cherry pie I'd bought at Marie Calendars and the boys examples of scenes from our screen play, the evening had gone by quickly. Their short movie of their swimming episode was rather obscene, but Paul enjoyed it nonetheless. When Kyle discovered that he wasn't condemned for ejaculating in the pool, he even offered Paul a second piece of pie. Not everyone had seen him with a hard-on, so that was a nice gesture.
"I just knew that there were these little spermies swimming around in my trunks," Paul humored.
He'd won over my boys very quickly and made them all feel accepted. We watched a movie I had rented two nights ago, You Are Not Alone, a perfect feel good coming of age. Kyle held onto me the entire movie, while Kory and Kit had Paul's arms wrapped tight within their own. I'd never seen a tighter family when I was married.
Out of pure courtesy, I asked Paul if he wanted to spend the night because it was so late. He politely concluded that it would be too much of an inconvenience. The boys smashed that quickly by saying that my bed was king size and had plenty of room. I said I'd be glad to sleep on the sofa, but Paul wouldn't have that. He would sleep on the sofa if I was uncomfortable having a man in bed. My boys chuckled at that.
"Dad's gay," Kyle blurted out.
"Well, that's true, but I didn't mean...."
"So that's where your boys get their charm," Paul said to appease my uncomfortableness.
There were snickers and signs of expectation from my boys that there would be some hot sex that night. I discreetly said that that wasn't the reason I invited Paul over. In bed Paul and I rested on our elbows and had our chuckles over the night's events.
"I'm in love with your family," Paul told me and kissed me a quick one.
"I think they're already in love with you," I said and squeezed a little closer to check his reaction. His groin barely touched mine, but he was hard. My hand swept around his head and we went in for a deep kiss, groin to groin. He swept my pajama bottoms off, and I lowered his underwear. His talent with a tongue was amazing, as we traded pleasure for an hour, before he wanted me to enter him. We fucked in numerous positions, amidst my sons' whispers from the open doorway. I don't think we had closed a door in the entire townhouse since living there. If Paul heard them, he didn't say anything. This was my first time with a man and I enjoyed it immensely. Kyle had been an education, but my senses were fully awake to enjoy this one.
By morning, we had Kit bring in our breakfast in bed and he told us to stay put because the house was being cleaned, the dishes washed, and we wouldn't be disturbed. We did have a shower together, another round of sex, and were visited at least six times for ridiculous instructions with full exposure of our sexuality. My boys knew all they wanted to know about Paul at this point and announced we were Helmet Head and Long Dong. Paul was mutually accepted as my partner and we hadn't known each other for more than 24 hours.
Paul was officially accepted as part of our nudist household and ate lunch sans clothes as his initiation. Kit had come in back of our guest, put his arms around his neck and invited him to be my boyfriend.
"Kit!" I said in embarrassment.
"Dad, everyone has a boyfriend, so you deserve one," my youngest informed me.
"How about Kory?" Kyle asked.
"He's got all of us," Kit said to keep his brother smiling.
Off to martial arts school for Kyle, I also dropped Kit at gymnastics and Kory for baseball practice. I made one call to Paul and answered two from him. We were smitten. I had to wonder, the guy was 26 and probably had several sexual partners. Should I suggest we both get tested? I became the worried parent. What if he has sex with one of my sons? I began to see the reality, but it was more about what was in Paul's motives than my sons. Instead of these thoughts I invited him over for dinner again.
By bedtime we had Kit crawl in our bed because Kory had said something mean to him. He also wanted Paul to rub his back.
"He's like a cat who can't walk by without being petted," I said about my youngest.
In minutes Paul had managed to put the boy to sleep. Like the observant parent, I watched and saw Paul's hand go no lower than the top of my son's butt crack. I know Kit would have liked it lower, but Paul had his reservations.
I knew better than to expect Kit to sleep through amorous sex, but Paul didn't seem to mind and Kit was really trying to be secretive about jacking off while we had sex. He actually tweaked my son's nose and threw back the covers to reveal this ploy.
"You can watch but don't touch," I warned my son.
Three straights nights of awesome sex, I had to ask Paul about his past relationships before I hit him with the testing idea. His response: Once as a twelve-year old, once as a teenager, and once in the seminary. He had never had intercourse until he met me, which explains the tightness. I smiled.
"Would you feel better if we each got tested?" he asked me and beat my concerns. Then I realized he was concerned how many sex relationships I've had.
"I'm thinking that all the boys and adults should be tested throughout the filming. You're my first adult partner; I've just recently come out."
Paul smiled himself with that news. If he thought I was experienced it was because of a sneaky son giving me some ideas. We had dinner at his apartment, though his pool wasn't as nice as our own. Paul could cook, which was understandable being a bachelor. With the boys' hints, we asked Paul to move in with us. He accepted, even with a thirteen-year old boy who had no qualms at showing Paul his newest pubic hairs.
For a pastor he was great with my sons. He had a way of turning turmoil into submission by getting my adversarial sons, at their aggressive times, to switch viewpoints by role playing. By either seeing the logic in this or by having to endure such torture, they would often apologize to each other, compromise and resume being lovable brothers. Though my boys often walked around naked, Paul had a blind eye to their chronic sexual nature. He gave back rubs and foot massages like a professional; I knew this because I was the constant recipient. He caved in to my sons' curiosity only once; they wanted to measure his penis, which was rather unique at 8 and half-inches. This was accomplished when it was his turn to receive a family massage. To actually think you can resist an erection with four sets of hands over your body is a misconception. I often reminded them that I was the indirect owner of this long penis.
Kit's motivation to achieve this length was put on a permanent hold after tying an ankle weight to his penis. It was unavailable for use for two days, which nearly killed him that he'd lost his play thing to a swollen cucumber.
Paul McKinley fit into this bunch of rogues like a glove. He taught Kory a curve ball and caught for my son on the side yard. He made the best spaghetti and meat balls, and had the touch of a mother for problems.
Kyle and I had a great day at a public golf links, which gave me time to teach the boy the finer points of golf. He had a natural swing to go with the best father and son day I'd ever had with my twin son. Paul made Kit's gymnastics workout to allow our youngster to show off for this new man in our life. It was okay with me that Kit loved another man as his hero. If sex was part of this deal I didn't care, but I highly doubt it got beyond their full body tickles. I might have gotten jealous if Paul hadn't told me, when the two of them are alone, all Kit talks about is how great his father is. That's my boy!
My lawyer had my caper photographs, but he went beyond my temerity and discovered that my wife and this church president had been shacking up for some time. All he did was get the motel clerk to let him look at the reservations for months.
There were all sorts of demands, including the return of the boys to my wife's custody before her lawyer discovered we had evidence of an extra-marital affair. She backed off real quick but still wanted the house free and clear. Give me back my $250,000 in exchange for the house. It was a fair arrangement. The playing field had been slanted in my favor.
Alas, there were three things that made for an abrupt departure to Florida. One of them was my wife's unexpected visit to our townhouse. The boys were caught in their fundoshi with Jake and Mike. At least they weren't naked. The little woman still had a fit, and I wasn't even there, but Paul was. A strange man in the company of boys with their bare butts sticking out! This was an orgy if she ever saw one.
Kit introduced Paul as a friend of mine, not getting into the fact that he lived there. She treated him rather nasty, but Paul is forever gracious and handled the situation well. Her inspection of the house was of her own choosing; it's when she dove into the boys' dressers that she discovered photographs that I didn't even know about. The boys had taken photos with the night vision camera we were to use in the movie. There were the few sex scenes of Paul and me in bed and in the shower. Kyle was livid that his mother would even rummage through his drawer to find these. Lucy wanted to know who took these pictures, but the boys remained loyal to each other.
She gobbled the photos up in her tight grip to view Paul and me in very homoerotic encounters. In the meantime, Kit had run to my study to obtain the pictures from the video I had of his mother and her boyfriend. I didn't even know that the boys knew about this. The one with her legs spread, their former preacher's head tucked nicely between them was rather obscene. Then giving fellatio with her butt in the air, not to forget getting sodomized, made her shriek with anger.
"Care to trade?" Kit asked.
Lucy swiped those photos from his hand, but Kit was just as quick and grabbed the photos of Paul and me. He dashed from the room, out the door in the great outdoors with nothing on but a diaper, his mother called it. It wasn't like I didn't have a lot of copies of those photos; they just happened to be of their mother.
Lucy wanted to blame someone for this debacle, so she again vented on Paul and threatened to have him arrested for child abuse. In two weeks Paul had gone from a well-respected neighborhood pastor to a person on my wife's hit list. She stormed from the townhouse a whole lot more stressed than when she entered.
During all this, Kory had met this girl his age at the pool, a nubile beauty in a thong that left little to the imagination. To my son, this was sex with a vagina. He told us he jumped in the pool because his swimsuit was bulging in the front. She dove in after him.
At the same time Kit had raced around the various townhouses and arrived at the pool. Now a girl in a thong isn't that unusual, but a boy in a fundoshi is cause for speculation. Kit didn't give it a second thought, tossed the pictures in a trash can and joined his brother in the pool. He's also not one to be serious or have empathy to a brother making a move on a girl.
"You two don't even have to have sex. You're probably pregnant with Kory's child right this moment," Kit teased.
Kory tried to get his brother to shut up, but the girl wondered what this younger brother meant. "What's he getting at, Kory?"
Kory gave her this shrug. "Got me. My brother is a little wacky."
Kit pantomimed jacking off.
This bombshell virgin gave Kory a stare that was more fitting for a freak. "You yanked off in the pool? How sick!"
All Kory got to see was a cute pair of buns hustling from the pool. Now according to my son, he only pretended to drown his brother. Kyle and Rodney had arrived at the pool and saved Kit from a hostile brother. Moments later here comes this girl with three other kids, including an older teenager who was apparently her old boyfriend.
"Hey, you fags, Sheila says you guys are beating your meat in the pool. Take your queer asses and go somewhere else."
When the boys didn't move, the jerk jumped in, pushed Rodney out of the way to get to Kory. It's not like Kyle has had years of martial arts training, but he grabbed the boy's arm and politely told him to leave them alone. The swing from the kid found pure air, but his body went backwards into an awkward splash. To have my skinny son make a fool of this older teenager was way too embarrassing. He challenged Kyle to step out of the pool.
Kyle said he told the guy not to push this, but to no prevail. On the deck the kid went for quick revenge. Kyle ducked and did a beautiful spin kick to send this older teenager flying sideways across three deck chairs and into an umbrella. The aggressor was now more concerned that his nose was broken than continuing the fight. Whoever was teaching my boy martial arts knew what he was doing.
An average person might have thought that Kyle and the boys would get a little respect for all this. Instead, this girl and her friends had spread the rumors that Kory was gay, and the words fag and queer were all the boy heard around the neighborhood. Kit apologized immensely, but Kory was now understanding firsthand what it meant to be a gay teenager amidst vicious peers, and he wasn't the brother who was gay.
Kory found humor in all this, swearing off girls and that maybe Kit had done him a favor. Paul's education hadn't prepared him for all this in one day. He had a marriage to conduct out of town for the next morning, so he was rather relieved to leave all this for me to handle. What kind of partner is that?
I received a visit from a father, who inquired whether I had insurance to pay for his son's broken nose. With the boys taking their turns, it was fairly obvious who was the aggressor in all this; plus, the kid was two years older than Kyle. The father said he wasn't done with this, as he left empty-handed without any remorse from me.
Rodney was in total awe of his friend, which was fine with me. I certainly wasn't going to scold my son for sticking up for his brothers and Rodney. All Kyle wanted to talk about was our morning golf match and how his dad had shot a 68. I was pretty happy with my boy's 88. In no time I would have him beating his grandfather, though I was kind of hoping they'd never cross paths again.
While Paul was still there I had some explaining to do about their mother's affair. I wasn't too pleased that my sons had practiced their photo expertise on their father and Paul, nor that they had been snooping in my office and discovered the other pictures. I sent them to their room until I could decide what punishment to meddle out. Paul, in his modern methods of behavior modification, suggested to the boys that they should come up with their own restrictions.
A few minutes later out came my sons, totally naked. "We are ready to be spanked. We'd drive you crazy if you kept us on house arrest for any length of time," Kyle spoke for the three of them.
Paul gave this upper lip nod that maybe the boys were thinking we wouldn't spank them. One by one we tossed them over our knees and gave those bare butts a whipping they might not forget, and probably their last in childhood. A lot of yelps and "I was just kidding!" didn't help. They jumped, held their buns and ran for the coolness of a cold shower. Our hand prints were on there for a whole day.
After a great dinner, thanks to Paul's cooking, he had bought Edge of Seventeen, a gay movie that the boys loved. They each wanted to perform for the pastor, so Kyle went first and danced to Jackson's Billy Jean, and then Kit sang One Voice. He was near tears at the end and apologized to Paul because his voice was starting to crack. To tell you the truth, it was barely recognizable. Paul was so amazed at Kit's singing, he simply grabbed Kit's testicles and said, "I'd rather have my boy have manly balls than sing soprano."
Kit grinned and didn't disappoint Paul in getting an erection in under four seconds ready for launch. I had seen him do it too many times not to count the seconds out. Kit wanted Kory to show off his singing talent, so all the boys sang Stairway to Heaven, which really impressed Paul. He said they must sing in church, so this was now a planned event for the next service.
We finished the evening eating ice cream and talking about when a male loses his virginity. Kit asked me when I'd lost mine, given that we had decided it was through anal intercourse as a top and bottom, and I said it was a family secret without looking directly at Kyle. Kyle also claimed confidentiality, though my sons knew what that meant. Kory pointed at Kit; Kit said his bottom was still in recovery from assorted brothers and boyfriends. Paul admitted he'd lost it with me. Guess you could say it was all in the family.
There was one more reason I decided to buy eight tickets for Florida on a day's notice. Whether it was a get back or they thought they could get away with it, my pleasure of being in bed the following night by myself was short-lived.
My history as a heavy sleeper was taken advantage of again by my sons. I wouldn't know why until the following morning. If my memory serves me right, I did feel a mouth around my penis, before a whisper of, "I love you, Brad." In my heavy sleep it was Paul. I sensed the lowering over my penis, which invigorated me sexually to want to participate. I flipped that body over and gave Paul what he desired, legs up and the most lovable thrusting that I could accomplish in my sleepy state. I came within minutes, leaned forward and kissed my man goodnight.
Now there's a scent of a boy, and one for a man. One is intoxicating; the other is an aphrodisiac. I'd come to know both for their wonders. Recognizing that I'd been tricked, I pretended not to take further interest. I swung over on my side to resume sleep. There was a momentary desire by this intruder to return the pleasure, and I found out humorously that he lasted a grand total of twenty seconds.
I wasn't surprised to find Kyle by my side in the morning, with Kit on the other side. The boys needed their own company and Florida was the place to find this.
Not giving any sign that I'd felt something in the middle of the night, we ate breakfast in silence, except for a snicker from Kit. "Dad, I lost my virginity again."
"You mean you've tried both sides?" I asked.
Kyle revealed the truth. "He likes to top, but Kit said he wanted to wait until he was in love to be a total bottom."
"When I was your age I had no idea what those words meant. I'm glad you've found someone to love."
Kyle eyed his brother. "His hero has always been you, Dad, just like me."
"So what's this all about?" I asked innocently.
"I like Jake a whole lot and he wants to do everything, but I didn't want him to be the first," Kit said.
"Just like me, Dad. I didn't want Rodney to be the first. You saved my life and I love you more than anyone."
It's tough to be mad with these two mischievous souls. "Let's keep this between the three Musketeers, okay?"
A few minutes earlier I was ready to come down hard on these two, cancel this whole movie deal because of their continual boundary violations in taking advantage of a father who is very vulnerable while he's sleeping. In this case, there's something for having no knowledge of any event. I've not sure if I could have done better if I was a sleepwalker.
On that next Sunday morning my youngest son made our new church come alive with his singing How Can I Keep From Singing and You Are the New Day. His voice maintained its beauty without a sign that his balls weren't of a little boys anymore. The boys then combined to sing Savior's Grace, with Kit hitting all his high notes, and had the congregation giving them a standing ovation. I'd never cried watching these three sing, but that was an exceptional day. Kory came to me and hugged me that he was okay with living with this crazy family of three gay males and a participant who was glad to be accepted. Paul came out and kissed the boys on the cheek, except for my youngest who turned his head real quick to catch one on the lips. The laughter was what any church needs.
Paul drove us to the airport and kissed us all goodbye as we boarded a flight from Dayton to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where we caught a plane to Tampa, Florida. There were eight of us, but one of them wasn't Paul. He had to wait for his vacation to start in August. The eighth ticket was for my eldest; yes, that's right, my eldest. The day before we departed he called me out of the blue and wondered if I had anything for him to do with my project.
"Bored, huh?" I asked him.
"Dad, these women are driving me bonkers. Katy won't have anything more to do with me, and Mom vents her hostilities out on me like I'm you."
"Sorry about that. Look, Keith, we had some tough rounds there a month ago. Your brothers might need some convincing, but I have the last word on this one. Keep in mind this isn't going to work if you aren't comfortable around your brothers' sexuality. I can't have the four of you fighting day in and day out."
"That was just a game, Dad. You know, big brother has to get in his digs. I don't care if they're gay, or not. It's not like I'm going to do anything with any of them. How's Kory holding out?"
"For liking girls, he's hanging in there. When you stop to think about it, a lot of things you do are the same things gay boys do."
"I'm not sure Katy considers herself a boy, Dad."
"I meant the self-pleasure thing, Son."
"Oh, yeah, I've been doing that way too much lately."
I laughed. "We're going to Florida tomorrow. Pack your bags and pray that your mother doesn't call the church to stop you."
"She's too busy having him over and pretending to Katy and me that he's just a friend. We both know he stays over after we go to bed. Her moans are enough to make me give up sex."
"There are things you should know ahead of time about this movie. It's a romantic tale of twelve boys on the high seas with a lunatic English sea captain."
"Where's the romance come in?"
"Between two boys. Have an issue with that?"
"Not as long as I don't have to play one of the boys."
"I suppose, come to think of it, the boys are supposed to be fourteen, or so, and there are two older boys at seventeen who bully their peers. You could play one of the bullies."
"My specialty," Keith reminded me.
"I'll pick you up at six in the morning. Our flight leaves early. A simple note on the kitchen table might suffice if you don't have the balls."
"I have those, but Mom would cut them off if she knew I was going with you. I'll have to think about my approach."
Found out that there was some discussion that night between Keith and his mother, not so much about the trip to Florida, but that he might be happier living with me.
"Go live with the faggot!" she had said, which was the first time my orientation came in the picture. I'd forgotten to mention that part, but pictures sort of said it all.
On the plane Keith did question me, though Kit heard the inquiry and answered for his father. "Yeah, Dad's gay like Kyle and me. Get over it. We even have a step-dad who's really cool."
"And here life has been standing still for me on Kenosha Street," Keith informed me.
Kory slipped in the seat next to me when Kyle went to the bathroom. "I'm going to become a minister like Paul," he informed me. Life has many surprises, so it didn't completely shock me how Paul's influence had inspired my son. I thought this was a worthy goal and that Paul would be pleased.
"My church will be open to everyone, just like Paul's," Kory said.
"Naked dancing?" I asked in humor.
"Only when I invite Kyle," Kory replied.
Mr. Stroup met us at the airport with a mini-bus. He was a spry man in his fifties, as fit as I was with a tint of gray to his hair. His gregarious nature had the boys on his side very quickly. My entourage of boys had their baseball caps eschew, though I wouldn't allow them to place them sideways. Mostly Cincinnati hats from our visit a few weeks earlier, they were a motley crew when they hit that hot, humid Florida air. It just made one want to take a shower, like immediately.
Through roads of swamp land, bugs, and a smell of dead foliage, the aroma of sea hit my nostrils before we saw the sparkling waters of the Gulf. The crunching of tires over gray rock led us back to a white, single-family home with a circular driveway. Its red roof just seemed to be appropriate for the climate, with palm trees flowing in the warm breeze.
Before we stepped inside, we had to take off our shoes, an ambiance that Alan had acquired from his trip to Japan. We should have known this from his book, THE ART OF LOYALTY. Numerous Japanese swords and paraphernalia decorated the interior, but there was also a western motif, combined with the simplicity of wood and erotic paintings.
The boys gravitated right to this wooden sculpture of a teenager, leaning back on his hunches, one knee slightly bent, with an erection pointed straight up. It was truly a piece of erotic work. Keith pretended not to be interested, but leave it to Kit to grab ahold of that pecker and pretend to masturbate the statue.
"Young man, one does not touch pieces of art," I warned.
"That's quite all right, Brad. That phallus has gone in far more places than just the touch of a hand," Alan said. The boys laughed and I had a vision of how someone might mount that real life creation.
"It has a head just like yours, Dad, and is as long as Paul's," Kit informed me.
I blushed and appreciated that Alan held up his hand that no explanation was needed.
I wasn't sure how this 2000-square foot home would accommodate all of us, but then Alan took us to the family room where everything from video games to a wide screen became the perfect play room for teenagers. Out the sliding glass doors was a swimming pool and beyond that a trail that led to a beach by the ocean. All on his property. This had the boys drooling with anticipation of water, fun and frolic.
"Can we, Dad?" Kyle asked.
"Better ask Mr. Stroup," I suggested.
"Go to it boys, that's why I built it, for such an occasion," Alan said.
"Do we have to wear suits?" Kit asked.
"Boys, this is private property, so run to your heart's content and clothes are always an option," Alan replied.
In seconds there were six naked teenagers, except one, Keith. He was reluctant to join in the melee of nudity and decided to play a video game. This would be a long vacation for the boy if he didn't blend in. Alan brought me a Perrier and Keith a soda. We discussed our trip and our objectives in the next few days. I knew this bored Keith with adult talk, as he kept eyeing his brothers and friends moving in and out of the pool.
"You know, Keith, nudity is a big part of the movie, and half of it you'll spend in a fundoshi. You might as well get relaxed," I told my son.
"I know, Dad. I just don't feel like a swim right now."
Alan showed us his collection of books and art objects, mostly gay that he had collected through the years. Keith tried not to be too interested but, nevertheless, found the collection interesting. Another knock on the door and in walked this beautiful blond boy, no more than five-seven, with dazzling blue eyes and a smile that could replace a light bulb. This was my assistant director, Tad, a brand new eighteen-year old who had been Alan's pet for four years. The boy oozed eroticism. His tight shorts defined a penis that leaned sideways as long as Paul's. Though Tad had all the manners in the world in greeting my son, Keith was a bit cold with his handshake.
"The Huckleberry Pirates are in the backyard," Alan told his sidekick.
Tad eyed the bare buns around the pool, dropped his shorts and strolled out stark naked. The boy's hardened ass had my crotch bulge in seconds. Keith was annoyed with my attention on this teenager and gave me this disgruntled look like I was cheating on my ex-wife. If anything, I was jealous because the boys in the pool would get to see that crotch before I did. Keith asked if there was a shower available due to the stickiness of the Florida air.
Having to take a leak, I walked in on my eldest in the shower. I knew Keith had been having acne problems with his face, but now I could see why he was reluctant to go nude. His butt and back were extremely pimply and I could understand his embarrassment. I didn't want to embarrass him further, but I had to say something.
"Keith, sunlight is the best therapy in the world for acne. Go down to the beach, take off your shorts and give yourself fifteen minutes of sunlight until your tan darkens. In a few days you're going to see a marked improvement." I took a deep breath not knowing how he would take this invasive act of mine.
"You mean the sun can help clear this up?" He turned and exhibited a half erection. I think I interrupted his masturbation.
"Of course. Any skin doctor will recommend ultraviolet treatment for cases like yours. Give it a try."
"I'll try it a few days, Dad."
I left with a hope and prayer that this would work.
Another gentleman entered the family room completely unannounced. Found out that the elderly gentleman with a spring to his step was English, a servant, as sorts, for Alan, and perfect for our devilish sea captain. Actually, Alan called him Captain.
Byron was 65, a man who had lived his life on the seas in Ireland, where his father was a fisherman. Alan and he had met accidently twenty years earlier and the man had been a loyal servant to this author since. A more intellectual man I had yet to meet, he had a knack of knowing everything and telling nothing. When I asked him to give me a little acting as a pirate, he had me rearing backwards.
"Aye, laddy, yur a mought fra-gile fer being on ma ship, ain't ya?" Bryan furled his eyebrows, tweaked his mustache, and contorted his face that convinced me I was one second away from the gang plank.
"You're hired, sir," I managed to spit out. His face relaxed with this blossoming smile and he gave me a hug that lifted me off the ground.
"Quite convincing, hey, Brad?" Alan asked me.
"Where did you find him, in the ancestry book of Captain Kidd's?" I asked.
They laughed and I saw that these two knew each other like a book. The room soon became crowded when Kyle's new martial arts instructor showed. Jay Song was Korean, a very cute Korean, and was ultra-polite. As with most of Alan's companionships, my new gaydar had no reservation in labeling, though one does not be too forward with a man who can kick your butt. I walked out with Jay to introduce him to my son and to see Tad naked. That last one was my secret. My son and Jay hit it off immediately, maybe too well. Kyle bowed politely and they were already talking karate language before I left.
Jay had brought along two sets of gi and headed for the beach. I noticed a few minutes later that they had tossed their gi pants for the freedom of nothing on the beach. Kyle idolized his new instructor, which made me question my motives of keeping him and Rodney from being intimate. Rodney followed Kyle around like a puppy, yet my observance at the beginning was that Kyle was madly in love with Rodney, and Rodney was uncommitted. Now the opposite had taken affect.
That night I insisted that the two sleep together as an experiment. They could kiss and masturbate each other off, but nothing more. They agreed. By morning they wanted permission to advance their techniques. Not yet, I reminded them. Kit and Jake were thinking this was a sex camp and alternated between the pool and their tent. Why wasn't I that lucky when I was thirteen?
"Slow up, guys, or you'll be walking funny," I told them. They laughed and told me they were going to set a record of seven times that day. I shook my head and walked away.
On a nightly basis Alan would show a film on the big screen for the boys, usually one with a gay theme. Vitus was excellent, as was the Three Slaves and Pretty Boy. They were tame enough that Keith enjoyed them. For A Lost Soldier had quite an impact on Kit, now totally mad at this Canadian soldier for abandoning the boy.
I made sure to compliment Keith's improved complexion. I'd witnessed him on a sandy cove down on the beach, laid out naked for the sun to do its thing. He had a nice body and possibly with healthy skin he might take pride in it.
In the evening I learned more in two hours about the movie business than I would have in five books. Tad was a gold mine in knowledge as we talked with Alan until midnight. We were ready for bed when Alan pointed at Tad.
"He's your welcome present to Florida," he told me. Viewing Tad in those low-cut cotton shorts was enough to convince me.
Moving to my bedroom, there was Kit sprawled out on one side. The boys had been given tents to sleep outside. Apparently Kit was Jaked-out and wanted to sleep with his father. I assured Tad that the boy slept soundly, so I lied. We had an hour of heated sex and he loved being a bottom. I finished him off by swallowing his load.
I went to the bathroom to clean up, only to return and see my son on top of Tad. He was following in his dad's footsteps--in this case, getting sloppy seconds. I waited, knowing Kit's speed for finishing under a minute. Once they started kissing, I slapped both their bottoms and slipped in between them.
"Okay, stud, go to sleep," I told my boy.
Tad and I went to face to face. "He's thirteen," I said but not accusatory.
"Sorry. He's very self-confident for his age," Tad admitted.
"And very horny. I'll talk to him tomorrow." I kissed this blond knockout and was glad I was in Florida.
Jay Sung arrived early--who could blame him? Only 31, he was young looking and all muscle. Cute, athletic, and gay, Alan had friends from all stretches of life. From nine to eleven, Kyle ran and did his workout on the beach with his new instructor. Jay ate lunch with us, then resumed their workouts in just fundoshi from one to three. We made sure to make a loincloth for our new crew member. Jay had great rapport with my son, but was a task master and a choreographer for martial arts; something Kyle's instructor in Kettering wasn't familiar with.
Tad used the afternoons to put the boys through rehearsals, while Alan and I reviewed applicants after a series of ads had run in four magazines: All Boy, Teen, XY, and Freshmen. We also had an actors' call on the Internet. Over 500 inquiries from boys 14 to 18 years of age. Alan had sold over 200 copies of THE HUCKLEBERRY PIRATES in just the last two days. Doing interviews on the Internet was tricky, as we received pictures, hobbies, reasons for wanting to be in a movie, and experience. There were a few professional actors, but these weren't necessarily what we were looking for. Many of the boys gave their sexual orientation; some even sending us nude pictures. We had to be wary of underage photos.
Bob Turner, our financier, arrived. It's amazing how I can picture someone and be totally wrong. From a vision of a man 6'6", 275 pounds, Bob was this gentle being at 5'7", 165. First of all, I admit boys are a turn-on, a charm that is tough to resist. I might be overly judgmental about boy lovers, being a parent and all, but I couldn't be a hypocrite. There was an expectation that Bob might be overbearing, want to fondle the merchandise, per se, and only desire the cutest of the cute. He was not this at all.
His charming nature put those who auditioned at ease. He had a way with boys, a personality that younger males found pleasing and non-threatening. Bob could sweep the boy's hair, pinch his cheek, and pat a butt to get a smile. Sometimes its aim was an invite to his hotel room for the evening. I believe he succeeded on all accounts.
Setting up an office for two days in Tampa, we set appointments for two dozen select individuals. Giving each boy a script to read, we put them through a rehearsal with Tad, Bob, Alan, and myself in the room. They were required to wear a fundoshi while doing their reading. Naturally, Bob showed the boys how to put this on and made sure everything fit snugly. Alan and I chuckled and were somewhat jealous that it wasn't our fingers inside the fundoshi. Then I had to remind myself that I had my choice of some of the prettiest boys in America.
I was prone to pick smooth bodies with very little body hair. There were gorgeous boys, eighteen-years old, who looked fourteen. Then the conversation became one of, 'Do we put eighteen-year olds with boys thirteen thru seventeen?' Naturally this seemed puerile to any gay male, but not to the law. We would be inviting these kids to their own suicide of legal trepidation. Though we bit out lips, we rejected all these beautiful, legal boys.
One of the songs we were using was the Eagles' Get Over It. Bob had various auditions dance to this to see their personality. Kyle would have loved this. This did demonstrate how gregarious the boy could be and how he adapted to an unexpected request. I was humming that stupid song for three days.
So much talent and beauty, I wanted to make love to more than my share. Bob probably did, especially with those who didn't mind a bit Bob's fitting of their fundoshi.
This near nudity accomplished several purposes: one, this was going to be their primary wardrobe and two, it gave us the opportunity to look for blemishes, scars, burns, or any other body mark like a tattoo that could have an impact on screen. One of the boys got a hard-on, which everyone laughed and put the fourteen-year old at ease. Bob tucked it under the waist band, but, when it popped out and the boy had this cute expression for his dilemma, we decided to hire him without the script read. Way too gorgeous anyway. I asked each one if they felt comfortable being in the nude, and few said they had no problem; a few took off their loincloth. One boy was sure he would be seasick, a cute little bugger that Kit would strangle me if I didn't hire him. One black boy was very effeminate, but funny and intelligent. I needed a black boy, so he was a shoo in. By the end of the first day, I had four of the five boys I needed.
Another six boys were eye poppers on the second day and I had reservations that I had brought too many boys from Ohio. Then Mike busted his arm while doing tricks off the pool's deck. They were trying to imitate Kyle's practice sessions. I told Mike he could stay, but I'd probably replace him on the set. He had no problem with this, and he could be a ready replacement.
Unlike the book, I found it difficult to hire boys who were overweight or didn't fit the profile of someone every teenage girl would want to jump in bed with, let alone, every gay boy. Alan said I had to bend a little, so I hired a sixteen-year old who had a sense of humor that kept everyone laughing; plus, Bob found him a dynamo in bed. I traded off looks for a boy who could keep the set laughing and to keep the producer happy. Kyle changed the boy's hair, eventually, and the kid was quite a knockout in front of a camera lens.
That evening we met a man who owned a frigate on the harbor. Every year they would take this ship out on the harbor to celebrate a pirate tradition in parading boats and dressing as pirates. We rented the ship for a thousand a week; in addition, two men who knew how to sail the thing at an additional five-hundred a day. One man, forty or so, was married, while the other was in his thirties, a bachelor that we all expected liked what he read in the book.
We had the entire crew at Alan's house for three days, a wilder bunch of boys I would have committed myself to a mental hospital for the simple thought of, what was I thinking? I had hired a real cutie as the fourteenth boy because I didn't want just thirteen. Alan laughed. Kit fell in love with Jeremy on first sight, two twinks who had been searching for their other half in the wrong states. Jake liked to bottom and was making himself available for any male rabbit, including Alan and me. Naked boys were all over the house, getting a glass of water, taking a shower, or searching for an empty bed to nap in.
One thing about gay boys, they liked older men who were gentle and experienced with boys. Kyle showered with me on a daily basis to discuss his progress and what he thought of the preparation. We knew each other beyond my eighteen years of marriage, but this time we didn't need a shrink. Kyle had asked me if we needed a psychologist if he wanted to show me how much he loved me. I agreed that this father and son taboo didn't serve a viable purpose. We did what we did out of love and affection for each other.
Kit and Jeremy were inseparable; it wasn't uncommon to see them walk around with hard-ons in demonstration that they were made for each other. Keith found it disgusting and avoided talking to his youngest brother. Not wanting to say anything to take sides, I did notice that Keith's face and back were very pink, but clearing up from the red blotches. His lack of a sexual partner had frustrated him greatly and the resentment showed.
What I didn't notice was often reported to me second hand. Alan caught my youngest and Jeremy being intimate with his wooden sculpture. Mr. Stroup hadn't tripped because there was a signature book next to the statue of "Richie's friends", for those who had mounted the wooden phallus. Richie was the name of a character in his book, AGE OF DISSENSION. Alan gifted me a copy. All that was required of Kit and Jeremy was to clean the 8" rosewood penis after their fun and sign the book. They were now part of the 88 people who could claim such a feat. Kyle and his father would make 90.
Alan had put three port-a-potties outside near the beach to go with the outdoor shower. The backyard was pretty much self-contained to handle all the boys. They could still use one of three bathrooms inside. My son Kyle walked in on me while I was using the john. He stood in front of the mirror, totally naked, admiring his ripples from the intense workouts over the past several weeks. He was no doubt in terrific shape. So I wiped my ass, moved over and grabbed his balls.
"If I ever see you use your skill on anyone to be cruel, these little marbles will be removed."
He knew I was serious, but he kissed me anyway.
The best thing, it was time to start filming on schedule. All Tad told me was, "You tell me what the scene should look like, and I'll do the rest." Could it be that easy?
Alan had located an old barracks at an abandoned Air Force base for our dorm at the orphanage. Bob had hired twenty boys at one-hundred dollars each as extras for this day, putting them in just their underwear or less to roam around the dorm. Locating enough blankets for 50 beds wasn't realistic, so we filmed the initial scene in the dorm by moving bed to bed, throwing on the same mattresses and blankets to make it look full. A few editing tricks would make it look authentic.
The shower scene was filmed at a beach shower area. We filmed this late at night when it wasn't used. Kyle, Rodney, and four other boys appeared very comfortable waiting on set without clothes on. The shower scene was only two minutes in length in the movie, but two hours of filming. I thought that other teens might have felt awkward if they had to endure this.
There was nonstop activity with organization and directing boys in all sorts of directions. It was sometimes difficult to separate the crew from the actors. Kyle and Mike had started from day one in filming everything they did, from swimming to eating. Their idea was to add extras to the movie of how the film was done and what went on when the films weren't on set. Though they weren't telling me everything, there was a whole lot of indiscreet filming that wasn't noticed or the boys had no idea they were being filmed. Boys could get away with this type of pornography, while an adult would have been hung up by their heels. I had a funny feeling their production was as much sex as having fun with special features.
There were so many different personalities to deal with. I well knew my own sons and had figured out their friends. Now I had another seven to learn, plus the crew and my new friends. Tad brought four men and a pretty girl with him when filming started: a sound man, lighting technician, camera man, and a best boy. Yup, that's what they call an assistant in the movie business. Buddy said he was eighteen, maybe in three years I thought.
The young lady was responsible for wardrobe and make-up. Lisa was a film student, had no problem with gay boys, and had a southern accent. The boys loved her from second one. Her giggles were constant because, anything the boys did, she thought was funny. She seemed oblivious that there were a dozen naked boys around her at any one time while we were at Alan's house. The boys accepted her as just another guy.
Tad's crew were good workers and knew exactly what they were doing. Totally professional, I had to worry about the boys trying to make out with them, than just the opposite. I spent the money and everyone was tested for STDs. A clean report gave me some relief.
We had some good luck in filming a typical Florida thunderstorm, including lightning. The initial scenes of the movie had this spectacle. I had an opening act where Kyle is on a top bunk, looking out the pane of glass while it was raining. Naturally we didn't film this while it was raining, but ran water down the glass with the camera on the outside.
Moving through the glass to create a cool image, Kyle's tears were to replace the flowing water on the pane. To get the results I wanted I had to do a little method acting with my boy.
"Kyle, the saddest thing you ever did to your father was almost break my heart when I found you in the car that night. I'm not sure I could have kept living when the love of my life is dying in my arms. Know that I'm always here for you and, though we've talked about boundaries, nothing can keep me from your arms if you really need me."
He started to cry, which turned my fatherly love into the face I wanted. I tossed him on the bed and we shot the scene in ten seconds. In some ways I did my job as a director; in another thought, I felt rotten for making both of us feel sad.
The actual scene was Kyle remembering his parents and their grave stones as he looked down on them weeks earlier. Not having any distant relative to take him in, he was relegated to an orphanage. His bunkee was Rodney, a boy he would rename Huck, because of the boy's interest in ships. They didn't hit it off right away, as Huck wasn't the most trusting of boys, being picked on and staying to himself. Having any friend would take time. The following morning in the shower scene, Kyle would witness the abuse from bullies that Huck was receiving. His intervention wasn't necessarily appreciated by this fragile and distant teenager.
Kyle and Rodney had fun with their expressions of getting to know each other on film. I had already had the music planned for this, but I gave them carte blanche to be creative, say what they wanted, as if this was truly happening, and act silly. There was the de-shorting while they shot baskets, the pushing, the shoving, the tap games, their wild adventure in a music room, and their first eye contact that had gaydar written all over it.
We wrapped up the filming in the dorm in one day, the outdoor activity at a park in a day, and spent another day designing an office. Paul had yet to arrive, so I did the director's part. Lisa played the secretary. Sometimes we'd see a man for a part, have him sign a contract, pay him a couple of hundred and put him to work for a two-minute part. Such was the case of the grandfather, an elderly custodian at a park who was doing part-time work to make ends meet. He was such a nice guy and loved the boys, I said we would be in touch because we needed his face again.
Off to the harbor we filmed a docked yacht, hired a lady salesman for a quick take, and put Captain to work. His outfit as a pirate was too good to be true. When the boys first met him it was all non-rehearsed, and boy did their eyes bug out. Too authentic, the camera caught the boys' apprehension, even fearful of being under the direction of this man. Captain was a task master, a no nonsense captain of a ship who taught these teens how to be a powder monkey to climbing the tallest mast on the frigate. The boys jumped to his every word, and even the captain didn't succumb to my youngest son's puppy dog expressions.
Back to Alan's house, a few of us examined the angles and footage of the day's work. All of this had to be edited and put into a logical pattern. I was so overwhelmed and Tad so relaxed, I pretended to think that this would work.
Outside the boys ran naked to and fro, playing tricks on each other and having abandoned their shyness from the first day they met. Keith was finally part of them, at least minus the clothes part. He had a friend, another sixteen-year old who was gay, but not overbearing. Keith didn't know about the gay part, yet.
An unforeseen problem arose when two of the boys decided that Alan's hairless body looked really cool. I'd joked with the author a few days before that his books often had the characters shave their pubic hair; thus, he was as clean as a ten-year old. When I saw two of our teenagers looking like a prepubescent, I panicked. I didn't care if they wanted to look clean shaved, but on film they had to be teenagers. Bob had the quick solution of collecting pubic hair from the other teens and gluing them on our two hairless wonders. Naturally he did a remarkable job of moving his fingers through a dozen teens' bushes, or proximity to, to gather loose hairs. He used a black marker to fashion a young teens' pubic line. I know Bob looked forward to each day to be the make-up man for this part. Both boys would tell Kyle that Bob gave awesome head.
Paul and I talked every day, his arrival was scheduled the following day. Tad was cool with this. We had had a week in bed together with great sex, though he had his assortment of boys and my sons. It didn't matter to me as long as everyone was healthy and happy. I was consistent with three partners a day, being a gay man with loads of willing partners. A straight guy should have it so lucky. With Paul it was truly masculine love based on a mutual attraction for each other. With Tad, he was too close to my sons in his boyish image and lithe body. I often had relapses of making love to Kyle; they had much the same body type and affectionate desires. Tad had a pillow ready right beside Alan, a far more discreet man than I was. A boy a day was find with him.
Our next day shoot was out in the harbor, a way to get the boys familiar with the ship and do the initial fun things boys do on boats. Oops! I'm not supposed to call that ship a boat. Anyway, we had Keith and his cohort pick on Huck, with a tinge of hostility that they've recognized a deep friendship between the two boys. As boys took off their shorts and jumped in the water from the lower masts, Huck climbed up the main mast and did a three somersault dive. Rodney's skill in diving fit perfect. Naturally no one wanted to duplicate this feat.
Across the harbor came a motor boat with Paul McKinley inside. It was good to see his smiling face. When we locked lips as he came on deck, any speculation of our orientation was now evident to any of the crew who hadn't labeled me yet. Having Paul with us inspired the boys that much more and gave all the participants a moral backbone.
The only trouble with shooting that day were the various on-lookers, from rowboats to small craft who wanted to see not only this frigate, but what all the commotion was about with cameras. Seeing boys in their underwear inspired many younger people to be voyeurs. We had to film at various angles so that all these spectators weren't in the scene. Then we had the show-offs, boys who had spotted the cute teenager with his sister. The girl might have thought that the boy was showing off for her, but we knew the right reason. Captain had to grab a few ears to keep the boys from lowering their underwear so they'd come off in the water.
Our plan was to take the ship around the Florida Keys, just for the photographic effect, where the director died accidently retrieving some money he had embezzled from the orphanage. In a storm he was blown from the crow's nest. That was another sub-plot. That left the old English sea captain in charge. We used Alan as the cook and the captain's sidekick, which was ironic that their roles were just the opposite in real life.
The boat....oops, ship would anchor and anyone not in the actual shoot or responsible for its direction went below deck. We had planned on a five-day shoot, then a return to the mainland to check the dailies-- finally to resume the final scenes around the Florida Keys.
To make sure that everyone behaved I put my peek-a-boo lens in the forecastle. I'm not sure who I didn't trust--I was becoming a control freak. Maybe I was afraid my youngest son would terrorize their living quarters with his perpetual hard-on. One thing I did notice, Kyle was now as tall as I was, and Kit's genitals were blossoming to an adults. It's easy to notice these things when your sons are nude every day. Kory also had grown an inch so far during that summer. I'd like to think it was their father's influence.
Tad was good at picking certain boys to do odd jobs. Mike became a boom operator, another a grip in charge of moving cameras, scenery, mike stands, sandbags, and so forth. Buddy, the best boy, was actually very knowledgeable as an electrician and helping with sound. I, the director, was considered God, so says Tad. Since Paul had arrived on the scene late, I had yet to find a position for him. For the time being, he was like a den mother who directed traffic and often made my thoughts come alive. Tad was methodical and professional, while Paul had a softer nature which demanded respect because no one wanted to offend the right hand of God.
We used two Cannon XL-1s, often at such different angles I had to watch where I was standing. Suspension of Disbelief is the basic premise of having a film be effective. I learned this from Tad. As a director, my number-one priority was to make a final product that people could get lost in. I had to be able to get them to forget they were watching images projected on a wall, and imagine that they're looking at real people. Though we relied on the script, I often gave the boys the scenario and asked how, as teenagers, they would react. Great acting isn't really a gift, it is being oneself all wrapped up in the moment. I thought the boys were reaching through the lens, through the screen, and into the viewers' hearts to be one with them or against them.
There's also something about nudity, the pink skin, now getting browner that caught the eye immediately. I was getting used to seeing penises and butts, but still a boy's body had a magnificence to it that was ruined on an adult's. I'd even shaved my chest and hairline to my pubic area because I liked the looks. Kyle loved it; Kit wanted me to put it back on. It's what Kit found attractive with Bob, his bear-like chest flowing with black hair. Kit thought it was sexy. He should have never told our producer that. I just know they did something together.
The script called for two fight scenes at the orphanage, and with each one we managed to make it real and believable. Though it was fun doing a little Jackie Chan comedy relief, I didn't want to make this laughable, only authentic to a boy who was very talented at martial arts.
Thankfully, Jay brought the scene to realism. Jay made sure I had no prima donnas, often displaying what I wanted on Kyle, rather violently, if I don't say so myself. The boy respected his teacher too much to get angry. Kyle wasn't that aggressive, but he got the message, as did the other boys not to clown around. A great many retakes were necessary to get all the martial arts moves perfect. Occasionally a kick or punch was errant and made for a bloody nose or split lip. Tad said these weren't the scenes a director deletes.
Tad wasn't a big bad teenager; actually, rather mild and loveable. If a boy gave him the wrong look or resistance, Tad simply glanced at Jay. For some reason this teenager had a change of attitude very quickly.
There were times the boy's line didn't cut it. I'd give him another try, but then I'd go with my way. Best thing, I had the final say and veto power. That was so cool! This was my painting and I picked the colors.
Teenagers can be a moody bunch, disagreements with others, worry, anticipation--all sorts of mental hurdles that these boys go through without anyone knowing why they're thinking the way they're thinking. Either Paul or myself would take the boy aside, an arm around his shoulders and find out where his head was. We never accepted, "Nothing," or "I'm okay." Most often they were ignored by others and took it personally, or someone had said something to hurt their feelings. I could remedy these problems real quick.
Meals were the best Alan could do, though with the help of the Captain, who played several roles. The little frigate wasn't a fast vessel, but it was finely tuned. Everybody, and I mean everybody, had to do their part in keeping the ship shipshape, the decks mopped, chrome polished, and the sails flying with the wind. I learned the names of the sails and had my favorite. The boys took quickly to climbing the masts, swinging on the ropes when they could, and pretending to be able-bodied seamen. They certainly loved to go below deck to examine the ten cannon that were very real indeed. Being a powder monkey left each boy with a face of black and an initiation that they'd remember forever. I'm not sure how accurate our captain was about this initiation, but cabin boys must have had a lot of fun. There's just something about having an orgasm, sitting on a cannon and having that thing between your legs fire and shoot you back six feet. Now that was a real high. It figured that Kit would want to try it again.
Every boy wanted to be held in a sling off the deck so he could poop above the waves, like in the old days of sailing. It made for a good butt cleaning, as well. Just like home, there were soon few secrets that any boy would hold from a peer.
The continual adversary between the older boys and Huck and Kyle was a major theme in the shoot. There was this horrendous fight on deck with more Jackie Chan stunts than should be allowed in one movie. Kyle didn't require a stunt man, only because we didn't have one. He missed ropes at times and tumbled to the nets, got up, brushed off, smiled, and resumed. Every time I gulped, afraid he'd broken an arm, I'd run to his side. Kyle would be embarrassed by my attention.
Keith had to learn to roll with the punches, slide a kick, or dodge a swinging rope. He too had his bumps and bruises, a relationship with Kyle on set where they both had to cooperate, coordinate, and laugh when things didn't go well. They also hugged when things clicked, when stunts went even better than planned, or Kyle would truly pull off a Jackie Chan to everyone's amazement. The boy was incredible on set, as well as in bed. Oops, I didn't mean to say that.
"Dad, the others will think I'm a wuss," Kyle would whine if I gave him too much attention on set. In my cabin he would want me to kiss his every bruise. I backed off on set and loved him off.
So many of the planned antics had the boys laughing, which broke the tempo of the shoot. I knew these tricks were so precise and only a onetime thing. Tad said we could edit the scenes into a more serious tone when the boys retired. They often looked at Kyle like he was super human for some of the things he did. Jay only nodded, applauded and gave advice on how it might have been better. Kyle looked at him cross-eyed before Jay broke up in laughter. They had a great relationship, as well, and I didn't mind a bit sharing.
I did my stunt climbing up to the crow's nest in a rain storm, then watched a dummy of me fall into the ocean. That was real scary climbing up a rope ladder that high. As a director I told them this was going to be a one take only. They laughed. So much for my acting career. Rather than return to the orphanage, the captain had other plans for his new rogues. He was ready to make their ship a pirates' vessel to raid those on the high seas of their booty.
The morning shoot had the boys ready after breakfast, only to eat biscuits made out of sawdust. They spit and coughed, but this was all an act. Later they had eggs, bacon, and orange juice. The captain had them go swimming--their first nudity--and that's when the old English fart hid their clothes and blamed it on a sea legend.
We had Kyle come up with the idea of taking sheets and making loincloths out of them, contrary to the captain's wishes of keeping the boys naked. This was where the fundoshi came into being. With all the pink skin, there were a lot of roaming eyes from the crew, but even having Lisa on deck didn't bother the boys. Their tanned bodies hadn't completely eliminated white butts, so this made the scene more realistic than a dozen tanned-all-over boys.
I could tell that Kory had been smitten by this attractive little brunette. She was a doll and patient with the boys, probably because she had two younger brothers herself. He had caught her eyeing his nudity, then I yelled, "Cut!" because his penis was heading upwards. Kory squatted and only he, Lisa, and I knew why I'd stopped the scene. We laughed about it later.
A big part for Huck was when he was invited to the cabin to eat with the captain. The abundance of food and drink inebriated Huck in a scene that was extremely funny and well-acted by Captain and Huck. The captain had ulterior motives for getting the boy soused; the chase around the cabin, where the captain swept the boy's pants down, only to have his catamite fall asleep by drunkenness. Kyle had been waiting on deck, now totally pissed at his friend's failure to be there for their nightly jaunt. By the morning the two weren't talking, though Huck would try his best to explain his absence. Their coming to terms with this was the real revelation that they were in love.
Another awesome scene was done underwater. Huck had found an old crusty cannon underwater, then a gold coin, while Kyle was searching the sea bottom for other relics. Up they came to collect their breath, where Huck showed off the coin and wanted to dive again. We got footage of an eel leaving its hole underwater for later use. Anyway, the camera zoomed in on Huck's dangling penis, while the boy's hand searched through the sand. Another shot at this eel, the camera coming closer and closer. A view at Huck's eyes, as they sprang open in shock, and back to the penis, where Kyle had grabbed it with his hand. I knew this would be spectacular on screen.
There's something to be said for underwater photography of the nude form--spectacular and very erotic. The crystal clear water made for excellent filming, amidst sea life and spectacular coral formations. If anything is more natural than a boy naked in water, I've yet to see it.
Aside from the filming I checked my hidden camera. Before the beginning of filming for each day Lisa would make sure everyone was dressed accordingly--which meant with their fundoshi on. I saw my son as the last one checked, making sure everyone had departed on deck. His loincloth was eschew, like this was a first time thing. Lisa laughed and redid the rear knot to right above the crack. Kory turned with a full erection sticking from his front.
"Now look what you did," he told her.
"You're so silly, Kory," Lisa told him in her cute southern accent. "Now how are you going to get that down?"
"You've got to help. Dad's going to kill me and I'll have to blame a pretty girl."
"Well, what would you have me do?"
"Rub it a little."
Lisa looked both ways, undid the cloth and fingered his erection with the lack of expertise of a beginner. Kory shot his sperm into her face and blouse, making her jump backwards.
"Oops. Sorry about that, Lisa. Guess my penis really likes you."
She smacked his bottom and told him he was way too sexy. It took another minute of jumping up and down and Lisa laughing to get that thing flaccid. This isn't what I had expected, but I felt that my boy deserved a female in his life after putting up with two gay brothers for so long.
The men who owned this vessel wanted us to stop off in Freeport, on the Grand Bahamas. This would give us chance to stretch our sea legs and for the boys to go off on their own for a few hours. They might have been down to just their loincloths on the ship, but they dressed in casual shorts and shirts to hit the town. I had to give them my expectations.
"No drinking, no drugs, no sex......" I yelled but they all took off down the plank and into town before I could finish my sentence. A director's voice had its limits when it came to on-shore furlough. I had hoped they heard my curfew time or there would be heads rolling.
Paul and I took the afternoon off from viewing the dailies with Bob Turner in tow. He had flown in to be with us after his business ventures to make the type of money he loves to throw around. Bob was generous to a fault, taking us to lunch and wanting to know all about our few days of filming. His love for the boys was amazing, and though I saw this love as almost an addiction, the boys cared for Bob because he was so caring and protective. One thing I'd witnessed, he could make love to a boy and want that youngster to hurry back for a repeat performance.
We loved the ambience, the food and the service. The people were friendly and the boys ran the opposite way when they saw us. At a jewelry store, we bought each other rings--going steady rings, we called them. I had quickly fallen in love with Paul, and I was under the impression he loved me for who I was, not for having four very handsome sons.
Neptune must have liked my actors because they all returned safe and happy. No arrests, no wobbly youngsters, only stuffed and tired--a couple with stomach aches from too much indulgence. Off with the duds and into their loincloths, most of the boys felt a whole lot better with practically nothing on and being out on the warm seas.
Keith arrived at our cabin that evening with a curious mind. He had apparently talked with his brothers on some of the things the Mormon Church had taught him through the years. Paul invited the conversation, since Keith was anticipating two years as a missionary for the Latter-Day Saints.
"There is a great wealth of evidence concerning the material contained in The Book of Mormon," Paul started and began to talk about the plagiarisms, anachronisms, false prophecies, and other unfortunate practices connected with the book. Like the Bible, this book also had taken on various revisions through the years, the last former edition in 1920, while the latest revision was in 1981.
Paul told my son, "The many revisions prove that the Mormon Church will sacrifice truth for the sake of public relations." Paul went on and gave far more examples than was necessary. From an inspired revelation from God to a doctored up novel made up by Joseph Smith. But was the book even his to doctor? It was plagiarized from another man's writings.
"It was well known at the time that Joseph Smith had habits of exaggeration and untruthfulness. He and his father were in particular considered entirely destitute of moral character and addicted to vicious habits," Paul said quoting Mormonism Unveiled, Painsville, Ohio in 1834. "There is so much research and truth written about the beginnings of the Mormon Church that those who dwell on these questions are quickly excommunicated from the LDS Church after refusing to keep silent about unflattering research. Not many churches are scared of their past or that their church be considered a fraud with undeniable information."
So Keith listened, had questions, and tried to debate or find fault with Paul's knowledge. Each time he was countered with irrefutable facts. I saw the Mormon's propaganda as a way to control a congregation that was hungry for change, believed anything they read or were told, and followed like sheep. Now I could see why the Mormons selected nineteen-year olds to be missionaries; the same reason the military used vulnerable teenagers--they were willing, excited, and naive participants.
"How do you know so much about the Mormon Church?" I asked.
"When my own family had two young men visit our home, I was fascinated with religion at the age of fourteen. Guess you could say it sparked an interest that made me what I am today. A person cannot understand God from a mere book or going to church. We are, after all, just a form of energy that makes up the universe, an energy created by a higher power that barely touches our imagination. People like to create differences that make them better than the next person. Rather sad, if you think about it."
Paul made Keith and me very contemplative with his simple explanations of love and life. He's a good person, non-judgmental, pragmatic, challenging, and has a body that needs paraded around San Francisco. That last one was for my own self-gratification.
Out on the high seas again, we looked for sailing vessels with families. They found us before we saw them. A frigate of this class draws a lot of attention, so it was easy to find admirers and convince them we'd like to fire a cannon across their bow so they could be in our film.
"You want to do what?!" the man asked rather emphatically.
"Only a fake firing and a splash," I explained which put everyone at ease. Gee, it's only a movie.
Having an abundance of near-nude teenagers on the mast and walking about the deck can draw a lot of ships. A pirate's flag was funny to us, scary to others. Two of these vessels agreed to be in our film.
One family from France, with a twelve-year old boy and a fourteen-year old girl, were way too willing. The mother was topless and found the boys so cute with their little sheets on, she called them. The girl and boy had on skimpy suits that said they were from Europe. Our boys found Bjorn amusing and delightful, while Kory and Keith eyed the girl. Her blond hair was more platinum than Tad's.
The idea was for the captain and four boys to board their vessel, hold them at gunpoint and rob their boat. Kyle saved the girl from the lecherous hands of his brother and his sidekick who had taken this role as pirate way too seriously. All show. Kyle ended up getting kissed, a little too good of a kiss. I had to shoot the scene three times until I got the point across that she wasn't to make love to my son. This was more a thank-you gesture for saving her from being raped.
Kit managed to get the boy below deck on the frigate and give him head. This I found out later, but the boy looked really happy when he came back on deck. I think his father was suspicious because his son's postage stamp bathing suit had quite a bulge to it. Either way no one seemed to care and a French kid had an American boy to e-mail back and forth.
We had one other boarding with a family of five children. They sailed around the Caribbean, but the whole capture of their vessel and their acting weren't very good. We would edit this one out. We anchored in Nassau and met an owner of a nice yacht. He agreed to let us board his vessel in a night filming of pirating a boat in the harbor. The boys got to swing from ropes to board the vessel, with Jeremy missing the boat and being whipped to the sea on the other side. We used that one.
Alan was busy befriending an aristocratic at a local bar. The book had a Greek tycoon; we settled on one from Italy. No children, but his yacht in the harbor was 168', perfect for a shoot. He agreed if his wife gave the okay. Alan has a way with the opposite sex, which is more than I do. He charmed her like he was an American playboy.
We did our filming in capturing this yacht and did the final scene in the movie the next morning from a nearby island. We'd have to edit the sunset in later. There was an addition of Lisa as his daughter, though I think his wife had second thoughts after this petite young lady had her husband desiring to jump in bed for a romp. As a get back she put the moves on Alan, so he hid all over the ship to avoid her advances. I found it hilarious.
A whole other set of filming had yet to be done on an island after the ship would be destroyed in a storm. More extras and confrontations would take days to shoot. I was glad to have the helicopter shots out of the way; not to forget the great aerial footage of the frigate. Expensive but well spent.
There are 3,000 islands around the Bahamas, though only 20 are inhabited. We came across one of the islands' patrol boats and asked to film them. They were quite cooperative, doing a little acting as if they knew we were this rogue ship harassing sailing vessels on the open seas. Buying an old vessel that was barely seaworthy allotted us the opportunity to sink this one, having the viewer believe we sank the patrol boat.
Roy's death from his fall from the mast took five tries to get it right. The boys cried after we threatened them to tears, or was it that we promised them a big party that night? Either way it worked. We had a proper burial at sea, using the words arranged by Paul.
Bob threw a great party, with everyone being nude and body painted. He had this way too planned out, having a boom box, paint and brushes in his duffel bag. We had smorgasbord of delights on deck, while a few of the kids who were artists painted each other. Lisa had a swimming suit painted on her by Kit, with Kory watching his every move.
Kyle got to show off his dancing, while other boys did rap, break dancing, or singing. This was Bob's favorite, show tunes, as he sang, An Ordinary Man, from My Fair Lady. A little ancient for our boys, but he got a great round of applause because he was footing the bill. Even teenagers recognize the hand that feeds.
His painting made the show, a stomach of Groucho Max, what with the hair on his chest and a goatee with the pubic hair. Kit recommended that if he cut his pubic hair back from his weenie, it would look longer. Bob did.
Paul volunteered to give a sermon, which wasn't received with great exuberance. I stepped in and told the boys and crew we should be thankful for what we did have. Paul took the quarterdeck, smiled and said he'd like to talk about sex. His audience became instantly attentive.
"Fun things are not immoral, illegal, or shameful. Your parents, friends, preachers, teachers have shamed sex, even as you have shamed life, calling it evil and wicked, rather than the highest gift and the greatest pleasure. God has given each of you energy to feel an attraction for each other, to become one, is the essential dynamic of all that lives. God does not care whether that oneness is with a male or female.
"The moral codes, religious constrictions, social taboos, and emotional conventions you have placed around sex and around love and all of life have made it virtually impossible for you to celebrate who you are. All any of you want is to love and be loved. Sex is that extraordinary expression of love--love of another, love of self, love of life. You ought to therefore love sex! Guess what? You do. You just can't tell anyone you do; you don't dare show how much you love sex, or you'll be called a pervert. Yet this is the idea that is perverted.
"I tell you, boys, lady, men, God has given you nothing shameful, least of all our very body, and its functions. There is no need to hide your body or its functions, nor our love of ourselves, and of each other. This is an opportunity for you to cut those bounds, to explore your desires, and to thank God for being selected to witness before Him."
Paul said a prayer and was swamped for his dynamic message. The boys weren't quite sure how much more open they could get, but they were willing to try.
I figured that Kory might make another move on Lisa the following morning in the forecastle. Suggesting to Tad to rehearse the boys on the plank, I stayed in my cabin to get a first-hand view. Sure enough Kory waited to be last, but his approach was more direct.
"Is my nose shiny?" he asked with a most flirtatious grin.
Lisa kissed him. "Glad to see that you've learned to put on your loincloth."
Kory whipped his garment off and stood there naked. "I might need some help again." His penis grew to its full length right in front of her.
"Yes, I can see your problem. You must think I really like you, Kory."
"I love you, Lisa. You're the most gorgeous woman I've ever laid my eyes on."
"I bet you say that to all the girls," she said with a grin and touched his arousal. "I'm not letting that thing squirt on me again. We better find a different solution, don't you think?"
"I'm kinda new at this," he said with the most innocence I've ever seen from my fourteen-year old.
Lisa removed her top to reveal upturned breasts and pokey nipples. My son went to work on those, before he rode up and asked, "Can we do it?"
She nodded and removed her bikini bottoms, before taking his hand and selecting a bottom bunk. In no time she had Kory's erection directed correctly and cautiously inserted. Since she stated during her medical exam that she had never had sex, this all made sense. Both their virginity were now a distant memory. This wasn't something I was willing to just pretend didn't happen. Kory probably wouldn't brag like other boys or rush and tell me his first experience, so I whipped out of there, walked across the deck and down inside the forecastle. I caught him in full orgasm. When they caught my presence there was a panic, more from Lisa than Kory. He withdrew with blood on his penis, which I knew wasn't from a period.
"I....we....," she stuttered. I held up my hand, and that's when I had asked her if she wouldn't mind being the daughter of this Italian tycoon. "Is he as hot as your son?"
"Not even close," I said with a smile. "I'm only disappointed that you're not using protection, unless you're on the pill."
"It's my first time."
"Trust me, young lady, my son's sperm doesn't care about your beginner's immunity."
She shook her head and I was closer to being a grandfather than ever.
Tad and I found that taking photographs of the boys in natural play had a more relaxed composure, especially for publicity shots. In the morning while the crew was setting up cameras, bounce cards, booms, and any dollies they might need, the kids shot off their fundoshi and climbed the masts to dive in the water below.
I discovered why Tad said that sound was ten times more important than the picture. External mikes were put in the sails, under ropes, anywhere to pick up natural sound. Tad loved Dutch tilts, which were camera angles above or below the boys to give different perspectives of size. This worked well on the ship.
Kit was my clapper. He loved to take the device and yell, "Huckleberry Pirates, scene 22, take two!" We'd have a five-second pause for editing purposes to begin the scene. He'd help me with my point of view and shot selection. Of all my sons, he would be my next assistant director, he loved it that much.
Kory had a smile all morning, his virginity for females had been accomplished. It's amazing what your first intercourse will do, put a boy madly in love--at least he thought he was in love. The boy would smile at me with certainty that I wouldn't criticize his clandestine affair. He had as much right to his sexual adventures as all the other boys on ship. I was wrong on one thing, Kory told his brothers of his accomplishment and received pats on the back from Kit and Kyle. Keith shrugged it off as a wishful dream.
There was only the beach scene and an island rescue left for my first motion picture. We were going to do the ship's destruction under bad weather when we returned to Tampa. This would be done by creative editing and blue screen, thanks to the world of computer graphics.
Kory came to me later to admit he was in love. I had to tell him that most love affairs resulted by a satisfaction of a sexual nature and wasn't so much by a mutual understanding of each other, their likes and dislikes, hobbies, family history, goals, and ambitions. He didn't quite grasp my meaning because he was thinking about his next orgasm between her legs. We made an agreement because no one thought of bringing any condoms, he would pull out before ejaculation. Later, my mind went back to when I was a teenager; pulling out sounded a lot easier than actually doing it when that electrical charge starts at your toes and zaps your head. That's not a good time for rationale thinking.
With a new schedule of doing make-up on deck, I had put a stopper into the possibility of the two lovebirds being alone again. But then the storm came that night and those who slept on the deck went below. Lisa crawled in bed with Kory, and kids have interesting things to do under the sheets. No one cared who was sleeping with who. It had been a boys' world of testosterone for weeks. Now there was one heterosexual affair that sent female moans into the forecastle ambience. The only question I had for my son the following morning had the answer I was afraid of.
"I wanted to, Dad, but it was impossible. I mean, gee, Dad, there's like a magnet in there that won't let me release once I feel it coming." A fourteen-year old's logic and all predestined by my memories. I would've thought that as many times he had had intercourse with his brothers, he would have figured that out. "Oh yeah," he said when the mind kicked in instead of his tallywacker.
We spent the morning filming another underwater scene of Alan rescuing Huck and Kyle after they'd been forced to walk the plank. No doubt the most precarious role, both boys had been bound at their ankles and wrists. In twenty-feet of water we had to make sure Alan could untie the boys and get to the surface in under a minute's time. Their escape to an island nearby preceded all the scenes we would do back in Tampa.
We had three boys in constant search for sharks, which were quite plentiful. It was when they got too nosey is when we were prepared to scoop the boys from the water. Once again the underwater nude scenes were spectacular.
Alan had brought along a map of old sites of wrecks, some dating hundreds of years old. One of them was close enough the boys were all excited in diving into all this coral to see really nothing but a couple of cannon. Alan gave Paul and me an underwater metal detector. Within ten minutes I'd pulled a crusted knife out from underneath coral—at least I thought it was a knife.
No way was I going to be the only one allowed to use a detector, so I passed it off to the boys and went back on deck.
Paul might not ever be the screen star we had planned, but he doubled, no tripled, as our medical technician for sunburns, scrapes, bruises, and bruised egos. He was our psychologist, pastor, and everything in between. I was glad we never needed a doctor, though I was sure at times that Kyle had broken something with all of his stunts. Our love together was a time when I could check his health and vitality out. With God's blessing, according to Paul, we humored, we made love in the galley. Just call me Noah.
Keith was in his glory being around so many young teens he could impress. His friend, Brett, a boy the same age, was gentle and easily domineered by Keith. My son wouldn't necessary bully the younger boys, but demand his way with his physical size and aggressive nature, though it was all a front. Kyle, Kory, and Kit would tell their brother to take a hike, but other boys were more wary of an older brother. I had hoped my eldest son would learn to be more tolerant. An expectation that wasn't realistic until an unforeseen event had the most profound impact on his personality and on our voyage.
In the meantime, I'd taken that crusty scepter and washed the barnacles off, cleaned it several times and found it solid gold. I kept this little secret between Paul and me. Our stay on the high seas was coming to a close; at a thousand dollars a day for his ship, I was motivated to return to Tampa where we could film the island footage near Alan's home.
The crew celebrated by breaking out the champagne and I said they could go swimming since we were close to this island and the water was shallow. Though we had seen many sharks, one of the boys rowed the dingy out and became a lookout, trading spots with another boy every few minutes. Lisa had seen enough naked boys to last a lifetime, so she flaunted her all, which got more than a few stares from my straight boys. Kory was as protectorate as ever, and I think they had sex under water. The two were now inseparable, though he'd have to learn that girls don't always have their legs open five times a day. So far she was proving me wrong. They were like two newlyweds discovering sex for the first time with my boy's penis puffy and red.
After a few drinks I felt a little loose myself, so Alan and I disrobed and joined the party. Not even in the ocean can one expect privacy when Paul and I were bumping groins underneath the water. Boys were swimming below us for their eavesdropping. Three of them surfaced, including my youngest. I should have expected one of these characters to say to my son, "You were right, Kit, your dad has a real helmet head."
It's not that we didn't see the sailboat approaching, only that we were used to boats sailing close to inspect this odd vessel. This particular sailboat had other ideas. With five black men on its deck, it dropped sail a half-mile out, then used its motor launch to bring it alongside our ship. I decided to climb aboard the ship to see what they wanted.
Their leader was a guy named Jeremiah, and he started every sentence with the work Mon. He came on deck as if he was invited, "Mon, y'll naked."
I insinuated we were filming a movie with the boys and we were all male, in case he had other ideas. I knew he wasn't interested in stealing this ship.
"Okay, Mon, then ye'll like Hollyweird people with money."
"Nay, Mon, we like Ohio people with no money."
He laughed, but that's when his gun came out. His sidekicks on the launch brought out their machine guns and I knew we were a day too late in heading back. By this time our boys and one girl had witnessed this intrusion with weapons and began to gather back on the ship from their swim. Kory was smart enough to swim under the ship with Lisa and come up from the other side. She was quick to hide in the galley.
These men were apparently all Jamaican, about as close to pirates as we were pretending to be. I was never told this area of the sea to be a favorite hunting ground, but my crew had other stories. Every open sea is a pirate-plagued area to gather ransoms from unwary rich folks with million dollar yachts. Sometimes the pirates just plunder goods, high-tech hardware, or take the ship itself, repaint it, and fabricate phony papers. Pirates fetch the highest ransoms when their captives are citizens of Western nations.
They came aboard our ship and eyed our crew of naked boys and men. Those who tried to get dressed were slapped and their clothes were flung over the side.
"Who t' oldest boy?" Jeremiah asked, but then eyed Keith, who stood slightly over six feet tall. "Com' here, boy!"
Keith moved slowly over, his eyes never leaving the barrel of that revolver. The Jamaican grabbed his groin, then fondled his ass. "Yu will do." He began to take Keith below deck, but that's when I protested. The back of my head still hurts from the butt of that gun.
When I came to, everyone was sitting on deck, bored and restless. Keith was brought back up with a leash around his neck like someone would treat an animal. He appeared a bit worse for wear, but no bruises, cuts, or other injuries. More subdued with his groin fuller than usual.
"My mon needs to get his rocks off," Jeremiah made note, and he was referring to Keith. "Who's t' star?"
No one spoke up, but then I saw Rodney start forward until Kyle held him back and stepped forward. "I am," he said.
"Ah, a pretty boy. Com', pretty boy, and get fucked by my mon."
Keith and his brother stared at each other, but Kyle nodded and would sacrifice this for the safety of the crew. Instead, Keith went down on all fours with his ass toward his brother. I could see the wetness on Keith's butt, a redness that he'd been used by this Jamaican.
"See, everyone, my mon is a bitch. If he wants fucked, t' boy will satisfy my mon." Jeremiah's gun went to Kyle's head as an incentive, but hardly a stimulator to get an erection. Kyle dwelt down and masturbated until he was hard. He was gentle with Keith, though I could tell his ass had been penetrated, so Kyle slid right in. He reached around and masturbated his brother, an act of kindness that the boys had learned from Paul. Cumshaw was the word Paul described in his lecture, which means an unexpected gift. Being sodomized was twice as pleasurable when you received pleasure, as well.
Jeremiah made a spectacle of the boys in their sexual position. A few spanks to Kyle's butt that the boy was a natural. If the Jamaican only knew. Kyle came as quick as he could and released. The head of these idiots grabbed Keith's chin and stuck the boy's face in his crotch. "You like, huh, mon? Anytime you need fucked, you tell me." Keith nodded in fear.
There were threats that a person would be killed every day until a ransom was paid, a million for each boy. I expressed that these were orphans and we were doing a film for the orphanage. He eyed everyone and was almost convinced.
"Then, mon, t' boat is fur sale and yu will pay me five million fur its return. Call yur owner." He walked over to Jeremy and put his gun to the boy's head.
"I can arrange it," I said, "but it will take time and we don't exactly have communication."
He pointed toward their own craft. "We do. Mon, I need someone to make my point." His motion for Alan to step forward was only a prelude to someone getting hurt or killed.
"Look, Mr. Mon," I said. I was glad he found me funny. I whispered. "We found some treasure nearby under water. You'll have all the gold you ever wanted, as long as you don't hurt anyone. What do you say we play cool and I'll take you there tomorrow morning?"
He thought about this and withdrew his gun. "Mon, I kill all of you if you lie to me. A matter of fact, I need to shoot someone!" He pointed at the captain, but again I interfered.
"Sir," I said and lowered his weapon. "Mon, he's our cook."
The Jamaican thought about this and decided his hunger had more prevalence than his desire to kill. He gave our illustrious senior citizen permission to go to the galley and prepare dinner, while the rest of us stayed put in the blazing sun, stark naked. I gave the other adults a look of helplessness, but I was trying to keep these pirates sane and us alive.
The thug took his time and fondled most of the boys, selecting his next victim by feeling their butts and sticking his finger up a few. Just for his own enjoyment, he had Keith go below again, then was brought back on deck on all fours to give all of the boys blow jobs.
This time Jeremiah was stark naked, his long, black dick hung listless. The first boy who resisted got smacked and thrown on the quarterdeck. They each had to suck their tormentor first, with the threat of a gun to the head if they used teeth. Keith followed, sucking first, then allowing each boy to masturbate in his mouth or face. A few boys took satisfaction in their memory of how Keith had intimidated them through this trip. One fourteen-year old held Keith's head down to a deep throat. Most of his peers understood Steve's vengeance. There was no doubt that Keith emulated a stupor, a boy who had either been given drugs or alcohol. Found out later it was marijuana. I glanced at Jay, like he was supposed to put a stop to all this. Easy for me to think when there are four automatic weapons on deck.
One by one Keith went down the line until every boy had been satisfied. With me, I doubt if Keith even recognized that I was his father. One of the men who had come with the ship wasn't real talented at this art and had accidently brushed his teeth across the black man's dick. Jeremiah was about ready to shoot the guy when Paul hurried over to the rise of four machine guns. I saw Paul raise a figure he'd made out of strands of rope. It was like a voodoo doll. Paul had a piece of straw prepared to poke in the skull.
"Hey, Mr. Pirate, I will give you eternal agony if you harm a hair of anyone," Paul said which surprised everyone there.
The scoundrel glanced at this enterprising effort and laughed. "You not into voodoo, mon, are you? That's one with t' devil!"
"I'm with t' God who punishes t' devil, mon," Paul replied. "If you want an expert, I'm your mon, not a straight guy."
Jeremiah laughed and scanned the likes of this American in front of him. "Show me, mon, and make it quick."
Paul brought the guy off with a technique I can vouch for. I had to wonder what was behind this voodoo thing, but it worked.
A face of satisfaction creased across the Jamaican's demeanor. Here was a man who had no empathy for anyone, his life bent on destroying others. I was further convinced that drugs had been the motive for going below the second time, before he whipped out his long black dick that we each had to endure. Keith lapped up that the length and acted like a puppy dog being rewarded, much similar to the Stockholm syndrome; yet, he had only been under this man's power for a few hours.
I asked to go below so I didn't have to endure anymore of this show. In the galley I helped the captain prepare dinner. He told me if I could get to his cabin there were sleeping pills there. His idea was to slip the pills into the pirates' food. We did find Lisa in the pantry, huddled up and waiting to be told that everything would be okay. I couldn't give her such assurance. She stepped out and stretched her limbs from that cramped quarters, humored that we were all naked. For a girl she had one great body.
"I see where your son gets his girth," she told me. I liked this girl.
Though I went back on deck and waited for an opportunity to get to the poop deck to retrieve the captain's sleeping pills, these men had a keen eye for mischief and restricted my movement. We were all glad to see the sun go down, a relief from the hot sun. One by one they took us to the forecastle and tied our hands and feet to various posts. Our one black youth was taken back on deck by one of the pirates, no doubt another play thing for them.
Finally out of earshot of our kidnappers, Alan questioned my insinuation that we had found treasure. He knew it was a stall, but wanted to know plan B.
"I'm still thinking about that one," I said and had everyone worried. "At least no one has been shot, yet."
The boys and crew eventually fell asleep in the hot quarters of such a cramped space. I was worried about Keith, but somewhat relieved that he was under the influence of drugs and not really conscious of his exploits. There were sounds of rowdiness and drunken behavior on deck throughout the evening, but then silence prevailed as they had all eventually succumbed to sleep. I had fallen asleep myself when I was nudged by Jay, next to me. He whispered it was time.
"Yes, of course, time," I said and had no idea what he meant. I was told to get Kyle awake, so I reached out with my legs and nudged him.
Jay slithered up this pole that he had been tied to and, with one great effort, brought his legs back and kicked outward, snapping the wooden pole that Kyle had been tied to. The crack of wood woke everyone up, but the pitch darkness kept the men and boys in suspense. Immediately the forecastle door swung open and in walked the guard.
"What's the fuck goin' on here?!" He was as blind as we were, but everyone was seated or attempting to lay down. Slowly he walked through the mass of bodies, but then I noticed that Kyle had brought his upper body up to release his hands from the pole. Swinging his back around to where his teacher's hands were he could untie his knot. They worked quickly to release one set of hands, then the other. When the guard realized that a pole had been snapped he raised his gun, but way too late. Between Jay and Kyle, they wrestled this Jamaican to the floor, where Jay finished him off. The crack of a neck was very dramatic.
Everyone was untied and I thought quickly of a plan to get us out of this mess. Kit had an idea to go with my own. We decided on our course of action with input from Kyle, Alan, Paul, Bob and Jay. I then gathered the men together to assure that no one would walk out and blow the entire escape.
I volunteered to venture on deck to see what we were facing. I spotted three men with their weapons ready on their laps, but they were fast asleep with bottles of booze at their feet. One of the teens that had been brought on deck saw me. I motioned for him to beat it to the forecastle.
Best thing, the pirates were all sleeping, though I figured one had been assigned to stay awake on deck. Like a ninja in the dark I traipsed by two of the men, no more than three feet away. Into the cabin area I saw my eldest son asleep on the outside of our cabin. His leash was tied to the doorknob, just like a dog would be and threatened not to move. I awoke him by putting my hand across his mouth. His lips went right to my groin.
"No, no, no," I whispered. "It's Dad."
Keith was too dazed to realize what had transpired. I helped him up, released him from his binding and led him out on the poop deck. I saw the others going below into the bowels of the ship. Into the arms of Paul I placed Keith to be guided below with the others.
Kyle, Kit, and Rodney followed me to the railing, where we slipped over the side and swam the thirty yards to the pirates' thirty-five foot yacht, which was probably stolen to begin with. There we waited for sunrise and step two.
Though the boys fell asleep I had time to check the boat for guns, money, and anything else that might be useful. To get in a gun battle with these idiots was not in our best interests. I certainly didn't want my sons possessing weapons. I could have called in the area patrol, but their reliability in showing up was questionable and a gun battle with all the boys still on the frigate wasn't a great idea. Back on deck I watched while three of the men were still dozing.
It didn't take long for one of them to stir and walk below to the forecastle. I figured he was checking on why he hadn't been replaced for watch. This gave me time to rustle my own boys to prepare for a wild morning. Sure enough here came a frenzied black man, waking his friends and seeing me with three boys attempting to unfurl the main mast on their sailboat. I yelled something to the fact to fool them in thinking I was keeping everyone else below deck until I could unfurl the sails. Exactly what I thought, we were sprayed with a round of bullets as we ducked below the cabin, out of sight.
I heard their leader arrive on deck, yelling and screaming that his men were idiots, and then one of their men said, "They've escaped! I think they're all on the yacht trying to make their break."
Jeremiah was true to his pea-shaped brain. He had his own small craft at the stern of the ship and ordered his men to keep us pinned down while they prepared the boat to travel to their own vessel. The four men crossed the short distance with the speed of a small outboard, all the time keeping their guns aimed at an abandoned sailboat. What they found when they searched their own boat wasn't what they expected.
I wasn't sure I could do it, but we all had slithered over the side of the yacht and made our way back to the galleon holding our breath. Thankfully the waves were a little choppy; otherwise, the clearness of the water might have well revealed our intentions.
By the time Jeremiah realized he had been had, the men below had raised the gun wales and had prepared four, four-pound cannons for fire. I sprinted below deck and saw Keith with a fire rod, alongside three other men, one of them being Paul. I grabbed the igniter from Paul, implying that I'd rather have this on my conscience.
We smiled and saw the gaped mouths of four black men thirty-yards away with their eyes now on the frigate.
"Fire!" the captain yelled. When the smoke cleared, that yacht looked more like a flaming rowboat. If there were four humans on its deck a second ago, they were no longer visible. The sea had a thousand smoldering bits of ship, or parts, in this case. Pieces of wood fluttered down from the sky.
My boys resounded with happiness and glee, like we'd sunk the British navy. Twenty-two males and one female hugged each other in total nudity without the slightest care whether one of us was straight or gay.
What I didn't know was that my Kit and a cameraman had hustled to the poop deck. Kit had picked up a piece a paper and yelled to the Jamaicans, "We need you to sign a waiver to be filmed." Another crew member was back on deck with his camera to catch all the action. The cannon fire rocked our ship and sent Kit flat on his back. The cameraman did a great job in holding steady, though there was quite a jump with the explosion. He still caught most of the impact. Kit was so dazed, he matched his father for a lump on the scalp.
Out of respect for the dead, we gave one of our captors a funeral at sea. His body would serve the depths far more than being alive. There was a breath of relief, a tension of survival. I'm not sure anyone wanted to make a movie anymore and were more than happy to hear we were returning to Florida, immediately.
There wasn't any talk of treasure or how the movie was supposed to end. Used to no clothes, we were this nudist ship on this warm day in the Atlantic Ocean. The boys frolicked in play, while assuring that every sail was hoisted and waving from the masts to sailboats passing nearby. One thing about the high seas, no one much mattered whether you had clothes on or not.
I took Keith to the cabin and checked him mentally and physically. He wasn't quite sure all what had happened, but he knew he had done some very risqué things. Paul and I tried to find humor in all this and tell him nothing was his fault. We knew he had memories and thanked Kyle for being okay with all this. Their previous brotherly friendship had been restored with a new respect.
On deck the boys kidded him that he gave a great blow job, and Keith accepted this in good spirits. His new camaraderie with his peers was a godsend, a teenager who had changed dramatically in the worst of circumstances to come out of it very humble. He was a little sore in the butt for taking a few good sexual jaunts, but otherwise he was as sound as a whistle.
Not that I expected him to all of a sudden love sex with boys; I told him to refrain from any sex until he was tested. I had no intention of scaring him, but Jeremiah appeared to have a wild dick with no bounds.
During this whole escapade, it was no secret that Tad and his crew had its fun with our band of pirates. They had continued to film almost the entire fiasco, including the sex scenes. All the Jamaicans said was, "No problem, we are movie stars and the cameras are ours. We have big laugh someday like National Geographic."
Tad thought about what we had yet to film and the revisions necessary to complete the movie. We could re-shoot the escape from the forecastle without the adults present, and then the boys lighting the cannons. In the end, I liked it.
Paul became part of the film as a black man. Actually every black pirate was part of our crew. There were so many different films on this ship, I had to wonder who was making this movie. Numerous boys had their own scrapbook of SD chips, filled with enough porn to excite the nefarious sex police. All I could see was a group of well-tanned boys who believed in themselves and didn't judge others.
Sailing all day and all night, the boys watched the night lights of Miami from the deck. None of them had bothered to put on any clothes or loincloths in the warm night air. Keith was part of their band of fourteen, an accepted member who had gone through the worst of the worst. He had been fucked in front of us all and given blow jobs to all the crew. Every ship should be so lucky, we teased him. If there was an adopted gay brother, it was Keith. In addition to the night life, they had a jack off contest on whose sperm went the farthest. This was something Keith could do without violating our agreement. If anyone was over being the pompous, arrogant asshole, it was my eldest son. I don't want to give those pirates any credit, but they had tamed a stuck up kid.
We arrived back in Tampa in mid-morning the following day. Considering that some of the boys had no clothes at all, thanks to our pirates, we made the transition to shore without a lot of voyeurs. Bob Turner made sure none of his clothes were available and was quite the nudist. His tales of his visits overseas to the Philippines and Thailand made for entertaining stories for the boys that night. Bob told us later that he would have paid a ransom if it would have come to that. I was thinking four letter words.
Alan rented two vans to transport the boys back to his place. While the boys skinny dipped in the pool to freshen up, we met in the living room to discuss the finishing of this film. Tie-ups were crucial to the final scene. We had hours upon hours of footage, now we had to make it come together to make sense. Unlike 35mm film, we didn't have any bad film, per se, though a whole lot of editing had to take place, some shot with red or green backdrops to be filled in later.
There was more sex on that ship than I'd ever know about, as the boys used their own laptops to find amusement with. I was glad we weren't raided. I made arrangements again for testing, more concerned about Keith, Kyle, and Rodney. I'd forgotten that Kyle had sex with Keith after Keith had had sex with the Jamaican. Then I had Kyle and Rodney doing their thing on a nightly basis. The fact that we each had our mouths around the Jamaican's dick crossed my mind, so everyone got tested.
Promising the boys a huge party to celebrate the success of the shoot made it easier to use the next day for various scenes we needed to tie up the loose ends. Alan owned so much property it was easy to use as an island; plus, we simply went out in the water to do a few shots. I had hired a helicopter for aerial views and island shots. There was money left, but we still had to do the editing, music, and some voice overs, maybe a few dubs. Bob played a black pirate and suggested a sex scene with one of the boys. Tad relented, only to cut out the scene in the final copy, but keep it in the director's cut. It wasn't that Bob wasn't good at it; his dick wasn't exactly Jamaican made, if you get my drift.
Paul was on a deadline to his church, so we filmed him as fast as we could before he flew back to Dayton. He had been a true anchor for me and the boys, an attitude that all was okay in the world and God loved us every second. He had the most profound words for our boys to think by and make me laugh.
"If you have faith in a God, a God that made your body as it is, yet you believe it is dirty and private, then blame the manufacturer." He had another I liked. "All boys love sex, but maybe not with you." And Kit now quoted his new pastor. "We're not dogs; learn to use your paws to get the other person off at the same time." Not to forget: "Orgies are like the Special Olympics. Lots of drooling and smiles; plus, everyone is a winner." Kory loved: "You can't stop boys from having sex--it feels really good. And if it doesn't, grab another."
We left five bodies in the ocean, so I'm hoping God didn't mind that less humorous moment.
The party was for the crew and the boys. Though it started out in dress, it was only a matter of time after all the eating that the boys stripped to enjoy the beach or the pool. By midnight most everyone was naked. Kit volunteered to be our masters of ceremony and the local comedienne.
Leave it to my youngest to embarrass his father and brothers. "Dad has taught us all we need to know to operate our penises. Teaching us to drive should be a snap. Dad bought us Disney condoms. Mine was the Pinocchio, so he always knew when I lied. Guess you can see that I don't very often tell the truth. My brother, Kory, thinks you're gay when you can't get a woman. Then explain to me why the only times in his life he slept with a woman was when he couldn't get a boy. Straight boys are okay, they make great reservoirs for our sperm. Thanks, big brother. My dad is a heavy sleeper, but that's another story. Anyway, he's telling me that when he dreams of sex, there's a light that goes on when he's doing it, and then automatically goes off when he's finished. I said, 'Dad, you're beating off in front of the refrigerator.'"
I blushed and accepted this roasting from a boy who was going to be spanked, first chance I got. Of course he wasn't done. "I knew I was gay when I was four," Kit told everyone. "I saw this cute helmet head on my toy soldier, a soldier who stood at attention when I wanted and made me feel good. Kory was my reinforcer in this belief, my brother who was sure I was sleeping when he'd play with himself. Soon he had these different objects shoved up between his legs and that's when I knew where my little soldier wanted to play. One of those objects was my school marker. He'd put it back in my Chipmunks' backpack, but I'd let the other kids smell it the next day, saying it was the secret to sexual pleasure."
Kory shrank down in the grass with a very humble smile.
"Now I think everyone should have their first time with a general. A general is one with a big helmet head, like my dad. Wah-hoo!"
"Kit!" I threatened.
"Now I'm not saying my first time was with a general," Kit tried to cover-up, then, right in front of us, grew a hard-on. "See, I just knew that that Pinocchio condom wasn't always right." Everyone laughed. My boy was a natural in his straight comedy act, not entirely straight.
"If God had intended me not to jerk off he would've made my arms shorter. My brother Kyle never sucked his thumb; he was doing auto-fellatio by the time he was two. I like my soft effeminate side because it makes my masculine side hard. My mom says men are either thinking between their legs or their stomach. So if I don't have a hard-on, feed me. Boys like older men. My problem is that I'm a boy and my future boyfriend is thirty, married with two children, and is a closeted gay who doesn't know that I'll be his first male lover.
"Watching my brother Kyle in bed is like watching a mime having sex; you could swear you were watching an orgy. When I get my driver's license I want to drive my mother to the nearest male strip club and say, 'Just wait here while I pick up my check.' My sister thinks I'm too nosy. I can't believe she put that in her diary--three times. My dad says that, being thirteen, might be too young to have sex. I should be trying on Mom's heels and make-up. After watching my father's habits, I can wait to try that at thirty-eight. I was thinking that fathers should be proctologists, and mothers, abstract artists. Then we can view the world exactly as it is."
The boys clapped and roared with laughter. I should be retired and simply put this kid on stage. He wasn't done. "You know why straight boys like porno more than girls? Because they can get porno. I want to thank Dad for this great trip. Some kids would have nightmares or weird flashbacks at facing death and being kidnapped by pirates. Giving a pirate a blow job and getting one from a straight brother are great childhood memories for a gay kid.
"I was a Mormon not long ago. I see now why their priorities are straight. Why feed the poor when you can always put up a new stained-glass window? My oldest sister is so self-conscious that when she goes to football games and the players go into a huddle, she thinks they are talking about her. I read in a recent magazine where boys our age are sexually illiterate. I just want them to know that my penis reads Alan Stroup books and thrives on every word. I've never seen it yawn, but it's good at putting wet bookmarks between the pages. Dad's glaring at me, so I better finish up. One more thing about the Mormon Church. I love boys, so I'm assuming that male strip clubs are like the Mormon Church: I have to pay money to get in, watch beautiful boys dance inches away from my face, I can't touch them, they can't touch me, I can't touch myself, and I give them all my money. I'm thinking that's what Mormon heaven is all about."
The boys stormed my boy and raised him up as their hero. And to think I had to live with this kid. If there was one good thing, the kids had laughed so hard they had expended their energies.
We had our awards show and various previews of the movie. Kyle and Rodney gave their preview of the special features, they called them. Many of these shots would never make the DVD. These guys were real rascals at catching their peers and crew at the most private moments. Dirty tricks, horseplay, practical jokes, all became part of the scene on a daily basis.
Tad put together a blooper tape, which had everyone rolling with laughter. For non-professionals, we had a lot of fun. The director, assistant director and crew had their own presentations: Best actor,
funniest, most congenial, goofy award, and most aspiring. Though I didn't vote for him, Keith was the best actor award. He was shocked and Kyle said he didn't see any difference from the big brother at home to the one on the set. That was more a roast for his brother. Keith accepted his award and said that all the boys were in awe of one actor, the captain. Keith turned his little golden cup over to this prominent senior citizen. The captain accepted it with graciousness and a kiss to my son's lips. Keith didn't seem to mind at all.
Kit was victor for the funniest award, no doubt keeping our cameramen in stitches. The boys turned around and gave their own awards: Tightest ass, best blow job, longest shoot, most fun to fuck, and best fucker. Keith had it hands down for best blow job--he blushed--and Kit was the best fucker award. Found out from the special features that my boy went in and out of six positions, and made sure to give the other person a hand job to come together. He modestly accepted the award and gave credit to an older man for direction, and Jake was his lovely bottom. Everyone stared and laughed at Jake and me. I had no idea why they did that.
The boys presented awards to make sure everyone received some recognition. They had Bob, Alan, Captain, Tad, Jay, and myself up to award us with 8x10s of the cast, sans clothes, on the poop deck with broad smiles. This photograph, taken without our knowledge, must have been shot after the Jamaican fiasco. They were all smiling and in a good mood, including Keith. Bob cherished this like a brick of gold, and the boys had signed his, 'To the World's sexiest producer, Love from the Huckleberry Pirates.' I had my own version as the sexiest director.
I passed out the checks, giving the boys an extra five-thousand for a job well done. Tad received 65,000, instead of fifty, and I gave the captain a full 100,000 for being a true pirate. My crew had done such a terrific job, I upped their ten thousand to twenty. Sometimes their work was nonstop, and to film those Jamaicans during this critical time was amazing. CNN should have such brave souls. Maybe they do.
We made sure to give out a special award as the most patient, considerate, and bravest under the threat of rape. Lisa came forward, removed her bikini and accepted this award with love to every boy, especially Kory. I had information from the doctor that I hadn't revealed to anyone--she was pregnant. Later that night when Kory wanted to borrow a condom, I told him it wouldn't be necessary. He gave me this look like I was putting a stop to his adolescent good fortune. Kory nearly fainted when I told him.
"What do we do, Dad?"
"Isn't it amazing that after the fact you asked your father for a solution? That's for you and the young lady to figure out. She's nineteen; you're fourteen; you do the math."
I was enjoying having Tad with his legs up in the air that night when my son came and sat on the bed, as if a conversation wouldn't interrupt our enjoyment.
"Dad, Lisa and I have decided to keep it. She'd like to move in with us in Kettering, until she has it. Maybe we will allow someone to adopt it."
"It?" I offered while doing gentle waves of motion. The sea had taught me a nice rhythm. "It is a human being like you are. I'd advise you to think of this "it" as your baby who you produced out of an attraction to put your penis in a hole."
"Like you are," Kory reminded me.
"Yes, but Tad has no possibility of getting pregnant and moving in with us. We live in a two-bedroom townhouse. Your gay brothers won't appreciate having a pregnant woman in the same bed."
"Ah, Dad. What if I marry her?"
"My fourteen-year old son is not marrying, nor raising a boy or girl a few years younger than he is. I'll think about Lisa living with us, only because Paul and I have discussed renting a house together to fit four boys."
"Thanks, Dad." Kory breezed off and I'd lost my erection. Tad assisted this aspect and I had him giving me sounds of encouragement in no time. In walks my twin son, Kyle, holding Rodney's hand. With Tad on all fours, they waited until we recognized their watchful eyes.
"Is someone selling tickets to this show?" I asked.
Kyle had no idea what I was talking about. "You don't have to stop, Dad, but Rodney just got off the phone with his dad. He came out, like told his dad he was gay. His father asked him how he knew, and Rodney said because he loved me and we'd had sex. He didn't say a thousand times."
"Way to go Rodney," I said, trying to maintain concentration.
"But there's a problem, Dad. Mr. Miller told Rodney to stay in Florida until he was straight enough to come home. Rodney wants to know if he can stay with us."
Tad twisted his head back and laughed.
"Will you go away if I say yes?" I replied.
Kyle slapped me on the butt, knowing I wouldn't chase him. "Thanks, Dad." The two boys scampered out.
Finally! I rolled over on my back, but Tad wanted to finish. He sat on my stomach and managed to mount me while I fondled his delicious hard-on. I attempted to take my mind off the number of teenagers in a house I didn't own. In strolled Lisa, minus her boyfriend. At least she was naked. Way too comfortable being around males, she sat down beside me and planted a kiss on my cheek.
"Thanks, Mr. Briden. I just wanted you to know that I love your son. Kory is just the most sensitive boy I've ever known, though he's only fourteen. I'm glad he's as sexy as you are."
Those words inspired me not to lose my erection. It had been sometime since anyone had called me sexy. I cupped her face with one hand and had her look at me. "Don't look at Tad's dick, it's longer than mine or Kory's. I don't want you to think that all males should be hung like he is."
I was glad she laughed, kissed us both and departed. I actually expected my youngest or my oldest.
We actually consummated our desire to get off that night, but then I went in search of my two love birds. They had their own tent down by the beach and were laying together naked on a blanket. I sat between them to humor my interruption.
"You two remind me of those kids in Blue Lagoon, except my boy is more handsome and Lisa is far prettier than Brook Shields."
I got tilted back and kissed by both sexes. It had been awhile since I had a boob on my chest.
"Now the way I look at it, God wouldn't have given boys boners and sperm at such a young age if He didn't mean for boys to use them. Likewise, girls have their own mature parts. I'm a believer than teens can have babies, but the older people--that's myself, unfortunately--should do the raising. Speaking for Paul and myself, if you don't mind, we'll take this responsibility seriously."
"We've been thinking the same thing," Lisa told me. "Kory and I wouldn't want our baby brought up by people we don't know."
We sort of shook hands on it. I ended up having a head on each shoulder with my hands moving gently up and down two backs and butts. As nice as that evening was, I was quite content to have two teenagers snoozing in my arms.
Tad recommended a music choreographer and editor for our movie. Another gay kid in college, this young man was a music major with a skill in sound mixing and scoring independent movies. Mine just happened to be the only one he had ever worked on over five minutes in length. Mark managed to obtain permission for a Rod Stewart song and an Eagle's hit. The expense didn't break me.
We spent the day looking at hours of footage, trying to sort which scene should go where and what scenes would see the cutting room floor or the delete button in this day and age. Alan thought we should do two ratings, one PG-13, and one R rating. The R rating had the more sexual content, but the same nudity. Tad chuckled with some of Kyle's filming and our own.
"Do a director's cut, as well, Brad. We'll keep that one under wraps because of everyone being a minor," Tad suggested.
"Will the investor make a stink that there's another version?" I asked.
"You own the film. He's receiving what he paid for. Later on if we want to release this version overseas, it'll be a separate entity."
"How about pornography laws?" I questioned.
"Depends on what country. Some countries have low age of consent laws, like Spain, Russia, among others. As an underground film you could make a mint."
"I don't like the sound of illegality. My boys have learned that sex isn't all that big of a deal and that pleasure isn't reserved for adults. I don't want them exploited into a gray area."
"I'll check the ground rules before we do anything," Tad assured me.
With the actors returning to their homes with memories they would share the rest of their lives, I asked Alan if he wouldn't mind going on one more excursion. He smiled and told me he was too old to pass up anything that made his heart beat.
I hesitated on getting the golden scepter appraised, afraid that someone would trace it to some shipwreck, which would cause treasure hunters to research wrecks and give us competition. Finding a few minutes of solitude, I did some accounting. My lawyer for this family feud was costing me quite a bit, and whatever income I'd planned on getting me through a few years had dwindled quickly. Yes, I had overpaid everyone out of appreciation and apology for the life and death predicament. It wasn't my fault, but I was the director of this show.
Paul couldn't be expected to foot the bill for me and six kids. My boys trusted me to do the right thing. So far I'd released their sexual bondage, had them excommunicated from their church, almost had them killed, Keith was raped and sodomized in front of everyone by his brother, we had a pregnant girl on our hands, and they all knew their father was gay and had several boyfriends, but one serious one, who was a pastor of a church. If I became a failure financially, they would say that the Mormons had won and God abandoned me.
For whatever reason I felt the Good Lord had blessed me over the past several months. I had discovered myself and become the man I felt comfortable with. Having sex with my sons wasn't something I had planned, but they appeared okay with it. With them I played an extremely passive role. I had put the truth of the Mormon Church in their heads and definitely left them with the impression that they'd belonged to a cult all along. Paul had baptized all the boys while we were in the Bahamas stretch of islands. To have my sons blessed into the Christian church was invigorating to me and to them. It was like they were reborn.
I admired their new hairstyles: Kyle with his brown mop was absolutely darling; Kit was now a longer blond, surfer boy who didn't surf; Kory parted his new light brown locks which were straight, given his reputation; and Keith was just now getting used to combing his hair into a nice part.
There was now a voice in my heart telling me to venture once more out into the Atlantic. If I failed, I'd be like the loony father who had this pipe dream. My kids would laugh and wonder why they ever believed in me.
My hand reached for the phone, hesitated, then dialed. In minutes I had rented a fishing trawler with two engines, diving gear, and a blower/vacuum that treasure hunters used to search the ocean bottom. I'm sure the guy thought I was nuts, or just another idiot from up north who thought I could find another Atocha. He boggled my mind with a dozen other items that seemed necessary and practical. I felt like I had just bought a car with a hundred extras. With my past ocean experience I'm surprised I didn't order an army of guns.
I had no intention of taking Lisa with us, until she explained what an asset she could be cooking and that she was an excellent swimmer. This would allow Alan to be the lookout and assure all the machinery was running properly. I caved in, only because I considered her my daughter-in-law.
Down the gulf we went, leaving Tad and company time to make sense of our movie. Alan had a sense of direction with the sea, while I organized the best way to approach this excavation of the ocean bottom. Finding the island was not necessarily going to be hard, but locating the exact spot that we had played undersea explorers might be harder. One good thing, we had an old cannon to mark our area, and Rodney was sure he remembered the surroundings.
We actually did fish, catching a few sea bass, mackerel amidst other odd looking sea creatures. The four boys slept out on deck, while Alan and I slept in one bunk, while Kory and Lisa had the other. There was no privacy and our sexual exploits were a nightly ritual--ours a little milder than two teenagers who thought they had to try a dozen positions out of Kuma Sutra every night. Kory and Lisa were a regular sex machine, which amused Alan and me. They became our entertainment for a night or two.
Our arrival was in rough seas, right in the middle of hurricane season. I knew there was a class 3 storm brewing south of Cuba, so we crossed our fingers. For some reason islands look the same, yet Kyle was sure we had found the right one. Five hours later the boys had dove hit and miss, and it took Keith to find the cannon a half mile from where we thought it was. The boys had abandoned their SCUBA gear early to save on the tanks, so watching their bare bottoms go up and down in the water was the hi-light of our first day. We began to mark the area off with buoys, flags, and rope.
I had never used SCUBA, so Alan gave me a quick lesson and we plunged below. All the gear was cumbersome, but our first day proved fruitless. Even finding the cannon didn't mean we were right on spot to where the scepter was found. Gradually by the second day we honed in on metal, thanks to the metal detector we brought. Centralized to a four foot area, we began to vacuum up the dirt, seashells, and parts of a ship sunk over two hundred fifty years earlier. Up top, Alan was discovering our find of gold coins, chains, jewelry, and assorted crosses. This ship wasn't a gold laden cargo vessel, but a vessel with one trunk of booty, and we had found its heart and soul twenty-two feet down.
Going ten feet in circumference I figured we had found the entire contents of that chest. If there were more we could have stayed there a year and been totally frustrated. In a drizzle we stood there stark naked and admired our loot, all agreed to be split evenly, except that the kids wanted me to use it so we could have a house of our own.
To ride out this ongoing storm, we stayed anchored there that night under a billion stars. In the warm rain the boys had their orgy, and Keith joined in the frenzy with a straight boy's appreciation of all things gay. He wouldn't quite admit it, but being fucked was a new turn on for him.
I told Lisa and Alan to sleep, while Kory and I headed our vessel back toward Florida. With the cargo we had, I didn't want to waste time nor offer any opportunity for the unexpected.
Using tubs of ocean water we soaked the treasure to rid the barnacles and crusted surfaces, allowing the metals to adjust to a life other than the ocean's bottom. I was never so glad to see the City of Tampa. At his house, Alan paid an appraiser $500 to value our coins and gold. Examining the volume of material, he gave us a stunning perception; this treasure had once been recovered, brought on board a Confederate runner and, before the ship had a chance to use the loot or escape the seas, it had been sunk by a violent storm. Chances are the men either didn't know how to swim, or they died on an island without food or water. A person could believe his tale or disregard it as folly.
The appraiser showed us parts of a gun, vintage the early 1860s that had been sucked up into the vacuum we had used. Oh yes, the value of the gold and coins was only a mere twelve million. It was the jewels: rubies, emeralds, diamonds, and sapphires that amounted to another ten million dollars. We would put the loot up for auction at the earliest possible time, with Alan taking his share of one/eighth.
I personally kept our riches secret from my sons, Lisa and Rodney, though I did call Paul to tell him to find us an estate around Kettering with a swimming pool. He said it was God's blessing.
We returned to Ohio in early September, school had started and my wife was antsy to get me into court. My lawyer was not a pushover, reminding the judge that, at the age of fourteen, a child may decide which parent they wish to live with. Our little porn star, Kit, offered his mother a most valid option.
"If you insist that I live with you, I will bring home every boy I like to make love to," Kit said without reservation on the stand. The judge's eyes widened and possibly a smile creased his lips.
"Then you will be staying with your father," she replied abruptly from her sitting position next to her lawyer.
Leaving the accusations, photos, and pissing contest outside, we agreed amiably to an equal settlement, though the judge didn't think it was appropriate for my ex to take half of my $500,000 up front payment for the movie. She seethed.
My sons, plus Rodney, Lisa and Paul moved into a six-thousand square foot home in the community of Oakview, a rustic environment for the rich and well to do. I thought the tennis court was a nice addition. We had privacy with tree-lined paths and garden trails that led down to a beautiful pool and pool house. With five boys and a girl, they could have each had a room, but Rodney and Kyle roomed up, while Kit and Kory took refuge again together. Kory had an adjacent room to Lisa's, which allowed Keith his own private room.
The public schools of Van Buren and Fairmont were excellent schools, but the boys liked my suggestion of private schools. One-hundred and sixty thousand later, I had five boys packed up to enjoy the intellectual challenge of boys and schools with their eyes on Ivy League colleges.
After the first day Kit had his eye on one boy, though he wasn't sure the kid was straight or gay. He was quite willing to break any straight boy like a wild horse.
After taxes, the Briden household was worth a cool ten million, with my scepter mounted in a glass case in the living room. Its appraisal alone was close to ten million. The gold was only $360,000, but the imbedded jewels were large and shiny. It was a reminder of an interesting adventure and good fortune. Maybe an actual adventurous pirate from the eighteenth century was smiling down at us.
Eight months later on the eve of summer vacation, Lisa had a baby boy. Paul and I became the proud parents, while Lisa and Kory had cooled their longings for each other, but were always good for a quick romp in the hay. There's something about a fifteen-year old boy who needs to sow his oats and fine at least another six loves before settling down. Lisa decided to continue her education at Central Florida with our blessing and a start of a million dollars.
Our massive two-acre backyard is, for all intended purposes, a nudist resort. From day one there's never been a swimsuit in the pool. With the boys visiting their mother on occasion, her fourteen-year old stepson hit it off with Kit. Though I question whether the boy is gay or not, Kit has trained him to roll over and purr with the skills of another fourteen-year old sex aficionado. My ex has her suspicions that this poor Mormon boy has been seduced into pleasure by the Briden boys. That's mostly true.
I finally received the final cut of THE HUCKLEBERRY PIRATES. The film took off at several gay film festivals, though some of the critiques hammered us. One said the movie was a fashion show for the young male body without representing a cross section of body types. I will give them that. I'll have to admit we didn't choose any overweight kids or ones that an average gay kid wouldn't drool over. One writer said that the orphanage must have been a refuge for gay teenagers. He was right also with razor shape perception. Overall, it's why men flocked to see the film, because twelve naked bodies of boys would supply a month's worth of fantasy material.
Alan delivered the Director's Cut personally. He said he didn't trust the mail, as he hid that coy look that I loved about him. We all agreed that the movie would have its best draw at a man/boy convention, it was that erotic. It could get any law-abiding citizen several years being supervised by the feds. I told Alan we could always say that the Jamaicans made us to it. He nodded so that was our story.
The extras were superb on both movies, more X-rated on the second. I was surprised that Tad had done an interview with Kit and Kyle. Kyle said that his life had changed after his attempted suicide, and his message to other gay teens was inspiring. His comments about his father brought tears to my eyes. I sensed but never really knew what an impact I had had on his life and how our relationship had brought him to his new self-confidence. I'd hesitated to give my sons any credit for their intelligence or personal insights until I dropped my own biases and started to listen to them. Kyle said that I validated his soul and was his emotional backbone at the worst time of his life when he made a stupid mistake.
"I had a secret that consumed me and almost ended in self-hatred," Kyle told Tad as they sat by the pool, completely comfortable being candid.
He went on to say he felt unlovable since he was twelve and had a brother who mocked him endlessly for even the slightest sexual nature. I had given him self-direction and courage to live. "Most fathers won't love you the way my father did me, but it's just important that they care and try to empathize. Me and my dad are one."
I gulped and knew what people might think. Paul would say, "Let them think what they want. God finds nothing wrong in what you two shared."
Kit hugged his brother with a heart that defined his character. He said I should be general of the United States and a teacher for all gay boys, whatever that meant. I was afraid to ask.
With a minor investment Paul and I started a dance group at his church, one specifically for boys and girls to express themselves, no matter what their sexual orientation might be. Rodney had quickly taken up this fascination for dance with five other boys, not all of them part of this congregation, but all gay. We hired a retired dance teacher who was gay and wanted the challenge of freedom of expression without censure. Teenagers want to stretch the boundaries, the limits that society wishes to control them. Within months the boys did a ballet/modern dance called Afternoon of a Faun, a famous Nijinski performance.
Paul's church was liberal in his leanings and the hundred or so people who bought tickets were given advance notice of the nudity and a sexual act. Like Nijinsky the dance was concluded with a masturbatory climax done by Kyle and accepted overwhelmingly by the audience. I was quite proud of him for his brevity.
So Alan is sitting with Paul and me by the fireplace a day before he departed, and he says, "I want to do THE ART OF LOYALTY movie in Japan. Are you up for it? Bob Turner is putting up the capital. I think Kyle and Kit would be great for the roles of Kami and Ryan, and Keith and Kory fit right in to the script."
I glanced at Paul. "We're in."
By the way, Paul and I allowed our sons to name their seven-pound, six-ounce nephew. It was unanimous: Huck. I found this name for my grandson most appropriate.
The author appreciates any feedback at Af71vet@yahoo.com. As long as readers support my novels on Amazon, I will add novels to Nifty for enjoyment.
Recommended on Amazon:
A Blue and Gray Perspective By A Boy Soldier (an award winning gay novel that has received much acclaim from readers)
Kings Academy (third part of a trilogy—the first two books will be put on Nifty: The Hyacinthus Project and The Art of Loyalty)
Other books by Alan Stroup:
The Huckleberry Pirates
XY Minus Three
The Tennis Kouros
The '39 DiMaggio (Amazon)
On Second Thought
The Last Castrati
Whispers In An Italian Restaurant
Age of Dissension
The President's Boy
First Boy—The Crusade