Date: Wed, 21 Apr 2021 14:32:59 -0400
From: MC VT
Subject: Dragonflies (Gay Adult-Youth)

Dragonflies

Jewel-like insects cause a fixation, curb your excitement.

Mature content for mature readers only.  Sexual fantasies, and
cross-generational interests are described within homosexual male
relationships.

Dragonflies

In no way deprived, I grew up in a good family with great parents in a
comfortable area.  Unfortunately, I had younger twin sisters and our small
house had one bath.  As we grew, the situation worsened.  Judy and Jody
hogged the bathroom with all their primping.  My bladder stretched
phenomenally and my urethral sphincter was over-developed.

Hedges along the back fence fared well.

Through high school, I lived out of a footlocker; sisters appropriated my
closet and cabinet.  No privacy; fully exposed to their prying and swiping
my stuff.  Complaints got no traction with my parents, the girls were
"special" because they were identical.

As kids, the twins began posting videos online.  I lived with two
soon-to-be millionaires, so they said, touting their youthful insights
around the planet.

Won't describe the fiasco when they were filming.

...

Found work when I was eighteen, lived at home for another year.  Starting
salary wasn't great. My warehouse job promised to train me into a heavy
equipment operator, I had to prove myself first.

With few bills in the bank, I went online looking for an apartment.
Deposits and fees were high, I had no credit.  Reality lowered my
expectations.  Found an efficiency apartment--one room studio listed on the
bulletinboard at work.  The house was in an area near the office park.
Nothing but trees and weeds around the few paved streets and scattered
houses.  Rent was cheap.

Landlord was a gruff guy named Novak.  He had a part-Asian look about him,
heavy earlobes.  Appeared to be around thirty, unshaven, lumbered slowly.
Belly hung, made a wide, fleshy crescent below his taut tee shirt.

"Apartment's around back, private entrance."  No handshake.  Novak tilted
his head back, looked down his nose at me in my dirty uniform.  Thought I
heard him snort.

Double garage was remodeled into an efficiency.  One large room with plenty
of windows; small bath, kitchenette.  Best thing about the studio was it
was in the back of the house, had a small porch which faced a deep lot
edged with towering aspen.  Unmowed, it looked like a meadow, smelled
sweetly metallic--like raisins.  Sunlight filtered delicately through the
leaves, past the ivory-colored bark of the trees onto soft green grasses,
like a living watercolor.  Warmth invited the bees and insects hovering
through the dandelions, creating the only motion on the gentle colors that
afternoon.

...

Our footsteps echoed through the empty room.  Being young and foolish, I
tried negotiating, "Little steep on the rent, being so far out--cost of
living and all."

"You an economist or a dock hound?  Nice digs, clean.  Always quiet."  He
shot me a look and took me into his kitchen; standard lease agreement lay
on the counter.

Noticed prescription bottles along the backsplash, "You sick?"

"Disabled."

"Don't look disabled."

Irked, he glared, "Metabolic disorder."

"Hm."  What did that mean?

"Look Dr. Stoney, do you want to rent the studio or not?  Two more guys
waiting to see the place."

That pressured me into signing.  Sent some pics to Dad, and a photo of the
lease agreement.

...

Leaning against the back wall in the studio was a sheet of stained plywood;
spotted with bright dots of paints and glue, glitter.  I moved a few boxes
in; passed Novak standing at his back door.  "Is that your plywood?"

"Dizzy's shit...."  He held a shoebox full of pill bottles, walked down the
hall, "I'll tell them to come get it."

...

Before I could call, Dad showed up.  Had to see where I lived though I
suspected the twins were filming.  Brought two lawn chairs, my old twin bed
and several footlockers.  With blankets and pillows I had a half-furnished
pad.

Sat out back, popped a beer.  Said he and Mom were having problems over the
girls, "May have to come stay with you.  This vlog thing is getting out of
hand, they're making the bucks but the messages the twins get--some
dangerous people out there."

"Come if you want."  Doubted that Dad would leave the women home alone and
he was always welcome.

...

As we assembled the bed, "Anybody here?"

In the door stood a tall, bearded man.  Aside him was a small boy, looked
around four, maybe five years old.  Man's name was Flynn, he lived next
door with his son Dizzy.

Hard to look away from the boy.  Dizzy wore a long-sleeved shirt and jeans,
hot for a June day.  Locks of copper colored hair framed his face.  His
wasn't just red hair, but vibrant rusty-orange and eyebrows so light;
sand-colored.  Skin was pale, almost transparent.  Tiny soft-pink lips
smiled at me.

"We're here for the plywood."  Flynn came in, "Glad to have a new neighbor.
Novak doesn't do well alone."

"What's the deal with him?  Seems angry."

"Goin' through some shit, probably.  He's okay, just walk away if he gets
loud."

"Does he get angry, like, you know--does he have a gun or throw knives?"

Flynn chuckled, "Nothing like that.  Sometimes he has a problem explaining
himself--his thoughts run ahead of his mouth.  He gets frustrated Tell him
to take his meds, and leave him alone."

Decided to avoid Novak.

Flynn and I grabbed the plywood while the gorgeous redheaded boy ran in the
Novak's kitchen, grabbed a handful of crackers then ran through the meadow
toward the back of the lot.  Flynn and I carried the plywood next door.
Inside his garage, he had an old table and two chairs, chrome and chipped
laminate.  "Take `em, I can use the space."

My studio was suddenly furnished.

Through the next months I worked the conveyor tracks and enrolled for heavy
equipment operator training.  Once I had that certificate, my pay would
more than triple, and I could afford a place with a pool and a gym.

...

Didn't see much of Novak for several weeks, summer heat exhausted him.  Saw
plenty of Dizzy.  He took me to a small stream at the back of the meadow,
explained about tadpoles, beetles and dragonflies.  Knew a lot about
dragonflies for a six-year-old, showed me his drawings and a coloring book
of insects.

"They can see all around them, not just ahead." Dizzy told me.

Striking, the black and aqua with iridescent, glassine wings trembling
rapidly aside their bodies.  Reds, yellows, shades of green and blue,
white... fearsome mosquito hawks of the meadow.

Dizzy's short fingers found a dead dragonfly on a thistle, very carefully
he put it on my palm.  Long, segmented body, "See, six legs..." he
explained, looking between my palm and my face as he lightly moved the
corpse of the big bug.

Touch of his smooth hand on my arm made me shiver; he'd only brushed my
thick hair before his fingers wrapped my wrist.  He pulled my hand near his
face and looked up at me saying something about nymphs hiding under the ice
in winter.

My breaths quickened; groin tingled, cock filled from his innocent act.

Grey eyes shining from under strangely blonde lashes, minute dots of sweat
on his nose above his lip, catching the rays of sun, "...then they come out
and start growing wings."

I could only nod watching the short, smooth neck and chest jump with
breaths as he spoke, captivated by the hair and skin of this orange and
white miniature human.  He appeared as fragile as the form in my palm.
Wisp of life, just a tendril holding a beating heart in a slight, ethereal
frame.  The arresting colors of this perfect boy were incredibly arousing
enhanced by his small voice.

Strong, rusty-copper color of his hair falling on his smooth forehead
pressured my imagination.  Did he taste like copper or iron?  Was he as
fragile as he appeared?

Shoved those thoughts back.  I smiled; he smiled.

My mind buzzed thinking about tiny lip muscles, tongue just long enough to
grab and bite...

Had to stop myself.  Concentrated on the dragonfly in my palm, "Save
Mr. Dragonfly.  We'll identify him and make a collection."  As I stood, I
felt warm, sticky liquid in my briefs over my straining shaft.  Took the
dead bug back to my place, "Get something to write on."

Dizzy tore a paper towel, brought it to the table.  "Write the date and
your name.  Now we need to find out his, brand--specie, whatever and put it
on later.  Okay?"

"Yeah."  A few minutes later, "I gotta go."

"Why?"

"My dad's truck--the steering screams when he turns in the drive."  He ran
out the door.

Looked down at the young boy's scrawl, "Dizzy, July 1."  Carefully put the
jeweled creature on top of a footlocker and texted Dad: "Got it bad for the
kid."

"Curb your excitement."

...

Went to the shower, greased my right palm, greased the curl of my fingers
of my left fist.  Closed my eyes, stroked and beat the curl of my fist
against the head of my rod.  He would be that tight, maybe tighter.
Opened, he needed to be filled.  By me.

Commanded myself to stop.  I'd hurt him, go to jail, shame myself, my
family.

Right hand continued with a tighter grip as I stroked, left hand was about
to bruise my glans beating against it until I felt the heat rising.  Knees
trembled as I shot load after load, eyes closed thinking of filling the boy
full of my sperm.

"You're mine, sweet Dizzy--I'm everywhere inside you."  Whispered as the
strong, sharp smell of ejaculate rose, my balls emptied.  In my mind, I
pushed my cum further inside him, sperm struggling to go as far as they
could.  I'd hold him, tell him how brave he was, how strong he was; rub his
loose hole.  Slip a finger inside him to press my cum into every hot,
slippery fold.  Kiss his head, hold him against me until he slept.



Dragonflies Part 2

Novak was sitting out back when Dad came up the drive.  I put a frozen
pizza in the oven.  Novak yelled, "You making pizza?"

Wound up baking a second pizza from Novak's freezer.  Found out a lot about
Novak, he once worked as a chef.  Dad knew his grandparents; they owned a
café downtown.

Later, Novak said he'd kept Dizzy during the summers while Flynn worked,
"Before he started school, I kept him.  Decorated a few walls with
permanent markers, I didn't paint over his art.  Reminds me of when he was
small."  He chuckled, "At my age, I was still waiting for the school
bus--they wouldn't let him off till they saw me."  Noticed my churlish
landlord smiling.

Dad told me later Novak had a problem, did a stint in rehab of some sort.
Parents got him this house hoping he'd be stay away from former problems.

...

Got along a little better with Novak that summer, I kinda had to.  Dizzy
felt like he owned all three of our homes, went from one to the other
looking for his scattered toys.  He was nosy, inspecting anything new,
seeing if we had anything he liked to snack on, asking the craziest
questions.

Novak and I taught Dizzy checkers and looked for dinosaurs and warlords on
the computer.  Novak really loved the boy, always mellow when Dizzy was
around.

...

Novak watched him after school in September.  Dizzy left dragonflies by my
door, each on a scrap of paper with his name and the date.  Almost every
day I got a new specimen, some weren't complete; didn't matter.

Insecta, Odonata, Arthropoda, and their common names: Gliders, Skimmers,
Sundragons...  Jewelwings were Dizzy's favorites.  Dizzy made up names for
the ones we couldn't find online.

I started watching Dizzy on Saturdays and Sundays while his dad worked.
Diz went to the store with me, did laundry.

He didn't explain himself, only said he wasn't doing well.  Now Novak could
only sit by Dizzy and watch movies with him.  Concerned, I left sandwiches
in the fridge for them before I went to work.

Soon, the sheet of plywood returned to my studio.  Tossed a blanket over it
and affixed all the dragonflies and notes with straight pens.  Four by
eight feet, half-filled with the beauties--Red Saddlebags, Meadowhawks,
Blue Dashers, each with a tiny label.

When Dizzy pinned a new specimen, my fantasies refueled about filling the
boy, making him mine.  He'd stand beside me while I squatted, phone in
hand, trying to find the name of his new addition.  Smell of Dizzy was
intoxicating, barely metallic and heavy with the sweet smell of grass.  His
scent thundered through me silently settling uncomfortably in my groin.

I knew he wasn't old enough.  It didn't stop my fantasies.

...

Becoming slower and quieter, Novak went to the hospital.  I suspected more
than rehab.  While he was gone, Dizzy complained about the afterschool
program, he wanted to be home with Novak.  Nothing I could do; I was
shooting for my certification.

Two months later, Novak returned home with a care-giver three days a week.
Ghostly white, and thinner, appeared slower than before.  I didn't ask.
Novak saw a specialist weekly.

Dizzy and Novak decorated a spindly tree with twinkling lights, life hummed
along through the holidays.  Cooler weather brought another disruption in
our routines: Flynn and Dizzy left.

On a Sunday morning their house silent, no music, no noise.  No one
answered the door, Flynn wouldn't answer my calls or texts.  Through those
months, they became part of my life.  Didn't have many dealings with Flynn,
it was Dizzy I worried about.

Monday evening, Novak and I still hadn't seen or heard them.  We went over
and looked in the windows.  They must have left in a hurry, furniture still
in place; half-filled glasses stood by the sink, toy bricks on the kitchen
table.

Several people came later that week, a commercial cleaning crew.  I asked
them about Dizzy and Flynn, they gave me their business card.  Office staff
politely told me it wasn't my business.

...

In the next months, Novak's skin began hanging in drapes from his bones.
More tired than before, he was in and out of the hospital.  His parents
came over and picked up his things.  Bad prognosis, they said, "He's going
to long-term care."

 Said they'd make me a deal on the house if I wanted to buy it.

Price was low and the lot was large, I did.

 Dad helped fix up the place on the weekends.  New roof, repaired the
gingerbread trim, painted.  Bought some decent furniture.  Would have been
better with Dizzy, Novak and Flynn.  I missed them, the warm summer days
with Dizzy.

About to start cruising the bars for some hot guys who needed their heavy
equipment operated--I got my certification and was now working the
telehandler.

...

Renters came and went through my studio, mostly construction workers, new
guys at work staying till they found a bigger place.  No one interesting.

Earnestly began searching for the love of my life; a redhead.  Struck out
again and again.

Attended an event at the gay bar, spotted an auburn-haired man in drag.
Put a hard hit on him.  Looked middle-aged, trim, flashy.  In the bedroom,
he shed girdle, wig, makeup--he looked like my great grandpa.  Out came the
checker board, "You said you wanted to play.  Thought you meant board
games."

Rollin' in dough and couldn't find the love I wanted.  Memories of the boy
returned every day.

Got a tattoo on my left palm, as close as I could remember to that first
afternoon with Dizzy.  Took a photo of the aqua and black spots along the
fine lines along the wings of a Twelve Spotted Skimmer.  Tattoo artist did
a great job making it look almost real.

Greased that palm nightly and imagined the boy.

...

Sadly, at twenty-five years old my socializing waned to visiting Novak on
Sunday in the nursing home.  He was always tired and always asked about
Dizzy and Flynn.  We both speculated the boy was with family.

My dad usually came by on Saturdays.  He encouraged me to find a redheaded
woman, marry one with redheaded boys, make a move in that direction.
Well-intended ideas yet too much could go wrong and would eventually.



Dragonflies Part 3

Printed out all my photos of Dizzy and put them on the refrigerator.  He
had to be in middle school, playing baseball, swimming.  Sure he was
taller, but was he still lithe, and delicately pale with his raging red
hair?  Was he still the smiling kid curious about everything difficult to
explain?  Burned my heart to think about him.

Late Friday night, I heard something.  Raccoon, maybe a cat by the trash
cart.  Before dawn I heard more noise from the driveway, was someone trying
to get into my toolbox?  Couldn't let that happen.

Sneaked down the drive, looked in the bed of my truck.  A figure lay
there--tufts of red hair around his collar from under a cap.  Dizzy
sleeping on his jacket?  "Hey, Variegated Meadowhawk.  You hungry?"

He jumped up, smiled.  Still gorgeous despite the dirty clothes and messy
copper halo.

"I'm always hungry."  Went hard as soon as I recognized his colors and
heard the melody of his voice.  The same fantasies rolled through me;
pulled my shirt down over my jeans.  "Have you seen my dad?"  he asked.

"Gave up on him.  Never answered my texts."

...

Over breakfast, "Where do you live now?"

"Group home."

"Probably looking for you.  Gotta get you back there."

"They don't care where I am, they only want the check every month."  He
explained a chaotic situation.  "I hate it there, I want my dad."

Could only nod, though my childhood hadn't been as rough, my dad was still
close to me.

"My parents weren't good role models."  Dizzy looked away. "That's what the
judge said.  My dad got busted.  The cops just came in and took us away,
Flynn said not to fight back or try to excape."

Didn't know what to say until I glanced at his arm, thin threads of gold
hair, short, almost invisible, "It's gonna be alright, we'll make something
happen, somehow."  Hard to curb the fantasies, be the adult in the room.

He saw the dragonfly tattoo on my palm, "You still have my dragonflies?"
He smiled, eyes making crescents lined with pale lashes that faded to gold
on the tips.

Enchanted and inflamed again.  "All of them.  In the front room on that
same blanket, same plywood."  Wanted to tell him they weren't as beautiful
as he was.

Curbed my excitement with thoughts of Novak.

...

Seemed to please him that I'd bought Novak's house.  Dizzy ran out the
kitchen door, leaping through the grasses to the creek.  When I caught up
with him, he was staring up at the trees, "It looks so small now.  This
used to feel enormous, the trees and the creek...."  He glanced around.
Dragonflies silently hovered above the pepperwort along the stream.
"They're still here."

Leaned and kissed his cheek, "They've been looking for you."

He stopped, covered his face with his hands.  "It's all my fault.  My mom
and dad...."

Pulled him against me, awkward in the consoling role, "Adults know right
from wrong.  Their decisions, not yours."

Stood in the sunlight as aspen shadows danced over us, swaying as he
finished letting more of his sorrows loose for the dragonflies to take
away.  Another sharp moment of adulthood slammed him as he stood thinking.
Felt the moment he let go of his idea that he could go back to the warm
days with Flynn, carefree days, running in a small world where everyone
cherished him.  "It's all over now."

...

Took him back to the house, and to distract him, I showed him my sisters'
videos, "Have you seen these twins before?"

"At the mall, they were meeting their fans."

Didn't figure he had much money to spend, "Yeah, I thought they closed the
arcade.  Are you working?"

"I meet, I meet... `Saturday-man.'"  He looked away.

Peculiar answer; I took a guess, "In the restrooms?"

No answer, not even a glance.

"Been to the park--the by the trails?"  I'd cruised those areas, not enough
courage to participate.  He didn't answer.  Seemed there was something else
he wanted to say... "Diz, tell me the truth.  Why did you come here?"

"Flynn told me you were gay and you're the only other person I really know
around here.  It's too hard in the group home.  Won't go back, I won't stay
there any longer."  He stood, turned faced the door deciding whether to
stay or go.

Stood and wrapped my arms around a boy who once came up to my belt buckle,
he stood with the top of his head at my chest now.  "We'll work this out."
That conversation was incomplete, confusing in some ways, but I knew gay
boys

Got Dizzy into the shower.  I hung a tee shirt and a pair of socks on
doorknob to the bath and figured Dizzy needed to rest.  He'd come a long
way, walked the last few miles.

...

Dizzy dozed on and off until the movie ended: "I'm screwed.  Redheaded,
queer, I ruined everything.  No one wants an older kid, that's why I got
sent to a group home.  Now I blow that old guy at the mall for a few
bucks."  His eyes filled, "I'm going nowhere."

"You're still the beautiful kid that brought me dragonflies, showed me
they're like jewels, ate all my peanut butter, took care of Novak.  You're
perfect to me."  Still uncomfortable in this role, "You'll find your path."
Dick was hard as 4140 steel.  Pulled him against me and kissed his neck,
his jaw, around his eyes and pulled those golden-blonde eyelashes gently
with my lips.  Kissed his eyelids and sighed, "Perfect."

Took a deep whiff of his hair, the sweet smell of summer days, grass and
trees filled me.  Stopped when I felt his lips on my skin.  One slight kiss
as he wiped a tear.

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm a loser."

"No losers, just people doing the best they can."  This situation darkly
delighted me, yet tragic for Dizzy.  "Where's Flynn?  Do you know which
prison he's in?"

"Down by Angleton, last I heard.  Will you take me?"  Suddenly his face
lit.

"Where's your mom?"

"California, Chowchilla."

"Any other family around here?"

"I'd be with them if there were any."

On the laptop we found the Scott facility, Flynn's name was listed on the
inmate roster.  Got all the visitation rules.  Desso "Dizzy," Ellis, and I
sent an email to the facility telling them that we wanted to see Flynn.

Straightened up my old studio, "Stay here tonight.  Gotta leave early, get
in line first and hope they'll let us visit."

...

We went back out to the meadow, pulled the tallest weeds, cleared an area
for the turtle who'd moved in.  Saturday chores done, we cooked hotdogs
outside, enjoyed a nice evening, all the while I devised a strategy to make
Dizzy mine.

Woke up with Dizzy next to me.  Went to shower quickly, keeping myself in
the realm of my familiar fantasy.  Curbed my excitement in the shower.



Dragonflies Part 4

After four peanut butter toasts and a quart of milk, Dizzy was full for a
moment.  I filled my coffee, and we were off to Brazoria County.  Rehearsed
my plan mentally while he played with the radio.  Wished I could have
talked to Dad about what I was going to do.  Had a feeling I was thinking
with my dick.

Wasn't ready for what happened at the jail.  Several hundred people waited;
wives, friends, families stood around the lobby.  Security procedures I
expected, but people's reaction to a beautiful ginger-boy were strange.  A
few gawked, several men leered.  Some smiled, and the female staff
commented on Dizzy's coloring.  Dizzy didn't like the delay; he was anxious
to see Flynn.

We met with Flynn through a plexiglass barrier in a cubicle for twenty
minutes.  He was grinning when he saw Dizzy, then began crying,
apologizing, repeating himself.

"Pull it together, Flynn."  I got serious fast.  "Dizzy ran away from his
group home.  Says he won't stay there.  Tell the state to give me custody."
I wasn't sure of the right terms, "Relinquish parental rights to me."

He stared for a moment, "Give up my son?  You're nuts."  His face went
straight.  "I'll make you a deal if you want to help."

Foolishly, I'd expected an eager "yes."  "What kind of deal?"

"My house is paid for... I had enough for a while, but I'm behind on the
taxes now.  The house is all have left."  Sounded somewhat pitiful, yet his
lot was as bigger than mine and house was newer.  "Pay the back taxes, put
it with a management company.  Keep the house for Dizzy's education,
everything else is for his keep."  He looked me straight in the eye, "I
won't surrender parental rights."

Rental arrangements for his house were easy, "I can handle the taxes, but
you have to put Dizzy in my custody.  I won't have him out on the streets.
Too dangerous."

He was over a barrel now.  His gorgeous son was sitting on my knee.
"Dizzy, is this what you want?  Will you stay with Stoney, not run away?"

Dizzy stood, leaned near the plexiglass, nodded, "I'll stay."  He stopped
for a moment, "When can you come home?  I miss you."  Tears filled his grey
eyes.

"Six more years--four if I don't get in trouble."  Looked back at me, "I
have a lawyer, and I'll sign the paperwork to keep my boy safe--temporary
custody only.  Dobson and Knowlton, ask for Jay Dobson."

They were both snuffling when the officer told us we had to leave.
"Stoney, can we come back down?"

"We'll be back.  Let's see a smile, your life is about to get better."

...

Sunday morning Dizzy wrote his father a letter while we ate.  I emailed Jay
Dobson, introduced myself and explained briefly the deal with Flynn.

Hesitated at first but asked Dizzy if he'd go to visit Novak with me, "He
loves you, always asks about you.  Promise me you won't say anything about
how he looks.  He's really sick."

"Is it going to make me cry?"

"It's going to make you stronger.  People change, he's different and so are
you.  Love doesn't change, it gets more precious."

At twenty-seven I felt I wasn't ready to be parent a twelve-year-old, no
distinct understanding of fatherhood, no philosophy about my own life.
Behind my shakiness were fantasies assuring me it wouldn't matter.

...

Novak, Dizzy and I sat together in a sunroom having a small reunion.  Other
residents had to see the beautiful boy hugging and kissing surly Novak.
Nursing home stash?  Those old people pulled out bags of candy and
chocolates, delighted with Dizzy.  Turned out to be a good visit.
Strangely, Novak told me to call him later and winked.

Sunday night I called Novak, he told me he wanted to rent the studio.

"When?"

"Several weeks after surgery.  Don't have a date yet, but hoping it's soon.
My name's on the top of the transplant list."

...

Went in to work with Dizzy beside me.  Staff in Human Resources reviewed
the all the company policies to find I was allowed parental leave.  I took
two days, figuring I'd need to use more later.

Straight to the attorney's office; met with Dobson's assistant.  Flynn had
already called.  She made notes and started the temporary custody paperwork
before we left.  On the notes, she penned in a website for parenting
information and told me she'd get back to me after they heard from Flynn.

By this time, Dizzy was cranky and fidgeting.  He needed a cell phone,
shoes and food; found those in a strip mall.  When we got home, I called
the group home and told them Dizzy was safe, and I would be taking custody,
"Send his things."

They said all he had was papers--everything else he'd taken with him.  Sad
statement about Dizzy's time there and that heartache was over for him.

...

Watched the parenting videos on how to deal with traumatized children,
medical issues....  Overwhelmed, I wasn't sure if I could handle all
parenting and potential problems along with full time work, keeping Dizzy
in school, the rental property, my own place.  I was dazed; called Dad to
come for dinner.

Dizzy told him everything we'd done.  Dad was proud.  I was still stunned
with a sudden deluge of responsibility.  "Dad, how did you hold it all
together when I was young, then the twins?"

He laughed, "You can't hold it all together.  I had your mom, she did a
lot, but you can only go moment by moment, deal with it as it happens and
keep the important things first.  Do you remember when I came home every
day and kissed each one of you?"

"Yeah."  Dad hugged and kissed me and the twins as soon as he came in the
house.

"That's how I reminded you who loved you the most.  I had to keep you kids
close to me for as long as I could.  Seemed to work, we're still together;
that's important to me."

"I thought you were sniffing for smoke or dope."

"Well, that too.  I could gauge how you were growing, how healthy you
were...  It reminded me that even when I was tired and confused, we had our
love...  and that's how I knew you liked boys."  He kissed my cheek.



Dragonflies Part 5

Faced two months of summer; Dizzy wasn't yet thirteen, and I didn't want to
leave him alone.  The lady in HR told me about a summer program her kids
attended.  Three sleepy adolescents waited for the van on the parking lot
at work every weekday morning.  Every day my sweaty boy got a big hug and a
kiss as soon as we were in the house.  He hugged me back and kissed my
stubbly face; made all the worry of raising a boy worth it.

Took a few days off to get the house next door ready for the contractors.
The management company assured me it was a prime property with the big lot
and would lease quickly.  Bought a riding mower.  Kept Dizzy busy every
weekend mowing next door.  I kept our meadow by only pulling out the plants
I didn't want.

Flynn's house was rented by a quiet couple who put up a privacy fence.

...

Custody paperwork, school enrollment all squared away, school fees paid.  I
thought everything was calm when school started.  Dizzy had a few problems
adjusting to a larger school, I suspected bullying.  He wouldn't tell me
what happened.  Had to call Dad again.

"Tell him you'll call the school to find out.  Kids have the right to
education, and it's your job to protect his rights.  Go tell him and see
what he says."

Dad's strategy didn't work: Dizzy was curt, "Go ahead, call `em.  I don't
squeal, it'd only make it worse."

...

Holiday dinner was always with my parents.  We made our plans over the
phone, the twins were curious, I never sent pics of Dizzy, though Dad had a
few.  They wanted to meet a cute redheaded boy.

I prepped Dizzy--we devised the perfect plan to fend off their cameras.

"No filming, no photos."  Dizzy told the twins as they met us on the drive,
"Flynn says so."

"Put the phones and all the cameras away."  I added as soon as we were
inside.  Dad chuckled; Mom was delighted to get them to stop for a while.
Over steaks and stuffed potatoes, Dizzy's problem emerged in an unusual
way.

The twins started their feminist diatribe; we continued eating.  "Women
have to have the same rights as men in all respects."

Dizzy and I ignored them until Jody asked, "You agree Dizzy?"

"Sure, they already have the right to make the same stupid mistakes
everyone else does."  That odd-ball answer shut them up for a moment.

Conversation veered through the twins' experience on campus, "Girls get
body-shamed by guys all the time...."

Dizzy glanced at me, "If you're talking about comments on private parts,
boys do too."  Everyone stopped, stared at the blushing boy, "Do you want
me to explain it--at the dinner table?" Dizzy asked Mom.

"No thanks.  But you're right, children are bullied for... all kinds of
things.  We're lucky everyone's healthy."  Feet shuffled and kicked under
the table.

Ice cream, cake, we went home full with a box of leftovers.



Dragonflies Part 6

His comment about body-shaming clued me in on his problems.  Academics were
a snap for Dizzy; it was the same old game in the locker room.

I found my tape measurer and took Dizzy to the bathroom with his phone.
"Find the average penis length for a thirteen-year-old and let's see what
you got.  I think those bullies are idiots."

Felt some pride in myself that I was surprised by what he presented--I'd
curbed myself so far.  Short penis, tight ball sac, pale, so light, tinted
with subtle hues of a redheaded boy.  Held the tape measurer at the base on
the top side, my fingers pulled his short cock up under the cold metal
ribbon, "What's the average?"

Looked at his phone, "Two to four-point six inches."

"You got that in spades."  Gently rubbed the length of his flesh stick;
hard within seconds.  Rigid and straining upward, "Seems normal to me."
Noticed a few blonde hairs.  "If you're worried about pubic hair, we can
get some dye.  Mascara might work.  Wonder if they make glue-on pube wigs."

He laughed.  "When am I going to stop getting hard all the time?"

"Sorry, wangers have a mind of their own."  I continued touching, rolling
his foreskin back, "I think the average is around six inches, erect for an
adult.  You're fine, looks like almost five inches of Dizzy-fun there."

Humor was a thin façade for my lust.  Hard again, no way to curb
myself at this point; knelt in front of him.  Looked up, he smiled and bent
his dick downward with half a smile.

Only a man as horny as me, only a man who finally had fantasies come true
would have appreciated his smooth skin wrapping his cock.  This was mine,
finally--my tongue felt every part of the tender shaft, rubbing, pressing
him hard to the back of my throat, then pulling away to suck deeply.  He
grabbed my hair, sighing, his breaths quickened.

High, thready voice, "I don't have any cum."

"I'll give you some later."  I didn't realize how stupid that sounded.
Between breaths and desperately trying to deep-throat all he had, I fell
into a different kind of love.  Love as real as the boy at my face.

Suspended sucking to take his tight, crepe-like sac grabbing them with my
teeth while I tongued.  Smell drove me crazy, it was light, not the smell
of a man but a hint of it coming.  Rubbed my face over his groin.  Almost
visible, the blood vessels through his thin skin.  Better than I'd imagined
but went back to his rod, nursed and forced all the sensuality he offered
me back to him.  Faster; he humped, I bobbed meeting his thrusts for a few
moments.

"Uhh." He came quickly, "Stop."  Breathing hard, but he pulled me up to
kiss me.  Felt so familiar for a moment, Dad always demanded a cum-kiss
from me.  I had other plans.

Plans waylaid.  He took me to bed, wanted to return the favor.

Image of the Saturday-man in the restroom came to mind.  Couldn't get it up
thinking that's how he was earning a few bucks, stinking restroom, dirty
floors, filthy graffiti.  Couldn't let him know my dick faltered.  Couldn't
find a way around it for a moment.

"Curbed your excitement?"  He asked and grinned when he realized my
predicament.

Pulled him on top of me, grabbed his butt and lined up our cocks to rub out
together, fingers found his hole.  Feel of his weight, his cool, damp skin,
his lips on my chest--good became too good too quickly.  Bucked and moaned
feeling my cum coat both of us, both our rods rubbing hard until I was
emptied.  Tension left as it cooled on our skin.

When my endorphin level dropped, "'Curb your excitement,' where'd you hear
that?"  Dad was the only man I'd ever heard use it.

"Your dad."  He chuckled, I had to wonder.

"When did he tell you that?"

No response.  I squeezed him, "When?"

He turned over, swiping his finger through my cum, tasting it.

"When?"

"Are you gonna get mad?"

"If you don't tell me, I will."

"Your dad was my Saturday-man."





Dragonfly

Epilogue

Raising a boy wasn't what I imagined but it was hectic, crazy and it
changed me.  No romantic lover, beside me, but a hard-bodied
middle-distance runner.  Dizzy didn't want to bulk out and I doubted he
would; sweaty jockstrap heaven those years, more affection than sex.

Highschool brought herds of hungry teens eating everything in their path
and going out for more.  A comfortable routine fell into place, and I found
a relaxed place to the side, in the bleachers.  My life was unbelievably
rich when I realized it wouldn't happen again.

Never would there be another tiny Dizzy and his dragonflies.

Never another Novak loving my boy, keeping him safe for the life he led
now.

Never again watching an incredible boy grow while Flynn worked.

Hard lesson to learn when Dizzy admitted I wasn't old enough to suit his
preferences.  My dad was; I bought a bigger bed.  Enjoy a lot of firsts
though Dad threatened to gag and tie me when I watched, kibitzing and
commenting.  Curbing my excitement was almost impossible for several years
as a voyeur.  I got a few kisses as crumbs after they enjoyed several
courses between the sheets.

...

Flynn didn't come home; we were notified of his death.  He had shown good
behavior, was in line to leave early.  Several other families were notified
about the deaths of other inmates during the same incident and we all went
to court.  As upset as I was about Dad staying every weekend, he steered us
through that dark upheaval with a patient, gentle hand.

The state offered a settlement; Dizzy went from only having the equity in
Flynn's house to begin adulthood comfortably.

A father's love can't be bought--Dad and I shifted into that role.  We kept
him close.

...

Through all my uncertain times, life's lessons, my confidence built.
Though I wasn't bad looking, being self-assured attracted some jewels into
my life.  Found a short, auburn-haired young man whose reddish waves
fluffed around his head in a childlike way.  He teased and tempted me until
I took him home and found I couldn't live without him.

We dug a turtle pond near the patio.  Novak returned to live in the studio,
he came out to supervise the placement of rocks and water lilies.  He and
Dad had their own ideas about mixing concrete, pump placement.  After a few
beers, supervision turned to comedy.

My man wondered about the strange, cranky renter we treated so well.

Frail as he had been, Novak stayed strong to lead from behind his
exhaustion.  Kept the meadow that drew the dragonflies, cared for a boy
daily, put me in a position to grow up and make a home.  Work, luck and
mostly Novak made a way that kept us together.  "He's family."



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