Date: Sun, 21 Aug 2005 02:01:19 -0700 From: fritz@nehalemtel.net Subject: I Love Corey, Chapter Sixty-four Oh woe is me. Time for another disclaimer. Woe is you too. You might be forced to read said disclaimer. You know, I like young people. Therefore it gives me great pain to tell them they have to leave. Still, the law is quite clear and only people over eighteen, twenty-one in some areas, are allowed to stay and read the story. Unless you are old enough, or are not subject to those laws, you better go quietly. That way no one will know you have been here. I promise not to tell on you. Some people get turned on by descriptions of gay sex, but others are offended. If you belong to the latter group, you had better leave. While I did not start out to offend anyone, some of the things in the story might be considered offensive by some. Of course, that only applies if I remember to put those things in. In some areas, the people in charge are so narrow minded they have scratch pads so thin it takes a magnifying glass to read them. Those areas are also the ones most likely to make the reading of this story a crime. If you live in such an area, you had better leave before you are caught reading it. If you can't seem to help yourself, and insist on staying and reading the story, pull all the shades and turn the lights out. Take your monitor in the closet and close the door behind yourself. With luck, no one will find out. Be sure to be quiet. Don't leave messes on the floor. They tend to give you away. I'm pleased to report that outside of a few readers, no one was harmed in the writing or use of this story. Of course, there is now a shortage of straight jackets. I'm also pleased to report that the story is not based on any actual people or happenings. Those people that think they see some resemblance to real persons or events will just have to wait their turn for a straight jacket. There is a fair sized backlog so don't hold your breath while waiting. I don't want to be responsible for a casket shortage. I'm not sure why anyone would want to steal this story and post it on another site when it is very likely I would give permission, if only they would ask. Then again, is it stealing if the object of such actions has no value? Sadly I lack the legal background to answer that so I'll just leave it at ask before posting it elsewhere, and credit me for any quotes used from the story. Outside of that, read and enjoy it if possible. You can even print it out on toilet paper if that is your pleasure and you printer will handle it. Just be sure to send me part of the penny's profit you make from the story. Poor Don. I'm working his ass off by sending him all these chapters full of mistakes, and then he gets to spend all his free time trying to make them readable. It's a lost cause but he does the best he can with what he has to work with. Therefore, don't blame him for any ambiguities you find. After all, he can only do so much with the raw material I send him. Go ahead and stick your oar in by writing and telling me what you think of the story. I'm used to it and only cry occasionally. However, tears are hard on keyboards and I've had to buy several. Still, I don't mind answering questions or reading suggestions. I don't even mind comments or complaints too badly. Just send them to the usual address of fritz@nehalemtel.net Be sure to put "I Love Corey" in the subject line so I don't delete you. After all, you don't want to be deleted do you? Deleting someone sounds so final. I try to answer such emails. If you would like to be on the chapter notification list, be sure to ask. With all that said, I hope you enjoy the following chapter. Fritz **************************************************************************** I Love Corey, Chapter Sixty-four Reverend Langston's questioning didn't go quite like I had expected. But then the whole morning was a mess anyway. Wally and his crew showed up before I could get myself going. Boy they like to start early. I finally got all the boys fed and escaped what had turned into a madhouse. The workers were banging and making all kinds of noise as they tore the walls out in the three bedrooms. Then I had to wait to get the Gator out while the garbage company delivered a dumpster for the old wallboard and stuff. What a mess. The morning meeting wasn't bad. There wasn't really anything to talk about outside of telling my substitute what to cover and giving him the papers I had graded so he could return them. However, once again I had some time to kill before I was supposed to be at the courthouse. At least last week I had some papers to grade while waiting but today I had them all caught up. Finally it was time to check in at the courthouse and, after that, there I sat, waiting to be called. Bummer. It was just before eleven when I was finally called into court again. Of course it took a few minutes to again state my name and be reminded that I was still under oath. Then the good Reverend took a couple of minutes to instruct me that I had to tell the truth. I wonder what he thought Judge Warner had just done. I could see Mr. Young sitting behind the DA and both seemed to have a smirk on their faces. However, the judge didn't seem in a very good mood. Scowling would be how I would describe his appearance. Well, perhaps with a certain amount of exasperation mixed in. Anyhow, Reverend Langston finally got around to asking his first question and I was a little surprised at it. He wanted to know if I had two boys by the names of James and Riggins living with me. I answered in the affirmative. Both the DA and Mr. Young were just sitting back and still smirking. Reverend Langston continued. "Is it true that both of those boys are queer?" "Excuse me Reverend, what do you mean by queer?" "You know very well what I mean," he snapped. "Homosexuals or fags," he spit back at me. "I don't really know..." "You just swore to tell the truth. Judge Warner, instruct him about perjury," Rev. Langston interrupted me. "Mr. Lofton, you swore to tell the truth. Please make sure you do so," the judge tiredly told me. "I will Your Honor. If Reverend Langston hadn't interrupted me he might not have thought I wasn't. As I started to say, I don't really know. I've never asked them and they haven't volunteered such information. While I have reason to believe that they might be, it's all what I think is called hearsay. Part of it came from their social worker but neither of them has said anything that would confirm it." I was skating pretty close to the edge of the truth with that answer, but they had never actually told me they were gay, only that they thought they might be. After that, we all assumed that they were, but never actually said it. I also had never seen them do anything that would prove it, one way or the other. Of course there had been a few sounds that sounded very suspicious on occasion, but he hadn't asked about that. I was sure glad I had talked with Mr. Young. He had explained to me that there was a big difference between things that I actually knew to be a fact and things that I had every reason to suspect were true. In fact, his explanation of what I was required to tell had made me answer in the way I had. Still, I didn't know just where this line of questioning was going, and I wasn't willing to give away any information until forced to. I continued, "If you would like to recess court for a little while I can go ask them or Rev. Langston can subpoena them and ask them himself." The judge turned to Rev. Langston and said, "It sounds like he's telling you the truth. Carry on." "Why haven't you asked them?" That question made me think for a few seconds. "I don't know. It just never seemed important, and I don't normally ask anyone about their sexuality anyway. In fact, I don't ever remember asking anyone that question." "You mean you let them live in your house and you don't know?" After a pause, I decided he meant that as a question, and so I answered, "Yes." "It doesn't bother you that they might be queer?" Rev. Langston sounded incredulous. "No." I don't think he expected the answers he was getting because he just stood there looking kind of stunned and like he was trying to think of where to go next. By now both the DA and Mr. Young were grinning. It even looked like Judge Warner was having a hard time not grinning. For the first time it looked like the jury was really paying attention. The other times I'd seen them, they had almost looked bored, but now they were leaning forward in their seats and watching intently. "But... But... Well, but aren't you afraid?" Now it was my turn to be incredulous. "Afraid of what? Two middle-schoolers?" The Reverend really looked angry with that answer, but about half of the jury started snickering and they other half had their hands in front of their mouths. The judge even put his hand in front of his mouth and coughed a couple of times. "Judge, make the witness answer the question." It took Judge Warner a few seconds to speak. When he did it sounded as if he was having a hard time keeping his voice stern. "The witness will answer the question." "I'm sorry Your Honor." I turned to the Reverend. "No." The Reverend looked somewhat rattled. "No what?" "No, I'm not afraid of them." "Oh." Reverend Langston turned to the judge. "Judge, the witness isn't co-operating," he kind of whined. About that time the DA stood up. "It sounds to me like he's being very co-operative Your Honor." The judge asked both the DA and Reverend Langston to approach the bench. They all whispered back and forth for a short while. Then the judge had the jury taken to the jury room and some more whispering took place before I was escorted out. Once again I got to sit and wait. About lunchtime we were all brought back in to the courtroom and the judge announced it was lunchtime and court would reconvene at 1:30. After lunch it started again. "Mr. Lofton, you have five foster boys living in your house. Why is that?" "No." "No, what do you mean no? I have it on good authority that you do." "No Reverend Langston. I do not have five foster boys living at my house..." Once again he interrupted and wouldn't let me finish. "Judge, he's lying. I know for a fact he has five boys living there. Please instruct him to tell the truth. Perjury is a crime and must not be allowed" This time Judge Warner was not quite so quick to follow the Reverend's request. "Mr. Lofton, do you have five boys living at your house and, if so, why did you answer the way you did?" "Yes Your Honor, I have five boys living with me. I answered that way because he asked about foster children and only four of them are foster children Your Honor. Had he waited until I was finished he would have learned that." Judge Warner nodded his head. Then he turned to Reverend Langston. "Reverend Langston, since you have insisted on conducting your own defense, I've been very lenient with you. However, you keep interrupting your own witness and not allowing him to finish. Please stop doing that. Also, there will be no more requests to have him instructed about telling the truth, or perjury, or insinuations that he is not telling the truth unless you can produce witnesses to back such allegations up. Do I make myself clear?" "But Your Honor, he's not co-operating." "He sounds like he is being very co-operative. Once again, did I make myself clear?" This time there was more than a hint of anger in Judge Warner's voice. "How can I defend myself when everyone is lying?" I think that pissed the judge off. He once again sent the jury to the jury room and had me escorted out of the courtroom. About fifteen minutes later we were all brought back in. "Mr. Lofton, why do you have four foster children living with you?" was the next question he asked. "Mrs. Smelling, of the Department of Children's Services, asked me to take them in." "And why was that?" "I don't know. I do know there is a shortage of foster parents and she asked me. As to why, you would have to ask her." About that time the DA stood up. He asked the judge for a conference. Some whispering went on at the judge's station. Then I was once again escorted out of the courtroom, and the jury was taken to the jury room. This time it took about an hour before I was called back in. After I was once again seated in the witness box, the judge turned to Reverend Langston and asked him if he had any more questions for me. I was shocked when the answer was no. The judge then asked the DA if he had any questions on cross-examination and, when he said he didn't, I was thanked and dismissed. As I was leaving the courtroom, Mr. Young got up and followed me out. He suggested we go have a cup of coffee. Over coffee I asked him what had happened when I was out of the courtroom. He had a big smile on his face when he explained that the judge had asked Reverend Langston why he was asking the questions he was and how they pertained to the case. Reverend Langston had gone into a long-winded discussion of gays and how evil they are and then the DA had asked how the foster children fit in because they weren't living with me at the time of the crime. A call to Mrs. Smelling had assured the judge that the foster boys had moved in after the crime and the judge had then instructed the Reverend to stop asking questions along that line or he would hold him in contempt. After that it was just a matter of calling me back in and dismissing me. Then he kidded me about all the money he was going to bill me, even though he had not even signaled once that I should not answer. Somehow I think he had something to do with how the DA had handled things. The boys were raiding the refrigerator when I got home. It looked like they had half its contents out and were making enough sandwiches for an army. When I looked around there were enough kids there to comprise an army, well a small one. Vern's boys were there, along with Billy and Larry. Then there were Jim, Jeff, and Carl from up the street and Bret and Brian from down the street. No wonder it took so many groceries. I was feeding the whole neighborhood, at least all the boys in it. Watching them all fix snacks pointed out that Kyle and Mark weren't saying much, but they were at least making sure to get their share. Of course Fred and Mike yelled hi and so did Larry and Billy. In fact I got greetings from most of them. They might have said more but were too busy eating to do much talking. A few glares and they even put their dirty glasses in the dishwasher before they grabbed the basketball and headed out for their usual game. It was now safe to cook dinner. Kyle had been telling Mark that my spaghetti was a lot better than their mother's so I fixed some. While the sauce was cooking, I made some meatballs and a green salad. Judging by the amount he ate, Mark liked it. He managed to eat just as many meatballs as the other boys, but fell a little short on the garlic bread. The boys had just gotten started on their homework when the phone rang. Mr. Mathers had some bad news. Bill Hanson, one of the physical education instructors, had been involved in a wreck on his way home. Normally that wouldn't really affect me, but it did produce some problems in the sports programs. Bill was the baseball coach and what Jerry wanted to know was if I would consider taking over the baseball program for a year because there was no one else to do it. He could come up with another coach to assist with the track squad if I would take over the baseball team. Both programs were going start their season next week and he didn't have much time to look for someone else. I tried to explain that I really didn't know much about coaching baseball. Somehow that didn't seem to make much difference, because Jerry appeared to have his mind made up and was just letting me talk. You know how it is, no matter what I said, it wouldn't make any difference. Sometimes, when Jerry has his mind set, I swear you could announce you were dying and he would just say, "You can handle it, go ahead and get started." I felt like I was talking to a rock. Fifteen minutes later I was the temporary coach of the baseball team. I wondered how that would work out because so far, everything that had started out as temporary had turned out to be permanent. Well maybe I shouldn't say that. When I was hired, I was asked if I would help with the track program for a year while they found someone else. That had been temporary, as long as you considered three years temporary. The football team was a different matter. I had agreed to be coach of it and not on a temporary basis. The fact that I was always getting called on at the school board meeting was also supposed to have been a one time or temporary thing. He had wanted me to present some information and answer questions about it. A simple onetime thing but it hadn't turned out that way. A couple of meetings later he had asked me to help answer questions right in the middle of the meeting. After that it was just sort of assumed I would be available to talk on anything that came up. Sometimes I answered questions from the school board, and other times from the audience. At least I normally knew what types of questions the school board members would ask, from the published agenda, but sometimes the audience asked questions that I had to tell them I didn't know the answer and would have to find out. Another thing that made me wonder how temporary this would be was the fact that Bill was just a few years from retirement. While no one had much information yet, the initial reports were that Bill was pretty badly hurt. In fact Jerry had told me he didn't expect Bill would be able to return before the year ended. They still weren't sure what had caused the accident, but suspected alcohol on the part of the other driver. They did know that Bill had been t-boned at an intersection that had a stop sign for the other road. Jerry hung up after assuring me I could do it and there I sat, wondering how I was going to coach a sport I'd never really studied. Sure I knew what baseball was. Every kid in America probably knows what it is and about how it is played, but that didn't make me capable of coaching it. I'd never played it much, so I didn't even have that to fall back on. Watching a few games on television doesn't make you a coach. It was time to find out what I could about my new job. Jerry had told me there were some coaching books at the school, so off I went in search of them. I told the boys I would be back in a short while. You can pretty well guess about how that went. The books took longer to track down than I expected. On the plus side, there were several videos to go with them. I finally gathered up everything I could find, on the subject, and headed home. Of course I had to check the homework, and while I was doing that, the boys looked over the material I had brought home. The next thing I knew, we had a big bowl of popcorn and were all talking about how to coach baseball. There was only one drawback, and that was that none of us had any idea of what we were talking about. By going through the material I did learn that the field was smaller than a regular baseball field and that there were all kinds of rules in regards to how many innings a pitcher could pitch. The games were only six innings long, and there was also a rule that said that if one team was far enough ahead after four innings, the game was over, with the team ahead winning. There was also lots of information on trying to make sure the players didn't do anything that might cause injury. Things like collisions at the plate, and what kind of pitches a pitcher could throw topped the list. However, the pitch thing wasn't very clear. It kept putting in things about how physically mature the arm of the pitcher was, and telling me to make sure that only those, with mature arms, threw breaking pitches. The boys were interested in the training videos. In fact, they were really getting into it. First JJ, and then Kyle wanted to know if they could go out for the team. When I assured them that they could, I was surprised at Kyle's reaction. Suddenly he looked sad. When I asked him what the problem was, he said he didn't have enough money to pay the student fees. He had just found the list of fees the school charged. It didn't take me long to assure him, and the other boys, that I would pay the fees for any sport that any of them wanted to participate in. He acted almost shocked. Even Mark seemed surprised. After a little questioning, I learned that Kyle and Mark's parents had never allowed them to participate in anything that cost money. Neither had ever been to a summer camp, or an amusement park. A little more probing and I also discovered that they had only been to a couple of movies in a theater and those were either when friends had paid their way, or when they had managed to earn enough money from returning bottles and the like. The allowances, they were now receiving, gave them more money than they had ever had before. Even Corey looked shocked, while JJ and LT appeared stunned. Of course baseball took a back seat after that. Instead, we talked about what was expected of them, and what they could expect from me. Some of it had been covered before, but neither boy seemed to grasp it. They still didn't realize that allowances were weekly and would continue until they were out of school. Somehow they had just thought I was feeling generous and gave them some money that week. I went over the whole thing again. Hopefully they would believe me this time. Mark looked like he understood but Kyle still looked at me like I was some kind of nut. You could just see that `yeah but' expression on his face, as if he was waiting for things to change the first time one of them screwed up. All I could do was wonder what it would take to get through to him. Wednesday, after school, I got a call from the DA's office. Reverend Langston had been convicted on all counts, and sentencing was scheduled in two weeks. While chatting with the DA I asked what the likely sentence would be. He told me the state was asking for the Reverend to pay for his share of the damages, and also some public service. He did mention that the Reverend had angered the judge so he wasn't sure just what the sentence would be. There would likely be some follow-up probation, but no one knew just how much. I thanked the DA for letting me know. I browned some meat for a stew, and then threw everything in the roaster and popped it in the oven. After that, it was back to studying about my new job. In watching the training videos, I got to thinking. I couldn't recall ever seeing a pitching machine, and the videos suggested that was the best way to go, when teaching to hit. Of course the videos seemed to think that all the players would have played T-Ball, so they would have some idea of how to swing. The reason for liking the pitching machine was its consistency. Also, it didn't tire any arms. A quick phone call and I learned I was right. The school had no such machines. I thought about it for a couple of minutes, and then got on the Internet. After all, I had plenty of money, so why not spend some of it on something for the school. Boy there were sure a lot more machines available than I had thought. Not only that, the price was lower than what I expected. After looking some web pages over, I decided to take a chance and see if any of the stores were still open. I was in luck. It didn't take all that long, for the gentleman who answered the phone, to find out what he needed to know in order to make some recommendations. A few minutes later I gave him a credit card number and a couple of Jugs' pitching machines were on their way. While I was ordering, I also ordered some of the light plastic balls for various practices. They had holes in them and were hollow so they were not supposed to hurt much if they hit you. In fact, I ordered a bunch of different balls that he said worked well as training aids. He assured me that the machines were easy to use and came with lots of instructions. He claimed that with the machines, you could practice hitting, shagging fly balls, and fielding grounders. They sounded just like what we needed. About then it dawned on me that the high school also had a baseball team. I decided to call the coach after dinner. Maybe he would have some tips and advice. The stew was almost done, so I made some cole slaw to go with it. After that I watched great gobs of both disappear down a bunch of scrawny necks. However it looked like there would be enough left so that I could take some for lunch. The school had a microwave I could use to heat it. The boys were all charged up over the pitching machines. In fact, they were all charged up about the idea of playing baseball. I was a little surprise about that because none had evinced any interest in baseball before, but I figured they could participate in any sport they wanted to. I was just about to call Phil Dunkin, the baseball coach at the high school, when the phone rang. It was Steve Marshall, Mr. Besslor's son, wanting to know if I would be free to help him and Aaron with a birthday party for his father on Saturday. The more we talked, the better the idea sounded. Aaron and I would do the cooking and the dinner would be at my house. I asked him to have Aaron check and see if there was anything Mrs. Clammer couldn't eat. I'd already learned that Mr. Besslor had no allergies but didn't know about her. Also, her three boys had eaten everything I prepared with no problems. I always tried to make sure I didn't serve something that a guest was allergic to or wouldn't eat, but she had been in the hospital and I'd never asked her. Steve assured me that Bob would be welcome as it was Corey's lesson night. It sounded like there would be about sixteen people and that should make a nice sized party. I wondered how long it had been since Mr. Besslor had a birthday party. Jeez, from the boys' reaction to the news of the birthday party, you would have thought it was just for them. They immediately started planning. They decided on blue napkins, because Mr. Besslor wore a lot of blue shirts, and that was just the start. There needed to be some decorations and a fancy cake. I left them busily planning and called Phil. They weren't listening to me anyway. While I knew Phil, we had never gotten that well acquainted. He was always busy with baseball in the spring, and our paths just never seemed to cross at other times. I had heard that most of the kids liked him, and he seemed like a nice guy, but this was the first time I had ever asked him for any help. He seemed thrilled. When I mentioned I'd ordered a couple of pitching machines, he said he wished he had some for the high school. I said I'd be happy to share them and he was even more thrilled. While it was too late to do anything about it tonight, I figured it would be easy to double the order in the morning. I could do that after the morning meeting and before classes took up. We even arranged a few joint practices so I could see how he did it. It was beginning to look like I was starting to get things a little under control. Then I had to make a call to Steve. The boys needed to know what size shirt Mr. Besslor wore. I could see we were also going to have to go shopping. What with a gift and decorations, a trip to Redding looked in order. As usual, things were getting out of control. I need a couple more of me. Oh well, the boys seemed happy and I guess I'll survive. Thursday, after school, we went shopping. It went better than I thought it would. It didn't take them long to pick out a couple of shirts and the decorations went even faster. At least they didn't stand for hours trying to decide what shade of blue they wanted, they just grabbed the first blue they came to and matched everything else to it. It even came close to the color of one of the shirts, kind of a light sky blue. The other shirt was a pale soft salmon color. I really liked the salmon one and would have bought one for myself, but they were out of my size. Bummer. We even managed to have the shirts gift-wrapped. Then, it was time to eat. The Outback Steak house sounded like a good idea. I had the prime rib and Kyle and Mark looked blank. They finally decided to have the same. I think the prices had them worried. Corey had the Cyclone Chicken and JJ and LT decided to try the Boomerang Shrimp. Probably the best way to put it is that we were all full and happy when we left. Mark couldn't eat quite all of his prime rib but Kyle solved that problem. There was nothing to throw away when the boys were finished. There weren't even any scraps for Dog. There was still a little of the stew left, so I could heat some of it up for him. We didn't have much time left, when we got home, but we managed to get almost everything out of the storage room and into the new shop. I would have liked to take the time to really look the new shop over but things had been a little hectic. According to Wally, they were going to start with the plumbing tomorrow. We had to get the storage room emptied tonight so they could tear the ceiling and part of the walls out to get at the existing plumbing. Maybe tomorrow I could take time to admire my new shop and perhaps get the trailer in it. After all, storage for the trailer was the primary reason for building it. I was surprised when I was called out of class and had to sign for the pitching machines. I hadn't thought they would be here before Monday, but was glad to see them. Maybe we could find time over the weekend to get them assembled and operating. We might even be able to figure out how to operate them. Jerry asked me what was going on and I had to take a minute to explain what was in the packages and even opened one up and showed him. He went away with a smirk on his face. Somehow I think I just became the permanent baseball coach. Bill had lost a leg, but he was now out of danger; however Jerry didn't know if he would want to continue coaching. Even if he did, I would probably end up as his assistant. Nothing would do but we had to take the pitching machines home. I should have driven the pickup because the Gator was stuffed. However, we all managed to fit in somehow and made it home. The boys started tearing packages apart and looking things over. When I suggested they get their snacks, so I could start cooking, they just looked at me and went right back to the machines. I couldn't believe something could come between food and their stomachs. When one of the electricians came out of the bedroom area, he had to look things over. He took a couple of minutes and helped us assemble them. He told me he had played a little baseball and was familiar with Jugs equipment. Judging by the way he handled them, he was telling the truth. He had them together before I could even read the directions. Then the boys decided we had to try them out. I hunted around and found a bat and out to the backyard we went. Lance, the electrician, grinned and said he would run it for a couple of minutes. He grabbed a bunch of those light plastic balls and LT grabbed the bat. It was no contest. Lance kept changing the settings and throwing all kinds of strange pitches. I don't think even one of them was anywhere near straight. They ducked, and dived and made curves that I didn't know were possible. LT managed to nick a couple of them, but you really couldn't call them foul balls. In fact, if it hadn't been for the slight ticking sound, you would have never known he touched them. However Lance was explaining how to make it throw all the strange pitches. He said we probably wouldn't use those pitches for batting practice, but that they were good training for fielding. Then he tipped the machine down a little bit and showed us how the balls bounced with that much spin on them. I went back to the house to start dinner and the boys clustered around Lance, trying to learn all about the pitching machines that they could. Just before I went inside, I looked back. Dog was having a great time, chasing balls. He would charge after one and grab it. Then he would prance back and lay it at Lance's feet. None of us had ever tried to play fetch with him and I didn't even know he liked it. If Lance took too long, explaining something to the boys, Dog would kind of crouch down and woof at him. Each time a ball was thrown, Dog took off so fast it looked like he'd been shot. I was right in the middle of cooking when Lance headed home. Of course I soon had a kitchen full of boys, looking for something to assuage the pangs of hunger. Of course, a bunch more of the neighborhood kids had showed up and, with all of them in my way, it was a mess. I finally chased them out, their hands laden with chips and drinks. Fred and Mike were as bad as mine. They just grinned at me when I threatened them with bodily harm. The others at least looked slightly cowed. Mind you, not enough to drop any of their goodies. I was feeling guilty because I hadn't been to see Terry for a while. After dinner I headed for the hospital to see how he was. I should have stayed home. His condition had worsened and he could barely talk. The nurse told me there was nothing that could be done and they were keeping him pretty well doped up. Most of the time he was asleep but I just happened to hit a time when he wasn't. I tried to be somewhat cheerful, reminding him of the fun we'd had over the years. It didn't really work and I finally left, feeling depressed. The man I'd been friends with was no longer there. At least with my folks it had been quick. Their plane had just cleared the ground, then rolled on its side and crashed. Dog was crashed in the middle of the floor when I got home. Apparently all the ball chasing had worn him out because he never even twitched when I walked in. I could have stolen everything in the place. Even when I squatted down and scratched him, the best he could do was open one eye and thump the floor a couple of times with his docked tail. I didn't get a single groan. I got a bunch of whining when I informed the boys that we had to try to clean some of the mess in the house up tomorrow. There was a layer of sheetrock dust and it was generally kind of dirty. Still, they quit when I informed them they also needed to put up their decorations. It wasn't as bad as sometimes, just a little whining and bitching. I also had to pick up the cake and Aaron was going shopping with me so we could pick out what to have for dinner. The forecast looked pretty good and I was leaning towards steaks on the barbecue, but maybe Aaron would have some other ideas. Corey was frisky again tonight. In fact, he had been frisky all week. I sure wasn't complaining though, because I really liked a frisky Corey. Well, I liked him all the time, but frisky was special. He brought a towel and the hand lotion to bed. That meant docking. That sounded like fun to me. He spread the towel out and we each kneeled on opposite sides of it. When things were about lined up, he put some of hand lotion in his hand and started rubbing it on both him and me. Damn that felt good. He got us both just touching and squirted a little more lotion in his hand and started in. As his hand moved back and forth, I leaned in and kissed his forehead. He was looking down so it was easy to do so. Corey started real slow. When the head of mine was just about to get away from his grip, he would change direction. Then he would do the same when the head of his was about to do the same. The feel of his warm hand stroking me, sliding easily because of the hand lotion, was great. His grip was light, just teasing me. I swear I don't understand a lot of things. After all, the only thing that was happening was that Corey was jacking me off. Why did it feel so much better, I mean it felt really, really better than when I did it myself? I couldn't figure out what was different about his hand than mine. In fact, it should have been better if I did it myself, but it wasn't even close. Just let Corey's hands touch me and it was ten times better than I could do myself, maybe even more than ten times. God knows, that over the years, I had practiced enough to where you would think I could do the best job possible, but Corey could do so much better that I can't begin to describe it. As his hand slipped back and forth over our lotion-covered cocks, I was almost in heaven. I could feel Corey's hand start to tighten. His grip was now firmer and it was sending little jolts through me. My left hand was on his shoulder and I could feel an occasional tremor go through him. Things were going nicely. As his hand continued to go back and forth, I started to feel the fingers on his left hand clamp down a little tighter on my shoulder. It wouldn't be long before he would lose his rhythm. When that happened, we would each finish the other off. Neither of us would be able to retain enough control of our bodies to keep things together for the docking. His grip got even tighter and the slow gentle strokes were speeding up. Not only that, they were losing the evenness that they had exhibited in the beginning. There was now a certain jerkiness to them. Corey was starting to pant a little. I knew it wouldn't be much longer before his movements would be so erratic that the docking part would be over. In the meantime, all I could do was wait and enjoy. His hand felt so good. His hand moved a little too far and we came apart. He almost frantically worked to get us lined back up, and start the stroking again. He needn't have bothered. He only managed a couple of strokes before his hand again traveled too far and we once more slipped apart. It was time. I reached down and took him in my hand. It was now time to finish. Just as I started the first stroke he grabbed me. Neither of us could manage a smooth, steady stroke, but we no longer cared. A couple of quick movements with my hand and I could feel him start to strain. I wasn't far behind him. God it was good. When it was over we just leaned against each other. I could smell a warm, excited Corey and he smelled great. I reached out with my tongue and licked his shoulder, right where his neck joined his body. He tasted great. The best thing about docking was it was normally followed by something more. I hoped tonight would continue that practice. It did. To be continued...