IN HIS FATHER'S HOUSE - 6, Rev.
Copyright 2011, 2012 by Carl Mason
All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. However based on real events and places, “In His Father's House” is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold gradually. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at firstname.lastname@example.org
In addition to numerous articles on the problems faced by juveniles incarcerated in adult prisons - especially those sentenced to life sentences without the possibility of parole - the author is especially indebted to three books: Santos, Michael G., Inside, Life Behind Bars in America (New York: St. Martin's Griffin edition, 2007); Parsell T. J., Fish, A Memoir of a Boy in a Man's Prison (Cambridge, MA; Da Capo Press, 2006); and Gagnon, Robert J. 053803, Life at Fifteen, updated ed. (np; Robert J. Gagnon-Paperback, 2006). Echoes of each will be heard in my story that follows.
If you would like to read additional stories by this author, please turn to the "Authors/Prolific Authors" link at the beginning of the Nifty Archive.
This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults and teenagers. As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, please respect yourself and those around you by practicing safe sex.
(Revisiting Chapter 5)
After they hauled Jeb's sacks into the house, Hank fixed him a hefty sandwich, placing it on the counter together with a cold bottle of a very nice lager. Beyond that, they had both had it for the day. His uncle showed him to the bedroom that would be his. Everything...bed, towels, etc., etc....had already been prepared for his arrival by the staff. Noting that his room was just across the hall, Hank suggested he take a hot shower and then hit the sack. Lightly raising his hands to the sides of the youth's face, the older man murmured, "It may take you a while to believe it, but I love you...very much. Good night, son." Quickly, he returned to the hallway as silently as he had entered the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.
(Continuing Our Story: "Gettin' to Know You...")
It was early! In fact, it was still dark outside as Hank (who hadn't slept at all well) sat at the kitchen table, tightly clutching his first cup of strong black coffee. Mindlessly, he weakly whistled the tune to that great old song from Anna and the King of Siam, you know, "Getting to know you, Getting to know all about you. Getting to like you, Getting to hope you like me." Naked as the day he was born - as he usually was before breakfast - Hank slowly awoke to the new day.
Suddenly there was a horrible crash from the hallway! The sound of broken glass and toppling furniture - all punctuated by wild curses and yells - seemed to go on...forever! The cacophony had just about penetrated Hank's consciousness when a disheveled, wild-eyed blond dragged himself into the kitchen. "Oh man, Uncle Hank..." he began, his voice thick with phlegm and sleep, "I'm so sorry..." Abruptly, he stopped...dead in his tracks. Now thoroughly awake, his gaze slowly ran up and down the rather well built 37 year old's naked body. "Not bad, Uncle Hank," he rasped with something of a smirk. "You haven't let yourself go to seed!" Diverted by the dining room mirror visible through an open doorway, he suddenly noticed his rumpled shorts and T-shirt, as well as his disheveled hair. "Guess I pulled on the wrong uniform. Sorry."
"No...no!" cried his now fully awake, thoroughly distraught uncle. "I couldn't sleep, and I really didn't expect you up so early! This is the way I've gotten myself together ever since I had my own place. Do forgive me for failing to say something to you last night. I'm really sorry!" "Well, then," Jeb interrupted, "we're both sorry. I still like your 'breakfast uniform' better than mine!" With that he whipped his shorts and T off, walked over to his uncle who now stood beside the stool on which he had been meditating, and pulled him into a quick bear hug. The elder Taylor felt as if someone had hit him over the head with a baseball bat and poured itching powder all over his body - especially when he felt the first signs of arousal. Worse, he felt the beginning of a physical response from the boy! Wryly, he barked, "Get yourself a cup of coffee, Beast!" (He was going to say more...even try a pun or two such as, 'We can see the sun come up out on the porch!' At the last minute he chickened out, deciding to control his tongue until he knew his nephew a little better.)
As the first signs of color were beginning to appear in the eastern sky, the two men, still au naturel, moved somewhat uncomfortably onto the porch. When Hank headed for the long outdoor porch swing, Jeb moved aside, situating himself in an old wicker chair. For at least a couple of minutes, there was a long, dead silence. Jeb finally began, "Kinda cool out here. Thanks for the hot coffee." Hank replied, "Yeah." Again, silence. Kicking his long legs out in front of him, the teen had obviously had it. "Uncle Hank," he began again, speaking carefully, intending every word he uttered. "Last night you apologized for possibly coming on a bit strong, but you made it perfectly clear that you were glad I was here and that you loved me. Will you accept the same thing from me? I'm real glad I'm here. Nearly four years ago, you know, I lost my father. Though not one family member visited me in prison, let alone him, I can't say that I missed him over those years. The truth is that I missed him every day of my life. He never wanted me - and he made sure I knew it. I've always been left with a...heart full of love with no one to give it to. There was one older man at the prison who helped me a lot, but he was murdered just before I left there. That's the way it is in prison - and sometimes, I think, in life. (Momentarily, the youngster's voice faded, and then returned to its full, adult force.) Will you forgive me for going too far too fast, have a lot of patience with me, and let us start again?"
Hank looked at the lad, patted the cushion next to him, and stretched out an arm. Eagerly, Jeb took the seat that he had wanted in the first place, got himself comfortable on the cushion, and softly laid his head against Hank's shoulder. Before he said a word, a man who had thus far had very little love in his life simply hugged the traumatized, deeply scarred teen tightly to his body, kissing him tenderly on top of his wild golden locks. Soon the sun had risen over the horizon and returned the Earth to full life. A beautiful day was clearly in store. Almost regretfully, Uncle Hank murmured, "Let's get a quick dip in the pool. (As he talked, he toyed with the gorgeous hunk who was snuggled up to him. The crafty elder's fingers seemed particularly drawn to thighs, derrières, and upper arm muscles!) Pretty soon it will be too cold for anything this side of a polar bear! Afterwards, we can break for a little breakfast and plan the rest of the day. Ok?" "Great, sir," Jeb replied enthusiastically. Any chance of bacon and eggs, easy over? I've dreamt of them for ages. I don't know what institutions use to make their egg dishes, but it's really grim!" "We agree," Hank replied. "I had to eat that stuff in the Navy. Yechh! Bacon and eggs, easy over? Sounds good! Now, beast... Last one in the pool has to do the breakfast dishes! GO!"
Jeb soaked up the last of the yolk with a corner of toast, inhaled it, sighed, and pushed his plate back from the edge of the table. "Wow, Uncle Hank...awesome!" he announced. Hank went on for several minutes about possibilities for the day. "Yes, sir," Jeb broke in, "that last one would be fine by me. I do have my prison account check and would like to pick up a few things that actually fit me, but there really isn't anything else on my list. That store in the strip mall outside the resort village sounds great. All the better that it lies on the other side of the mountain. I'd like to see some of this country in the daylight. So... Let me get at those dishes!" (Hank could growl and snarl with the best of them, but Jeb noticed that he grabbed a dishtowel and helped with the dishes!)
For years afterward, the blond one said that particular day was one of his all-time favorites. They drove the mountain roads with the top down, their dark glasses set jauntily on their happy faces, their hair blowin' in the wind. (Hank even remembered some of the words to that Bob Dylan tune and sang them lustily, albeit not always on-key: "How many roads must a man walk down/Before they call him a man?/.../How many years can some people exist/Before they're allowed to be free?/.../The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind/The answer is blowing in the wind." Well, the spirit was willing if the memory and the vocal cords were a little weak!)
Sometimes, as they drove through a hollow, they would spot a little store - solitary, existing there for no observable reason...or clientele - and they would stop. One, for instance, unmarked by blinking neon lights or worn advertising signs, offered a fascinating assortment of goods related to the paranormal. Hank was actually chuckling as he wafted a dark-colored plastic vial under Jeb's nose. "Ah shit, it didn't work," he mumbled. Jeb's questions established that it was dried and shredded Aconitum (monkshood), a poisonous herb which, if sprinkled around house openings, would surely hold a werewolf at bay! "Sorry to disappoint you", whispered the lad as he turned his back on the elder Taylor and bared his fangs (rather like flicking the middle finger). For some reason, this hit his funny bone.
Snickering on and off until they entered the resort village that was their general destination, Jeb noticed two clothing stores. Their prices were astronomical! The blond-haired one was happy to head a mile or two outside town where their county road met the Interstate. As they had been told, a small strip mall included a good-sized "men's" store that offered almost anything you could want associated with camping, backpacking, fishing, and outdoor clothing. After nearly an hour, Jeb had located two pairs of shorts (of the right color, right fabric, right inseam, right styling, etc., etc., etc.), a pack of two T-shirts of an unfamiliar brand, a pack of two low-rise Jockey briefs, and a few odds and ends. Inasmuch as Jeb hadn't had opportunity to set up a new account and deposit his check in Abington (the location of Uncle Hank's main dwelling), his uncle advanced him the relatively modest amount of money.
Returning to the car with his packages, Jeb burbled how happy he was to have some shorts that fit. Hank was going to ask him what was wrong with the pair he was wearing, but two factors intervened. Noting that there was an east-west state highway some miles south that would get them home before one or two in the morning, he got busy getting onto the southbound Interstate. Secondly, he suddenly noticed something that he felt he should have spotted earlier. There wasn't anything wrong with his nephew; i.e., he wasn't mentally ill or handicapped, at least in the normal sense of that word. Nevertheless, having grown up in a family without love, followed by having to spend nearly four highly formative years in an adult prison with no hope of ever getting out, he was badly...scarred. God knows, he was a sweet human being. As a young man almost eighteen years of age, however, he suffered from certain kinds of immaturity. For instance, he didn't seem able to forecast the consequences of his actions. (He laughed to himself. How many eighteen year olds were really strong in this area? It was just that Jeb was noticeably weaker.) He also evidenced no trust whatsoever in his fellow men. That, too, had developed well beyond the expected...and the necessary... and presented a problem. Finally - at least for the moment - there was little doubt that the strikingly handsome young man was gay. That promised problems no matter how strong, how loving his history. Well, there were tasks for him, and he looked forward to making his contribution! Strange... Hank didn't begin to realize how his emotions - the unbelievable love he felt for the lad - affected his intellectual estimates, nor the problems this would cause ere they reached the end of their journey together.) Suddenly, he was aware of the youngster pulling on his sleeve. Just ahead on the right was an old roadhouse, actually a fine restaurant that he had visited several times. Good thing Jeb shook him out of his deep introspection before they passed it - or met a big truck on a sharp curve on the relatively narrow road! In any case, they enjoyed a fantastic meal in a most pleasant mountain setting.
("Life, uh... Finds A Way" [to quote Dr. Ian Malcolm in Jurassic Park II])
Perhaps, there is one more little...happening that the reader will enjoy hearing about from that first full day. Jeb had absolutely stuffed himself at the roadhouse! Before they had driven five miles, he was lying back in his bucket seat, sawing wood. Looking over at him affectionately, Hank could swear that he saw something moving! Had a small animal crawled into the car while they dined? Inasmuch as he wasn't at his sharpest either, he put it out of his mind and paid even greater attention to his driving - but it happened again! Trying to watch the boy and the road at the same time was not easy in his present condition, but he decided he would try a bit longer before pulling over and trying to sleep in a very tiny driving compartment. There...he saw it again. The strange movement seemed to be taking place near the colossal bulge that Jeb always sported where his muscular thighs came together. Oh, God, something had gotten into the car...and it was beginning to make its way down his leg! He hoped to hell it wasn't poisonous! Leaning back, for he didn't want an angry serpent to emerge, spot him, and strike, he watched its progress carefully. It didn't take it long to escape, for the legs of those old shorts were not only somewhat worn, but they were quite... short. Wriggling into view, its head suddenly appeared below the bottom seam. What the hell...? What kind of viper was that! Rosy red, its head was massive. (As an amateur herpetologist, he was familiar with "coral next to yellow"...or "brown with diamond markings", but "rosy red" escaped him!) Damn, it was growing thicker! Quickly, he parked the car on the side of the road. Though sweat was pouring into his eyes, he thought that he could see the eye...no, it had to be the mouth, for it was spitting its venom. It just kept coming! Holy . . . Was he dealing with an anaconda or, perchance, an escaped adult Burmese python? He had to save his boy! Depending on skills observed while watching NatGeoWild on TV, he gripped the serpent firmly behind the head and began pulling it up and away until, hopefully, he could force it out the window. Only two problems... Very much liking the feeling...the musculature...of the creature, he wondered if he should think about keeping it as a pet. If only it weren't an endangered species... To his uncle's astonishment, Jeb suddenly came to life, screamed, and completely lost it. Even though Hank offered to buy several additional pairs of pants for him, the incident took a lot of explaining!
(To Be Continued)