Date: Sat, 4 Nov 2000 06:54:04 EST
From: VicHowel@aol.com
Subject: The Learning Season chapter 9

The Learning Season

It's that time, boys and girls.  Time for you to stand up and be counted.
Time for you to choose a future or a fake past.  It's your choice.  You and
your families are going to have to live with that choice for the next 25
years and maybe longer.  Vote.

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CHAPTER EIGHT

Rich woke late the next morning. The sun was streaming through the window
and he ached all over. He wondered idly how Vic managed the drive - after
all, he was forty-four, a lot older than Rich. He forced the man from his
mind and stretched lazily.

Climbing out of bed, he put himself through a set of apple jacks to limber
up and followed them up with deep knee bends. He'd managed to build up a
sweat by the time he'd finished.

He started toward the bathroom and the shower it offered. The bedroom door
opened then and he stopped in mid-stride. The door framed Hank clad in a
short, skimpy robe, holding two cups of coffee.

"I heard you moving around and thought you might want a fix of caffeine."
The blond's voice trailed off as his eyes took in Rich's nudity. A smile
slowly grew on his face. "That's what I call really nice," he said finally
and licked his lips.

"Don't you know how to knock?" There was more exasperation in his voice
than anger. He'd already accepted that, somehow, some-thing like this would
happen between them. A part of him he'd never really thought about thrilled
at being seen and appreciated. He was rapidly becoming steely hard.

"I didn't think - I'm sorry." Hank's thin apple green kimono robe barely
concealed anything below his waist. Rich realized suddenly that he wanted
to see the rest of the other man and tried not to blush. He knew, however,
where that would lead and hoped they could get past this situation without
this Hank becoming another Ron.

"Want the coffee?" Hank asked softly, sensing the change in him but keeping
his eyes on the man before him and his hard cock.

Rich laughed. "Yeah, I might as well. Let me take a leak first - and get a
robe on - your staring at me isn't helping my equilibrium any."

"You sure don't need the robe, honey."

"I'd be downright uncomfortable sitting down to coffee and watching you
drool any more than you're already doing." He turned and started toward the
bathroom.

Hank whistled. "Those are about the cutest buns I've seen in a long time."
Rich blushed again and slammed the door behind him.

Rich didn't understand himself. It was insane for him to be standing in
front of the john and trying to take a piss through an erection. Especially
one he'd gotten from looking at the hairdresser with a sexual curiosity he
didn't understand. It was also insane for him to continue putting up with
the other man's blatant interest.

He was attracted to Hank though; and that was what he did not
understand. It confused him. He did love Vic and that was supposed to be
enough. Besides, the man was good in bed - at least, he was able to do to
him everything Ron had and it'd felt better. He was no closer to
understanding why he wanted this Hank when he had Vic as he pulled his robe
about him and stepped back into the bedroom than he'd been when he'd left
the man moments earlier.

Hank was lying across the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The skimpy
material of his robe barely rode the bottom of his buttocks. It covered his
cock but not his balls - and they were directly in Rich's line of sight,
bunched on top of his closed legs. He stopped short and stared. His cock
stirred and Vic was promptly forgotten.

Hank's legs were long and muscled. The pubic hair was dark blond and a part
of Rich was relieved that the hairdresser didn't color his hair.

"Your cup's getting cold," Hank told him.

"What?"

"Your coffee, honey." The man sat up then and his cock fell off his abdomen
onto his thigh.  Thick and long, its blind eye seemed to stare unblinkingly
at him. He felt himself blushing yet again and his own cock was now at full
mast. He let out an involuntary gasp and his eyes stayed glued to the other
man's body, betraying his surrender.

The blond grinned and scooted across the bed. "Apparently, the coffee's the
only thing getting cold around here." Hank's cock grew hard as he stood up
and crossed the room to him.

His fingers moved the robe over Rich's shoulders slowly before slipping
down his chest to untie its sash, letting it fall to the floor. He smiled
brightly into the violet eyes staring at him.

"We shouldn't-"

Hank's fingers brushed against the younger man's again erect cock, ignoring
him.

"Please, don't," Rich protested, his voice flat. Ignoring him, Hank kissed
his lips.

He moved in a fog then to press himself against the other man. The only
thing that was real was this Hank - and his own sudden hunger. Nothing else
existed. Nothing mattered. His tongue hungrily sought the blond's and his
hands fumbled at the other man's robe - pushing its filminess away.

"Fuck me," Hank groaned as he broke away from the kiss and began to pull
Rich back onto the bed.

"I-" Hank's mouth found his again, cutting him off. Together, they fell on
the bed and Rich was on top of the other man. Hank's legs moved up along
his sides until his knees rode his flanks. His hand went quickly between
them and grabbed Rick's cock and his other hand pulled an opened condom
from his robe.

Rich looked down at the man in surprise. Between them, his cock had been
caught and was being directed toward Hank's ass-cheeks. Beneath him was the
tightest, cutest body he'd ever seen.

"Fuck me now." Hank groaned up at him, his heels digging into Rich's
buttocks.

His cock slipped into the tight, creamy canal and gasped at the unknown
sensation. "It feels so good," Rich mumbled, leaning forward through the
man's thighs to nuzzle his ear.

"You ain't kidding, gay boy - it does feel good. Just bang me good and
long, that's the way I like it."

Sensations crashed over him like a high-speed kaleidoscope. His cock was
encased in a tightness that he'd never imagined but that only heightened
the sensations coursing through him.

Hank's ass was warm and creamy. It clutched at him, becoming even tighter,
as he retreated. It opened wide for him as he plunged forward. His body
tightened as it never had when he was under Vic. The hairs on the other
man's legs tickled his sides and raised his senses even further. He came
but did not stop. It was like nothing he'd ever done, and it was better
than everything he'd ever known.

He lay face down on the blanket and let the sun beat down on his back. His
mind still reeled from the enormity of what he'd done that morning. He had
betrayed Vic even more with Hank than he had with Ron. He had become a top
with the hairdresser, becoming the aggressor between them and claiming the
prize for doing so, but with Ron he'd submitted as a payment for the other
boy's labor.

As soon as he'd felt it acceptable to do so, he'd pulled away from Hank and
sat up in bed. "I think I'll go down to the beach."

I'll join you," the other man'd offered, his voice still dreamy.

He'd glanced back at him, still grappling with himself to understand what
they'd just done. "I need the time alone, Hank," he'd answered back finally
and hurriedly got out of the bed.

The man seemed to understand his need and to accept his momentary rejection
of him. "Okay," he'd offered nonchalantly. "I'll just cruise around town
and meet you back here in time for tea at the 'slip?"

"Yeah, I think that'd be good," he answered, pulling on a speedo. He hadn't
wanted to look at the blond man - or, even, to see him lying on the bed
naked and contented. "Lock the door when you leave, will you?"

Now, lying on his stomach in the afternoon sun, Rich Dailey didn't know
what to think. He only knew he felt he'd done something he wasn't supposed
to. He loved Vic Marshall. That was something he was as sure of as he was
of his own name.

Before, that first time he hadn't been sure. He'd liked the older man - and
respected him. But, that Friday night when he'd given himself to the man,
he'd been groping his way toward a way to express his homosexuality. He'd
been grappling with his fear and his desire for Ron and seeing Vic Marshall
as an escape from the uncertainties that engendered. And he'd been doing
whatever it took to have a roof over his head.

Now, though, as he looked back over the years he'd known Vic, it seemed he
always had loved him. And, since the sexual barrier between them had
crumbled, the man had become his world. Vic was everything he wanted - or
could imagine wanting. Still, he'd betrayed him and his trust. Again.

He'd had sex with a man other than the one he loved - two of them now. It
seemed he couldn't keep his pants up with a man around who showed the
slightest interest in him.

With Ron, though, he could almost justify what he'd done. He'd bought the
other man's help with sex. It'd been a trade of his pride and his
independence for sex. Hank, however, gave him no such excuse.

He was good looking and fun - especially in bed. It had even been an
experience he would always cherish - being on top with him. Only, he had
still cheated on Vic. And, the way he saw it, that was the whole crux of
the matter.

He had again threatened everything that the senior Marshall meant to
him. And there was no way he could justify that in his mind - not with
Hank. He'd gone for a good time in the sack basically. And it had been a
good time, too.

Yet, it had not been worth what he stood to lose. He had no answer for that
one. Or for any of the other questions and doubts he felt now under the New
England sun.

A shadow fell across the sand beside him and he turned back to see who had
come to stand over him. All he could see at first was a darkened silhouette
in the stark, sun-drenched sky.

"I've been looking for you," Hank told him.

"Hello, Hank." He felt his stomach lurch. The man suddenly made him
nervous.

"Got it worked out yet?"

"No," he answered, surprised at even being able to discuss it. "I can't get
a handle on it for some reason."

"May I say something?"

"Why not? I've run out of things to say to myself."

"You've got to see me as a diversion, Rich. I'm a good lay - I'm sex and
fun in the hay with no strings attached. You love this guy, and he's a
whole lot older and more experienced than you ... If you will, he's sown
his oats. But, he's still in Washington, and you're here - and so am I for
that matter."

"Why shouldn't I be true to him, though? It's just like a marriage - I'd be
pissed to all hell and back if he was doing it behind my back. Shit! I'd
probably just pack up and just leave!" As he spoke the words, an image of
Christie swam into the forefront of his mind, putting the lie to the words
as he uttered them.

"And lose everything you think you want? Sex is only a diversion, Rich -
falling in love with somebody else behind your lover's back - that is
cheating. Do you see the difference I'm trying to make?"

"Shit!" he growled. "I'd kill the bastard!"

"If you knew about it, maybe - come on, Rich." Hank sat down beside
him. "If this guy loves you - but he's out of town on business and finds a
piece twitching just for him. Do you think he'd come crying and telling you
all the lurid details?"

He nodded his head and found himself wondering what Vic had done the night
before. "It still doesn't make it right."

"He'd come back, though - that piece of ass forgotten once he had you and
your love at his fingertips again. None of us really knows what is right,
gay boy." He smiled. "The only thing that is right is love. Rich, you can
only really cheat if you divide your love. Do you understand?"

"Sure. You want me to party with you until Friday and, when Vic gets in, I
pretend as if I've been sort of lonely."

"You will be, dummy. Shit, you won't have seen this man for a week - and,
if you really do love him, you're going to have missed him - and he'll know
that the moment he sees you. He'll have your love - and that's all that's
important. Come on, Rich, we've got just enough time to clean up before the
booze starts flowing down at the 'slip."

The week that followed flowed by him like a dream. Somehow, and he never
could understand how, his scruples became unreal. Reality was the moment he
was living. He didn't forget Vic. He did miss him - more and more with each
passing day. He missed him when he walked alone along the beach, or ate
clam chowder alone at the little restaurant on Commerce, or entered any of
the shops that had meaning to him because Vic Marshall had always been
there with him in the past. Everywhere he went, P-town was like a living
memorial to the man he loved.

Whenever Hank intruded, however, another reality took him over. Thoughts of
Vic and life as both yesterday and tomorrow flew out the window. He joined
Hank at tea at the 'slip, he fell asleep in the other man's arms, and he
woke up with Hank positioning himself for his entry.

He liked Hank. The other man was as good a friend as Rich could imagine
having. But he didn't love him. His nights were moments of Hank's intense
reality; his days were the reality of Vic's absence - of needing him, of
missing the older man. He forced himself to stop wondering why his life had
become such a dichotomy and resigned himself to living it as it happened to
him - each day as it came to him.

Hank woke him Friday morning as he slipped into Rich's bed. Only, he didn't
find his cock already pressing against the blond's asslips. He was on his
side instead; and his knees were drawn up against his chest. The head of
the other man's cock was already easing its way inside him.

"What're you-?" He realized the question was ridiculous - he could feel
Hank's balls already crushing into his asscheeks. He took a deep breath and
giggled.

"Thought you might like to get back into the habit, gay boy," Hank
whispered in his ear. "After all, we can't have you getting to be too
butch, can we?" He accented the question by pulling his cock all the way
out of Rich and, then, ramming it back into him as hard as he could.

Rich yelped out in pain. "Cut the rough stuff," he grunted then and began
to stroke himself slowly. "Just fuck me good."

Later, Hank sat on the side of the bed and scratched absently at his pubic
thatch. "I guess I'd better get up and help you clean this joint."

"Huh?" He hadn't really been listening. He'd been reliving the ecstasy that
had been his while Hank was moving inside him. His ass still twitched at
the memory.

"I'm heading back to Plymouth, and you can't have daddy dearest walking
into this pig sty. There's way too many empty pizza boxes for a rational
man to accept." He turned and slowly smiled down at Rich. "Come on, gay boy
- let's get busy with this place."

"I guess we'd better," he grumbled and sat up. "Look, I really enjoyed-"

Hank's finger went quickly to his lips, silencing him. "We were an
interlude and don't you forget it. The real thing's due up here tomorrow
morning - and you've got to live happily ever after - I want to believe
that at any rate." The blond hairdresser stood and pulled on his
jeans. Slowly, he began to pick up the bits of his life that meant he'd
been in the house and in Rich's life.

Rich knew then that, soon, Hank would be just a dream to him. Vic was his
reality - his yesterday and his tomorrow.