Date: Sat, 26 Jan 2002 14:56:05 -0500 From: Tom Cup Subject: Terms Of Living - Chapter 3 Gay/Bi - A/Y Copyright 2001, 2002 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving youth/youth or adult/youth sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ************************************************************************ This story is part of the Tom Cup Library To support this and other stories by Tom Cup, or to view the list of stories featured in the Tom Cup Library, visit our website at http://tomcup.iscool.net ************************************************************************ Terms of Living By Tom Cup Chapter 3 Homework Andrew was feverish with flu. Of course I hovered over him, taking his temperature, forcing him to take fluids, pumping him with aspirin, and laying cool face clothes on his forehead. He smiled up at me with the glassy eyed look of the merely lucid. He pleaded with me not to leave him. I stayed with him as much as I could, ignoring most of my other duties. "I don't want to die yet," he said. "Andrew, you're not going to die." "I don't want to die until we make love." "Now I know the fever has you," I smiled and turned to leave. Andrew began to cry. "You don't love me. You don't love me." He looked so frail and helpless, sick with fever but sicker of heart. I loved him. We both knew this. His words meant something else. They meant that I didn't love him enough to forget my inhibition. Andrew was asking me to admit my feelings for him. He was asking me to state plainly my intentions. In a world that forbade the thought, Andrew was asking me to promise that one day we would be together. "I do love you," I whispered, "You know I do." He cried. I sat down on his bed, gathered him in my arms and kissed him lightly on the top of his head. "I'm so alone," he said, "I'm so alone." "I'm here Andrew. You're not alone." "Yes I am." We didn't speak of it again that day but I knew that my time of denial was over. I would have to face these feelings, one way or another. It was not enough for me to be his friend, mentor or confidant. Andrew wanted me as a lover. And I wanted him in the same way. Even as he lay in my arms hot and wet with fever, I was sexually charged. I wanted him. I wanted the warmth of his body, the soft firmness of his flesh, and the communion of his spirit. I wanted to dwell in the rapture of sexual fulfillment with him. I wanted to hear his panted joy of ecstasy. I wanted to feel him quake in pleasure. I wanted see the awe of love in his eyes. Yes, I wanted him. I had to face the fact. ***** "What's this?" Craig asked "My resignation." "You're not leaving us John." "I don't believe I can be of any further service to you." Craig crumbled the letter and threw it into the wastebasket next to his desk. I stared unbelieving into the basket. Surely he understood that my resignation was the best for all concerned. I was doing this to protect his family, to protect his only son. I could no longer count on my self-control where Andrew was concerned. I had to leave. It was the honorable thing to do. "First," Craig said, "If I accepted that resignation neither Sheryl nor Andrew would ever forgive me. Second, John running won't change the way you feel about Andrew; and God knows it won't chance how he feels about you." I sat, not because Craig gave me permission or because I wanted too, but because my knees went weak. I couldn't stand. I couldn't stand and listen to a man I considered a son speak of my having a relationship with his son as if it were... natural. And yet that was what Craig was doing. "Look," he said, "John I know this is hard for you. God knows what I would do if I were in your shoes. Hell, I'd probably want to turn tail and run too. But I know a few things about Andrew. He won't give up just because you resign. He may even go and experiment with someone that would wind up hurting him. I don't want that for my son. I would prefer if he weren't attracted to you... I mean, John, I would prefer if he was head over heels in love with some girl or woman. But he's not and indications are that he may never be. He's had a thing for you for a very long time now." He stopped and laughed, no doubt recalling how I was the last one in on this secret. I felt sick to my stomach. "I can't ask you to do this John. I really don't want to think about it. You know? But he loves you and you love him. Sheryl and I know you won't hurt him. We believe that. So whatever happens between you, it's OK. But the resignation, I can't accept." And so my noble gesture failed. Craig was right. No matter what happened between Andrew and I, I would never hurt the boy. In that statement I found the answer I was looking for. What was I afraid of? I was afraid of hurting Andrew. I was afraid that one day he would look back and think I had taken advantage of the situation, taken advantage of him. I was afraid that he really didn't know what he wanted, that after I had given myself to him he would decide I was not what he wanted. I was afraid that I would one day look in his eyes and see disgust. *********** "You think to much," Andrew said as we sat in the cottage discussing my feelings, "It's not like I don't know what I want." "How can you be sure?" "How can you?" "Andrew you answered a question with a question." "That's because it was a stupid question. You can't be sure about anything. Nobody can." "You think you want me. Maybe after we make love you will decide that you don't want me. I have all my experiences behind me Andrew. I can look back over...." "So do I! I don't have as many experiences as you do but all mine tell me I want this. Why can`t you believe that John?" "Because all of society says..." "Screw society! I don't care about society. All of society isn't here right now! I am talking about you, John. Why can't you believe I want this?" Why couldn't I believe it? I had answered one question and was presented with another. I was having a hard time believing Andrew knew what he wanted. Maybe it was because I had known him since birth. That made it hard to accept. I looked at him and remembered the bare assed baby having green poop wiped from his buttocks. I remembered his first steps, his first word ^Ö `ball' ^Ö I remembered how proud he'd been to learn to use the big potty. He was so familiar to me and yet unfamiliar. This new phase in his life, and in mine, was terrifying to me. I expected him to poop in his diapers. I expected that he would walk and talk and learn to use the `big potty'. His feelings for me, however, were unexpected. "I didn't expect this," I said. "What?" "I can't believe it because it is so unexpected. I thought it was because of social mores but when it comes down to it, it's because I didn't expect it. What you are asking is so unexpected that it is unbelievable to me." Andrew laughed. "Believe it." One of the hardest things to understand is one's self. I continued to be surprised at the new lessons I was learning as I dealt with my feelings for Andrew. I had believed that, at some point, both Andrew and I would be merged back into the lives we once knew, like a wayward tributary winding its way back into the river's main flow. I convinced myself that this was a passing phase and social values would take hold, molding us once again into responsible citizens ^Ö upholders of social norms, deniers of individuality for the sake of communal consistency. I was too old to be a rebel with a cause! "What am I going to do with you?" I whispered. He sat sidesaddle on my lap. His right cheek rested on my left shoulder. I wrapped him in my arms. The heat from his body mingled with mine. His hair had the faint smell of strawberry from his morning shower. I ran my hands over the silky softness of his adolescent arms. We both sighed. "I want to make love with you John. I want to try everything with you." "I don't know what that means, everything." "Everything." He hopped off my lap, grabbed my hand and led me to the computer. ^Ö It was a wonderful machine, Craig told me, a gift that Andrew insisted that I have. I used it for maintaining appointments and creating shopping list, those sorts of activities. Andrew was about to open a new world to me. ^Ö He explained the concept of DSL to me. I wouldn't have to remember any phone numbers. He showed me how to bookmark pages and store them in my browser history. "I think I'd better start you off slow," he added with a knowing grin. The screen opened to Nifty Erotic Story Archive. I could feel my body heat rising, my pores opening, sweat escaping my body. Two more clicks and we were in the Gay Men ^Ö Adult/Youth section of the site. I looked at Andrew as he stood and offered me the seat. "Start reading," he said. "Andrew, how did..." He rolled his eyes. "John, my dad works for Microsoft. Come on." "Yeah, I know but how did you find this...this... place?" "Site," He corrected getting pleasure from becoming my mentor, "It's called a `site.' You can find anything on the web if you know what you're looking for. I was looking. So I found it." "But why?" "Because I wanted to know, John. I wanted to know if there were other people out there that felt the same as me. I wanted to know if people dreamed about the same things I dreamed about. And there are, John. It's not just you and me. Look at it! Look at all the stories. We're not alone. We're not crazy." I looked at the screen. It was filled with names of stories. Andrew reached around and clicked one. It opened. "These are fictional you know?" I said to Andrew scanning the disclaimer. "Yeah," Andrew countered, "But when I read them it's like I'm there. I want the world to be like this John. I want to be able to love you and have you love me, and you not feel bad about it. And I want to do everything they do, with you. Everything." We held each other's gaze for a moment. The boy I once knew vanished from my eyes. In his place was an erotic tutor handing me my first homework assignment. I then looked to the screen and began reading my first gay erotic story: Davy's Diary. *********************************************************************** Send comments to: tom_cup@hotmail.com To support this and other stories by Tom Cup, join the Tom Cup Library at: http://tomcup.iscool.net. ***********************************************************************