Chapter 214


Our hope is that every homosexual youth in this country can find a home and someone to love them as they are.
No one deserves to be discriminated against, no matter what their differences from society's norm

A tidy quote from chapter 137
"titles belong on books, not people" ©Carl Dickson—2007

Does your mother know you're reading this shit?

Warning: This story is PORNO. I have tried my hand at friction, now I'm trying fiction. This story contains vivid descriptions of sexual activity between men and teen boys.
It contains no truth, partial truth, or half truth. What it does contain is stroking material. If this kind of story turns you off, or offends you, please find something else.
The author does not encourage or condone sex between adults and underage children.

If you are underage, or if this is illegal where you are, then please go away. If you're under 18, Adios come back when it is legal for you to read this smut.
If you lied about your age in order to access this story, remember this is our story. Life doesn't always work out like a story.

A strongly worded suggestion has resulted in this statement.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either
are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitioiusly,
and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Thus said, this story is copyrighted, ©2005-2012. It is therefore illegal to copy or use any part of this story on any other web site without my written permission.

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    I slid in next to Luke at lunch the next day. He and Dane were sitting together and making lovey eyes at each other. Dane looked over Luke's shoulder and saw me staring at him. He pulled away from Luke and cast his eyes down at the table. There was only one thing that I could do, "You two make a cute looking couple and I can see that you love each other."
    Dane spoke toward his plate of food, "Daddy, we do. I don't want to hurt Rod, but I need a real man to love." Luke blushed and then he looked down at the table.
    "We don't really have a lot of control over whom we love. When that love is returned it can be a true joy. I only pray that this love lasts for the two of you and that you don't go shopping around too often."
    "I ain't never had the chance to get back with you since that one night last year," Luke said quietly. "I know that I love Dane, but I would still like to have one of those pins."

    All of the time that I was talking to Luke and Dane I kept seeing Paul Harmon as he moved around the room. I am almost sure that some of the boys may have mentioned to him my story of a night at my old teacher's—Stark's,—house. If they told Paul about my foray with a Larry Harmon then I had some work cut out for me.
    I wanted to take Paul off somewhere so that the two of us could be alone. I have so many boys that need one on one time, but at the present Paul was at the top of my list. A rare opportunity presented itself in the form of an unexpected phone call.
    Mavis Mayville wanted to celebrate her one hundred and fourth birthday by giving me a gift. I listened to the lady as she laid out her plans for me and I was beyond awe struck.
    Ms. Mavis invited me to visit her at her ranch for the weekend, and she begged me to please bring along some of my boys. I saw that as the perfect opportunity to get away with Paul Harmon.
    I decided that I would take the three cousins off and talk to them in a neutral setting. I asked Phil Drapman and Luke Tanner to join us, but I didn't invite any boyfriends. I don't know what Ms. Mavis knows about my boys, but I didn't feel comfortable with the idea of a bunch of over sexed boys hanging all over each other in front of little old ladies.

    Mavis Mayville is the daughter-in-law of a historical figure in Southern Arizona. Her father-in-law had been instrumental in settling the various Indian tribes into their own homeland and creating a peace between the whites and the natives of our great state. He had been the first territorial lawman with authority that was backed up by the meager military presence that slowly built up after the Civil War.
    Indians and soldiers don't mix very well. Willis Mayville was the son of an honest southern lawman and he learned his skills at his father's knee. When the war between the states broke out fourteen year old Willis headed north. His family did not support the primary causes of the south's action. His father sent the boy off with his blessing and the promise that should the fighting get too close to the family's hometown that he and his wife would join Willis at his aunt's home.
    Willis enjoyed his time with his mother's sister. Her husband was a teacher at a large university and he allowed Willis to attend his classes. After only a few months Willis was accepted as a regular student at the university. The eager boy applied himself to studies of world history, especially that part where slaves and their struggle gained solid ground.
    Slavery is wrong on so many levels and the young boy had always hated seeing the oppression of one human being against other human beings. He was out of step with the society of Dixieland. The slave owners of the area complained to the boy's father more than a few hundred times. Old Sheriff Mayville quietly explained that his son was following the dictates of his heart. He told the naysayers that Willis studied and believed the Bible and its teachings against slavery.
    By the time that the war was over Willis had amassed more knowledge on the evils of oppressing other human being than any single scholar had ever amassed before. That was not the sole area of his time at the university. He had also studied law with a direction toward enforcing law through the use of a badge.
    His knowledge of the modern science of criminal investigation, as well as means of bringing the law to backward lands and people, made him a special wonder to General Grant.
    General Grant's Provost Marshall brought the boy to the attention of the general. At age seventeen Willis was still a small boy in many ways. He paid attention to the development of his body with daily workouts and cross country running. He stood a gangly six feet two inches tall, but barely carried one hundred and fifty pounds on his frame.
    General Grant first saw Willis when he was invited to a college boxing championship by his Provost Marshall. Willis quickly dispatched four opponents in first round bouts, his best match only lasted nineteen seconds and was won by a knockout.
    General Grant was interested in the boy's mind. He met with Willis many times over the next two weeks. The general had a strong military mind set and he planned a test for the boy.
    After a late dinner and long interview with the general Willis took up the long walk to his home through a seamy part of the city. The night was especially dark as a heavy fog clung to the ground. In the most deserted part of his walk home Willis was jumped by two shadowy figures that appeared from nowhere.
    In reality the two men were sergeants in the Union Army, but they talked as if they planned to harm Willis, after robbing him. Willis was quick. His size and skinny build belied the action that took place that night as he soundly beat the two hijackers within an inch of their lives.
    The entire episode was monitored, but events developed so quickly that no one was able to prevent the injuries to the two sergeants. The monitors were supposed to step out and save Willis. Willis was not the one that needed saving.
    The end result of his time with General Grant was Willis going to the southwest territories as a seventeen year old US Marshall. He was commissioned to investigate the rumors of slavery amongst the indigenous inhabitants of the area. There was word that southern gentlemen were rebuilding their empires in the west.
    Willis built a name and a reputation for himself over the subsequent years. He helped to establish the Indians onto safe lands and bring peace between the influx of white settlers into the virgin territory.
    He also amassed a fortune for himself and built a very large cattle ranch to the northeast of the area that is now known as Tucson. That ranch was the subject of my meeting with Mavis.
    Mavis has led a full life and is preparing to leave this world. She has no surviving relatives to inherit her large estate. She did not want the state of Arizona taking over her ranch. She made me an offer that I would be a fool not to accept.

    The Mayville ranch is known as the West Highland—so named after the town in South Carolina where Willis was born and raised. The name of the ranch was accurate in many ways. The thirty six hundred acres rose from the desert floor up the side of a mountain that is more impressive than those in the Coronado National Forest.
    My cabin on Mount Lemon sits at eighty nine hundred feet above sea level in the middle of the pine forest that covers most of the Coronado National Forest. West Highland rose up through a stand of white pine and fir trees to an altitude of seventy five hundred feet. There will still be snow there, but I don't know about skiing on it. The main reason is that the ranch sits on the south slope of the mountain so snow won't last long and it will most probably be a wet snow.
    The drive to the ranch was pleasant. The road followed along a river bed, that is dry except in the rainy season or during the snow melt. The monsoons had recently ended in the desert southwest and a small trickle of water still meandered along creating a very pleasant change from the usual dry and dusty landscape.
    We were moving along a decent climb from about twenty five hundred feet to around thirty two hundred feet as we drove toward the ends of two low mountains. The mountain to the north formed the south end of the Catalina mountain range while the lower mountain to the south was part of the Rincon range. When we rounded a sharp curve the road came to an abrupt end.
    There had been signs posted along the road that stated that the road was a dead end and that it would end, but it still came upon us suddenly. Spanning the roadway was a twelve foot adobe gateway with a heavy iron gate set firmly in place.
    I drove up to the touch pad and entered the six digit code that Mavis Mayville had given me over the phone. The gates quietly swung open to allow our entry. Almost as rapidly as it takes to tell about it our surroundings changed from flat desert to green mountain pastures with trees of various sizes beginning to fill the verdant meadows.
    We didn't climb over five hundred feet, but the air cooled down and a sense of peace and quietude overcame us. I looked at my three companions and saw in their eyes a sense of solicitude that I had never seen in them before. These are boys who have come to me after trauma in their lives. They are victims and as such they are wary of everything around them. They are always fearful of…whatever their demons are.
    We traveled almost two miles through the pleasant countryside. We had picked up a flowing river about seventy feet wide that gently flowed toward the desert floor that we had left behind. I was amazed at the water, rivers just don't flow in southern Arizona in the summer time.
    There are streams up in the mountains that form popular swimming sites for the dehydrated youth of the desert. It was on one of those streams that Isaac Rayburn was swept away to his death by a flash flood. That stream, and its series of falls, is at a higher altitude than the river that we were driving next too.
    I know that there are rivers in this state that flow merrily along only to disappear into the ground. Geologists tell us that there are many underground rivers in Arizona. I shuddered as I thought about being pulled underground by such a river. Who knows where one would come back into the light—alive or dead.
    The road led us across a high valley meadow and to a large house sitting a few hundred yards from the tree line at its edge. The scene was picture perfect and gave me a feeling of contentment that I had not known before. Sitting off to the side, about two hundred yards east of the house, were large buildings—two of which were two stories tall. There were six buildings in all, clustered about in a semi-circle and facing the large house.
    The road on which we had traveled curved off to the east and disappeared over a low rise of hills. I turned into a long drive that led to the house and to a genteel lady standing in the shade of the wide porch. At first glance I was reminded of Hillary Carpenter with her regal bearing and presence of being.
    I pulled the car into a parking space near the front door where the boys and I disembarked. I was very proud of the boys, they acted like perfect gentlemen as we approached the ancient dowager and were greeted with a cordiality that bespoke of genteelism and a proper upbringing.
    The boys bowed to the lady and took her hand. They didn't shake it, they just held it as if it were a precious flower. We were directed to chairs set about a table where a large pitcher of cold lemonade and a plate of simple cakes and cookies awaited us.
    Mavis stopped short and looked at me with horror in her eyes. "My gracious me, what am I thinking? You have been on the road for several hours and quite possibly need the use of a restroom. Please feel free to refresh yourselves. It is the second door down the hallway to your left. The boys made a mad dash for the facilities as I sat down with Mavis for our first face to face introductions.
    The boys returned in short order and Mavis looked at me, "You may be excused, Chris." I smiled at our hostess and headed off to relieve my travel tensions.
    Once we were all together we enjoyed the cold lemonade, not too sweet, just a bit tart, the way we all like it. Mavis poured out her plans before the boys. Their eyes were as large as the three inch round cookies on the plate before us. I had heard what she was offering when we talked on the telephone, but the impact of her words face to face still thrilled me.
    Mavis Mayfield is the last of her family. Her own ancestors had long passed away and she and husband had never had children. Willis Mayfield had fathered one son, Mavis's husband. The son had worked alongside of his father in the early part of the twentieth century and helped to build the ranch to its present state.
    The son married late in life. He was forty nine when he took twenty five year old Mavis as his wife. Mavis was a lady, born and raised in St. Louis amongst wealth and plenty. She was swept off of her feet by the bronze skinned cowboy from Arizona. He had money and he spent it freely during his courtship of the young debutante. He impressed her father enough that he didn't hesitate to give his blessing to the man's request for the hand of Mavis in marriage.
    Mavis immediately followed her husband west and fell in love with West Highland. She added the feminine touch to the ranch that Willis's deceased Apache wife had never accomplished. Mavis made herself a home as she fell in love with the open spaces and the tall piney woods. She was at peace and never wished to return to the big city life that she left behind.
    She visited her family from time to time and they made their way out to visit with her. It was on one of those trips that her parents expressed their desire to remain at West Highland for the remainder of their lives. The elderly couple took rooms at the west end of the house and lived out their days in the peaceful surroundings.
    Now Mavis has come to her life's end and she has no one to whom she wishes to leave the property. The state would like to have the thirty six hundred acres of pristine land. Several real estate developers had made sizable offers for the ranch. They wanted to turn it into golf courses and country estate housing. Mavis wanted no part of knowing that her ranch would be subdivided.

    Mavis had investigated me. She knew much of my history, and she was impressed. She admired me for taking in lost boys and giving them a solid home and a good education. She thought that her country sitting would be an ideal place for a school for the boys.
    We were directed to the rooms that we would occupy for the weekend so that we could change our clothing. Mavis wanted us to take a few hours to explore the area before we made a decision. A jeep waited at the front door for us. The driver offered to show us about, or we could ride horses. The boys that were with me had never sat a horse, but that did not dim their enthusiasm.
    A half an hour was spent in the corral as the boys familiarized themselves with their animals. I felt confident that I would not have to carry a boy back to town with a broken neck after the ranch manager finished his instructions.
    We were directed to a trail that led up into the forest. We were informed that our saddle bags contained food and drink for the trail. Each of us was given a two quart canteen of water that hung from the horn of our saddles. Mavis had thought of everything.
    I noticed a single grave site near the corral. I asked if that was one of the Mayfield men. The ranch manager told me that the family was buried behind the small chapel near the house. The grave in question was of his life partner, Festus. He told us that he and Festus had been together for fifty years. He was only twelve years old when the man rescued him from the streets and loved him until death parted them.
    Suddenly I had a very good feeling about West Highland and the people that I would have to deal with. The manager told us that about a mile up the trail we would find a hot spring fed pool where he and Festus used to like to swim naked and make love under the trees. He winked at me and smiled at the boys. I would have to have an understanding with him about the boys and sex. He is sixty two years old, or better. That would scare most of my boys to death.
    I have ridden horses all around the world—England and Oklahoma—I thought that I had some fine experiences. I love to ride naked with Cory at my side as we wind our way through the lowland woods of the old reservation in Oklahoma. Nothing prepared me for the wonders that I experienced on our ride through the pines.
    As we progressed upward to higher altitudes the trees changed. We were getting into an area of true conifers with their tall, straight trunks that reached upwards sixty feet or more. The ground was covered with fallen pine needles that filled the air with such a fragrance that soothed the soul. We had passed through a stand of cedar. That aroma mixed with the white pine higher up for a flagrance very soothing to a city boy's smog clogged airways.
    A turn in the trail exposed a small pond just off to the left and in a little glen surrounded by the tall trees. The boys headed down toward it without a word spoken. Our horses were secured to a tall tree where hay had been spread out on the ground for them to eat. A water trough was being filled by a pipe that led from a hole in the rock wall. I checked the water, it was delicious. Deep mountain spring water, cold, clear, and pure.
    The boys were naked and touching their toes to the water of the pond. The water near the rock face was about one hundred and ten degrees. A little warm to dive into. The water further out cooled considerably. At the far end of the fifty foot wide pond the temperature was about eighty degrees, as judged by a toe in the water.
    Phil is the bold one of the three boys. He dove into the water at about the middle. He came up to tell us that there was a huge water leak at the bottom of the pond and it was pouring out cold water. That explained the water cooling off as it moved away from the hot spring coming out of the cliff face.
    I dove into the water and found it to be about twenty feet deep near the cold water spring. The water at the bottom of the pond was very cold, about forty five to fifty degrees. The cold water held to its denser thermal level as it slowly mixed with the hot water from above.
    I slowly swam toward the hot water source and determined that the temperature there was at an uncomfortable level. I pulled up when the water got up to near one hundred and thirty degrees. One hundred and forty degree water can blister the skin and I didn't want to cook in a mountain spring.
    Paul and Luke stayed close together in water of about ninety five degrees. The only thing missing were the jets of aerated water that we were used to from our spas and hot tubs. The boys were out away from the bank where they were treading water. I swam up to them and put my arm around Paul. He melted against me.
    Phil joined us and I left him with Luke as I pulled Paul to the opposite shore where we left the water to lay on the grass. I pulled Paul to me, he wanted to be closer. He moved up so close that our skin began to grow together. He looked at me then moved atop me and began a tonsil searching fight that caused our cocks to grow and begin their own fight with each other.
    "Fuck, you are hung. I have seen that up close, but it still amazes me how big it is. I think that I am ready to have you shag me." I was not ready for that. I wanted to talk awhile. A boy with a hardon does not want to talk, he wants to get off. I compromised with an old fashioned sixty nine. Sixteen year old Paul was full of cum, I got four of his loads before we rejoined the other two boys.
    Luke was walking with a wide stance. Phil had cum running down the back of his legs so I knew that the two boys had shared and shared alike. We had only been at the pond about an hour and a half so we had time. I suggested a four way circle suck. Luke has a very fine tasting butt, if the residue on Phil's cock is any indicator.
    Luke sucked me. He did a good job as he worked all of me deep into his throat and only gagged twice. He worked on me for twenty minutes before I gave him what he wanted, he didn't lose a drop.
    I managed to get two loads out of Phil, but I had to milk his prostate with two fingers. It was fun milking with his anus full of milk from his young cousin. I got some of that milk as I let Phil rest between orgasms. I love fine dining at a fresh fucked YATM, don't you know.
    After leaving our refreshing swim we continued on along the trail for another quarter of a mile. The trail branched off. One fork seemed to lead on up into the tundra while the other took a more of a downhill track. We decided to go downhill. We enjoyed the forest, but we wanted to see what else the ranch had to offer.
    We followed the trail downward for a little less than a mile when we were suddenly back in the full daylight without the canopy of trees overhead. We were on the ridge of a low mountain that sloped back to the desert floor some five or six miles ahead. The area showed signs of an old forest fire. The trees appeared to be no more than ten or fifteen years old and burnt tree trunks stood out in contrast amongst the new growth.
    The low canopy of forestation afforded us a view of the ranch that revealed the overall scope of the magnificent property. The river that we had driven alongside of coming in curved off to its beginnings on the east face of the mountain range. The road that we had driven along circled about, more or less following the course of the river.
    Large pastures of green verde swept the entire flat land. One could almost see large herds of cattle grazing in times gone by. Far off to the north was a small cluster of buildings, but other than that no other structures could be seen save those near the main house where we started our adventure from.
    The sun was headed for its nighttime destination and we decided that we should follow its lead or be caught out in strange territory in the dark. A short distance ahead we located a trail that seemed to lead back to the main compound. We took that trail and an hour or so later we were back at the corral once again.

    The ranch manager met us and showed the boys how to settle the horses in. The three boys are old enough that they were not put off by the sweating animals as they brushed their coats and provided fresh water and feed to their afternoon transportation.
    As I curried my steed I visited with the manager. I learned that his name is Nolan. He is sixty nine years old and wants to live the remaining days of his life on the ranch. He maintains a herd of one hundred horses, all fit for the saddle. At one time in the past Mavis had considered opening her ranch to tourists, but later thought better of that idea.
    Nolan had argued that tourists would only trash the fragile land and turn it into another rich man's playground. He and Festus had convinced Mavis to rid herself of the large herds of cattle in the mid nineteen eighties. Cattle prices were at a high and it seemed the right time to divest herself of the rigors of being a cattle baroness.
    The two men kept a small herd of twenty horses that had been used by the ranch hands to maintain the cattle and the land. The hands had all drifted on after the sale of the cattle, but the horses stayed and did what animals do, they multiplied. Nolan and Festus trained the horses and built a fine looking herd of the powerful beasts.
    Nolan looked at me and told me that the boys would love to ride the horses bareback. He grinned and added that the horse would not be the only one naked. I asked him if there had been other boys that had ridden bareback. He told me that most of the ranch hands that had been around had come from the city as throw away boys and that they enjoyed being naked in the peace of the wooded surroundings.
    He asked me if we were refreshed from our swim and other activities at the hot spring. I looked at him and he turned to watch a hawk flying overhead. I somehow knew that he had been at the pond and had watched us in our interlude. "Them boys there is nothing but good looking. I like that young one the best. I always enjoyed making it with a youngster. Them days is gone, but I still remembers.
    "Don't you worry none. I won't be making advances on you or uren. I just like to look is all." That sounded nice, but the facts are that looking leads to thinking and thinking can lead to desires that can sometimes be acted on. I wondered if I could trust Nolan amongst my precious wards. Something about him made me believe that I could.

    We gathered in a very large formal dining room for our evening meal. Carved into the granite mantle piece of the large fireplace was a favorite quote from Lord Dewar: "Footprints on the sands of time are not made by sitting down." I pointed the saying carved in stone out to the boys. They pondered at the words and agreed that nothing ever gets done by sitting around and wishing for it.
    Nolan joined us at the house for dinner. I was impressed with the variety of foods that were laid out for us. I had not seen anyone else about so I was curious about who had prepared the large casserole of baked beans and the huge bowl of cold potato salad.
    There was a garden salad with every variety of garden green and accouterments imaginable. Mavis looked at Nolan and told us that he was a big help with her garden. She grew everything that we ate in her large garden on the north side of the house. She told us that her citrus orchard did not produce as much as one at a lower altitude would, but her peaches and apples were plump and delicious.
    She said that the beans were the hardest for her. She could no longer snap the pods to separate the beans to be dried for future use. She had several fifty pound sacks of dried beans left from earlier times and that was enough to see her through to her final day.
    I must admit that I was in awe of the robust frontier woman. She was not large, don't misunderstand me. She was of hardy stock in her makeup. She didn't appear to have ever been a stout woman. I could see the slight debutante from St. Louis in her five foot four frame that held no more than one hundred pounds of bones and flesh. It was her manner and her work ethic that had carried her through one hundred and four years of life. Seventy nine of those years spent right there on that ranch.

    "Mr. Chris," she began. "I want you to feel at home here. I would be very proud if you will accept my offer to give you all of this land with no strings attached. However I want you to get the full pleasure of what this ranch has to offer. There is plenty of privacy here and what occurs here, stays here.
    "Nolan has told you that we became home to many young boys over the years. My husband was a boy lover and that never concerned me. He loved me and provided for me. He had many boys that grew up to manhood on this ranch and he spent as much time with them as his health could endure.
    "He lived to be eighty four years old and he was active with the boys until the day that he fell. We had thirty five wonderful years together and he never let me forget that I was a beautiful woman and that he loved me. We tried to have children of our own, but I told him that he spent so much time with the boys that he was just shooting blanks at me. We laughed, but we both knew that it was me, I could never have born a child due a childhood illness that left me barren.
    "Willie Jr. died fighting the fire of '65. That long ridge along the top of Fire Mountain is a lightening magnet. We have had four fires on that mountain since I have lived here. Willie's horse spooked and the two of them went down. Of course he was naked and the burns were terrible. The boy with him did not survive, nor did the horse.
    "Willie lingered for seven months. He was slow to heal so his recovery never came. I think that it was guilt over the youngster that died. The boy was the grandson of an old Indian that lives up on the north side of the ranch. Those Indians were friends of old man Willis and helped him with the cattle. The Indians don't like for their boys to like to sleep with men so he was sent to us to raise.
    "Over the years we have had twelve boys from there live with us, and Willie loved everyone of them.
    "The Indians know that I am going to get rid of the ranch. They live on my land free and with no encumbrances. They have around a hundred or more head of cattle that they raise for food and their skins. They don't ask for anything and don't bother anybody. They don't want to see a land developer come in here and chop this ranch up.
    "I have not spoken any names, but I have told them that I would like to give the ranch to a man that has several hundred homosexual boys in his care. I think that the boys in your European schools would throughly enjoy a visit to a real wild west ranch where they can ride horses in the nude and swim in our lakes and rivers.
    "You may not have seen it from the ridge, but just over the hills to the east of the corral is a six hundred acre lake. It is stocked with a variety of fish that gave many hours of pleasure to Willie and the boys.
    "The river comes down from the mountains and fills the lake then continues on its course across the ranch and ends at a rock bluff that rose up in an earthquake in nineteen thirty six. The river falls underground and no one knows where it goes from there.
    "The elders of the tribe have told me that they would like to see such a man as you take over the ranch. They seem to have more squaw boys than ever before and they want them to find a good home." With that she rang a small silver bell that she had in her lap. Six perfect young Indian boys entered the room in their all together, and believe me they were all together in all of the right places.
    "I want to provide for these boys after I am gone. The state makes me educate them now adays so they are all home schooled. They use those new computers things to study on and they go into town every two months or so for testing to see if they are learning.
    "They help Nolan and me around the place and they take good care of me. Nolan is having trouble getting it up anymore, but the boys still love him. He says he doesn't need sex any longer. He has been like that since old Festus died. Festus was a boy that found his way onto the ranch during the war years, I believe that it was about nineteen forty two or three. Willie found him cowering in an alley down in town and brought him home. He was seventeen and could not join the Army because he was a degenerate.
    "Festus was with us for about five years when he went along with Willie to town and brought back Nolan. Nolan was so small and frightened. I loved him from the start. He slept with Festus that first night and the two of them were together until Festus passed on in two thousand and one, he was seventy six years old. I mourned along with Nolan, it was as if I had lost a family member."

    The boys and I headed off to our rooms for the night. I was not finished with Paul. I still needed to get my conscience clear about my relationship with his father. Did I turn Larry into a homicidal pedophile? I have a lot of making up to his son to do.
    I took Paul to my bed that night. We talked for awhile then he spread his legs and asked me to show how sorry I was. Paul looks so much like his father did at the same age. I tried to apologize for making Larry into the kind of person that would hurt his own sons. Paul wouldn't accept my apology until he had dumped three thick loads across his belly. Two hours later he asked me to apologize again.
    Around two in the morning I held Paul against me as we kissed and fondled each other. He had told me many times in the past that he was not gay. He told me that he only slept with Richard because he is a needy boy. I told Paul that he was just as needy himself. Paul wanted to sleep with my pacifier in his mouth, that is one of my favorite ways to sleep.
    In the morning he told me that he had forgiven his father. He told me that Brother Cas taught from the Bible that we should forgive those who sin against us. He learned overnight that his father didn't make him gay, he was that way naturally. He had long blamed his father for many of his own problems, but spending the night in my arms showed him true peace and a sense of belonging. He would return to the school and show Richard all the love and more that the boy deserves.

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