|THE CASE OF THE GENTLE GYMNAST Copyright © 2005
by Jerry Leckie — A
young police detective, assigned to a gay missing persons
case, finds himself on a voyage of self-discovery when he begins to
question his feelings for his partner.
You may download my
writing from LeckieLand for your own reading pleasure; however, you may
not place my
writing on another web site or reproduce my stories for distribution
THE CASE OF THE GENTLE GYMNAST - PART FOUR
From Part Three,
Chapter Fourteen: A
clear crisp, cold October night had fallen on the city. After a
meal in the hotel, the boys were escorted to the floor that had been
reserved for them.
Brandon and Ed had been touching physically and in spirit since their
reunion at the command post, but they longed for a private
reconciliation. Consequently, they bid everyone a good night and
retired to their bedroom. There, they slowly undressed,
marveling at the sight of every portion of flesh exposed to view.
Ed had difficulty keeping his breath under control until Brandon was
naked - a vision of muscle, all man, lightly dusted with
blond hair so
fine that it
could barely be seen. In the midst of the picture lay
heavy genitals. Ed placed a hand on Brandon's chest. Inside that
powerful frame was a gentle, loving
passionate soul that adored and understood him. Ed would stand by this
Brandon had no better control over his breath than Ed. To him, Ed was
perfect man, small of stature and perfectly proportioned, in keeping
with his Japanese heritage. Brandon knew that within this sleek,
hairless body dwelt a patient, intelligent, intensely passionate soul,
qualities that he admired and loved. To Brandon, Ed was his soul mate,
one to be cherished, nurtured, protected and loved well.
The blond haired, gentle gymnast carefully lifted Ed and carried him to
the bed, where he made gentle passionate love that was reciprocated in
In the next bedroom, Michael Marks and his younger brother, sated after
sweet lovemaking, stood naked before the large window overlooking the
nighttime panorama of the city. Mickey wrapped his arms around the boy
and nuzzled the back of his neck. Staring out of the window, Dickie
whispered, "The city lights look like a basket of jewels."
Mickey murmured into his ear, "That's our world out there now, and
we'll be happy in it."
In the Intensive Care Unit of St. Vincent's Hospital, Bart sat by
John's bed. Holding his friend's hand, he stared at the still form and
listened to the rhythmic sounds of the monitors. "Come back to me
John," he said quietly.
Over the next week, Bart spent almost every off duty hour at John's bedside. He
missed his friend terribly, the easy conversation, mutual respect,
sunny humor. He even missed their physical closeness. There was
something very comforting knowing that John was close by.
regarding "The Case of the Gentle Gymnast," as it was informally
called, was far from over. The singular missing persons case had
mushroomed into a hydra-headed monster with no end of loose ends to
clean up and incorporate into volumes of written reports.
During the week, he had many meetings with the city attorney, the
district attorney, the chief of police, Child Protective Services and
The children's parents had been notified of the
loss of their parental rights and the city's legal staff was waiting
for an avalanche of complaints and/or covert actions. Consequently, police officers guarded the boys
twenty-four hours a day.
On the bright side, CPS was coordinating the unbelievable
donations for the children's welfare, due largely to the efforts of Jack Wade and daily articles in the Grant County Times. The boys had gone on shopping sprees
for new clothes, and were otherwise kept busy with testing at the
Jack Wade's law staff was examining the documents salvaged
from the compound. And, Jack's investigators were tracing telephone
calls and other transactions the brother's had made for the past six
One of the largest bits of unfinished business was what to do with the
so-called brothers. Half them were recovering in the jail ward of the
county hospital and the other half were cooling their heels in the city
On Saturday morning, Bart was at John's bedside reading some case
reports when Brandon appeared at the door. He smiled, pleased to see
the boy. "Hey, how's the week gone for you?"
Brandon sat beside him, smiling comfortably. "Real good. I talked CPS
into letting me go back to my university classes, provided I live
with Ed and that he's always with me." He grinned. "And you know I agreed to
that." They laughed. "He's down in the cafeteria taking care of a case
of the munchies. He'll be up in a little while."
Bart turned serious. "Have your parents tried to get in touch with
you?" Brandon shook his head. "Well, I'm still concerned for the safety
of you guys. Be careful."
"I will." Brandon nodded at John's sleeping form. "How's he doing?"
"He's doing remarkably well considering he has a concussion and a
hairline skull fracture. The doctors are keeping him in an induced coma
until the trauma to his brain is healed." Bart sighed heavily. "God I
hope he wakes up soon. I miss him so much."
Brandon studied Bart for a moment, seeing the anguish the man was
suffering, and his heart went out to him. Quietly, he said, "You
promised to tell me how I acquired the name 'Gentle Gymnast.'"
Bart smiled and nodded toward his friend. "It was John that gave you
the name. He's a very sensitive guy, with insight like you wouldn't
believe. When he saw Stella Foxworth's painting of you, his first word
was 'gentle.' Then, he went on to say that you had a gentle loving soul
with much affection to give, but that it was all locked up inside you."
Brandon nodded in agreement. "He's right. That was true ... until I saw
Ed's painting. When I saw it, something clicked in me, and I knew that
I would never be the same. I would love Ed forever, for no other reason
than he painted that portrait. He's made a happy life possible for me."
Bart regarded the boy with a smile. "The butterfly has left its cocoon
and can never go back."
Brandon's eyes narrowed momentarily, then he spoke. "I think everyone should check to see if
they are living in a cocoon. If they are, they've got to break out of
it ... if they want to lead a happy life."
They sat in silence for a few minutes. At length, Brandon took John's
hand and asked, "Do you talk to him?" The detective
looked at him curiously. "Who
knows, he may hear you. Just because he's asleep doesn't mean his ears
Brandon sat on the edge of John's bed. Softly, he said, "John, it's
Brandon Johnson. You're my hero John. You fought like a crusader for us
in that basement, and it sucks that you're stuck in this bed. You
need to hurry up and get well so you can see how happy me and the rest
of the guys are. We love you and we need you with us
here in the land of the living." He glanced over his shoulder at Bart.
"And, you need to get well most of all because Bart needs you. He loves
you very much and misses you." He squeezed John's hand. "Hurry up and
come back to us John." He kissed the man on the forehead and stepped
Ed Tekai was standing in the doorway. He gave his lover an encouraging
smile, then silently shook hands with Bart. He kissed Brandon on the
cheek and sat on the edge of the bed. Taking John's hand, he addressed
the man. "Hi John. It's Ed Tekai. I want to thank you for rescuing
Brandon and returning him to me. And I'm sorry you got hurt in the
process. But, you need to get well now. I want to paint a portrait of
you, and the Gentle Gymnast wants you to see him perform the rings
exercise he's been working on." He kissed John's cheek. "Just remember
that we love you and need you with us."
Inspired by Ed and Brandon, Bart spent the rest of the day talking to John, whispering words of
encouragement, reading to him and even singing to him. This routine
was interspersed with visits from Stella and Linda, Randy and Joe,
Jack and Bernice Wade, and Malcom Foxworth, Joe's father, in addition
to many members of the Canyon City police force.
The doctors spent Sunday morning running tests on John and decided to
withdraw the medication that kept him in the coma. If Bart had been one
whit less inhibited, he would have turned cartwheels down the corridor
when he heard the news.
Late Sunday afternoon, after he returned from a much needed shower and
change of clothing, he sat holding John's hand, speaking softly. "John,
you're getting well. You're coming out of it man. I'm so proud of you.
You're a fighter, a real trouper."
He paused, resolving some conflict
within himself, then continued. "Shit John, I want you to get well
because I miss the hell out of you. I didn't realize how much you meant
to me until you were taken away." He rose and kissed his friend on the
cheek. "I love you John. Come back to me, please."
Bart gazed at the peaceful face before him, then slowly John's fingers
closed around his. The fingers squeezed
his hand once, then relaxed and Bart burst into tears.
smiling Jack Wade plopped down in front of Bart's desk. "Well son,
we're going to be spared the expense of placing the brothers on trial.
According to the government, they've violated the terms of their
resident visas, so they're going to be deported. Seems they're a group
fanatics that broke away from some obscure monastery in the western
Turkey. I suppose only God knows how they discovered the compound here
accumulated the funds to buy it."
His manner turned sullen. Bitterly, he muttered, "But, we know how they financed their
continued existence here. They preyed on the ignorance and irrational
fear of the invincibly stupid." Bart's eyebrows went up and Jack
cleared his throat. "Pardon me Bart. I usually don't let emotion and personal
opinion enter into my professional life."
He cleared his throat again and continued. "The brothers sent out
letters to every church in Missouri and the surrounding states,
offering a religious cure for homosexuality. The responses they
received were usually from fundamentalist denominations. The church
leaders put them in touch with the parents. And the brothers had the
parents sign documents committing their children as novices into the
His face took on an evil smile. "And that's where the brothers made a
mistake. Under the laws of this state, parents can't sign their kids
away like that. In addition, the brothers
didn't have a right to administer drugs--not even aspirin--, or electrical shock treatment, not to
mention corporal punishment."
Then, his face took on a look of horror. "But, ya want to know the real
kicker? As stupid and gullible as the parents were, the brothers were
deadly serious about their work. They really thought they were doing
the work of God every time they hit one of those kids with a stick
... because they did it to each other. When the hospital crews
took the robes off the brothers, they found the backs of every one
crisscrossed with fresh and aged scars, welts and bruises."
"Jesus," Bart muttered.
Jack sat back in his chair with a grim expression. "I'm quite sure Jesus
would not have approved."
Bart shook his head in wonder at the foibles of humankind, then
turned to another matter. "We've got to find more permanent housing for
the boys. The hotel can't keep devoting an entire floor to them
Jack sighed. "I'm working on it."
After dinner that evening, Randy, Joe, Mickey and Dickie met to plan
the week's activities for the boys. Fortunately, they had--more or
less--settled into a routine that was comfortable for everyone, because
Mickey, Joe and Randy were occupied during much of the day with classes
Randy asked, "Any problems so far with the boys?"
Joe snickered. "Their hormone treatments seem to be wearing off quickly, 'cause they're getting hornier by the minute."
Dickie piped up, "Yeah, I've noticed that some of them are pairing off."
Joe laughed. "I hope more of them pair off, because if one more of the
little fuckers cruises me, Randy is gonna start being jealous." They all
Randy offered, "We've got to find some way to get them involved
socially with other kids their age. Maybe we can arrange some meetings
with the Gay/Straight Alliance organizations at the high schools."
"That might be awkward since they have to be guarded every moment,"
Mickey said. "Kids don't feel comfortable with uniformed cops hanging
They all looked a bit discouraged. "Let's hope the need to guard them comes to an end ... soon," Randy murmured.
After gymnastics practice that evening, Brandon bid good night to Joe
and Randy and went in search of Ed. He found the boy asleep on a mat in
one corner of the gym. Smiling, he lay down beside his love and
playfully began nibbling on his earlobe. Ed roused slightly from his
slumber and stroked Brandon's cheek.
"Hi sexy," Brandon crooned into his ear. "You're cute enough. You don't need beauty sleep."
"Just storing up some energy to keep you occupied in bed," he murmured, without opening his eyes.
Brandon kissed him tenderly. "I know a nice soft bed I'd like to wallow in with you," he said, stroking Ed's smooth cheek.
The energy Ed had stored bubbled to the surface at the thought of
touching Brandon's naked body. They quickly donned their heavy jackets
and exited the gym. The night was clear and cold. They walked quickly,
holding hands. A full moon greeted the two as the path led them past a
copse of trees.
"Wow!" Ed exclaimed, looking up at the beautiful sight.
Brandon circled the boy's slender waist with a powerful arm and pulled
him close. "Um, they say that anything done under a full moon is
Ed grinned. "I don't think we need forgiveness for this." He pulled Brandon's head down for a passionate kiss.
As they parted, Brandon murmured, "Slowly turn your head and look at
those two guys standing under the streetlight over there. I saw them
outside the gym earlier tonight."
Ed took in the sight. "They look like a couple of guys I saw yesterday. Same caps and jackets. They don't look like students."
Still embracing his lover, Brandon gripped him fiercely. "Damn! I wonder if they're after me."
Ed said, "Then we gotta find out for sure. Let's keep walking down this
path. When we get to those bushes, I'll go to the left so they'll think
"Let's do it," Brandon said through clenched teeth. "This shit is gonna stop!"
The boys strolled casually down the path. At the appointed place, Ed
spoke louder than necessary, "See ya tomorrow Brandon," and turned
left, disappearing behind the bushes.
The two men approached Brandon rapidly, one trying to throw a thin rope around his body.
Brandon raised his arms, shrugging off the rope. Spinning around, he
buried his fist in the man's stomach. Surprise registered on the guy's
face as he bent double. Brandon felled him completely by kneeing the
attacker in the groin. The man fell like a tree in the forest.
The second man's face was a mask of anger. He poised to swing his fist shouting, "Why you little ..."
His attack was cut short as Ed raced around the bushes. Seeing the man
raise a fist against his beloved, he performed a drop kick into the
man's knee, knocking him off his feet. Ed pounced on the man, twisting
his arm painfully behind his back and burying his thumb in the guy's
gave the first guy another kick in the testicles to keep him down while
he dialed 911 on his cell phone. He gave the appropriate
information to the operator, then added, "Contact Bart Killian in the
Detective Division. This concerns a case he's working on. And hurry!"
Ed smiled evilly as he knelt over the man he had subdued. "I've studied
martial arts for fifteen years mister. I can move my thumb a fraction
of an inch and you will never speak again. So far, your only injury is
a fractured knee. Unless you want to be hurt more, you're going to
start talking and tell us the truth."
He eased his thumb back so the
man could speak, but twisted his arm higher behind his back. The man
yelped in pain. "This is only a fraction of the pain you're going to
feel unless you agree to talk and tell the whole truth. Now talk, or
I'll start breaking your fingers ... slowly ... one at a time." The
man's face turned into a mask of terror.
Brandon's cell phone chirped. It was Bart. He gave the detective a
quick description of the situation, then said, "You might want to
listen to this. One of the birds is about to start singing." He held
the phone close to Ed and the man. "Bart's on his way."
Ed bent one of the man's fingers in a direction Nature had not intended
and fired questions at him rapidly. "What are you and the other guy
The man was sweating profusely. "We came to capture Brandon Johnson," he wheezed.
"Why?" Ed demanded.
"T-to take him to a sanitarium for treatment," he stammered.
"What sanitarium? Where?" Ed said with menace in his voice.
"Norton Institute. Astoria, Kansas."
"What kind of treatment does Brandon require?" Ed asked, twisting his thumb in the man's throat.
"To cure him of being a faggot," the man gasped, with a touch of belligerence.
Ed applied a slight bit of pressure and broke the guy's little finger. "Who hired you?"
"Ahhhhhh. Johnson's parents."
"How much did they pay you?"
"Ten thousand dollars, plus expenses."
"Who referred you to them? Who told you they were looking for kidnappers?"
leaned forward, looking at the guy closely. "Reverend Downing, the
pastor of the church my folks belong to?" The guy nodded his head,
Brandon's eyes narrowed and he
ripped off the man's cap. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Curt Downing,
Junior. I didn't recognize you with that cap and a goatee." Brandon
grabbed Curt by the hair and jerked hard. "You motherfucking
hypocrite!" he shouted. "I wonder what your dad's gonna say when I tell
him about all the times you sucked me off when we were kids."
He banged Curt's head against the pavement and Ed broke another finger. In the distance, they heard the sound of sirens.
ten o'clock Tuesday morning, Brandon and Ed had given their statements and depositions
regarding the events of the night before. Now, they sat in Bart's
office along with Jack Wade and an FBI agent. Bart replaced the telephone in its
cradle and grinned. "Well, your two assailants are resting in the jail
ward of the hospital, not comfortably, but resting." He glanced at the
FBI agent. "They will be arrested for kidnapping, will they not?" It
was a statement, not a question.
The agent closed the folder on the depositions he'd been reading. "Yes, that will not be a problem."
Brandon spoke up. "I want my parents and Reverend Downing arrested. I want them brought here and tried."
The agent's eyes widened. "Are you sure you want your parents arrested?"
"Yes," Brandon said with conviction. "They had me kidnapped once and
tried it again. I want them put away for a long time, because I refuse
to live the rest of my life in fear."
Jack Wade interjected, addressing the agent, "There's a possibility that other parents could try
the same thing, so you could be investigating a number of kidnapping
cases all at the same time. It would be to your advantage to make an
example of the Johnson's and Reverend Downing."
By noon the following Tuesday, Bart, the FBI agent, Ed and Brandon were
exhausted. They sat under the hot lights of a local TV studio where
they had given eight interviews, four to broadcast news services and
three to cable news services. The eighth and most interesting one was
to MTV. The following morning, they were scheduled to return to the
studio for more interviews for morning magazine shows.
As hot and tired and hoarse as they were, they smiled at one another,
because they had accomplished their objective. The world now knew of
the brothers, the compound, the abuse suffered there, and of the
parents who had consigned their children to the monsters at the
encouragement of so-called religious leaders. The world also now knew
of the fate of one set of parents, their religious leader and a couple
of hapless would-be kidnappers. The FBI agent made a point of stating
that the same fate awaited any other parents who tried the same thing.
Brandon, Ed and Bart made the point that the world would be a better
place if homosexuality was understood instead of being condemned or
Randy and Joe met the group as they exited the studio. Joe clapped Ed
and Brandon on the shoulders and proclaimed, "I'll bet every gay
magazine in the world is going to be clamoring for an interview with
Brandon grinned. "Not going to happen. I've had my fifteen minutes of
fame. I'm just quietly going back to my classes and living with the man
of my dreams."
"Oh, who is that?" Ed quipped. Brandon picked him up and kissed him
soundly. When his feet were on the ground again, he smirked, "Oh, him."
Bart's cell phone rang while everyone was laughing over their antics.
He listened for a moment, then broke the connection, looking like he
wanted to pee, laugh and cry all at the same time. "John's awake and is
asking for me!" he shouted as he raced for his car.
Joe stared after the car burning rubber out of the parking lot. "Betcha a dollar he uses his siren on the way to the hospital."
Randy shook his head. "I ain't betting he doesn't."
had been moved to an ordinary hospital room. Unlike ICU, it had windows
through which sunlight streamed, and was much more cheerful without the
drone of the monitoring equipment. The pots of flower gifts that had
accumulated for a week had been transferred also, brightening the room
Bart skidded to a stop in the doorway, panting. He quickly shoved down
a pang of guilt for using his siren on the way. Taking a deep breath,
he entered the room. John lay still, eyes closed.
As Bart slowly
approached the bed, John said, "Hi Bart," with a smile, eyes still closed.
"Oh, I thought you were asleep," Bart murmured shyly. "How did you know it was me?"
John chuckled, keeping his eyes shut. "It's those damn squeaky cop shoes you wear."
Bart laughed along with him as he sat on the edge of the bed. John
opened his eyes long enough to take Bart's hand, then closed them
"Is there something wrong with your eyes?" Bart asked with
John squeezed his friend's hand. "No, not really. It's the concussion.
I'll have trouble focusing for a while. So, it's easier not to try." He
looked at Bart for a few seconds. "I see two of you." He giggled. "And,
God damn do you look good."
A single tear ran down Bart's cheek. "So do you. It's good to have you back."
John nodded and suddenly seemed restless. "Would you help me up? I'd
like to try standing for a while--the doctor said I could. I've been in
bed so long I've got a permanent flat spot on my ass."
"Sure." Bart turned back the covers and helped his buddy swing his legs
over the side of the bed. John gingerly scooted forward until his feet
touched the floor. He grabbed Bart's hands and stood.
"Whoa!" he exclaimed, swaying, and threw his arms around Bart. "The
room started spinning. Let me shut my eyes and stand here a minute.
Maybe it will stop."
Bart embraced John and they stood there for perhaps a full minute.
John's head felt so good, resting on his shoulder. His body was firm
and warm. Presently, he was conscious that he had a lump in his throat
and another tear fell.
Gradually, John's arms tightened around his body. "I heard you, you know."
"Hm?" Bart didn't dare try to speak.
"When I was unconscious, I heard people talking to me. But I knew for
sure when you spoke," John replied softly. "I was in such pain ... It
hurt to think ... I didn't know what was happening to me ... And I was
so scared. But I heard you encouraging
me, asking me to come back to you ... I heard you say that you love me." He looked Bart in the eyes. "So, here I am Bart."
The squirrel cage of fear and indecision that had been running in
Bart's stomach for weeks suddenly stopped. He realized without question
that the man in his arms meant more to him than anyone on Earth. The
opportunity of a lifetime was being offered. Was he man enough
to reach out and claim it? Was he man enough to burst out of his
cocoon and transform into a butterfly?
Yes. He leaned forward and brushed John's lips with his. The lips
parted and he entered into a life-changing kiss. He felt John's hard
muscles straining against him and the stubble of his beard. He inhaled
John's musk, the most heavenly scent imaginable.
Presently, he felt
John's erection pressing into his.
They broke the kiss and stared in wonder, for they had taken
their relationship to the next level. Both men suddenly felt giddy, but John
recovered first. He took Bart's face between his hands and asked, "How
about helping me over to the couch?" With a smirk, he added, "But first, I think you should close
Very early the next morning, Bart reassembled with the others at the TV studio. He
was late and only nodded to everyone as the producer rushed him through
preparations. The man had positioned them on the set and started a
countdown when Brandon began to giggle. "Well Bart, I see that even the
makeup people couldn't wipe that smile off your face."
Ed began to cackle along with Brandon, then Bart broke up while the FBI
agent looked on in confusion. The producer was horror stricken. Staring
at the clock on the wall, he shouted to the room at large, "Thirty
seconds to airtime people!" Fortunately, the
assembled interviewees made heroic attempts to regain their composure
and the conversation with the host in New York proceeded as planned.
Before they left the studio, they gave two more interviews for different networks, without incident.
Just outside the door, Bart grabbed Brandon in a headlock and gave his
blond curls a scrubbing with his knuckles. Laughing like a hyena, the
boy yelled, "Uncle! Okay. I give." Bart released him and stood there
grinning shyly. Brandon shook his hand, saying, "Congratulation man. I
so happy for both of you." Ed gave Bart a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
The FBI agent looked both
curious and profoundly confused. Brandon slapped the man on the back and
exclaimed, "Yesterday he proposed to his boyfriend." The guy was so
caught up in the moment that he grabbed Bart's hand and congratulated
him before he realized what he was doing. Bart accepted his well wishes with a goofy grin.
To Bart, Brandon asked, "When will John be released from the hospital?"
"If he continues to improve, in a couple of days," he was happy to report.
Indeed, by Saturday,
John had made great strides in regaining the ability to focus his eyes, and
the doctor released him with a litany of precautionary instructions. Bart walked tall
beside his partner as the attendant pushed the wheelchair to the front
entrance of the hospital, where Bart's car waited at the curb.
They drove in silence until John took Bart's hand and held it while
studying their progress through traffic. "We going to your place?"
Bart nodded, swallowing down a case of butterflies in his
stomach, for he had suddenly realized that this was the first day of the rest of their lives.
almost said no, we're going home,
but he didn't know whether he had the right to say that. They hadn't
discussed living arrangements -- yet. Instead, he said, "I thought you
would be more comfortable there, rather than being alone at your
place." In answer, John raised Bart's hand to his lips and kissed it.
waited patiently on the stoop of the apartment while Bart fidgeted with
his keys to unlock the
door. Inside, Bart's nervousness suddenly overtook him. He had never
felt so inadequate and insecure. Resting his trembling hands on John's shoulders,
he asked shyly,
"Uh, are you hungry? Uh, would you like something to eat?"
John smiled and took Bart's hand. "Thanks, but no. If it's all right with you, I'd like to lie down
for a while," he said, leading his lover into the bedroom. There, John took him into a poignant
embrace and kissed him tenderly. "I'm glad to be here Bart."
on the bed while Bart stood nearby, staring at him uncertainly. Giving
his lover a come-hither look, John removed his shoes and socks; then,
paused and cocked an
expectant eyebrow at the man he adored.
Bart's Adam's apple bobbed once, as he cautiously moved to a chair and did the same.
>From that moment, everything suddenly seemed to move in slow motion, as
in a beautifully choreographed ballet.
John slowly stripped out of his shirt
and waited, smiling. With eyes full of wonder, Bart follow suit,
unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off his muscular shoulders and
letting it fall to the floor.
Eyes now glittering with anticipation, John stood, unbuckled his belt
and unzipped his pants. Without breaking eye contact, he hooked his
thumbs in the waistband and lowered them to his knees. Seated on the
bed, he deafly pulled them off and dropped them on the
floor. He stood once more, in his white boxers.
Bart stared at the large tent in the front of John's underwear and
swallowed. He fumbled until his pants were undone, then stood, pushing
them to his feet, and stepped out of them. Wide-eyed, he presented
himself to his lover.
John licked his lips at the sight of the impressive erection straining
the front of his lover's briefs. Without preamble, he dropped his boxers to
the floor and moved to the center of the bed.
To be continued
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