The following fictional narrative involves sexually-explicit erotic events between men. If you shouldn't be reading this, please move on.
In the world of this story, the characters don't always use condoms. In the real world, you should care enough about yourself and others to always practice safe sex.
The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.
Thanks and love to Tom for patiently doing the proofing here, and to my Nifty Six colleagues for being the great people they are.
Harcourt Parish is a real church. Father Bill and Muriel, however, are purely fictional characters.
Fall term 2003 began at the university, and suddenly everyone was busy.
Max was sitting in the office one morning the week after Labor Day when the phone extension on his desk rang. It was Father John.
"Max, an old friend of yours is on the phone. He's going to ask you to do something. I want you to know that he has my approval."
Max chuckled. "That makes it something like an order then, doesn't it, Father?"
John returned the chuckle. "Not at all, not at all. I just want you to know that it's okay for you to be away that Sunday."
"Oh, I see," Max said. But he really didn't.
There was a click and then, "Max! This is Bill Broadhurst at Harcourt Parish. How are you?"
"Father Bill, it's wonderful to talk to you. I'm well. How about you?"
"I'm in good health, thanks, and at my age I must be grateful. You promised when we talked last summer you'd come to visit us, and I'm calling to see if I can persuade you to do that."
"I really apologize, father. I've been wanting to come to Gambier, but you know Father John. He keeps me busy."
"Well, you can't blame him now. He's given his blessing to what I'm about to ask you."
"I'd like you to assist me with the Eucharist and present the homily at our service on the first Sunday in October. That's Kenyon's Homecoming. It will be nice to welcome you `home,' as it were, and I want to impose further by specifying the subject of your sermon."
"I'd love to come, Father Bill, and I would be honored to assist with the Eucharist. But I'm a little nervous about delivering a sermon on a topic of your choosing, frankly. What did you have in mind?"
"Piece of cake, Max! I want you to share your thoughts with us on the recently concluded GenCon. I've been trying to present a variety of perspectives on what just happened there, and I know I can count on you for something carefully thought out."
"And the position I take really doesn't matter?"
"I trust you, Max."
"You know, I hope, that I enthusiastically support Bishop Robinson's acceptance and the Claiming the Blessing Initiative as well."
"Yes, I suppose I should confess that John has raved to me about the sermon you preached at St. Peter's a while back. I assume you'll use it again.
"I'm flattered to be asked. When is the service?"
"We have a Rite 1 Eucharist at 8:00, but you won't need to be here for that. I'd like you to take the 10:30 service, and I'll assist. Since it's Homecoming, we should have a full house. Why don't you try to be here by 9:45, and I'll remind you about the idiosyncrasies of our service?" You can bring your own vestments, I hope?"
"Yes, I'll bring them along."
"Oh, Max, one other thing. Can you have dinner with Muriel and me afterward? It won't be anything elaborate since she will be in church, not at home cooking all morning. But we'd love to have you. She remembers you fondly and is looking forward to seeing you again."
"I'd like that very much. But, Father Bill, could I bring a friend?"
"Of course. Anyone I know?"
"You might. He was my best friend at Kenyon, but he didn't come to church with me often."
"You're speaking of Tim Mead, aren't you? I remember him well. He didn't attend mass often, but he came to most of our Canterbury Club meetings with you. Something of a free thinker, as I remember."
"Yes, that's Tim. He's a professor here at the university, and we've been able to renew our friendship. I think he'd enjoy coming back to campus with me."
"Well, by all means, bring him along. Muriel and I will be delighted to have you both with us. Oh, and Max, I've already taken the liberty of reserving a room for you at the Kenyon Inn. I'll call back and make sure it has two beds. I hope you and Tim will plan to come for the game on Saturday afternoon."
That evening the two friends were having dinner at Max's house. Max had learned a few things about cooking, but his repertoire was still limited. He was doing lamb chops on the outdoor grille and planned to serve them with baked potatoes and fresh asparagus.
The charcoal was heating up, and the two men, clad almost identically in knit pullovers, khaki shorts, and sandals, were sitting at the umbrella table on the patio sipping a nice Australian shiraz Max had found at the West Point Market. Once again he thought how sexy Tim looked with his new beard.
"Tim, promise you won't say no when I ask you this?"
Tim grinned. "You look serious. You know I trust you, Max. I'll say yes if I possibly can."
Max explained about the invitation he had received from Bill Broadhurst.
"That's great, but what does it have to do with me?"
"I want you to come with me. We could go on Saturday. I thought we might walk around, go to the game, of course, visit old haunts, revive good memories. Father Bill has booked us a room at the Inn, and we can have dinner there, if you want. Or we can go have a burger and beer at one of our old watering holes. You wouldn't even have to come to church if you didn't want to. But we are invited to the Broadhurst's for Sunday dinner after church. Please say you'll come."
Tim reached over and took Max's hand. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, including hearing your sermon again. And I remember Father Bill fondly. I always thought he was the kind of minister I'd want in my church if I were churchy."
"Bill was a great help to me when I was trying to figure out if I truly had a call to the ministry. You know, when I was working on my masters' at OSU and knew that wasn't what I should be doing. I made several trips back here. He and Father Glenn at our old church in Akron were both great."
"Yeah, you've told me how helpful they both were."
"I feel a little guilty that I haven't gone back to Kenyon to see Bill. Father Glenn is retired and living in Arizona now, I think. But Kenyon's so close. Have you been there since you came back east?"
"No, I haven't. But I'm really looking forward to this little sentimental journey with you. He squeezed Max's hand. "Thanks for including me, Max."
Mumbling something about checking the coals, Max stood up and quickly turned away to hide his erection.
After they had eaten and taken everything back inside, they sat in Max's living room with mugs of coffee. Both had kicked off their sandals.
Tim stuck his legs out straight, wiggled his toes, and said, "Maxie, I've never told you, but I did a lot of praying while Ced was in the hospital."
Max didn't say anything at first. He appeared to be considering his answer.
"Well, Tim, it must have helped. It's certainly wonderful that Ced has been returned to good health." He took a swallow of coffee and set the mug on the coffee table. "Does your having prayed signal any sort of change in your religious stance?"
"I don't think so. I'm not sure." He grinned. "You know, I got what I prayed for. I prayed for Cedric to be restored to full health." His face was once more serious. "But your God played a real joke on us, didn't he? He gave us -- or me, at least -- exactly what I asked for. And I've lost Ced forever."
"You don't know that. He could get his memory back anytime."
"Yeah, and he may never get it back. Besides, I hear he's got a boyfriend."
"You mean Judd?"
"But you knew he was going to move on. And we don't know how serious he and Judd are."
"Sure. And more power to him. I do want him to be happy. Had it ever occurred to you that he might get his memory back and still not want to get back together with me? I mean, a lot has happened."
"Well, don't give up hope just yet. On the other hand, there's no reason why you should become a monk. It think it's good you're getting out more. But we're getting away from the question."
"Am I turning religious, you mean?"
"I really don't think so. On the other hand, did I ever tell you that I was moved to tears at the lessons and carols service at your church last Christmas?"
"No, but Cedric told me. What was that all about?"
"I'm not sure. It was all so beautiful, and I felt somehow that I was where I should be, doing what I should be doing at that moment."
"I suspect that was the Holy Spirit working in you, Tim."
"Nah. More likely it was just the de Mille extravaganza you people were putting on and my end-of-term fatigue." He grinned to show he was, at least in part, joking.
As Tim was getting ready to leave, he said, "See you at 6:30 tomorrow?"
"Yeah. I've got the early service by myself, but I can still make it if we run. Just won't have time for a leisurely breakfast."
"Plan to eat with me. I'll have something ready for you by the time you can shower and get back to my place."
They hugged, holding on to each other a little longer than they used to.
The next day Trey invited Max to come across the street to his and Chaz's townhouse for lunch. He'd gone to Fein's and had sandwich makings, potato salad, and cole slaw. The two got caught up on each other's latest news. Max talked about his father's upcoming wedding and asked whether Trey and Chaz had received their invitations. They had. Max then asked how things were going with the new man in charge of things in Richmond, and Trey informed him that Cousin Beau seemed to be handling things just as they wanted him to.
Trey told Max that he and Chaz had bumped into Steve and Rebecca at Carrabba's the previous day. Rebecca was back in town now that the semester had started. They were happy to be able to be together all the time, rather than just on weekends. Trey said he thought it was sweet that the two of them were so much in love. And, he added, when the two lovebirds left their booth, Steve had a big tent in his shorts and no way to hide it. Chuckling, he said that Chaz had grinned widely and given Steve a big thumbs up as they passed.
"That's all well and good, Trey, but there's a topic you seem to be avoiding."
Trey smiled at Max and said, "You mean I haven't asked you when you and Tim are going to get it on?"
Max choked on the beer he'd just started to swallow. After he'd managed to get it down and dab his eyes with his napkin to get rid of the tears the choking had caused, he frowned at Trey and said, "That really isn't funny, you know. It seems as if everybody keeps needling us about that. Rick and Ned did it a month ago at Stefan's. I'm sure poor Tim was terribly embarrassed."
"Sorry, Max. Didn't mean to make you mad. Face it, man, I know how much you love Tim. He's free now and likely to stay that way. You've been right there for him and with him the whole time. I'll bet he loves you as much as you love him. But you know Tim. He won't be the one to make the first step."
"Trey, I can't do that. As long as there's a chance Ced's going to get his memory back, I have to keep my distance. Anything else would be unethical."
"Fuck it, father, there's a chance you'll be killed tomorrow by an asteroid. You aren't going to hide under the bed because of the possibility, are you?"
Max grinned sheepishly. "No, of course not, but . . . "
Trey interrupted him. "Let me ask you this. Had it occurred to you that Tim deserves to know how you feel? Maybe he deserves to make the choice between you and Cedric. Maybe he should know he has that option."
"But I can't do anything to push him away. What if I told him how I feel and it ruined our friendship?"
"Max, for one thing, you're going to explode one of these days if you don't tell him. I've been watching you for a year. You can't keep on carrying that around with you. Man, you know I love Ced. I love Tim. And I love you. The whole situation's a bitch. But Ced's memory is an unknown factor right now. What is for sure is that you love Tim, and I think his feelings for you are lots more than just those he might have for an old college buddy."
"What if he thought it was inappropriate for me to tell him how I feel while Ced's memory is still that `unknown factor'? What then?"
"Faint heart ne'er won fair lady, or cute little redheaded guy, for that matter."
Max looked at his watch, finished his wine, and said, "I've got to get back to the church. Thanks, Trey, for lunch." Then he stood and held out his hands to Trey, who took them and stood.
"Trey, thanks for the straight talk and the advice, too. I love you for caring about all of us as you do. I don't know what's going to happen with Tim, but I'm grateful for your advice -- and for your concern." They hugged and shared a quick kiss, as had become their custom on parting.
As Max left, he was thinking about sharing a room with Tim in Gambier on Homecoming Weekend.
Max and Tim ran continued to run together each morning. They had breakfast together as usual, one morning at Tim's, the next at Max's. They didn't see as much of each other days or evenings now that school had started. Tim was busy with classes, and Max with his campus ministry. Things were jumping at St. Peter's because of the reactions to the results of the recent General Conference of the national church.
Tim and Rick saw each other daily on campus and often had lunch together. Sometimes they were joined by Max, Trey, or Chaz, but they were often alone. They enjoyed being together and talking shop. Some Saturdays the two went to Cleveland to use either the library at CWRU or the Cleveland Public, both of which had resources not available at the university library.
When the big day finally came around, Tim pulled up in front of Max's house at 10:00 on Saturday morning in his shiny new dark green car with its tan leather seats. He got out, hugged and lightly kissed Max, and said, "Put your overnight on the floor of the back seat. You can hang your garment bag in the back or spread it out on the back seat." (Max's vestments were in a dress-length garment bag.)
Max did as instructed and got in the front beside Tim. "This IS a wicked looking machine, Timmy!"
Tim looked embarrassed. "Yeah. I thought I'd get a Chevy Malibu, which is plenty big enough for guys like you and me, but Chaz said he couldn't ride in a Malibu, that they were too small. So, he talked me into this Impala. It's only a Chevrolet, but don't you think it's a bit ostentatious?"
"Tim, it's gorgeous! What a great-looking car!"
"Thanks, Maxie. Now, you used to make this trip a lot. How shall we go to Gambier?"
"Well, the trees are almost in full color. Let's just get there as quickly as possible today. Take I-71 to the Newcomerstown exit and then US 36 west from there. Maybe tomorrow on the way home we can take some back roads and enjoy the foliage."
They got to Kenyon about 11:30, so they drove on to Mount Vernon and had burgers at a BK. They got back to Gambier in time to check into the Inn, unpack, hang up their clothes, and set out for the game
Kenyon was playing Oberlin, a team they had a chance of beating. The previous year, Oberlin's Yeomen had snapped a losing streak that went back for nearly four years by beating Kenyon's Lords. It was a beautiful Northern Ohio afternoon, with a deep blue sky, bright sun, puffy little clouds, and cool enough that a sweater felt good.
The game was the sort of football that only partisans of one team or another could enjoy, but since the place was full of such partisans, everyone had a good -- and noisy—time. Perhaps the most nostalgic moment occurred when, late in the game, a lone figure ran into the stadium, one of the cross country team. By tradition, the meet ended in the stadium. The lead runner was wearing purple, so the home fans, football forgotten for the moment, rose and cheered him on. Two more figures entered, one in purple, the other in crimson and gold. They were neck and neck. The fans on both sides of the field were screaming for their champion to make the extra kick and take second. Max and Tim were hugging each other as the Kenyon runner managed to squeak past his Oberlin rival and cross the finish line in second place.
Max said into Tim's ear, "Reminds me of us."
Tim grinned. "Oh, you were seldom that far behind me, babe."
The Lords won the football game, so the home crowd was jubilant. Tim and Max felt a part of that temporary euphoria as they left the stadium. They strolled around the campus, stopping occasionally to talk with faculty members or classmates they bumped into. Many wonderful memories were evoked by their being back on the Kenyon campus, and Max felt closer to Tim than he ever had.
"If only . . . ," he thought. He was brought out of his reverie by Tim.
"Max, let's freshen up and go to the restaurant at the Inn. I could use a drink. What about you?"
"Yeah. Remember when we were students we thought that was a place where only old people had dinner? People who could afford it?"
Tim laughed. "Uh huh. Wonderful how our perspectives change, isn't it?"
"Well, I still can't afford a fancy big car like that thing you just bought, Tim!" He elbowed him in the ribs to let him know he was joking.
Tim elbowed him back. "It's only a Chevrolet, Max. It's not like it was a Mercedes or anything!"
After dinner at the Inn, the men set out walking around the campus and the village of Gambier once more. They walked and talked until well after it got dark. Lots of other couples were also out walking in the rapidly-cooling air. Finally, they found a bench and decided to sit.
"Max," Tim said, putting his arm around his friend's shoulder, "thanks for asking me to come along. This has been great. And you know what the best part was?"
"Yeah, I'll bet I do. It was seeing those runners."
"Yep. That really brought back some good memories. Not that the whole day hasn't."
"Man, Tim, I remember following you into the stadium and around the track for the finish of a lot of meets. I spent a lot of time watching that tight little ass of yours wiggle in its satin shorts."
Tim took his hand. "Max, you won sometimes, too. Don't make it sound as if I was always first."
Max put his hand on Tim's knee and squeezed. "Well, you won most of the time. That's why the other guys called me `Deuce'."
"And you really liked my ass?"
"If only I had known!"
As they sat and talked, the moon began to rise, looking like a huge pumpkin. The two men quit talking for a while and just looked at it, enjoying the pleasantly crisp, clear night, reliving moments from their days as undergraduates on the campus and in the village. Both were thinking how different their lives might have been if they had had the courage to come out to each other back then.
When their rears began to be sore from the hard bench, the two walked some more, reminiscing as they wandered around the familiar places. Before they knew it, it was 9:30. They went to a campus watering hole that had been a favorite of theirs. It seemed not to have changed a bit. The bowls of free peanuts were still on the bar and all the tables and booths. The place was crowded, mostly with alumni to judge by the age of the customers, but they got a booth just as it was being vacated by some jovial oldsters.
After checking with Max, Tim went to the bar and got a pitcher of beer and two frosted mugs.
Max was aware of being totally happy, as if for this magical evening at least, he had recaptured a past with Tim that he cherished -- and regretted. Tim, too, was happier than he had been at any time since that terrible night when he'd gotten the phone call from Jake that Cedric had been hit by a car. Both felt that this was good, natural, as it should be. Neither would ever have thought, when he graduated from Kenyon, that he'd be back here with the guy he'd loved for four years, sitting now, drinking, reminiscing, in such a close companionship.
* * *
The room Father Bill reserved for us had two beds. It was a nice room, a little fussy, perhaps. The Kenyon Inn advertised that it was a "Williamsburg" type place, and the furnishings were elegant colonial in style.
Tim and I arrived back there about 11:00, having sat at the bar and talked and drunk until we both had a nice buzz on. It was wonderful to see him so relaxed. He seemed more like the old Tim than at any time since Cedric's accident.
As soon as we got into the room, he went to the bathroom and peed. I waited until he had finished, and then I went in and did the same. When I got back into the room, Tim was sitting on the edge of one of the beds.
"Max, come here, please."
When I got close enough, he put the fingers of both hands down the front of my pants, hooked his thumbs under my belt, and pulled me on top of him. Then he put his arms around my head and pulled my face to his. He began to kiss me. I tried to ask what the hell was going on, but as soon as I opened my mouth, he was swabbing its insides with his tongue.
This was something I'd longed for since I first saw him that fall of 1994, but he took me by surprise. I wasn't prepared for it. In fact, I was shocked.
Not so shocked, however, that I didn't respond. Unable to resist, I eagerly began to use my tongue to vie with his, trying to explore his mouth. Then he pulled back and stuck his tongue out. Each of us rapidly tickled the tip of the other's tongue. I was by then rock hard. And I still didn't know quite what was going on.
A certain part of my brain was wondering what had prompted Tim to do what he was doing. Another part didn't care and was responding ardently to his kisses. Yet another part became aware that his cock was as hard as mine and pressing against my belly through our khakis. He began to hump his pelvis against mine, which responded as if on autopilot. We were humping each other almost desperately, our tongues still vying for exploratory space.
I pulled away. "Tim, I'm gonna come, and I don't want to do it in my pants. Let's slow down a minute, okay?"
He waggled his eyebrows at me and leered. "What's the matter, Hewitt, afraid you can only come once this evening?"
"Who are you, and what have you done with Tim Mead?" I asked.
He giggled and pushed me away from him. "Take your clothes off, Maxie, so we can get back to what we were doing. I'll risk a little cum if you will, so let's get with it!"
There was a frantic flurry of clothes being taken off and flung away. Then we were lying on our sides on the bed, arms around each other, sucking face and grinding our dicks against each other again. I still didn't know what was going on, but I wasn't able to argue. I was barely capable of rational thought.
I don't know how long we were doing that, but I became aware of two things eventually. Tim had his finger on my anal opening, and I was about to come. I pushed him away and rolled over on my back.
"Max, what the fuck is wrong now?" he said in a petulant voice. "Are you disappointed in me? I'm not what you wanted after all?"
Some part of my brain registered the "after all," but it got sent to deep storage.
"Timmy, I'm not sure what is happening here. This is all happening so fast. I think we need to talk."
He made a pouty face and then, sticking out his lower lip, he said, "You wanna talk? I'm doing my damndest to get you to fuck me, and you want to talk?"
"You want ME to fuck YOU?" I asked incredulously.
"Yeah, stud. I want you to fuck me."
"Timmy, I've wanted to fuck you for nine years. But I can't. You don't understand."
"What don't I understand?"
"I love you."
"Well, I love you, too, babe."
"No, you really don't understand. I am in love with you."
"Yeah, I know."
"You know? How long have you known?"
He sighed. "Well, if we're not going to fuck, then I guess I'd better apologize. I'm really sorry, Max."
I was totally confused by that point. "Sorry? About what?"
"At some level I think I've known ever since you came to the university. I thought I could see it in your eyes. But I couldn't convince myself that what I was seeing was true. If you loved me, I thought you'd have told me when we were still here in Kenyon. So I thought I was misreading you."
I was too stunned to say anything.
"You know, if you'd said anything when we were students here, I'd have jumped in your bed and clung to you like a leech."
"Well, if I'd had any clue that you felt that way, I'd have taken you to my bed and never let you out, even for food and bathroom calls," I said, able to chuckle at last.
"After David left," he continued, "I knew there was more to his leaving than you were telling me. You know, I talked with Trey about it. He wouldn't say anything, but he must have known all along, right?"
"Yeah. He reads us both amazingly well. I would never have told him, but one day he told me how I felt about you, and he was right on."
"And David left because he knew how you feel about me?"
He sat up and put his arms around me, ruffling my hair with one hand. "Max, I don't know what to say. I am so sorry I spoiled a chance for you to be happy with David. I really didn't know at that time. Just to clear everything up, David sensed that you still had feelings for me, right?"
"Uh huh. He said he could tell by the way I looked at you that I could never love him the way he wanted to be loved. And, Tim, much as I'll always love David, he was right. I'm not sure I realized it until he told me, but he was right."
Something was beginning to seep through into my consciousness. Tim had just told me that he knew I was in love with him, and he had initiated a very sexy scene with me.
"So, now that you know my terrible secret, would you explain what just happened?"
"Max, sweetheart, I apologize. I've done something insensitive and stupid. We should have had this talk before I tried to start anything sexual. I've presumed, and I'm sorry."
"Dammit, Timmy, quit apologizing and just explain what you're feeling."
He grinned. "Lust. Love. Both. I've felt both for you for as long as I've known you, Max. I think I knew long before Ced's accident how you felt about me, but I just didn't want to acknowledge that my dear old friend had such feelings because I was so very much in love with Cedric. And not to acknowledge how you felt was a way of not having to deal with the problem."
We were still sitting on the edge of the bed with our arms around each other.
"Go on," I said.
"When Cedric had his accident, you were right there. I used you. I leaned on you. I came to you for emotional support. I took your love for granted. But gradually I came to realize how lucky I was. There was this fantastic guy, a guy I'd loved and at times lusted after for nine years, always there for me. Running with me every morning. Doing whatever I needed done, especially when I was feeling so sorry for myself and generally going to seed. And I finally had my epiphany. You are the man in my life. You always have been the man in my life, and I've taken terrible advantage of you."
"No, Tim, it hasn't been like that."
He put his finger on my lips. "Hush. I have been terribly self-centered. I love you, Max. I've been in love with you for many years. If you can forgive me, I hope we can begin to have the kind of relationship we were obviously meant to have."
"Tim, I want nothing more than to be your partner, your lover, your mate. But there is still one looming question."
"Yeah,I know. Cedric."
"Max, I will always love Ced. It doesn't look as if he'll ever love me. But if by a miracle, and I pray that the miracle will happen, he does get his memory back, I'll just have to tell him that I am with you now and he needs to move on. I just hope he finds someone soon who will give him the love he deserves, so that even if he gets his memory back, he won't want me. I think that would be the best answer for everyone, don't you?"
"We can pray for that."
"Yes, I'll even join you in praying for that." I saw something I'd never seen before in his gorgeous green eyes. "Now, father, fuck me!"
As blasphemous as it may seem, I offered up a brief silent prayer of thanks for what had just happened. Then I pulled Tim back down on the bed and we began kissing again, gently and sweetly this time, neither of us in any great hurry to rush things along. After all, we had the rest of the night. And Tim had even remembered to pack lube and condoms.
* * *
I woke up the next morning with the most incredible sense of wellbeing. Also with a sore ass, but it was a nice kind of soreness. It had been months since I'd been fucked, and while Max's cock wasn't as long as Cedric's Sneaky, it was even fatter.
Max was still asleep. My heart fluttered when I looked at him. He had always had a sort of choirboy look, and lying there with his rich brown hair tousled, with ruddy patches on his cheeks, he looked so much like a boy that I just wanted to cuddle him. But I had to make a visit to the bathroom. I peed, rinsed my mouth, and climbed back into bed as gently as I could. He still wasn't awake, so I just lay on my side and put one arm across his chest. I was struck by a powerful sense that I was home.
Max's cock was tenting the covers, and I was fighting the temptation to take it in my mouth when he woke up.
"Mmmm. What time is it?"
"It's still early, studly. How did you sleep?"
"Better than I've slept in a very long time. How are you, Timmy?"
"Well fucked and therefore very happy, thanks to you."
"Let me pee. Then you must return the favor."
"On the Sabbath, father? I'm shocked."
He grinned, got up, went to the bathroom. When he got back, he said, "You're going to be worse than shocked, professor, if you don't put that cute woodie to good use. I've wanted that inside me for a very long time, you know."
I threw back the covers, leaving my modest endowment standing as tall as it could. It was also throbbing and leaking more precum than anything its size had a right to.
"Then get in here and take whatever position you want." I was surprised that he got in face down with his gorgeous and slightly hairy butt in the air, but I wasn't going to waste the opportunity so temptingly presented. I licked and nipped at his beautiful ass cheeks for a while, but I knew we didn't have all morning, so I deferred the pleasure of rimming and eating his ass for another time and grabbed the lube.
As I was working the KY into his chute, he said, "You devil. If you packed lube, you must have planned this."
I chuckled. "Yeah. I'd been wondering just how to bring this off, and when you invited me along on this trip, I realized it was the perfect chance. And what better place, Max, for us to consummate our love than here at Kenyon where we met?"
"Yeah, Timmy. So consummate, please."
Both ravenous, we ate huge breakfasts in the dining room. At the specified time, we went to the church. I went with Max to find Father Bill. He welcomed us both, and we all shook hands. Then, leaving them to talk, I went back outside for a while.
Kenyon, founded by Episcopalians, once had an affiliated Episcopal seminary, Bexley Hall, which is no longer there. The parish, the congregation and administration are called Harcourt Parish, but the church building itself is the Church of the Holy Spirit. At one time it was the seat of the diocese, which has long since moved to Cleveland. It's a Gothic Revival building, very mid 19th century in style. I have never found it particularly beautiful, but then there's not much about the 19th century in architecture or literature that turns me on.
There are two peculiarities of the building that I find striking. One is the arrangement of the pews. They face each other across the central aisle, so they are at right angles to the chancel. I should think that would be very annoying for both parishioners and the priests during the sermon. The other unusual feature is that the church is built on a north-south axis, so when one faces the altar, one is not facing east, as is common in nearly all Episcopal churches.
When I heard the organ begin the prelude, I went into the church, which was nearly full. I sat on the "gospel" side, so that I'd have to look to my left to watch the proceedings. But I was in such a place that I would have an unobstructed view of Max during the sermon. I didn't bow or genuflect as I entered the pew, but I did kneel to pray. Don't know why. I felt the need, perhaps, to explain my presence and to thank the resident deity for my good fortune in having such wonderful people as Max and the guys in my life. I also gave thanks for Cedric and made some requests with regard to him.
The two priests had a crucifer to help. There were two lay readers who were not vested, but who came up out of the congregation to read the lessons and the "Prayers of the People." Father Bill officiated. When it was time for the sermon he introduced Max briefly, saying that not too long ago he had been a Kenyon College student and was now assistant rector and campus minister at St. Peter's. He also mentioned that he had specifically asked Max to reflect on the outcomes of the recent General Conference.
Since it was still the season of Pentecost, the hangings in the church and the priests' stoles were green. Max looked gorgeous. His skin glowed with good health and what seemed to be a kind of inner fire. I realized as I sat there and watched him come to the pulpit just how much I loved him.
"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," he began. I joined the rest of those there in saying "Amen."
"Although we are using Rite 2 to celebrate the Eucharist this morning, I'm sure you all remember these words from Rite 1: `Hear what our Lord Jesus Christ saith: Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all they heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets'." He stressed the word "all."
Even though Max was using the same sermon he'd preached a month before at St. Peter's, I listened carefully, struck by his main points: God made us all. Surely he doesn't hate his own creation. And followers of the Christ should concentrate on loving, not hating their fellow humans, even loving, particularly loving, those who are in some way different. He developed each point cogently but succinctly. No Episcopalian, he'd once told me, wants a sermon to last more than twelve minutes.
"So, my friends, let us go forth and love one another. Amen." Thus Max ended his homily. The congregation repeated the "Amen." Then we all stood up for the reading of the Creed, and the service moved on.
Sunday dinner with the Broadhursts was a pleasant affair. Mrs. B. said she didn't have time on Sunday mornings to cook the traditional Sunday roast, so she had put a lamb stew in the crock pot first thing. She served it with an old fashioned relish tray with pickles, sliced radish, baby carrots, pickled cauliflower, and such. She had cornbread with butter and apple butter. And the stew was heavenly. For dessert she had made a banana cream pie, and that, too was the kind of thing you couldn't buy anywhere.
Both Bill and Muriel fussed over us and treated us as if we were their long-lost children. When it was time for us to leave, Bill put an arm around Max's shoulder. "You know, young man, that was an excellent sermon. I don't think we have many people here who wouldn't agree with you, but there are a few very conservative folk who have been uncomfortable with the results of GenCon. I think it probably did them a world of good to hear you put the point so eloquently and yet so simply. Thank you, Max, for coming. I thank God that I had a small part in your recognizing your vocation."
Max blushed. "Father Bill, you had a major part in helping me recognize my calling. I'll always be grateful."
Father Bill shook hands with me and said it was good to see me again. He remembered me, he said, often sitting quietly in the back row at Canterbury Club meetings, and he was glad that I hadn't yet severed all connections with "the Light."
Max laughed and said he thought maybe I was actually moving closer to the Light. Muriel hugged us both and we got in the car. We had checked out of the Inn before coming to dinner, so we headed back to what I had come to think of as home. That word would take on new meaning, given what was happening between Max and me.
On the drive back, Max exclaimed often about the beautiful color of the trees on the hills. As the driver, I couldn't look every time he pointed out another stunning vista. Besides, I was saying silent prayers of thanks to Max's God that Max loved me, that he'd always loved me, that he still loved me, that, after my blindness and stupidity and much patience and, I fear, suffering on his part, we were together. There were likely to be problems, especially if Ced's memory returned, but we'd deal with them somehow.
To be continued