Warning! This is a tale about men loving men. If you find this disturbing - click off. If it's unlawful for you to read this - click off. If you under age - good luck if you can get away with it.
This is not a story for getting your rocks off. Just thought I'd let you know so you won't waste your time if that's what your looking for.
Otherwise, I hope you enjoy my writing.
I appreciate feedback and do my best to respond to it all. I may be contacted at:
J S . Collection at Verizon . Net
It had become a common thing for me to end up sitting on the porch by myself in the evening since Joe had gotten killed. It was awfully lonely now. Neil, my best and only friend and Joe's son, had gone to live with his grandparents up in Albuquerque and Tom sitting at the kitchen table staring morosely at the big Longhorn bull's head hanging on the living room wall.
Tonight was hardly any different, except when I got tired of sitting by myself I went in and there was Tom sitting at the kitchen table, a bottle of whiskey in front of him, a shot glass in his hand. Tom rarely drank. I pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. He downed three jiggers as I watched.
"You going to drink yourself into a stupor again?" I asked.
He'd done this a couple of weeks ago and swore he'd never touch the stuff again. I guess the pain of his loss just got to be too much to handle. I knew he held himself responsible for Joe's death. Though it really wasn't. Joe was a grown man. He had known that bull was a killer.
Tom ignored me. He stared despondently at his glass, occasionally taking a swig from it. Eventually, I got bored waiting for him to say something and got up and headed to bed. I shucked out of my shirt as I walked toward the stairs. I knew my pants were hanging half off my sixteen year old butt. Whether Tom would notice and get a kick out of it I doubted.
When I was younger he'd joke with me about wearing my pants like that, and stick his finger it the top of my crack making me squeal. But when I hit puberty he stopped joking around like that. I know he still looked, because I'd caught him a couple of times. He'd just grin and shake his head. But that was before Joe's death. Now nothing seemed to delight him.
It was a hot, still August night. My door was open to let any cross breeze through. I was dozing off, lying on my stomach, bare-assed like I had slept my whole life, even in winter, but of course in the cold months I had a pile of blankets that I slept under. I became aware of Tom standing in the doorway looking at me.
"Are you okay, Tom?" I asked.
He just stood there with his shirt in his hand, staring at my sixteen year-old body. He wouldn't look me in the eye. Over the last couple of years I'd had many jackoff fantasies about Tom. Seeing the smoldering lust in his blood-shot eyes had me lusting after him even more. My dick was standing straight up. And I really wanted him to make love to me. I thought the time had come even if he was drunk. I knew in my demented sixteen year old mind he'd never touch me, even drunk, unless I did something to push him over the edge.
I squeezed my butt cheeks making dimples and then made little fucking motions clinching and releasing. I was very aware of Tom staring. I stared back at his hairy pecks, his brown nipples peeking through all that curly brown hair made my dick even harder as I rubbed it against the sheet.
Tom dropped his shirt in the doorway and moved to sit on the edge of my bed. He laid a big calloused hand on my butt cheek. I could see the lust in his eyes. He'd never touched me this way before. For the last six years the only physical contact I could remember from this big beautiful man was an occasional pat on my back or ruffling my hair.
At sixteen I was still a virgin. I'd seen a magazine once with pictures of men having sex with other men, but I had never had a chance to try any of it myself. I'd caught Joe and Tom in a passionate embrace once in the barn when they thought they were alone. They were kissing and rubbing their hands all over each other's body. I was only twelve and I got embarrassed and left before they saw me. But I often dreamed that I was Joe and Tom was making love to me like that.
Mixed with the lust in his eyes was a faraway look. Like he was reminiscing, maybe about Joe. I could see that if something was going to happen I was going to have to be the aggressor. Tom was not going to do more than what he was doing. I raised up and knelt beside him. It was then that he finally looked me in the eyes. I smiled at him and move toward him. He didn't look away, but he didn't move either.
I placed a hand on his chest, running my finger through the thick curly hair. Tom closed his eyes and moaned. I moved up against him, and placed my lips against his. I'd never kissed anyone. I didn't know what to do from there.
I felt Tom's arms come up and embrace me. With one hand behind my head he commenced to kiss me, forcing his tongue between my lips I automatically opened my mouth and allowed his tongue to explore. God, what a turn on. My other hand came up of it's own volution and clasped the back of his head as I took over the kiss, forcing my tongue into his mouth.
Suddenly he pushed me away, wiping his hand across his mouth.
"Stop it Billy. I'm more'n twice as old as you. This isn't right. You're a minor too. You want me to go to jail?"
I was crestfallen and feeling like a fool. I knew it was wrong. I knew that Tom could get in to bad trouble letting me have my way with him if any one ever found out about it. As I looked into his red bleary eyes I felt like a turd for having tried to seduced him. Still if he would've given in I'd of not regretted it. I've loved Tom for as long as I can remember. Tears dribble down my cheeks.
"I'm sorry Tom. I know it isn't right. I just love you so much. And it hurts me to see you so sad all the time since Joe died. I want to love you like Joe loved you."
"What do you know about that.?"
I sat back on the bed and pulled the sheet over my nakedness. For some reason I couldn't look at him now.
"I may be young, but I'm not dumb. I could see how you two felt toward each other."
Tears leaked from his eyes. I had made him cry now and that made me feel worse.
"I'm sorry Tom, I didn't mean to make you cry. I only wanted to love you."
"Commere, kid." His voice was gruff with emotion. He grabbed my arms and pulled me into a bearhug. I wrapped my arms around his thick neck and buried my face against his shoulder. He hadn't cried for Joe but once until now and that was right after he was killed. His body shook as he clung to me.
At sixteen I had only just begun my growth spurt. A couple of years down the road I'd be taller than Tom. But I'd most likely be a bean pole like my dad. Tom was just over six feet tall, wide shoulders and narrow hips. He weighed around two hundred pounds with very little of it being fat. I was still only about five eight and a hundred and twenty pounds. So you can figure kind of what I felt like with him hugging me and crying uncontrollably. Kind of helpless, wanting to console him and all I could do was rub the back of his head and neck while he clung to me, and mumble soothing sounds to him.
When he finally pulled himself together a little he let go of me and I sat beside him leaning into his side with his arm around me.
"The worlds a darker place without his smile." He sighed.
"Yeah, Joe smiled more'n any one I know."
"I sure do miss him, Billy. I sure do."
"I do too. And I miss Neil just as much."
"I know you do. Maybe we could drive up to Albuquerque to see him some time. Haven't been up there since Joe and I were in college."
"That would be nice, Tom." I said, knowing it would probably never happen. Getting away just wasn't something that happens on a ranch like ours.
"We better get to bed. Cows don't like to wait for their morning milking."
He stood up and stretched. I was embarrassed to be looking at his fine body, admiring his hairy chest, after just failing to seduce him, but I looked anyway. I always did a little hope type prayer that when I grow up that I'll have a hairy chest like his. He ran his fingers through my hair messing it up. Not like I kept it combed or anything. I love for him to do that.
"Thanks, Billy. You know I love you. Don't you?"
I looked up at him. His eyes were red and puffy but that terrible sad look was gone, at least for the moment.
"I love you, too, Tom."
"I know you do, Son. Good night."
That gave me a hard knot in my throat. I couldn't reply as he walked out of my bedroom. In the twelve years I had lived with him he'd never called me his son. Yet he was the only father I had ever really known. I sat there for a long time after I heard him turn out his light thinking about my life up til now.