The following is fiction. Although some of the events depicted are based on actual happenings they are only incidental to the story and do not constitute a basis in reality.

The story is copyright, the reader may download a copy for his/her own use, but republishing or archiving on other websites or newsgroups without the author's permission is strictly prohibited. All rights are reserved.

The following story contains references to men having strong emotional and physical feelings for members of their own sex. You shouldn't read it if you're below the age of consent in your community or if said community doesn't allow you to access such material.

The author would like to thank Drew Hunt for his inspiration in the writing of this story. Without his love, friendship and editorial help the author would never have had the courage to even try to write a story such as this. Thanks go to Tim Mead as well. His editorial help and encouragement have been invaluable. T. O'Reilly 7/4/06.

One Night in December

Year Two

It was the last weekend in January. I sat alone on the couch. I was leaning forward, my head in my hands, my elbows resting on my knees.

‘I can do this,’ I thought. ‘All I have to do is stand up and get started. It won’t be that hard, it won’t take that long.’

I continued to sit. “Shit, I hate this!”

Just then the door opened. The dogs that had been sitting next to me, wondering what my expletive could mean, jumped down and ran to the door. As they rounded the corner I noticed, once again, that Annie, the Shepherd, looked a little stiff. I would have to check with the resident veterinarian about her.

As I was thinking that, the resident vet in question came into the room. His warm smile faltered.

“Oh, you didn’t get her put away, yet?” He was indicating our Christmas tree, Claudia, who still stood, fully dressed in the corner.

Both Andy and I hated undecorating after Christmas. I always had. Patti said that she refused to dust a Christmas tree. When it got to that point it would have to come down. Claudia was at that stage now. But, I hated to give up Christmas and all the joy it brought once again now that Andy had come into my life.

Andy hated to undecorate because he hadn't had a happy childhood. Holidays never fulfilled the promise of joy that seemed to be all around him. Now they were bringing him the happiness he’d missed, he seemed to want to hang on to the holidays as long as possible

“David! You said. . .”

“I know. I’m sorry, I really am.” I’d promised to have the tree down by the time he got home from the barn so he wouldn’t have to deal with it. “It's just so hard to do.”

“That’s okay, I shouldn’t be so silly about it.”

With that he pulled me to my feet, took me in his arms and kissed me.

“Let’s get started then,” he said with a deep sigh.

As we began taking the ornaments and lights off our humanized tree, I began thinking about what I’d gleaned about Andy’s family over the two years I’d known him. Andy never talked much about his childhood at any one time; a comment here, a memory there. I finally had a pretty good picture of what it must have been like for him growing up.

He was the youngest of three children. He had an older sister, Sarah, and a brother, Barry. His father had left the family when Andy was a toddler. He couldn’t remember it well but his brother and sister had told him that there was never any fighting or violence: just one day, daddy was gone. He’d sent presents on their birthdays and at Christmas but they never saw him again. Then due to a series of subsequent events all contact was lost.

His mother remarried. The new stepfather was a shit-head. He drank. He was abusive verbally and emotionally. The three siblings hated him. Then his mother died of cancer. That's when what was left of an already dysfunctional family ceased to exist. Andy described it now as a boarding house rather than a home. This was the point at which Andy’s biological dad completely dropped out of the picture.

Then, Andy, his brother and sister got out as soon as they could. Sarah ran off to marry her high school sweetheart as soon as she was of age. Barry joined the Marines. Andy got a full scholarship ride to Michigan State, left home and never returned. He had no idea where his stepfather was, nor did he care. Of more concern was what had happened to his siblings. They had stayed in touch sporadically for a few years, but when Andy’s life had gone into a tailspin, that connection was severed, too.

We continued to undress our tree. My mind turned from musing about Andy’s family to thinking about the events of the past year. It had been interesting to say the least. I smiled at the memories and decided that if there ever was to be an unadventurous year in our future it was a ways off.

“Remember what happened last year on the day you took Claudia down,” Andy broke into my thoughts.

“Oh, I remembered alright!”


One year ago I’d just packed Claudia carefully away in the shed for her long summer’s nap. The dogs and I returned to the house to start stacking the boxes to be taken to the basement for storage. Patti, bless her heart, had labeled each box carefully as to its contents. I carefully and respectfully followed her instructions for putting Christmas to bed for the year. Her organization once again made it easy. Bless her.

I’d decided to do the job myself because I knew that it made Andy sad to put it all away. The doorbell rang. Annie and Jake, ‘the watch dogs,’ trotted to the door with a perfunctory woof with tails wagging. I felt so protected.

Opening the door I saw on the stoop a very handsome man about my age.

“Well, shit,” I said, “look what the cat dragged in!”

It was Steve Wagner, one of my former fuck and suck buddies from years ago.

“Get in here you son of a bitch!” I dragged him in off the porch and gave him a hug.


“Man, have I missed you,” Steve moaned into my mouth as he kissed me and tried to suck my tongue into him. At the same time he dropped his hands down to my butt and began massaging my cheeks with an expertise I recalled only too vividly.

“Whoa, what the fuck are you doing?” I said, pushing him away.

“Picking up where we left off a bunch of years ago.” He tried to kiss me again. He also cupped my package with his hand and squeezed. Unfortunately my body was not paying attention to my mind. I began to respond to him and the unbidden memories he was bringing forth.

“See, you remember. At least that beautiful cock of yours does.”

“Hey, I’m not available, Steve, stop it!”

“What? Did you remarry? Hell, what difference would that make you were married when we were together the last time.”

“No, I didn’t remarry. But. . .”

“Ah you have a boyfriend. Well, shit, ask him to join us. What does he look like? I bet he's hot.”

“Steve, have you been drinking? Slow down for God’s sake. Yes, I have a boyfriend and yes he's hot but we're a monogamous couple.”

“Oh come on Davy boy, what happened to, ‘so many cocks, so little time.’ That was your motto right?”

“Yes, it was but this is different. This is love.” Hell, why was I explaining this to a man that I hadn't seen in years.

“Fuck, it’s love for me, too,” he laughed. “Ain’t nobody that loves man to man sex more’n me.” He laughed again.

He had been drinking.

“Okay calm yourself, lover boy.” Saying that I couldn’t help glancing down at the more than adequate bulge prominently displayed in his khaki Dockers.

“You old queer. You didn’t have any trouble cheatin’ on your wife.”

Man that hurt.

“Now you got a boyfriend and you go all righteous on me? Ain’t natural. Monogamy ain’t natural for a man gay or straight.”

“Well, natural or not, Andy and I are in a monogamous relationship, so accept it or leave.”

“Andy is it? Can I meet him? Does he live here?”

“Yes, yes and yes, but only if you behave yourself you old perv.” I smiled at him. He really was a great guy and we had had some awesome sex together.

“Okay, cross our dicks and hope to die I’ll be good. Now, make me some coffee so I can be a wide awake drunk.” He laughed.

An hour later we were in the family room catching up on our histories, while I continued cleaning up the last evidence that Christmas had been here. The dogs jumped up, and ran for the back door. Andy was home.

He came in the family room, gave me a puzzled look and turned his gaze on Steve.

“Hey,” said Steve jumping to his feet and hugging Andy before I could say a word. Maybe the coffee wasn’t doing its job as yet.

Andy looked at me, wide eyed over Steve's shoulder.

Steve released him. “I’m Steve Wagner, a fuck buddy of your old man from years ago. Great to meet you.” He turned to me. “Man you weren’t kiddin’. This kid is a hottie, you lucky fuck.”

“Uh, hi, I’m Andy Barnes.” He looked to me with a ‘What's going on here?’ look on his face.

“Steve is an old friend from my PAST LIFE,” I said emphasizing the last two words, hoping that Andy would realize that nothing had happened and nothing was in the works to happen.

Steve was on a roll. “What are you into, Andy? This old queen insists you guys are monogamous.”

“Uh, we are,” said Andy looking confused.

“Well, how would you feel about a three way just for the Hell of it?”

“Steve, shut up!” I was on my feet.

“Hey, let the man speak for himself. Maybe he would be into something like that? What about it, Mr. Barnes?”

“Dr. Barnes!” I steamed.

“Oh excuse me,” Steve made a little bow, “Dr. Barnes.”

“I never had um, had one I wouldn’t know.”

“Shit, only one way to find out. Ask ole Davy here. Three ways were pretty hot weren’t they?”

“Steve, all this is way out of line. Please, just shut up, sit down and sober up.”

We sat down but Steve didn't let up.

“So, if you ain’t into three ways, what are you into? Details, I want details!” He laughed!

‘Jesus!’ I clasped my head with both hands.

Andy, resembling what I would imagine a deer in the head lights would look like, replied, “Whatever. . . David is the only man I have ever been with.”

“Oh my God! That is too unbelievable, a hot kid like you. Where have you been hiding all your life? But then you have been taught by one of the best. I bet you guys get it on fuckin’ hot.”

“W-w-well yes, I guess so,” Andy stammered, looking at me for help.

“I know so,” Steve came back. “Of all of our fuck friends this man was the best,” he said pointing at me. “But that settles it. We gotta expand your education. We gotta have a three way.”

At this point I tried to take over. “No we don’t. We aren't interested. So, just back. . .”

“Let this fucker talk for himself.” Steve moved to sit next to Andy. He placed his hand on his thigh. I was ready to deck him.

“Steve,” Andy seemed to have regained his composure. Diplomatically, more than I would have been with him, he said, “I'm flattered that you would want to get it on with me.” He winked at me. “But, I think we have made it clear we’re interested only in the relationship we have here.” He pointedly got up, walked over to me and put his arm around my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek. “So, change the subject or get the Hell out of our home.”

Steve roared with laughter. “Well, I’ll be a mother fucker. I always believed in those old sayings about a leopard not changing his spots and an old dog with new tricks but, son of a bitch, if I haven’t just witnessed they’re wrong with my own eyes. You, Andy, have done it to this old letch. Okay, I'll shut the Hell up.” He laughed again.

The atmosphere during the rest of the evening changed. We talked about less provocative things like our jobs, Steve’s divorce, how we met. At about eleven o’clock Steve, in a much more sober state, announced he was going to leave.

‘Out of the woods,’ I thought as we walked Steve to the door.


“Well, I'll be in town for another week,” said Steve. Then putting his arms around Andy’s neck and pulling him to him he continued, “I’m staying at Weber’s on Jackson. If you change your mind and can talk your ‘keeper’ into it, call me.” Then he kissed him.

‘Shit, the man just doesn’t give up!’

Andy didn't kiss back. He just pulled back. “I think we made ourselves pretty clear, but thanks for the ego boost.” He smiled and broke from Steve’s embrace. He made a point of taking me in his arms. “If you want to have lunch with ‘us’, he said making sure the ‘us’ was accentuated, “you know how to get a hold of us.”

“Shit, you guys are something else. I'm happy for you, really. But, the offer still stands. Now, I hope its not too late to find someone else to keep my bed warm tonight.”

We all smiled, sort of hugged and said goodnight.

That night I lay on our bed on my back idly stroking myself. I heard Andy in the shower. The thought of what was in the next room behind the sliding glass panel, started getting me hard. My mind began to drift. Uninvited, memories of Steve and me came into my head: Steve and me fucking, sucking, Steve, Don, Greg, Roger and me daisy chaining, chain fucking, me with each of these men individually. These men had made up our Ann Arbor’s charter chapter of the ‘Gay Married Men’s Club.’

“David, David, Can you hear me?” Andy’s voice broke into my reverie.

“Yes, I called back.”

“Come in’re, please.”

I got up, my swollen penis directing the way to the bathroom.


“I mean come in here,” Andy seductively crooned from the shower stall.

‘Oh boy, play time,’ I thought.

I entered the steamy stall. Andy immediately engulfed me with his soap-covered body and lathered mine with his own. He was exquisitely erect: so hard that he was standing past horizontal, parallel to his abdomen. One of those erections that's almost painful to have touched.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

He turned me around and placed my hands on the wall of the shower stall. He began to relax me with soap-covered fingers. The combination of warm water, soap and desire allowed me to open quickly. He pressed his throbbing cock head against my entrance. I tightened the sphincter on purpose to prolong the anticipation of our union. Taking in a breath, he pushed harder. I relaxed and he entered me. Waves of happiness and love swept through my body. Slowly he continued his forward progress until his stomach lay flat against my back. He began a slow, rhythmic cadence. As his pace increased I felt myself building to climax. I reached for myself with my left hand.

“No.” He pushed my hand away. “I have other plans for ‘little’ Mr. Bennett.”

I moaned, and submitted to the torture.

In a short time he was panting, whining and growling all at the same time. Then his body spasmed and four times he flooded my body with his love.

It was all I could do to keep from bringing myself to completion. I almost did when he turned me and crushed me to him and kissed me deeply while undulating against me. I wanted him so badly.

We stepped out of the shower and dried each other. Hand in hand we walked to our bed. He arranged the pillows in a pile against the headboard and lay down on his back. With one hand he pulled me forward. I straddled his chest facing the wall. His hands grasped my gleutial muscles and began a sensuous kneading motion. He pulled me forward and took my straining penis into the deepest recesses of his mouth. I leaned against the wall with both hands. I was so close by this time that even though he tried to keep me from coming to heighten my pleasure, he couldn’t. In a matter of seconds I was returning the gift he'd given me in the shower. I slowly slid down on top of him. We stayed in that position, kissing, holding, loving, until we fell asleep.

The following Tuesday night we were holding each other once again after we’d made love. I’d noticed that his responses to our times together seemed to be more intense than they usually were. It was hard to tell as he was always a very intense lover. But it seemed so to me.


“Hmm?” I replied drowsily.

“David, I’ve been thinking about Steve.”

“Oh?” I said. ‘Oh shit!’ I thought.

“Yeah and I was thinking maybe we might. . . if you don’t mind. . . we could. . . call him. . . That is if you really don’t mind. . . and set up a time. . . uh to be together. . . um like he suggested? That's if it's okay with you?”

‘If I don’t mind? If it's okay with me? Damn straight I mind! No! It is not okay with me!’ raced through my mind. But, with my lips I said, “Ah, sure, if that's what you really would like to do?”

How could I, the one who had had such a rich and varied sex life before Patti had died, play overseer and deny him the chance to experience things for himself?

“Yes, I really think I would like to try it. Could you call him?”

“What made you change your mind?” I was trying to stay calm, but I could feel my heart beginning to race along with my mind.

“I don’t really know. I guess I’ve just been thinkin’ about what he said about me not bein’ too experienced and. . .well, I guess I am kinda curious. Don’t take it as meanin’ you’re not great because you are but. . .” He floundered as if he decided he’d said too much already.

‘Damn! That might explain why his lovemaking was more intense this past week. He’s probably been fantasizing about it. Shit!’

“Well, okay sure,” I replied as nonchalantly as I could muster. “I’ll call him.”

‘Steve Wagner, you fuckin’ asshole, why the Hell couldn’t you have just stayed hidden in the past!’

I called and set it up for Friday at eight. I insisted that it be at his room at Weber’s. I didn’t want any ghosts of Steve Wagner floating around our bedroom after this was over.

Steve, of course, was off and running as soon as he got my call. I could just imagine him whipping his cock out and masturbating as we talked, conjuring up as many images as he could of what we’d be doing.

Friday finally arrived. I'd been dreading it all week. Neither Andy nor I had mentioned it after I’d told him I had it all set up. We took separate showers to get ourselves ready. I felt about as sexual as I would’ve imagined Mother Theresa would have in my situation.

As we were leaving the house Andy stopped and looked at me. “Ah, do you think we should stop at the drug store to get some. . . ah . . . protection? I mean just in case . . .?”

I looked back at him. I hoped I hadn’t shaken my head in disgust but I sure was feeling it. “No, I'm sure ole Stevie will have thought of that.”

‘And more’ I thought, ‘the man loves poppers!’

“Okay let’s go,” said Andy.

Did I note a bit of hesitancy in his voice? I hoped I wasn’t imagining it.

We stood outside of Steve’s door. We’d hardly knocked and it flew open. There he was in a towel and nothing else. ‘Not going to beat around the bush are we, Steve?’

I had to admit he was attractive: handsome face with its white Van Dyke, barrel chest covered with, now silver, once black, hair. His belly was slightly paunchy but that somehow added to his erotic charm. The thick mat of curly hair in this area was darker and I surmised that his thick pubic bush, that I now remembered so well, would be even closer to its youthful color. My cock was stirring as the old memories began to flood my mind. ‘Maybe I could pull this off?’

“Come on in’re you fuckin’ queers. Let’s get this show on the road. I’m hornier than Hell. Haven’t even touched myself since you called so I’d have an extra load or two stored up for you.” He winked and put a hand on the back of Andy’s head.

‘No,’ his whole attitude toward what I now considered sacred, blew the momentary confidence I’d just felt. I wouldn’t be able to pull this off.

He kissed us both. I endured it. I tried to gage Andy’s response, but couldn’t.

We followed him into the main part of the room. As he walked in front of us he let the towel fall from his waist and I beheld once more his absolutely perfect gleuts that I had nested in so many years before. The hair on his ass was thick and still black. I heard Andy’s intake of breath.

Steve stopped at the bed and turned around. His thick, eight-inch cock was hard and protuberant. Andy again responded.

“How about a little bubbly to celebrate old times and new ones, too?”

“Andy doesn’t drink!” I snapped, at once feeling the need to protect.

“Whoa, Davy. Keepin’ ‘im on a real tight chain ain’t we? What about it, stud? Speak for yourself.”

I was seething.

“I’m in a program at AA.”

“Oops, sorry about that. Well, me’in Davy will just have to drink your share then.” He laughed.

He poured himself a glass and handed one to me.

“To the beginning of a great friendship,” he said and downed his portion in one gulp. I sipped mine and put it on the bed stand.

Then he turned to us, reached out and slowly began to undress Andy. My heart sank. This was it. I watched him peel off each article of my man’s clothing and, as if under some magical control, I removed the matching article from my own body. Finally we were all naked. We stood in a circle. Steve was hard and proud. Andy at half-mast, his beautiful cock head was still hidden in its sheath. And me? I looked like a turtle pulled into its shell. I glanced down. Did I have a dick? I remembered seeing one there before we left home.

Steve reached out to start fondling us at the same time. Neither of us reciprocated. Steve’s manipulations had some effect on the turtle and I started to grow a bit. Next he pulled us into an embrace and moved his hands to each of our buttocks. I put my head on his shoulder and snuggled into his neck. At least I could try to enjoy it. I sensed rather than saw that he was kissing Andy. I shut my eyes tight and prayed.

“No!” Andy said. I looked up.

Andy had pushed back from us.

I stepped back and punched the air with my fist. “Yes!!!,” I shouted.

“No,” he said again. “I can’t do this. If I do, what David and I have will. . .”

“Never be the same again.” I finished the sentence for him.

He smiled, turned to me and whispered, “Forgive me.”

In response I took him in my arms and kissed him as if we were alone. The turtle was alive and well.

“Well, shit!” Steve sank down on the bed. He was stroking himself. “At least let me wack off watching you two get it on.”

“That’s not what it’s all about for us,” said Andy. “Here have another glass of ‘bubbly’ that should help you get over it.” He poured out a glass and handed it to the man.

“Bye, Steve.”

We got dressed, and together kissed Steve on each cheek. “Don’t call us we’ll call you.”
Andy said over his shoulder as we were leaving.

At home in bed we held each other close. We didn't make love physically; our cocks were only at half-staff. Yet, emotionally, spiritually we were on a new plane. Neither of us would regret our evening with Steve. He had done more for us than he could ever understand. From this point on we were one, we belonged to each other, body and soul.


The plane rose steeply into the cloudless sky, banked and headed for Providence. We were finally on our way to visit Mike and John. We had originally planned to go during spring break, but Andy had gotten busy with shots and worming, not only at the barn but for the neighbors as well. He was less expensive than the vet practices and he was available when people needed him. He was building up lots of contacts in the neighborhood of the barn. They were calling him regularly.

Actually traveling in August was going to be better for us. We would be able to stay for a full two weeks rather than the one I would’ve had off in the spring.

“Did you leave the Rimadyl for Annie with Meg?,” Andy asked. Jake and Annie were staying with her for the two weeks.

“Yes, it seems to be helping her.” I’d hoped that that observation was correct. She did seem less stiff these days.

We were flying into Providence rather than Boston because the airport was easier to navigate and not that far a drive for the boys.

The flight went smoothly and soon we were deplaning and walking into the terminal. Mike and John were waiting for us as we left the concourse. Hugs and greetings were passed around and we headed for the baggage claim.

“Where will we be staying?” Mike and John were doing very well financially. They had a condo in Provincetown on Cape Cod, a two flat home in Hyde Park and another condo in a brownstone that they owned in downtown Boston. The second flat, the balance of the brownstone condos as well as the one on the Cape were all rented and provided a nice supplemental income. The Cape property was rented by the week so it brought in almost as much as the five condos in the brownstone. They kept it available for themselves when they needed it.

“We'll be staying all three places, depending on the activity of the day.” Mike smiled as he explained the whirlwind experience he had planned for us. I had been here twice before: once with Patti, once with Patti and Meg and Sean. Both those times the Bostonians had itineraries that rivaled the best tour guides anywhere. It was going to be a fun two weeks.

One of Mike’s goals was to get us to feel comfortable as a gay couple. Ann Arbor was a gay friendly town but as a teacher I still had to be careful. I felt this way especially after the trial the summer before. He wanted us to experience what it was like to be in an environment where being gay was the norm. I wondered if he would succeed.

Our first night was spent at the Hyde Park residence. John cooked a New England fish dinner and we sat in Mike’s newly redone living room talking and laughing. We retired about midnight. As soon as we were in bed Andy scooted over and began to suggest with his lips and hands that we play a bit. I was slow to respond.

“What?” He queried.

“Well, Mike and John are right next door.”

“And just what do you suppose that they’re doing? Saying the rosary?”

“Very funny, but it’s . . . well it’s just that he is my son.”

Andy laughed softly, pulled me on top of him and seductively whispered in my ear, “That's the point of this trip, Daddy. To let you experience what it's like to be gay and comfortable. So, are you comfortable where you are now?”

“Hmm yeah I’m gettin’ there.”

I could feel him getting hard beneath me. I could feel myself hardening between us as well. This was one of our favorite positions. Belly to belly, chest to chest, my legs spread outside his, our turgid penises trapped between us. The more we humped the more the pre cum coated us and the easier we slid our cocks over and around each other. In this position we could easily kiss, caress each other’s nipples, necks, faces. That night we took full advantage of it. As free as I was feeling when the time of climax arrived I made sure my mouth was on his so that our moans of pleasure were as muted as possible. I guess I had a ways to go before feeling comfortable in my new skin.

The next morning we packed to move to the brownstone. Once settled there we went for a walk around downtown Boston. We stopped at a diner for breakfast. It was crowded and noisy but it had an atmosphere that you couldn’t help but enjoy. The waiter came over and kissed John.

“Hey, Johnny, where you been? Haven’t you been missing your Casey? Hi, Mikey, you bad boy, you’ve been keeping my heart’s desire from me. I may have to have you spanked for that.”

Before I could recover from the scene that was being played out before me, Casey turned to Andy and me and said. “Oh, new friends. And hot ones, too.”

“Casey, this is my dad, Dave, and his partner, Andy. They are here visiting from Ann Arbor.”

“Ooooh, kinky, a daddy who’s a real daddy, how cool is that?” Casey tittered. “Now, gentleman, what can I get you for breakfast besides me?” He winked.

We ordered and he left. “How ya doing, Daddy?” Mike was chuckling.

“Well… that was different. Is this part of your campaign to gayify me?”

Andy didn’t look as if he were any more comfortable with the campy behavior of the waiter than I was. “I guess you get used to it after awhile.”

“We come in all shapes and sizes,” John quipped. “There too,” he laughed. He caught me looking at the more than ample packages of two men who’d come in. They looked like body builders. They were dressed in tight short, shorts and tank tops. Their muscles bulged, as did their full baskets. I blushed.

“There's a Gold’s Gym right down the block,” said Mike. It’s not where we work out: too many steroid freaks there. We’ll take you to our gym tomorrow.

Andy was laughing. “David, put your eyes back in your head.”

The ‘builders’ had joined a group of older men at a table by the window. They had bent over and were giving the older men deep kisses and showing the rest of the diner two sets of magnificent buns. One of the older men was massaging the buns of one of the builders and saying how firm they were becoming. This, indeed, was a whole different world.

That night we were to go to an honest to God, gay bar. Neither Andy nor I had ever been to one before. John and Mike tried to prepare us for the experience. Mike made me promise that I would copy his actions. If he took John’s hand I would take Andy’s, if he put his arms around John’s waist I’d do the same to my partner, if he kissed John. I was to kiss Andy no matter where we were at the time. I wasn’t sure about this but would give it a try.

We walked to the bar. Mike took John’s hand and looked back over his shoulder. “Ahem,” he said.

“Oh. . . oh yes,” I shrugged and took Andy’s hand. Every time we walked past another couple I wanted to let go but I persevered. My face felt hot.

Once in the bar it felt different. Obviously the majority of the patrons were riding the same bus we were. Once again I was struck by the variety of shapes, sizes and ages represented. The over riding factor was that everyone was relaxed and having fun. I took a deep breath. Even in our own home I didn’t always feel as comfortable as I did here. I knew that the neighbors were wondering what was going on. John and Mike got up to dance. Uh oh.

“Well?” asked Andy, putting out his hand.

Before I could answer, a very nice looking young man came over and asked if he could dance with my friend. He said he would take good care of him and bring him right back. His smile was dazzling.

“Go ahead,” I said to Andy, “I need to get up the courage here.” I smiled. It was okay.

“Okay,” said Andy and disappeared onto the dance floor.

I sat there for a while. A pleasant looking, if not a bit overweight, older man asked if he could sit down.

“My name's Carl,” he introduced himself.


We shook hands. “Nice to meet you, David. It looks like my partner has stolen yours from you. Nathan loves to dance and I'm afraid that I don’t cut it for him.”

Carl and I talked while we watched the younger guys do their thing on the dance floor. Eventually Andy and Nathan returned, as did Mike and John. It seemed my son and his partner already knew Carl and Nathan. They launched into a conversation after making sure that we had been introduced to each other. I looked over at Andy. He was looking at me with his love showing openly on his face. This was good for us.

The music started again. This time it was a slow song. I got up and pulled Andy to his feet. We walked onto the dance floor. I held him close and we swayed rather than danced to the music. I was aware that there were others around us but at the same time we were in our own little world: a world where what we were, and how we felt about each other was totally accepted and celebrated. This was good.

“You two sure enjoyed that dance,” said Mike, nodding his head in the direction of our bulging Dockers.

“Oh my God!”

Not all our time was spent in the gay community. We did many of the normal touristy things that visitors to Boston do. We did the harbor tour on the paddleboat, rode the Duck Boats through the city and into the Charles River, visited the Old North Church and Old Ironsides. All the while Mike kept checking to see if I was still playing follow the leader. I was. I was becoming more and more comfortable with it as well. In fact there were times when we were holding hands or I had a hand in Andy’s back pocket even when Mike and John weren't leading the way.

The only down time for me was the trip on the whale watching boat. Andy was so excited about seeing whales and watching them breach. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was seasick.

After a couple more days in Boston proper we returned to Hyde Park. We met Ed, the gay man who rented the downstairs half of the house. He lived there with his dog Bailey, a one eyed German Shepherd/Rottweiler cross. Andy and Bailey hit it off immediately which made him a hit with Ed as well.

After dinner at Ed’s and another night at the Hyde Park base, we headed out to Newport, Rhode Island and ultimately to P-town on the Cape. Mike invited Ed and Bailey to come with us but he declined saying he would feel like a fifth wheel. Nothing we could say could change his mind. Mike explained that he had been in a relationship for several years that had recently ended. He was still healing. This information made me uneasy and I took Andy’s hand in mine as we rode along. He squeezed it reassuringly.

Newport was beautiful. We took the cliff walk and saw whales playing in the surf. Along the rocks at the base people were swimming with their dogs. The ocean breeze was wonderful. We toured the mansions of America’s rich and famous all along the cliffs as well. We were denied entrance to a restaurant because I was wearing a tank top. At the same time three young lovelies walked in with their sting halters and were seated. That threw John into a frenzy of protest, demanding to know why a man in a tank top was being discriminated against. Mike calmed him down and I went to a shop next door to buy a tee shirt. We left the tank top on the table as a tip. I was feeling like a kid again.

We made the last ferry to Martha’s Vineyard on the Cape. It was cold on the ferry and the two couples snuggled together in the lounge chairs usually occupied by folks catching some sun on the forty-five minute trip to the island. We slept at a bed and breakfast run by a gay couple who were so solicitous over our comfort that we expected them to be standing by the bed to make sure we made it to the can to pee.

Dinner was at an open-air restaurant on the bay. We walked in past a huge lobster tank and ordered, what else, but lobster. I then realized that I was going to have to pick one of those little guys to be sacrificed for my eating pleasure. I asked Andy to pick one for me. I didn’t think I could eat little Lobby after looking into his beady, little eyes.

We left the Vineyard on the last ferry of the night. Andy and I sat huddled on a lounger once again. The sun was setting. An orange glow was reflected off the gulls that followed the ferry hoping for a handout. We were under a canvas we had found folded under the chairs. He rubbed me and brought me to full erection and then climax right there on the deck. No one around us suspected a thing. Thank God for Navy blue shorts.
Thank God for this vacation.

We arrived at Provincetown after midnight and went right to bed. In the morning I walked out on the balcony of the condo to watch the morning sunrise over the ocean. Andy came up behind me, put his arm around my waist and a cup of decaf in my hand.

“Beautiful,” I murmured nodding to the sunrise.

“Beautiful,” he said, looking into my eyes.

I blushed.

P-town was a whole different experience. As we walked around town and down to the beach I don’t think I saw anyone in anything other than a sexy body shirt, tight tank top or no shirt at all. It didn’t seem to matter if you looked good that way or not. That's what everyone wore or didn’t wear as the case may be. At the beach it was even more ‘revealing,’ Speedos, thongs or nothing. It was quite a lesson in male anatomy. Andy and I had worn boxer trunks. John and Mike Speedos. What a reversal. In Ann Arbor at the public pool I would have been mortified to wear a thong or a Speedo. I would've been arrested if I had gone au natural. Here I felt like I might be hauled away by the prude squad for what I was wearing.

That afternoon I noticed John and Mike were taking Andy aside and whispering. ‘They're up to something,’ I thought.

I found out exactly what shortly after dinner. Mike and John told us that we were going for a ride around the comma, part of the Cape’s peninsula. We reached a secluded beach and got out of Mike’s Blazer. It was beautiful, quiet, except for the gulls, and so peaceful.

“Bye,” Mike said, winking at Andy.


“Pick you up in two hours,” added John.

Then they left. A picnic hamper was left sitting next to the spot where the Blazer had been parked. In it were blankets, lanterns, non-alcoholic sparkling wine and a basket of fruit.

Still a bit confused, I turned to look at Andy. He had taken off all his clothing. His body was bronzed in the setting sun. I stood looking at him. I became aware that I was undressing. I also became aware that we both were becoming more and more erect. Andy walked forward. He took me by the hand and led me to the water. We walked in up to our chests. He turned and pressed against me. Our lips and tongues met. His arms were around my neck. In a swift movement he raised himself and put his legs around my waist. The buoyancy of the water made him as light as a feather. We continued to kiss. He reached down and lined me up with his rectum. He slowly lowered himself onto my engorged penis. Lower and lower until he was totally impaled. He looked into my eyes. Measuring his words, he said, “You. . . mean. . . everything. . . to . . . me.” I buried my head in his chest. The gentle action of the swells did the work for us. As if in synchronization with the rhythm of nature we were brought closer and closer to mutual gratification and completion. Andy came first. His seed was washed into the waves as an offering to the forces of creation. My climax was saved deep within him, a testimony to my love for him. I carried him out of the bay and put him down. We unfolded the blankets, drank the wine and fed the fruit to each other by the light of the lanterns. We didn't speak. We didn’t need too. Eventually we fell asleep.

“Hey Dad. Wake up.” Mike was shaking my shoulder. He and John loomed above me. I smiled. I blushed. I was lying naked under a blanket with my lover, and my son was standing there smiling at me. Andy got up without embarrassment. He stood and offered me his hand. I didn’t know what to do. They all started laughing at me as I struggled to cover myself with the blanket.

Finally I said “shit,” and stood up. After all I’d learned this week about accepting who I was I decided that I could stand naked before anyone and be proud. I walked over to Andy and without hesitation kissed him.

Our time on the Cape came to an end all too soon. We headed back to Hyde Park. When arriving there a message on the answering machine called John to work a flight to Amsterdam. He wasn't too pleased, but he accepted it. He left the next morning.

That night we went to a restaurant in an area that Ed explained was being renovated by the gay community. The pattern seemed to be that gay men moved into a rundown area, remodeled and raised the value of the area. Then the yuppies moved in paying top dollar and the gay reconstruction machine moved on. No wonder Boston was so gay friendly.

“This is going to be fun,” Mike chuckled. “This place is run by two gay guys. It’s a hole in the wall but has a great menu. For some reason it attracts an interesting group of people. Straights come to see ‘us’.” He laughed. “And interesting gay guys come to put on a show for the straights. It’s a hoot.”

Although there was a crowd in the cramped waiting area, Ed was greeted with enthusiasm by one of the owners and we were allowed entrance immediately. While we were kissed and groped by the maitre de’ amid pointings by some straight, or maybe repressed tourists, we were seated.

Mike was right; it was a hole in the wall. He was also right about the food, it was wonderful. As we ate, Mike and Ed entertained us by pointing out the different groupings of people at the various tables.

“Those guys are on their first date. They're trying to impress each other and at the same time trying to decide who's going to pay.” It was an expensive establishment.

“Over there, they've been together too long. They're completely bored with each other and are checking out everyone in the restaurant.” I looked at Andy and he mouthed ‘Never’ and kissed my hand.

Ed continued, “These two are just starting out. They probably just made love for the first time last night or this afternoon and can’t wait to get it on again.”

“That couple with the kids. Well it's his weekend to have his children come stay. He's divorced and has childcare rights every other weekend. His partner doesn’t like kids.”

“They’re straight. They can’t believe what they're seeing.” We laughed.

As we continued our meal while Ed and Mike pointed out other sights of interest, I couldn’t help but notice a couple sitting in the corner. They were older than I was. They were really into each other and sat close together. Occasionally they would lean toward each other as they talked. I watched as they fed each other bites off of each other’s plates, one man, the handsomer of the two, kept looking over at our table. Whenever he saw me looking in his direction he would look away.

We were eating desert, laughing about the various people we had seen this night. I was aware that someone was standing behind me. I turned and saw it was the handsome man from the corner table.

“Excuse me,” he said, “but I couldn’t help noticing. . .”

His eyes were steel blue, piercing, familiar. I knew where this was going in an instant and yet couldn’t believe it.

“Is your name Andrew?”

Andy looked up. “Yes.”

“Andrew Barnes?”

‘Oh my God! This can’t be’

“Yes, do I know you?”

The man closed his eyes, took a deep breath before looking at Andy again, tears forming in his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. “I think I'm your father.”

Everything stopped, then went into slow motion. Andy’s mouth fell open; he mouthed ‘Dad?’ He stood up and grasped the older man by the arms. ‘Dad?’

Mike stopped with fork in mid bite. Ed looked at me with this strange expression on his face. I felt dizzy.

“I think so.” He took a photograph out of his wallet. It was a high school graduation picture. It was Andy.

“Jack, your step father, sent this to me.”

“Dad?” Andy staggered backward. I stood and steadied him.

“I’m David Bennett, Andy’s partner,” I said, rising and pushing Andy to his seat.

“I’m Nelson Barnes.”

The other man who had been sitting with Nelson had arrived on the scene.

“This is Norman, Norman Perkins, my partner.”


We were back at Mike’s house in Hyde Park. Mr. Nelson Barnes and Mr. Norman Perkins had returned there with us. We all sat and listened as Nelson and Norman told the story of their love, how they tried to hide it from Nelson’s family, how they had been found out. Then they told of the decision, made by Nelson and Andy’s mother, to have him silently drop out of the family. In tears that rended the soul, Nelson repented to Andy for all the hurt he had caused. Then sat with his folded hands between his legs and his head bowed. Norman was next to him, stroking his shoulder.
Andy remained silent for a long time. When he spoke it was with a voice filled with emotion.
“If it hadn’t been for the things that have happened to me in the last two years,” he said steadily, “I don’t know what I would be saying to you. You have destroyed a family. You have no idea how bad it got after Mom remarried. Then when she died it was even worse. Jack was so abusive that we all left. Now, I don’t even know where my brother and sister are.”
Nelson let out a sigh that bordered on a sob. Norman tightened his grip on his shoulder.
Andy continued, “Yet, because of the love of this man,” he walked over and sat on the arm of the couch next to me, putting his hand on my arm, “I can understand why you did it. I. . .want to forgive you. I can’t right now, but I want to. If you give me some time maybe I can.”
Mr. Nelson Barnes looked up. He was still crying but there was hope and love in those familiar steel blue eyes, so like Andy’s.
He mouthed the words, “Thank you, son.”

That night in bed, after Nelson and Norman had gone, I held my Andy as he cried. I thought he'd never stop. I just held him, not knowing what else I could do to offer him comfort.

John returned from flight duty two days before we left. Mike had already let him know about recent events: about how a stranger in a strange town just happened to be in the right place at the right time for a miracle to happen. Or was it? Andy hadn't been the man I had brought to Boston. He was quiet, introspective and distant. Each night he let me hold him while he asked questions: questions that had no firm answers. Why hadn’t Nelson handled it the way you did, David? Why couldn’t he have just been more careful and not been found out? Didn’t he know that leaving his family was its downfall? Why didn’t he ever try to contact us? And Mom was part of that decision!” Then he would cry again.

I tried to give him answers, knowing I could only speak from my experience, aware that I was mostly guessing. How did I know what went on in another man’s heart. I told Andy that my experiences weren't love but just sex. Obviously Nelson and Norman were in love. Love made more demands than sex. I didn’t know what I'd have done if I'd found Andy at a different time in my life, at a time prior to Patti’s death. I reminded him how Peter had reacted when we first came out to him, how Meg had struggled even though she had accepted our relationship. I also reminded him that this had all started over thirty years ago, when the openness of a relationship like ours was even more impossible to achieve than now. After hearing all this, Andy finally drifted off to sleep.

“How’s he doing?” John asked as he, Mike and I sat in the kitchen sipping our morning coffee.

“He’s struggling to come to grips with. . .” I started to say.

“Hi John, when did you get back?” It was Andy, showered, shaved and looking wonderful in his U of M loungers, bare-chested.

I got up and went over to him. He kissed me.

“I got back just about. . .” he checked his watch, “five minutes ago. I hear you had quite a shock.”

Andy half laughed, “About a billion kilowatts I would estimate. “But,” he drew a deep breath, “I think I'll survive.”

I looked at him, hoping he'd turned some corner, come to some level of acceptance.

“Mike, can you drive me over to Nelson’s place? I need to talk to him. I have his telephone number, we can get directions.”

“Sure,” Mike said.

I started to get out of my chair.“I’ll get dressed. It'll only take me five . . .”

“No, David, Please, I need to do this on my own.”

I nodded and sat back down.

Andy seemed upbeat as he and Mike said good-bye and walked down the back stairs.

“It’s gonna be okay,” John reassured me. “He’s gonna be okay.”

Twenty minutes later Mike returned, having dropped off Andy. We went out to lunch.
The afternoon wore on. I wondered what was going on. I wasn’t exactly worried but I wanted to know everything would be all right with my man.

Finally, about six o’clock I was standing in the window of the sun porch. I’d just checked my watch for the twentieth time. A car pulled up below me. As I watched, Andy got out of the passenger side and Nelson emerged from the driver’s side. He walked around the car and embraced his son. They broke apart and looked up at the window where I stood. With arms around each other’s waist, they waved to me. I waved back. Miracles do happen.


October is truly a beautiful month in Michigan. Our street is made up of maples. This year, for some reason, they were a riot of color. The colored leaves, the nip in the air,
pumpkins and corn shucks on the doorsteps: I loved it all.

I jumped down out of my truck at the barn. Jake jumped out of the truck bed. We were going for a trial ride. Annie climbed down from the truck seat. The medication Andy had prescribed was definitely doing its job.

I stopped in the barn and asked Stacy, one of the riding instructors, if I could use Buttercup, a school lesson horse. Jake, Annie and I walked out to the pasture to get her. We walked past the paddock where the spring foals, now weanlings, were kept.
They cantered over to the fence tails raised and snorting. They thought they were stallions already.

“Hi babies,” I said rubbing their noses, reminding them of their status in the herd, “here ya go.”

I reached into my pockets and brought out sugar cubes and baby carrots. They eagerly accepted my gifts.

The next pasture was for the school horses. Three fat ponies and four small horses lived there. They were used for beginner lessons and summer horse camp. They were safe and reliable and worth their weight in gold as school horses for those attributes. I entered the pasture and walked toward the small herd. I was looking for Buttercup.

She saw me coming and lifted her head. It seemed to me she sighed as if to say, ‘Oh boy, I gotta lug fatty around again.’ But she came to me and lowered her head for a good behind the ears scratch. I slipped her halter on and we walked back to the barn. The sun was warm and the warmth had stimulated an Injun Summer chorus of cicadas and other insects.

>From the groom stall in the barn I could hear a discussion going on in the barn office as I brushed Buttercup and cleaned her hooves. The voices were those of Ben, the barn owner and his wife, Janet, the trainer. Andy could be heard as well.

‘Hm? What's going on?’

I really wanted to stay and find out what it was, but, as the voices sounded happy and excited, not angry or upset, I decided not to butt in on barn business. I led Buttercup outside and mounted. We headed west and then north along a turn-out paddock fence. Two geldings, out for their morning exercise came to greet us. It made me think of the days when Meg’s horses roamed this pasture. These were both happy and sad memories. Those years had gone so fast, too fast.

The trails behind the barn were many and varied. Composed of hills and valleys, woods and meadows as well as trails along the Huron River, you could ride for hours. Meg and
I, as well as our friends from the barn, used to pack a lunch and ride all day, stopping at an old picnic table by the river to eat. From the top of a ridge overlooking an unused stone quarry, which sported a natural mineral spring, you could see, if you were lucky, and there were no youngsters with you, groups of U of M frat boys enjoying a nude swim.

It was on this trail along the ridge, hoping that my luck was holding, that I heard hoof beats behind me. There was no mistake that the horse was running flat out. Jake turned and barked. I was worried that some trail rider had gotten thrown by a run away. Thank God I was on steady ole Buttercup.

“Wait up, David, wait!” It was Andy.

‘What the Hell?’

He reined in beside me, dismounted and pulled me from the saddle and onto the ground. We rolled over and over. Jake and Annie licked our faces and barked. Buttercup merely sighed and dropped her head to graze. ‘Humans’ you could imagine her saying. Andy’s mount had trotted a few yards away, but as soon as he’d seen that Buttercup wasn’t upset by our antics, he followed suit and grazed, too.

“You aren't gonna fuckin’ believe this, you are not going to fuckin’ believe this!”

“Wha. . .?” was all I managed to get out. He was on top of me pinning my shoulders to the ground, grinding his hips into mine.

“Fuck, I love you!” he said before kissing me.


“Okay,” I said once we'd gotten home that night. I'd fed the dogs and he was fixing dinner. “You were so excited, as well as exciting, up there on the bluff that I’m not sure I've got all this straight. You're going into vet practice?” He'd been getting offers regularly since the end of summer by the very practices that had turned him down the year before. They had to, because he was making such inroads into their business at our end of the county.

“Yep,” he replied, turning the steaks he was searing, “with Ben and Janet.”

“We’ve been talkin’ about it for a month or more. We knew we had the clientele to get started and the space to build an office at the barn but we didn’t have the capital to get all the things you need to start a practice: you know medical supplies, a vet’s HopCap for the truck, computer, secretary, all that shit. I didn’t want to tell you until it was set. I wanted you to be surprised. . . and I wanted to do it for you, to show you I am capable, to show you how grateful I am that you gave me this second chance.” He paused and kissed me long and deeply. “Now we have that capital and so. . .”

“Andy,” I said taking him in my arms, “This is fuckin’ fabulous, but I never doubted for a minute you were capable.”

“I guess I knew that, deep down.”

“You needed to know you were capable. And now you do.”

“It’s just I keep thinking of where you found me and what I was like that first night.”

“You know now that I had fallen in love with you even before I picked you up,” I confessed.

“Yes, now I do, but I guess I wanted to prove that your belief in me was for real. That I really was the man that you hoped. . .believed I was.”

“Tell me, how did you secure the capital?”

“That's the best part! I mentioned to my dad on the phone that I was trying to get a loan to start a vet practice but the banks were skeptical. He didn’t say much. Then today Mike called.”

“My Mike?”

“Yes. He and John along with my dad and Norman are backing the practice. That makes it even better. My dad is backing me. My dad!”

All I could do was smile at this wonderful man who had stolen my heart and filled my life with joy.


Andy once again broke into the memories that were playing in my mind, bringing me back to the present.

“Maybe next year my dad and Norman will join us for the holiday?”

“I don’t see why not.” We'd invited them this year but they refused our invitation, pleading a pre-arranged cruise to the Caribbean. “I think Nelson just wasn’t ready this year. He needs time to be sure you've forgiven him.”

“I have.”

When the boxes were packed and Claudia put to bed for the year, Andy and I went upstairs. We lay there, face to face, in the dark. He ran his hand over my shoulder and down my arm to my fingertips. Lifting my hand, he placed it against his lips. He kissed me, pulled my fingers inside his mouth and then licked my palm. I was aware that his penis head was pushing against mine. He reached down and pressed his puckered foreskin against the tip of my erection. His pre-cum coated both of us. We slowly, seductively moved into a position so that we were available to each other. We took each other orally. The taste of his fluids was intoxicating. One hand caressed my scrotum, the other my ass. I responded to his touch by clutching both of his shapely globes in my hands. In this position I could control my climax. I wanted to time it so that we came together. But, I was in for a surprise. His tongue found the sensitive groove at the back of the head and I was gone. All I was aware of was an intense sensation that was flooding my penis, balls and thighs. There was no turning back. My moan of pleasure was muffled by his presence in my mouth. As the surges from my penis subsided, his began. More forceful and copious than my own, he filled my mouth to over flowing. We returned to our original position facing each other on the bed.

“Still glad you picked me up that night?”

“Ubetchim, Little Beaver. Still glad you decided to stay?”

“Ubetchim, Red Ryder!”

The End of Year Two.