Jack Scribe

Warning:  The following story may contain graphic descriptions of sex between consenting adult males. If you are underage or do not wish to read such material, or if reading this sort of material is illegal in your jurisdiction, then read no further. This multipart story is primarily about romance and relationships between men. Any reference to actual persons, living or dead, is only to enhance the fictional nature of the story and does not suggest a particular sexual orientation.    

A special acknowledgement to David from the Lakeview area of Chicago and Brad from Denver for providing diligent proofing and editing of the story, to Carey for being a patient teacher, and to Drew for helping to expand my boundaries.

If you have any comments or suggestions for the author, feel free to write me at jack.scribe@gmail.com. I love feedback. Support Nifty!



Saturday morning was a continuation of surprises between us. It was amazing how our two torsos fit together so well, and the snuggling was great. After some shifting around, we found the best position was the classic spoon, with his cute, warm butt wedged into my crotch. I naturally wrapped an arm around his waist while he held my forearm.

The furry, little Abyssinian alarm clock announced the new day by resting next to our heads and running the familiar growling purr while pawing the pillow. "Hey, Mr. Charley," I whispered. "You ready for some chow?"

Just then, my blond bed partner uttered in a falsetto voice, "Mr. Sammy wants some chow, too." Distracting the cat, Sammy rolled over and kissed me lightly. "No tongue until I brush," he murmured, while rubbing his nose on mine.

"Morning, buddy." I felt Sammy's hand on my wood while he pushed his hot arousal against my thigh. "I hate to break this up, but I gotta pee." I moved away and got out of bed. The Aby bounded off in anticipation of his morning treats but stopped disappointedly at the bedroom door as I veered into the bathroom.

"Mind if I join you, Jerry? Need to take care of business too. And maybe a little mouthwash?" Sammy asked, as he walked up behind me.

Laughing, I said, "Have you no modesty?"

"After last night, I don't think that there isn't anything that I haven't seen...or tasted," he said, joining me at the toilet bowl. We both aimed our pee hard-ons and let loose."

When we finished, I turned, licked his ear and said, "The Listerine is below the sink." I moved over to the counter sink, retrieved the bottle and opened it. We both took swigs and liberally swished the mouthwash around before spitting.

Returning to the bedroom, Sammy hopped back in bed and growled, "We have unfinished business," He said, slowly stroking himself, "and a fresh breath."

"Let me feed Charley. I will return. Bet on it," I huskily replied, while walking out with nothing on.

"Hurry back. I'm going to try a blue one," Sammy said, from the bed. I laughed, remembering that the condoms were multi-colored. Mr. Charley trotted behind me in anticipation of his morning meal as I left the bedroom.

While feeding the cat, I thought about all the activities last night. Imagining what this young, human dynamo had in store for me, I analyzed the predictable, semi-active sex life that Matt and I had fallen into...when he was in town. The first year our experiences were spontaneous and exciting. But after that, the intimate moments were kind of routine and dull. Recently, however, Matt's and my physical encounters were almost null and void.

'Nothing dull about Sammy,' I judged, returning to the bedroom. Norah Jones was singing "Don't Miss You At All" in the background, and the bed was a backdrop for my beautiful guest, lying spread eagle with his head propped up by pillows. The lube and blue condom were next to him.

"Hey, Jerry. Wake up call," he cheerfully announced, as he scooted over to make room. When I joined him, we immediately went into an embrace. He started rubbing my cock while licking the nearest armpit. "I want to sit on you. Okay?"

"Okay," was all I said in a husky voice, while considering that I was putty in his hands...and, well every place else. This young man was an energized machine. He had awakened my ignored sexual needs of being with another male.

He got over me and straddled my body at the thighs. Leaning down, he enveloped my hard, veined cock completely in his mouth and slowly got me wet. I took the opportunity to reach between his legs and play with his cherry-red, hot missile. Sammy released me from his sweet lips and caused the slippery cock to slap against my stomach. He reached over and grabbed the condom and rolled it over me in a precision manner. A sly grin appeared as he applied an ample amount of lube to the sheath. When I was greased, Sammy reached behind and prepared himself. Getting up on his knees, he scooted forward a little and kissed me while moving my arms to the headboard. Looking at me with a soft smile, he said, "Enjoy the ride." With that he grabbed my dick and aimed it at his ready asshole. "Oomph," he uttered as I entered his hot, soft interior. He paused and smiled while squinting his eyes.

"You feel fantastic. Is this okay for you?"

Nodding his head, Sammy slowly impaled himself. With his buttocks resting on my flattened pubes, the trademark grin reappeared. Grinding his ass around my pole, he started the ascent and began screwing me. Slowly I started responding to his moves. But he was clearly in control. This was a new experience.

He looked at me intensely as his lithe, muscled, body and my hard cock found a sensuous rhythm. After fucking with abandon, I noticed a wild look of pleasure creep over Sammy's face. His face glistened with sweat as he yelled, "Fuck." I felt his sphincter tighten around my expanding cock. As I realized that I was about to climax, sudden spurts of hot jizz shot out of his cock and landed on my face and chest. He had a salacious expression of satisfaction as he brought me to completion. With my cock still up his well-worked interior, he laughed and leaned down and licked my face. I welcomed the kiss.

After resting in a wet embrace, we cleaned up and I fixed breakfast. With his board shorts ensemble back on, Sammy left shortly before 10:00 a.m. I assured him that we should get together again. We traded telephone numbers. 'What the fuck had I done," I wondered.

With a quick trip to Whole Foods and Trader Joe's for groceries, wine and other supplies, I returned to fix a ham and Swiss sandwich and spruce up the place. Chuckling at the larger than normal quantity of sheets and towels that needed to be washed, I did two loads. I surveyed the other bedroom. Everything seemed to be in order for Mom and Dad. They, along with my younger brother Coulter and his fiancée Judy, would be stopping for drinks at 6:00 p.m. before going on to the Casino Club at seven for the Lyric Opera fund-raising dinner.

Thank God my brother was going to give the folks some grandkids. Took the pressure off me. Although I was six years older than he, we had always gotten along well. I was the one he went to about those sex questions that most boys are too shy to ask a parent. When I came out at the age of 20, I had a private meeting with him immediately after talking to my supportive folks.

Mom and Dad, both being physicians, had seen the darker side of young gay men and lesbians who had been the target of hate by others or self-abuse and worse. While my father attributed my lack of relationships with girls to my being a 'late bloomer', Mom had noticed how I subtly would react to male companionship for the past several years.

I assured them that when I was intimate with anyone, safe sex was always practiced. 'Interesting' I ruminated, 'what we had just talked about would have been embarrassing as hell in my teen years. Now, it was three adults having a helpful discussion.'



We were sitting in his room with Coulter on the bed, and I on a desk chair. "Ah, Coulter, we need to talk about something that is going on in my life," I said looking at him with an earnest, sincere expression.

"Well, I know it can't be about masturbation. You've been taking care of yourself for years," he replied rapidly with a chuckle, while waving a cupped hand in the air. I smiled, watching this strapping 14-year-old sibling, playfully reacting.

"Yes. Yes, I have. But you seem to be doing a pretty good job yourself. Gotcha, fella." I smiled thinking back a to couple of years earlier when he asked me about jacking off. He had tried it but had heard all those old wive's tales about going blind, growing hair on your hands, etc. I told him that it was a very normal part of a man's sexual experiences from puberty through life. I assured him that I pleasured myself. Had for several years. I even confidentially told him that Dad probably still did it occasionally. I also said that the real thing was better than 'jerking', and that when he was ready for that chapter of instruction, to ask me.

"Seriously, I need to tell you some changes in the way I look at sex and my attraction for others. What I'm going to tell you may be upsetting. You may be confused and want nothing to do with me. I hope that's not the case. I love you, brother."

His mouth was gaping open. "I don't think anything you can say would turn me away from you. Jerry, I love you too."

"Well, here goes. I discovered a couple of years ago that I had no interest or sexual attraction toward women other than to be friends. God, Coulter, I tried. You remember Becky and Sarah?" These were the two girls I had dated in high school at New Trier. As he nodded with a curious look, I continued, "It was in my junior year that I found someone who I could relate to sexually."

"You mean you weren't nailing those two?"

"Actually, not even close. We were good friends. Nothing more."

"I don't remember anyone else that...you mean...um...oh shit...you...?"

"Yeah. I met a guy."

"Christ. You mean you were getting it on with Phil?" he said with quiet alarm. Phil and I became inseparable until we graduated, and he went to California for college. Inseparable in more ways than one.

"Yes, Phil and I had very strong feelings for each other." I looked into his eyes, trying to judge if this was going to be accepted. "But we kept that to ourselves." I was class president and he was starting forward for the basketball team.

"You and Phil did it? You guys are fa...gay?" His eyes became wider.

"Fag, faggot, fairy or queer are not very nice words to use, Coulter. But yes, we are gay. Last I heard he was in San Francisco with a partner."

"Jerry. I'm sorry. But this is a lot to take in. How could you choose something like that?"

"But that's the point, little brother. You don't choose. This is something that we're pretty sure is hereditary. Maybe, when you become a doctor, you'll discover why some of us are different. Trust me, if I had a choice, I'd be banging the shit out of some girl." With that, he smiled slightly.

"Instead you banged the shit out of Phil?" he retorted with a chuckle.

"Literally. I didn't get any complaints." 'Yeah, I think that I'm making progress with Coulter,' I judged.

"You put your dick up..."

"I don't think that we need to get this graphic right now. If you are curious about the mechanics of gay sex, I'll explain it to you another time."

"I'm more curious about the mechanics of straight sex," he replied with a typical teenager leer.

"Are you sexually active, brother?" I looked a little worried.

"Naw. But some of my friends are. I think I'd like to try it."

"Well, first of all, at 14 I suspect that your buddies are bullshitting you. A little false bragging is very common at your age. However, let's talk about straight sex soon. Okay?"


"I want you to know that I told the folks this morning. They understand and are relieved that I came out to them. Are you going to be okay that your big brother is gay?"

"Jerry, give me a little time. I just need to work this out in my head. I've always looked up to you." He got up and walked over to me. When I stood, he grabbed me and we held each other tightly. "It will be okay. I love you, bro. You're still my best friend."

"Thanks, Coulter," I said, releasing him and walking to the door.

Calling out behind me, he said, "I do want to hear the "X-rated" version of the birds and bees...soon."

I chortled, "You got it."



Getting caught up in those memories, I didn't realize that my family all would be here in 45 minutes. I set the lighting, iced down the wet bar and tuned the music to a light classical channel before going upstairs to clean up and get dressed in dinner clothes.

The rest of the evening went well. Coulter and Judy arrived first. They were both Chardonnay drinkers, like me. The closeness of two brothers only strengthened in recent years. And Judy couldn't have been more supportive. The folks arrived shortly afterwards with overnight luggage. I stowed their belongings in the bedroom and made two Ketel One Vodka Martinis up with three olives for the senior guests. They all asked about work and Matt, and I was rather evasive. I picked up on one of Mom's 'you aren't fooling anyone, son' looks.

I told them about the birthday dinner plans in New York. Dad was hosting a family outing for me the following weekend in Winnetka. Matt would be back for the party. It would be the first time in months that I would see Matt two weekends in a row.

A limousine arrived promptly at seven to drive us. Upper Michigan Avenue was sheer hell for parking. Plus the limousine service gave me a good rate. Martin Consulting used them constantly. At the Casino Club, our table was near the front, signifying that Dad was a generous contributor to The Lyric. His generosity with the Art Institute had given me an open door to be elected to the board of directors. Chicago was known as "Big Bucks by the Lake" for good reason. I silently thanked the success of Microsoft and Intel.

After the dinner, Coulter and Judy departed immediately for his apartment on North Sheridan Road. Returning to Astor Street, Mom and Dad trooped up to the guest room and we said good night. As I lay down, thoughts of the events in this room 24 hours earlier surfaced. Sub-consciously I sniffed the pillows for any reminder of Sammy as I drifted off.

In the morning, Mr. Charley made his early visit, and I was up for feeding and to start breakfast. Dad had to be at the Lake Shore Country Club in Glencoe for a 10:00 a.m. tee time. Great Grandpa Frankelstein was a charter member when the club was originally on the South Side. The Franklin family continued memberships when the exclusive Jewish country club moved to its north suburban location. Neither Coulter nor I had continued the tradition. Friends sponsored me to join The Union League Club, located in the financial district. Coulter just didn't get into golf.

Having all the breakfast items ready for assembly and coffee perking, I went back up and knocked on their door. "Hey, guys. Time to get up."

I listened as Mom said, "Thanks, Jerry. We'll be down in a half-hour."

Changing from a robe to a polo shirt and shorts, I returned to the kitchen to set the table, padding around barefooted. I was such a domestic diva...not. Trader Joe's squeezed tangerine juice, English muffins, and cracked eggs for scrambling. Just the basics. I set the table and noted that exactly at 7:30 a.m., my folks appeared.

"Morning. Mom, why don't you pour coffee and juice while I fix the eggs." Knowing their promptness, I had toasted the English muffins, and they were resting in a low-temp oven. Using the largest pan, I coated it with a canola oil spray and started the cooking process.

"Darling," Mom said from the dining room, "You haven't said much about Matt."

I heard Dad mutter, "Mary, don't probe too much. If Jerry has something to tell us, he will." With my eyes momentarily closed, I briefly gritted my teeth, and took a deep breath. 'Showtime, Jerry,' I concluded.

Bringing the newly scrambled eggs into the dining room in the pan, I portioned out the food in each of our plates. Returning to and from the kitchen, I brought the muffins in a cloth-covered basket. A selection of preserves and butter were pre-set already on the table. It appeared that all was in order as I sat down.

"To answer your question, Mom, I don't see Matt much, so there's really nothing to tell. His time in New York is getting more involved in work. He says it's a good career move." I had to keep convincing myself.

"I can't imagine your Father and I separated for many months. It would be difficult."

"It is very difficult. Let's put it this way. I'm going to confront Matt when I'm back East about these absences. It could be that you'll have one less son-in-law when I return. I'm at that point," I answered with a touch of anger, as I looked at them with an expression of silent desperation.

"Jerry, discussion rather than confrontation will make your time together more productive," Mom suggested. She placed her warm hands over mine and smiled. Our eyes met and I felt like I was 12 years old, again.

"I know. It's just frustrating. Matt plays office politics so well that any home life comes in at a distant second place. I haven't tossed away the relationship yet, but Matt and I will have a long, in person 'discussion', soon. Stay tuned."

"I'm sure that he'll resolve it. How's everything doing for you here?" Dad asked tactfully changing the subject. I was relieved. 'Thank you, Dad,' I thought.

"Thanks Dad. The job's great, and I love working on the Art Institute board. This home we are sitting in has increased in value 300%, and I'm looking forward to seeing Coulter becoming a partner with you after he completes the residency." I didn't add that I had been bedding a hot, sexy hunk since last night. "Aside from Matt, things couldn't be better," I added, while looking for a challenging expression on their faces. Mom only slightly raised her eyebrow.

We continued with family small talk until they decided to head North at 8:30 a.m.

After I cleaned up, the remainder of the day was devoted to weekend tasks. I did the rest of the laundry and changed the guest room linens. Rosie would be here Tuesday for the weekly cleanup.

Deciding it was time to take a stretch, I put on my Nikes and went outside for a walk around the beach. Crossing under Lake Shore Drive at the North Street tunnel, I came upon a close view of what I witnessed daily from across the Drive. Literally thousands of Chicago residents of all shapes, sizes, ages and colors enjoying a perfect summer day at the beach, in addition to the continuous cluster of cyclists navigating up and down the crowded bike path.

Walking south to the Oak Street Beach, I stopped for a hot dog and soda and watched the guys playing volleyball. By this time of summer, Chicago's young men traditionally had melted off the winter weight increase from inactivity and were back in shape. I marveled at the many fine physiques strutting before me. Finishing my abbreviated lunch and afternoon fantasy, I returned home.

Around 5:00 p.m., as I was trying to get a handle on my most recent novel, "The Da Vinci Code," the doorbell rang. Putting down the book, I opened the door and saw a now familiar, blond, young male standing in front of me dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, with a backpack strapped on.

"Hi, I need a shower." He smiled and winked as I opened the door wider.