Cutler House

Chapter Seven

By John Yager

The following story is a work of gay erotic fiction dealing with sexual relationships between brothers of high school age. If such stories are not to your liking or if you are not of legal age to read such stories in your area, please exit now.

This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. Any similarity to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental. This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author.

Again, special thanks to Andrew, who proofed the text and gave me the benefit of his critical reading. Any mistakes remain my own.

This is the seventh and final chapter of Cutler House, which is a sequel to the series titled Montgomery Hall. A third and parallel series, titled Columbus Avenue, is also posted on NIFTY.

If you wish to receive e-mail notification of subsequent postings, please let me know by sending your request to the e-mail address below.

It was just the end of May and it was hot, really hot, the way only Mississippi can be hot. Temperatures were in the nineties and the humidity was just about as high. We had one more week of classes at Lawton, but nobody cared. The kids had lost it a week earlier and the teachers were just holding on, trying to convince us that these last days really counted. We knew they didn't, at least not so far as we were concerned. The teachers were cleaning up out their offices and getting the rooms ready to close down for the summer. The word was that grades were already recorded, but even if they weren't, we had all our exams and everyone was sort of coasting.

I'd tried to keep my interest up but it was a loosing battle. It was Friday and I stayed late to help Mr. Kerr, our science teacher. We clean up the lab and pack away the equipment we'd been using for the last two weeks for a bunch of polymer experiments. The project had actually been interesting and the science lab was one of the few air conditioned rooms at the school. The problem was the fumes. The temperature in the room was okay, not really cool, but at least not an oven. But the fumes from the big distilling flasks leaked out, no matter how we tired to seal them, and the odors almost knocked you down.

I knew Monty had gone home with mom at three o'clock. She had picked him and Steve and Patty up as soon as the last classes were out. I think mom was also taking Bess, our cousin, home to Montgomery Hall. Bess had lived with our grandmother most of her life, since her mom, my Aunt Susan, had been killed in a car accident when Bess was just a baby.

Now it was almost five o'clock and we were almost finished. The room was more or less closed down for the summer. The janitor would come in next week and put the lab stools on the counters, do the floors and generally finish up the heavy cleaning.

"Is your mother coming for you, David?"

David was my father's name. No body except a few teachers called me David. Everyone, my friends, my family, they all called me Dave.

"No, sir. I'll just walk."

"Let me take you. It's too hot to walk for you to walk that far."

"You really don't mind, Mr. Kerr?"

"No, not at all. I'm going that direction."

We checked the room and turned off the lights. In his three year old Ford, Mr. Kerr blasted the AC and we were on our way. It was nice to be cool, really cool.

You'll be a senior next year, David."

I wasn't sure if he meant it as a question or just a statement of fact.

"Yes, sir."

"Then off to college, I trust."

"Yes, I guess I'll be going up to Oxford."

"Well, Old Miss is a great school."

"My folks both graduated from there."

"Well, then. It's a natural choice." He paused but I felt as if he had intended to go on, so remained silent. At last, as we pulled out into Main Street, he said, "I understand your cousin from over in Greenwood is skipping his senior year of high school and has been admitted to Columbia University in New York City."

"He isn't my cousin, sir, but I guess you mean Tim Arnold. He is going to Columbia."

"Oh, I thought he was your cousin. I understood he was going to live with your Uncle Martin."

"Yes, sir, Tim is going to live with Uncle Martin, but he isn't my cousin. We're good friends but we're not related."

"Well, it should be a very nice arrangement for the young man. I understand your uncle has a fabulous apartment."

It really did seem as if everything concerning the Cutler family was more or less public knowledge around Winona. Public knowledge and public discussion. Maybe that's why my family keeps it's business to itself as much as possible, I sure knew Monty and I operated like that. We'd learned at a very young age to keep to ourselves and not talk about our personal lives much, even with our closest friends. I guess that tendency tended to make our family seem a little clannish to the rest of the folks in town.

Mr. Kerr drove on in silence for a block or two, but when I didn't comment on his remark, he eventually went on. "But if they aren't related, their arrangement might be misunderstood."

"How do you mean, sir?"

"Well, you know, these days some people might wonder, that's all."

"Wonder, sir?"

"Um, well, yes. A young man living with an older man, not a relative, just, what, a family friend?"

I didn't know what to say. Later I wondered if I should just have said that Tim and Martin were a couple. I thought that was what Kerr wanted to know and was hoping I'd confirm it for him. It wasn't as if it was any big secret around Winona. By not saying it I like a coward. But it didn't seem to be any of his business and I just kept my mouth shut.

"You don't need to pull in, Mr. Kerr," I said as we approached our house.

You're sure? It's still quite a walk back to the house."

"No, really, Mr. Kerr, I don't mind walking and it will be a lot easier for you."

"All right, then," he' d said. He seemed a little disappointed but he pulled the car to a halt at the gate.

"Thank you for the ride, sir," I'd said and quickly gotten out of the car.

"My pleasure, David. I hope you have a wonderful summer."

I watched as he pulled away and then I turned and walked along the tree shaded drive to the house. When I reached the front door I was surprised to find it locked. I walked around to the back and found the door there closed and locked as well. Now that did strike me as odd. There was always someone home and the doors were rarely locked during the day. I took out my seldom used key and let myself in the back door.

"Mom," I called and heard my voice echo in the empty space. "Monty," I called, and still got no answer. I went on through to the front hall and up the wide, curving stairs and up to the second floor. There was no one any place and I began to get a strange feeling. The door from the second floor corridor to our own private stairs was also locked so I fumbled for my keys again and opened it. "Monty," I called again as I ran up the stairs to the huge converted attic room I shared with my brother, "you up here?" There was only an eerie silence.

I reached the upper floor and walked around, finding nothing, no one. I stopped in the center of the large central space, under the high, sloping ceiling, and realized I was shaking. This was crazy, I thought. Why am I reacting like this?

There were a dozen logical explanations. Maybe my mother had errands to run and had taken Monty and the kids with her. I hadn't been with them when she picked them up so if she had such plans, I didn't hear them. I'd already gone to the science labs to help Mr. Kerr when Monty and the kids went out to meet our mom at our usual meeting place at the side of the school.

I spun around, looking again for some explanation. It was only then that I saw the door to the storage area under the eaves was slightly open. The door was too low to go through without stooping and the space behind it, a long room with a low, sloping ceiling, was where Christmas decorations and winter clothes were stored. Beyond the door I saw a bright light, far brighter than the meager hanging bulbs would provide.

Ducking through the low door, I could see that the door from this attic storage space to the rear roof was slightly open. That was the source of the light. I shuttled between boxes and old chests, through the dim space, toward the partially opened door beyond. There was the astringent smell of moth balls and dust and the dry heat of the place. I pushed the exterior door wide open and stepped out into the late afternoon heat and was blinded by the light. I was standing on the nearly flat roof of the back part of the house, the part which had been added when I was just a kid to accommodate the new kitchen and family room on the ground floor and our parents' suite above.

"Monty," I called again and realized my voice sounded more like a sob.

"Hey, bro."

My brother lay, not ten feet in front of me, stretched naked on a blanket, a book, a small ice chest and a couple of bottles by his side.

As my breathing returned to normal and my eyes adjusted to the brilliant light, I tried to speak again. "What are you doing, man?"

"Just catching some ray."


"Yeah, I'm trying to lose my tan line."

"Gees, bro," I said when I finally got my breath, "I couldn't find anybody. I guess I sort of panicked."

"Yeah, why?" He rose up a little and looked at me, shading his eyes from the bright light of the sun. His naked body was shiny with suntan oil and glistened like gold. I wanted him.

"I don't know, it wasn't logical. I just couldn't fine anybody and I sort of lost it, I guess."

"Mom took the kids with her to Greenwood. She had some shopping to do and Grandmother is over there at the church. I guess mom will leave Bess with Grandmother before she heads back."

"What time did she expect to get home?" I asked, wondering how much time we had.

"I don't know but I guess they'll be back for dinner."

"Where's dad?"

"He was in Kosciusko all day but I guess he'll be back for dinner, too."

I moved toward him, wondering if we had time. "You look so hot, Monty," I said, my voice little more than a growl.

"Yeah, burning up," my brother said, not understanding what I meant. "I guess I've had about as much sun as I can handle."

I laughed as he rolled over. "You're gona burn your buns, bro."

"Maybe already have."


I knelt beside him and ran the palm of my hand over his shoulders and down across his back. He was hot, really hot.

"Bro?" I whispered as my hand ran over his magnificent body.

"Yeah?" he said, lifting up a little to look at me. "Yeah," he said when he caught the look in my eyes and understood what I wanted. He rolled onto his back and looked up at me as I jerked my shirt over my head and off. I almost stumbled trying to get my shoes and socks off and then nearly ruined the zipper on my slacks pulling them off too fast. My jockeys quickly followed and I was naked, standing over him.

Monty held his hand out to take mine and pulled me down to him. His legs spread so I could kneel between them. He knew what I wanted, wanted it, too.

His body was so hot, scorching from the sun, as my cooler body pressed against him. We were both instantly erect, our cocks pressed into the oily tightness between us.

My brother's legs came up around me, locking me to him and he began to rock with the rhythm of our desire. "Yeah, Davy," he crooned, "yeah, Bro."

I reached between us to move my cock into the hot crack of his butt. My cock knew the way. It found the pulsing bud of his ass and pressed against it. "Oh, yes, fucking yes," he whispered as I sought entry. His ass was slick with sweat and suntan oil but as hard as I pushed, nothing was happening. "Raise up," he said, understanding my problem.

I rose again to kneel between his legs as he reached for the plastic bottle of suntan oil. He squeezed a puddle of the oil into the palm of his hand and quickly spread it over the length of my cock. It was hot, very hot, from the sun.

"Squirt some in my ass," he said, handing me the bottle. I gently pushed the little nozzle head of the bottle into the bud of his ass and squeezed. "Oh, yeah, Bro," he hissed, "now do it, fuck me now."

I positioned myself again and pressed the head of my cock against him. My cock slid into him with such ease that we both gasped with surprise.

"Yeah," he hissed. "Yeah."

His legs again come up to lock me to him.

"Hard, Davy, fuck me hard."

I pounded into him with force, slammed my body against his. Our bodies were slick and wet with sweat and oil and made a resounding slapping sound as we repeatedly collided.

"Oh, yeah, Davy, that's it, man. Show no mercy, bro."

We were both so hot, in every sense of the word, that it was over in moments. I felt his body tighten and knew he was there. His ass shuddered around my cock and his cock erupted in the hot space between us, jolting his white seed up onto his chest.

I tried to hold on a moment more but lost it as his ass clinched in time with his erupting cock. I exploded deep in him, feeling my cock jolt in his hot, hard body.

"Yeah, man, yeah."

I collapsed, letting my full weight rest on him as his legs slipped from around me and we lay gasping in the hot air.




'Gees, guys!'

I heard it but it didn't register 'till I tuned with a jolt to see our little brother standing in the low door from the attic.

"Steve," I gasped.

He turned and jolted back into the darkness behind him. We heard a muffled crash as he stumbled over one of the large storage boxes in his path. Monty and I lay in stunned silence as we heard Steve's retreating footsteps on the stairs and then the distant slam of the door on the second floor landing.

"Oh, shit, Dave!" Monty gasped as my withered cock slid from his ass and we both sat up. "How the hell did he get up here?"

My head was reeling. I tried to think, retracing my steps as I'd come through the house in search of my brother.

"I must have left the door unlocked when I ran up," I whispered.

We were both silent, look intently at one another. Moments passed. Then Monty said, his voice very quite and very shaky, "We're fucked, Bro! Seriously fucked."




"Your father wants to talk with you," our mother said when we came down to dinner.

We had showered and dressed and gotten on down without being called, fearing the worst and figuring we'd just as well face the music.

Dad was walking back and forth behind his desk with the phone receiver at his ear when we went in to the room he used as his office when working at home.

He looked sternly at us and motioned us to the sofa which faced his desk. We sat, waiting for him to finish his telephone conversation. The room was more like a den than an office. The bookshelves behind the huge old desk were filled with mementoes and awards. It had a settled, masculine feeling.

"I realize that," Dad said, speaking to whomever it was on the other end of the phone line. He was silent again as he listened for some time, then said, "You may say so, Martin, but I think you had an obligation to their mother and me, as well."

Realizing that our father was talking his brother, our Uncle Martin, was a further cause for alarm.

Dad finished the call, saying, "yes, I'll call you back later," and hung up.

He turned to face us, just standing there, not speaking.

"Dad," I finally said, not able to contain my apprehensions any longer, "can I say something?"

"I think it would be better if you let me speak first, Dave," Dad said. But then, again, he was silent. Monty and I sat silently on the sofa, waiting for our father to begin. Eventually he sat down in his large, lather desk chair and looked across at us. "I just as well tell you that I am very angry," he eventually began.

"We understand, Dad," I said and Monty added his agreement.

"Do you?" Dad said. His voice was very quiet but seemed to pulsate with emotion. "And why do you think I'm angry?"

"Because of what we were doing. Steve must have told you what he saw."

"Yes, he told me. I think he was in shock."

"We're so sorry, Dad."

"You still don't get it, do you?" Dad went on.

"What do you mean?"

"I am angry, David, at both of you, because you did not have the courage to tell me what has apparently been going on between the two of you for several months now. My own brother knew. I guess you figured that was your Uncle Martin I was just talking with."

"Yes, Dad, we figured," I said.

"I will not be drawn into an argument about what you boys have been doing. I expect we will have to discuss it at some point very soon. But right now I want you to understand that the one thing I have always insisted on from my children has been your complete honesty with your mother and me."

"Yes, Dad, we do know that."

"And haven't I always told you to bring any concern, any difficulty to me?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Especially involving any issue which has significance to you and to the rest of the family."

"Yes, Dad."

"And would you say this particular issue has such significance?"

"Yes, Dad, certainly."

Dad was silent for several minutes, just looking at Monty and me. I felt awful and could sense that Monty was nearly ready to burst into tears. After a while Dad spoke again.

"I guess I am most upset because I have always felt our relationships were based on trust. I feel as if that trust had been violated."

Before anything more was said, Patty came to the door and said Mom wanted us to come eat. The three of us rose stiffly and went off to the family room.




Dinner was hell. Mom had brought our cousin Bess back with her from Greenwood after all. Our grandmother had been delayed and wouldn't get home until late. There was a stunning silence from everyone around the table except for Bess and our sister Patty. They both continued to jabber and tease as only little girls can. I guess, in a way it was a relief that they kept talking. I was sure they didn't even recognize the tension which the rest of us felt, let alone understand the reason for it. Without their banter the silence would have been overwhelming.

As soon as Mom had served the dessert, the girls were asking for permission to leave the table. Once they were gone the silence was really awful. Mom and Dad eventually finished and excused us. I didn't know what to do and finally asked Dad if he wanted Monty and me to come back to his office to continue our talk.

"Not yet, David," he said, using my full name. "I told your Uncle Martin that I would call him back and I think I should do that now. You and Monty go to your room and wait for me."

"Yes, sir," we both said, and rose to leave.

As we reached the door, Dad spoke again. "Leave your door unlocked, David, I'll come up and talk with you as soon as I finish my call."

"Yes, sir." I said. He had called me David, not Dave. He had also said that we were not to lock the door. That meant that we were not to engage in any intimate behavior.

When we reached the top of the stairs and the large converted attic which Monty and I shared as our bedroom and private world, Monty went immediately to my end of the space and lay down on my bed. I stretched out beside him and drew him into my arms.

We were both silently crying and as his lips pressed against my left ear, he whispered, "I'm so scared, Bro." I could feel a trimmer run through his body and he felt hot, feverish, in my arms.

"I know, Monty, me too."

"Do you think they'll separate us?"

"I don't know, Bro."

"I'm so afraid Dad will send you away."

"I know, Bro."

We lay in silence, locked in each other's arms, dreading our father's arrival, knowing it meant his judgment.

I think we may have dozed a little, but were fully awake when we heard the door slam shut on the second floor landing. Dad's heavy steps sounded on the stairs and by the time he called out to us we were setting side by side on the edge of my bed. "Where are you boys? he called.

"Here, Dad," we responded in unison. He came around the corner into my sleeping area, looked down at us from his standing position, then turned the desk chair around and sat down facing us.

"You boys all right?" I think he could tell we'd both been crying. Monty's face was blotched and puffy and his eyes were red.

Yeah, Dad," I said, "we're just so sorry."

He reached over and patted us both on our legs. "It'll be all right." He paused and looked at us, then added, "we'll work it out. That's what families do."

"Thanks, Dad," I said.

It wasn't Dave's fault, Dad. You've got to know that," Monty blurted out. I wasn't sure if Dad wanted us to be speak yet, but he didn't stop my brother, so he just continued. "I know because Dave's older, you're probably blaming him, but it isn't his fault, Dad, really it isn't. I was the one who started it, you've got to understand that. I started it. Dave would never have done anything if I hadn't been the one to start it."

Dad was silent for several minutes. When he spoke his voice was very low, unnaturally low, and very serious. "Is that true, Monty? Are you the one who began this between the two of you?"

"Yes, Dad, it's true, really true."

"David," Dad said, looking sternly at me, "tell me the absolute truth. This is very important. Did Monty start things between you?"

I was silent, thinking back, trying to remember what had happened so many months ago. "I think it was Monty, Dad. I'm trying to remember as accurately as possible." I paused and waited as I tried to think it through. "But even if it was Monty who started it, Dad, it isn't as if I didn't want it, too."

"But you both agree it was Monty who initiated it?"

"Yes, Dad, absolutely," Monty said quickly.

"Yes, sir," I added.

Our father noticeably relaxed. It was as if his body lost its tension and he was suddenly the relaxed man we had always known.

"I couldn't believe you started it, David. I didn't want to believe you seduced your younger brother. I'm so glad I was right. Even if it was a mutual thing between you, once it got started, I'm so relieved that it wasn't a case of my oldest son taking any sort of advantage of a younger sibling." He waited again and then added, "I guess it's a fine point, but it's important to me."

"Yes, sir," I said, not knowing what else to add.

"It took me longer than I expected on the phone with your Uncle Martin," Dad went on after another pause. "And by the way, both he and Tim asked me to give you their love."

My mind took another leap. Did bringing Tim into this add another level of concern on Dad's part? I had no way of knowing.

"I'm going to tell you what your uncle and I have been discussing." He was silent again and a boding sense of dread swept over me.

"First, I need to ask you some questions, very, very important questions."

"Sure, Dad," Monty and I said.

"Some of these questions won't be easy, but I have to know the truth before we can move on to other issues." Monty and I nodded and Dad went on. "First, have either of you been having sex with anyone else?"

"Do you mean, Dad," I asked, "are Monty and I being faithful to each other?"

"Yes, David," Dad said, "that is exactly what I mean."

I saw that we had to be completely honest with our father if we were to have any chance of restoring his trust.

"I had sex with two people before Monty and I became lovers, Dad, one girl and another boy." I hoped Dad wouldn't ask me to tell him whom I'd been with. He never did ask, not then, not later.

"Young people, in both cases, David?"

"Yes, sir."

"If there is any chance that you were exposed to any sexually transmitted disease, David, we need to know. We need to have you both examined."

"I was careful, Dad."

"Are you telling me you used condoms?"

"Yes, sir. When I was with the girl. I didn't use condoms with the other boy but I'm sure it was alright."

"How can you be sure, David?"

"Well, sir, he hadn't been with anyone who could have exposed him to anything."

Dad looked at me for a moment more and then turned to Monty and said, "What about you, son? Have you only done these things with your brother?"

It seemed so clinical, so unreal.

"Just Dave, Dad," Monty said, then added, "I never wanted it with anyone but Dave." As he spoke his hand moved over to take mine.

Dad was silent again, watching us, thinking. At last he said, "tell me what you two have been doing together." He paused and clearly saw our distress at the thought of having to tell our father what sorts of sex we'd been engaging in. This whole thing was so embarrassing I wanted to just slip through a hole in the floor. "I guess what I mean," Dad went on, "is if you two have been using any protection."

"No, sir," I said, looking down at the floor between my bare feet, "we haven't."

"I wish this wasn't so complicated, but I don't think we can take any unnecessary chances. I'm afraid I will have to insist you both get tested."

"Yes, sir," we both said, not wanting to argue.

"I am going to tell you what your uncle suggested. I'm not entirely sure I agree with him, but your mother and I admit that Martin has an understanding of these things which we lack."

"Sir?" I said after a moment.

"Yes, David?"

"Could I just say one thing?"

"Yes, son, go ahead."

"Well, I don't know if you can understand this or not, but Monty and I really want you to know that this hasn't just been some sort of game between us." I stopped, realizing that I didn't have the vocabulary to express what I so wanted our father to understand.

"It isn't just lust. I think that's what Dave is trying to tell you, Dad. You need to understand that we really love each other."

My brother never ceases to amaze me!

"You love one another?" Dad said. His voice was serious and there was no hint of scorn.

"Yes, sir," Monty said. "I guess we love one another the way you and Mom love one another."

Dad raised an eyebrow and than said, "That is interesting, boys, especially in light of what your uncle said. He suggested that I ask you this, would you be willing to separate for the summer?"

"DAD," Monty wailed.

"Wait, Monty," I said, silencing him. "Tell us, Dad, what would be the point? You can't keep us apart for ever."

"The point would be for you to see if your feelings for each other are so strong that you really couldn't bear to be apart. If this is only some passing infatuation, you would know that by the fall."

"DAD," Monty began again and again, I asked him to wait.

"If you asked me that question, Dad, would I be willing to separate from Monty for the summer, and if it really was my own free choice, I would have to say no. But if you are asking us to separate as some sort of test and if you tell us you would accept our decision at the end of the summer, I would say yes." My voice caught and then added, "It would be the hardest thing I've ever done, but I would do it to prove to you and Mom how I feel about Monty."

Dad looked at me in silence for a moment and then turned to Monty. "What about you, son?"

It was only when I turned to look at my brother that I saw that tears were streaming down his face. With a deep sob that almost ripped my innermost being, he said, "It would break my heart."

After a very long moment, our father said, his voice now very quiet, "Then I couldn't ask that of either of you."





In the days that followed, our lives settled back into some sort or routine. Our parents gave us space and allowed out time to find our own way.

Dad drove us to Memphis to a private clinic for blood tests, which were mercifully negative on all counts.

About a week after that terrible evening, Steve came up to our room one evening and sat on my bed as Monty lay curled up against me.

"I guess I knew," Steve said. "I mean I guess I'd figured it out."

"You mean before you saw us on the roof," I said, trying to get him to open up.

"Yeah. I mean you guys were always messing around in the shower and stuff."

"So you really weren't all that shocked. Seeing us together, I mean."

"Oh, I was shocked. I guess I figured you messed around together up here, but I wasn't really sure you were queer."

"Queer? Is that what you call us, Steve?"

"Yeah, I guess so. That's what the guys in my class at school call guys who do it with other guys."

"So are you going to tell all your friends that your brothers are queer?"

"No, man, I'd never do that."

"Well, buddy, thank you, I guess."

"Yeah, Stever," Monty chimed in. "Thanks for not blowing the whistle on us, man."

"Hey, I wouldn't tell anybody just because I don't want them to know my brothers are weird. They might think it was catching and figure me for one, too."

"Oh, so we're talking self protection here, right, Steve?"

"Yeah, I don't want to completely ruin the family reputation. I mean, I am a Cutler, too, you know."

We lay there in silence for a while and then I just had to ask, "so why did you run down and tell Mom and Dad, that evening you caught us at it?"

He was silent for a moment or two, then said, his head bent and his voice very quiet. "I guess I really was shaken up. I mean, you guys were fucking."

"What exactly did you say to the folks?"

"I didn't say anything to Mom. You got to believe me. I just ran smack into Dad when I came out of the door from your stairs. I was shaking like crazy and I guess he figured I'd been up to some mischief. He and Mom have been on me to stay out of your room since you got the lock put on last fall. He held me and just asked me what was going on. I just blurted it out, I guess."

"Yeah, Steve, what did you blurt?"

"Oh, gees, guys!"

"Come on, Steve, out with it!"

"Well, I just said Id seen you two on the roof having anal sex."

"Anal sex!" I couldn't keep from laughing. "That's a mouth full for a kid your age, Stevo."

"Well, it's what Mr. Kerr called it in our health class. Besides, I couldn't say to Dad that you guys were fucking."

"No, little brother, I guess you couldn't." My mind went back to Mr. Kerr. I'd spent part of that fateful afternoon with him, before I'd gotten home to a quiet and empty house and gone in a panic, looking for my lover, my brother.

Mr. Kerr had been so curious about Tim and our Uncle Martin. I wondered what he would make of Monty and me. He had been rather curious about the Cutler family and one thing was certain. When classes began again, we'd just have to keep him guessing.

But the summer lay ahead. Monty and I were now open about our feelings for one another, at least so far a our family was concerned. If nothing else, Steve had done us a big favor on that score.

Monty and I had one another and we were never letting go. It wasn't just the summer which lay ahead, I pondered as I lay with him that night, it was all our lives which we had pledged to share.

The end.