This
story concerns teenage gay males who are involved in sexual
situations. If it is illegal for you to read such stories, or if you do
not like to read such stories, please leave now.
This story is copyright 2006 by the author who retains all rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents
either are the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.
This is my second submission to Nifty. This is a continuation of
“Kiel’s Story” which was last posted on 7/24/06. It is not necessary to
read “Kiel’s Story” before reading this, but it may help you understand
where the character relationships started. Any comments or questions
are welcome at: carl_holiday@att.net
A warm thank you goes out to all who’ve written. I appreciate knowing
someone is actually reading this stuff. I try to respond to all,
including flames, but time is precious in my life, so if I didn’t
answer yours, please accept my apology.
Tim and the Corsair
by Carl Holiday
Chapter 11 – Why Can't I Love You?
What happened to
Sam? That
was all I could think about at the hospital. Of course, they wouldn’t
let me in
with him as they struggled to bring him back from the brink of
eternity, and I
don’t think I was all that concerned about being away from him. His
place in my
heart was gone, yet I couldn’t stop wondering what had gone so horribly
wrong
that he believed his death could make whatever it was better.
I’d never been that
close to
the edge, of course. Being a jumper, you don’t get many second chances.
It’s
almost always a sure thing when you take that first dive to emptiness.
A
hundred feet of air does not slow you down. Concrete, asphalt, dirt,
grass,
even water, are not soft enough to absorb all the energy you’ve built
up in
reaching terminal velocity. It’s that sudden stop at the bottom that
turns bone
and tissue to watery jam. All you have to remember is to go head first.
You’ve
got to explode the skull for near instantaneous death. It’s a sure
thing. You
don’t have to worry about having to give it a second try.
Hanging, on the
other hand,
can be stopped, if you get to the person quick enough, which seemed to
be the
case for Sam. He was alive. I knew that. What that actually meant, I
wasn’t at all
certain. You have to be off the ladder to want to go all the way down
and Sam
had a lot of reasons not to want to get back on the ladder. Plus,
whatever
happened to him in the emergency room had no relevance to me. He was
going
away. More than likely I’d never see him again, ever. His parents were
going to
win and Sam was going to jail for a long time. He’d be an adult by the
time the
state finished with him. His future was bleak. All of his miraculous
mathematical abilities could be counted as nothing toward his final
destination,
so maybe death was an answer. You have to be suicidal to believe
another’s
suicide can solve a problem.
I never saw Mark
come into
the emergency room. I don’t know if he made it, or not. I was too busy
trying
to come to some kind of closing with my love for Sam, to notice much of
anything. Then Mother came and took me home. I went to bed not knowing
what
became of either of them.
I don’t know what
time it was
when I woke up, but it was definitely a sunny Monday morning. The first
day of
Spring Break and I had two friends in the hospital, I hoped. I didn’t
even want
to think about any other conclusion. I was lying on my side staring at
the
wall. Actually, I was staring at the bottom left corner of a Humphrey
Bogart
poster. The piece of masking tape holding it had a slight curl on one
end. I
had, maybe, a couple weeks before I’d have to replace the tape. That
was
something to think about other than thinking about Sam or Mark.
Then I became aware
of
someone in my room. Was it the breathing I heard? Or, was it something
more
esoteric, like a difference in the room’s air pressure or molecules of
body
odor different from my own? I just knew that behind me there was
someone
watching me. Was he, or she, waiting for me to wake up before
approaching? I
turned onto my back and looked up into Scott’s eyes.
“Good morning,” I
said. He
took the few steps needed to get to my bed and sat down beside my
thigh, facing
me. There was an impish glow in his eyes. I liked the revitalized Scott.
“Hi, your mother
wants to
know if you’re going to come down for breakfast,” Scott said. He smiled
when he
talked, not physically, by audibly. His voice smiled.
“How long have you
been up
here?”
“Oh, a couple
minutes,
maybe,” he said.
Then I became aware
of his
hand on my morning hard-on and it wasn’t just sitting there. It was
moving
slightly up around the head. If it wasn’t careful, it was going to make
me
come.
“What are you
doing?” I whispered.
I didn’t want to tell him to stop. What he was doing felt too good for
me to
want that. I was interested in knowing what he thought he was doing.
You don’t
expect someone to come into your bedroom to wake you and give you a
hand-job,
too; not unless that person is the person you’re in love with, I guess.
I’d
never had anyone do that to me.
“Don’t you like
this?” There
was fear in his words, but he didn’t stop, if anything the pressure
increased
slightly. “Daddy liked it when I did this to him in the morning.”
“I’m not your
father,” I
said. How many years, I wondered. When did the abuse first begin for
Scott?
“But, I thought
you’d like
this,” he said. There were tears in his eyes. Was he really only trying
to
please me?
“I do like it, but
it’s a little,
no a whole lot, unexpected,” I said, trying to sound like I wasn’t
angry. “But,
you know, I’ve got to piss like a Russian race horse.”
“Can I hold your
penis when
you pee?”
What was with this
kid? Was
this what you got when you abused a kid for more years than he could
remember?
He was so cute, but this was dangerous, for both of us.
“I can hold my own
penis,
thank you.”
He started to weep.
He sat
there on the edge of my bed crying. Not loud bawling, but teary eyed
weeping.
He looked so sad. It was as if he was from another country and I had
interrupted a morning ritual custom for his people. He liked me and he
wanted
to please me; and, Scott only knew how to please another guy one way
and that
was to take hold of the cock. I held out my arms and he fell down into
my
embrace.
“We’ve got to
talk,” I whispered
as I lightly rubbed his back. “I like what you did, but it was too
unexpected.
You don’t expect someone to come in and touch you like that.”
“But, Daddy said.”
“Scott, what your
father taught
you is okay, but you need to know when to do it.”
“But, I love you
and I want
to make you feel good.”
Oh, god, why me?
Why does he
have to love me? Doesn’t he know he’s going to die, disappear, or go to
jail if
he loves me?
“You can’t love
me,” I said,
pushing him out of my arms. “You can’t love me. Period. You can’t. I
won’t let
you.”
I got out of bed
and ran into
the bathroom. I locked my door. I had to get away from Scott. I
couldn’t let
him love me. I couldn’t destroy another kid, especially one who I could
so
easily fall in love with.
God! I hated myself
and I
thought of jumping. It came into my mind so easily. I thought of
falling. I
thought of that final nanosecond of awareness when the door to eternity
opened
and my miserable spirit stepped into oblivion.
And, I thought of
Tim out
there somewhere. I thought of our love. I wanted him. I needed to have
him
beside me. I shut my eyes and slowly dropped to the floor. My hand, my
trusty
hand, my familiar hand found the object of Scott’s desire and I
imagined Tim
holding me close to him. I could almost taste his come spewing into my
mouth,
bathing my tongue with his sweet nectar.
Just before
exploding into
orgasmic bliss, I felt myself being swathed in a familiar warm, moist
ecstasy. I
couldn’t hold back. I couldn’t stop the inevitable pleasure from
overpowering
my senses.
My imagination
never had been
this realistic. Tim was sucking my cock. His lips were firm up and down
the
length of the shaft. His tongue swirled around the head as it laved my
senses
with delight. I opened my eyes as the eruption began, my cock throbbing
from
pent up desire, and saw Scott’s face buried in my black pubes. I turned
my eyes
to the ceiling in horror at being unable to stop what was flooding his
throat.
He sat on the
toilet while I
showered. What he’d done to me was unforgivable, but I’d enjoyed what
happened
too much to say anything to Scott other than a barely audible thank
you. This
couldn’t go on much longer before he wormed his way into my heart and
staked
off a sizeable patch for our love. I knew that, but didn’t know what I
could do
to stop him. I felt horrible about having sex with him because of all
the
things his father must have forced him to do.
It’s one thing to
allow a
child’s curiosity to go far beyond the limits of normal exploration and
into
that gray area of mutually pleasurable experience. It was quiet another
to prey
on that curiosity to satisfy your own orgasmic necessities. How could a
father
do that to his child, his own child?
“Are you mad at
me?” Scott
asked as I stepped from the shower and started to dry myself.
“No, I’m not mad,”
I said.
How could I be mad at him? How could I not love him? He was so cute, so
utterly, unexplainably cute. From the first moment I saw him, I wanted
him in
my heart.
“I know you liked
that, what
I did,” he said. “I liked doing that for you. I know you don’t believe
me, but
I did. You see in the beginning, when I was little, I remember Daddy
putting
maple syrup on him, and sometimes, but not very often, chocolate and
Karo
syrup. I had to be a very good boy to get that reward. That’s what it
was, too,
a reward for being good. It was never, ‘you’re a good boy, Scott, now
suck my
dick.’ No, it was always, every time, ‘Mommy said you were good today,
so
here’s some cock candy for you.’ He called it cock candy. My mouth was
so full
of a sugary, sweet taste that when his come finally splattered into my
mouth, I
didn’t know what it tasted like, but by then I was hooked. ‘Be a good
boy Scott
and I’ll let you suck Daddy’s dick.’ That’s just so wrong. Never once
did he
touch me. Never once did he care how I felt. It was all about him.”
He was weeping,
again. I
helped him up and hugged him close to me. I immediately felt his
hard-on
pressing against my hip. I was tempted. I wanted to kneel down and take
him. I
wanted to do that, but now was the time to say no, to put my foot down
and stop
this from progressing to Scott’s desired conclusion. I didn’t have to
do
anything except stand there and comfort his sadness. Only, I unzipped
his pants
and slipped my hand in to search for access to that wonderful
appendage.
That was so
wrong, but I couldn’t stop myself when I finally found what I knew
wasn’t all
that hidden. I sank down to my knees.
“How’re you doing?”
Doctor
Randall asked when I walked into the kitchen. He and mother were
sitting at the
dinette. They’d obviously been talking, but probably stopped as soon as
I came
down the stairs, adult talk, not for children’s ears.
“Okay, I guess.” I
knew what
he wanted to hear, but I didn’t want to talk about Sam or Mark. I
didn’t want
to cry. I didn’t want to go through the horrible process of changing an
active
part of my heart into a bit of memory that was bound to fade with time,
like
the taste of Stevie’s come. I’d sucked him for years, but couldn’t
remember
what he tasted like. I could still remember his tangy, sweet scent, but
his
taste was gone as was the sound of his voice; and, he hadn’t been dead
for a
year.
“What would you
like for
breakfast, honey?” Mother asked. She seemed too bubbly. Doctor Randall
must
have fucked her before they got up. I remembered Mother being extra
happy every
morning after Dad came back from a sales trip. It got to be so
predictable,
watching her slowly deteriorate into this bitchy, unpredictable woman,
then Dad
comes home and the next morning she’s got this glow about her,
everything’s
happy, happy, happy.
“Cereal’s fine,
maybe some
fruit,” I said. “I was thinking about going down to see Darling today,
is that
okay?”
“Scott’s here,
what’s he
going to do?” Mother asked.
“Can he go with me?
Where’s
Johnny?”
“He’s with his
father,”
Doctor Randall said. “And, don’t give me that face. His mother is in
the
hospital, she’s not doing well. Leukemia.”
“Oh,
shi, da, uh . . .”
“Shit’s
a good word, honey,” Mother said. “That’s what I said.”
“But.”
“Sometimes
that’s all that can be said.”
“Can
Scott go with me?”
“Will
she be home?” Mother asked. I don’t know why she allowed me to continue
with my
friendship with a transvestite, but I figured it was some sort of adult
logic.
Darling was a dear friend who practically saved my life when I was
committed to
the country psych ward after my first suicide attempt. Mother didn’t
know we’d
had sex.
“I’ll
call first. I don’t want to go all that way then have to come back.
There’s not
a lot of things to do up there for kids my age. Well, anything legal,
that is.”
“And,
thank you, for not getting into drugs,” Mother said.
“What?
And, be sane?”
“Honey!
Please.”
“I’m
sorry Mother.”
“You
know, Geoff, you didn’t ask me,” Doctor Randall said.
“I
asked, but Mother intercepted.”
“Well,
I don’t see what’s wrong with Scott going with him,” Mother said.
“Oh,
I don’t have a problem other than Darling does make those brownies,”
Doctor
Randall said.
“What
brownies, dear?”
“Do
you know about Darling’s brownies, Geoff?”
“I’ve
heard they’ve got a secret ingredient, but I’ve never had them. She’s
never had
them around when I’ve been over there before. Maybe, she thinks I’m too
young.”
“Okay,
I’ll agree only on one condition, Scott doesn’t get any brownies,”
Doctor
Randall said.
“I’ll
tell Darling.”
“And,
watch out for her friends, too. Don’t let any of them wander off with
Scott.
We’ve got a lot of work to do and I don’t want some, uh, someone
messing up my
work.”
“That’s
two conditions,” I said. I wondered what he’d say if he knew what just
happened
in my bathroom between Scott and I. I wondered what he’d say if I told
him I
was falling in love with Scott.
“By
the way, where is Scott?”
“He’s
still up in my room, I guess, seems he likes to read Hardy.”
“Hardy
Boys? Those are good books for boys his age.”
“No,
Thomas Hardy. He’s read Tess of the d’Ubervilles twice. I left
him with Far
from the Madding Crowd.”
“Not
another intellectual?”
“Worse,
we were discussing Hardy in Hindi. I asked him what his IQ was, but he
isn’t
certain he was ever tested. The way he talks, I wouldn’t be surprised
if he’s
like me, too much like me.”
“You
haven’t done anything?”
“Done
what, Timothy?”
“No,
we haven’t done anything,” I said.
“Done
what, Honey? Timothy? What are you two talking about?”
“Sex,
Mother, sex. No, we haven’t done anything. I know Scott’s probably got
a skewed
view of sexual responsibility corrupted by what his father did to him.
I
wouldn’t be surprised if Scott thinks he’s supposed to perform some
kind of sex
act just to say thank you.”
“God,
Geoff, why are you seeing me? You’ve got Scott figured out. Why can’t
you
figure out yourself?”
“Because
everyone I fall in love with dies, runs away, or disappears off the
face of the
Earth. I can’t fall in love for fear I’ll be torn apart when the other
boy goes
away. This morning those feelings came back. You know, those falling
feelings.
How? No, I don’t want to know.”
“Sam
has been transferred to Fort Steilacoom for recovery and evaluation.
Mark is still
touch
and go. Both of them will live, but we’re more concerned about Mark.
We’re
worried about the degree of brain damage. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,
hypoxia isn’t a boy’s best friend.”
“You
know, it’s okay to cry.”
“No,
not until I know for sure. I’ve given up on Sam. I know I’ll never see
him
again. He’s gone. I don’t like it, but I think when he tried to beat me
up it
actually helped me let go. Now, I feel sorry about him, but I can’t cry
for
him. Mark? Well, Mark is too special for me to cry over now. I want to
know why
I’m crying. If there’s a spark of recognition left in Mark, then I’ll
cherish
my memories of what Mark was before. Okay?”
“Sure.”
When
Scott and I came to the Lake Woodin Junction I thought of Tim and his
sister’s
apartment where we’d made love so many, many times. The apartment was
only a
couple blocks away and I knew I had to go there. I had to find out if
she’d
heard anything. Of course, I wasn’t certain she’d even talk to me.
Tim’s family
was so strange, but I’d never had that much contact with his sister.
She’d
never been there when I’d been there. We just never met.
When
she answered the door, I don’t know what I was expecting, but she
definitely
wasn’t what I might have expected. She was almost as tall as me,
slender with
small, firm breasts under a tan cashmere sweater. Her face was more
round than
long, but she was beautiful. Her skin had a dark cast to it as if she
had a
subcontinental heritage. Was she adopted, too?
“Yes?”
“I’m
Geoff Johnson and I know Tim. I was wondering if you’ve heard anything.
I’m
sorry I don’t know your name.”
“Come
on in, Geoff. I know who you are. And, this is?”
“Oh,
this is Scott, he lives at my house, now.”
“Doctor
Randall’s little experiment?”
“Do
you know Doctor Randall?”
“I’m
a psychiatric nurse at the University. I’ve known Timothy Randall for
years. My
name is Nanci, with an ‘i’ not a ‘y’. Hello, Scott.”
“Hi.”
She’d
done some rearranging of the furniture. There were a few new pieces.
From her
parents’ house?
“Why
don’t you two sit on the sofa. No, I haven’t heard anything from Tim. I
don’t
know where he is or where Uncle Jerry’s gone. It’s like they’ve dropped
off the
face of the Earth. The two, uh, men who tried to get Tim are in jail
back in New
York. I
guess the government’s been looking into their
pornography business for years and when Mother and Father, and Tom and
Ronny,
were killed, I guess they finally decided it was time to step in and
stop their
activities. I did find out the men who tortured you are dead.”
“I
knew about one of them, but you say both of them?”
“Yes,
the one who always seems to be called Mr. Smith was found down in
Texas, I think. I guess he’d been tortured before
he died.
The FBI is looking for Tim, but thinks some radical group has him.”
“I
don’t understand.”
“I
didn’t really understand what they were talking about, but I guess
there’s a
group of people in this country who exist outside the law who will take
care of
you if you’re being sought by criminals, or something like that.”
“Nanci?
Do you know where, oh shit!”
We
all turned toward the voice and saw an incredibly fit man in his late
twenties
or early thirties. He was naked. He had a nice uncut dick hanging out
of a nest
of curly red hair. And, then, just as suddenly, he was gone.
“Harry,
put some clothes on. Tim’s boyfriend is here with his friend.”
I
must have looked startled. I certainly felt startled. You don’t expect
your
boyfriend’s sister to know.
“It’s
okay,” Nanci said. “Tim told me he was in love with you. And, no, our
parents
didn’t know. They would’ve done things to stop it. For all their
perversity,
they were rather conservative about Tim’s homosexuality. I guess they
were
hassling him quite a bit, which is why he lived here most of the time.”
Harry
came back out in faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt. He was tall,
slender and
did a very good job of packing his dick away, there was no doubt about
what was
in his pants. His arms were long and ended with slender hands with
long, bony
fingers.
“Harry
Bird,” he said, holding out his hand. We shook hands, his grip was
firm, not
overpowering.
“Harry
is a professor of psychiatry at the University,” Nanci said. “Geoff and
Scott
are in Timothy Randall’s group home experiment.”
“Ah,
well, that’s nice.”
“Actually,
Doctor Randall has his group home at my Mother’s house and since I’m
seeing him
anyway, I get included with the other three.”
Harry
shook hands with Scott, but it was very evident that Scott was going to
need
help with his dead fish. Harry intrigued me, and not because I’d seen
his dick.
He seemed too sure of himself, which seemed to be out of character with
all the
psychiatrists I’d known. Doctor Randall always seemed embarrassed that
I knew
he was fucking my mother, but Harry gave me the impression he’d tell me
she
liked taking him up the ass while he pinched her nipples. I know I
would’ve
liked him doing that to me. It looked like a good fucking cock.
I
could see Scott was giving him the eye, too. I didn’t know what Scott
was going
to do, though. I half expected him to go over to the wing chair where
Harry was
sitting and go down on him. I kind of wanted to see that happen, but
Scott just
looked at him.
“I
hear he’s had some trouble out there,” Harry said.
“We’ve
lost a couple kids, but there are a lot of them out there, so there’s
always
some kid to come in as a replacement. Scott joined us when Peter
started using
drugs, again. Sam ran away and now he’s down at Western State
recovering from a suicide attempt. I expect
we’ll
have a new kid by the end of the month.”
“And,
what’s your story, Geoff? Schizo?”
“Harry,
please, just because you don’t like Doctor Randall, doesn’t give you
the right
to berate his patients.”
“That’s
alright, I don’t mind. I’ve read some of your papers, Doctor Bird. You
have
some rather interesting ideas on homosexuality. I don’t agree with any
of it,
but you seem to have some rather strong opinions on the subject. Come
on Scott,
we’d better go.”
“Geoff,
please, do you have to?”
“Nanci,
look, I’m a jumper, okay? I don’t know why, but every boy I fall in
love with
dies, runs away, or like Tim, who I dearly love, disappears. Yesterday,
two
boys I once loved too much tried to kill themselves. They came very,
very close
to getting through the door into eternity. Right now, one of them is
still at
the edge of the cliff. The other is better, but not by much. I’m upset
and I
don’t want to be around a man who thinks homosexuality is some sort of
mental
disease than can be treated with shock therapy. I’m a homosexual who
happens to
be deeply in love with your brother and I know he is in love with me,
so I’d
better go. Okay?”
“Sure,
Geoff, I understand. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know, okay?”
“Thank
you.” She kissed me on the cheek. She smelled of lavender.
“Why
you stupid shit!” Scott and I heard through the closed door. We walked
away
wondering if Harry had a future with Nanci. They looked like a good
match, but
obviously Harry played his king when he should have played a queen.
“I’ve
run into that guy before,” Scott said. “He tried to get my mother’s
permission
to use shock therapy to make me talk.”
“Damn,
what a bastard.”
“Funny,
that’s what my mother called him.”
Suddenly,
I felt very sad. It was like someone had thrown a black cloth over me
shutting
out the world. I stopped on the sidewalk and couldn’t move. I knew
Scott was
beside me, but I couldn’t move. He got closer to me and whispered into
my ear,
“Tim is okay. You have to believe that. Come on, I want to meet
Darling. And,
whatever you do, don’t cry because then I’ll have to kiss you and you
know
we’re in public. Come on, Geoff. Please?”
And,
then I was better, a little better anyway.
“Happens
to you, too?” Scott asked as we crossed Lake Woodin Boulevard to catch
the Flyer to downtown Seattle.
“Not
often, but it certainly takes the wind out of your sails,” I said,
feeling his
hand almost touching mine. Almost holding hands felt good.
“I
got them a lot before I stopped talking. Then one day I couldn’t get
back. I
couldn’t move. They had to put me in the hospital. At least it stopped
Daddy
from wanting me to touch him.”
“So,
what did he do?”
“The
neighborhood where he lives is full of young boys. They were always
over at his
house to play with me and Debbie. I’m sure he got one of them to suck
him; and,
when he’s got you that far, you’ll be pleading with him to stick it in
your ass.
He’s kind of persuasive if you get too close.”
I
still hoped he’d run when the police got there. A man like that doesn’t
deserve
to have a dick. I just hoped the police would aim low. I didn’t want
him to
die, just live without a dick.
It
was still sunny, but there were big puffy clouds sailing over us
heading east
toward the mountains. I wondered if that was where Tim was, east toward
the
mountains, or further beyond the mountains. We’d gone to Yellowstone a
few years ago when Trudy was still home.
Karl was still in college,
but was living away from home. Dad took us east to Cheyenne where he
said the Great Plains began. I remembered seeing mountains to the
west, but
nothing east. It seemed strange not seeing mountains. Then we headed
north and
west to Yellowstone. That was before he found out I was gay and
stopped
talking to me. That was when we got along. Those were good times.
Neither
of us talked on the trip to Darling’s apartment. I wondered what Scott
was
thinking, but I didn’t want to start talking and have to be careful
what I
said, or what he might say. On a bus full of people, you don’t want
to have the
kid you're with to start talking about sucking cock, whether it’s with
you or
his father. I didn’t need some pseudo-tough guy thinking he could
better the
world by taking out a couple homosexuals. I may have been a pushover,
but I was
a careful pushover. I never went looking for trouble because it found
me
anyway.
We
got off the East Broadway bus two blocks from Darling’s apartment. A
half block
south to Denny, then a block and a half east to a red brick building
with Art
Deco brickwork and a stained glass entry. It was a five story fanciful
building
full of gay men and little old ladies getting by on Social Security,
one of
whom gave me homemade fudge nearly every time I visited Darling. I
threw it
away as soon as I was out of sight of the building. She put bran in the
fudge.
It made me go. Darling laughed like hell when I told her. She said I
should’ve
asked. The old lady was famous for nearly three blocks around for her
special
fudge.
“Come
on in, Geoff,” Darling said when she opened her door. “Let me give you
a kiss.”
It
was chaste, on my cheek. I returned the kiss on her opposite cheek.
“And,
Scott, you brought us little Scott.”
“Hi.”
“He
talks. Look Reggie, Scott can talk,” Darling said. She took him by the
hand and
led us into her living room. There was a guy there. A real guy. A
little young,
though, but older than me. He stood up when we came into the room. He
was very
skinny, concentration camp skinny, sick skinny.
“Hi,
Geoff, I’m Reggie,” he said, taking my hand in his. They were hot, dry,
but his
touch was delicate. I didn’t realize you could lisp words that didn’t
have esses,
but he seem to be able to do it.
“I
can talk,” Scott said.
“So
you can,” Reggie said. “When did this happen?”
“We
were alone Saturday and well the rest is history, as they say,” I said.
“How do
you guys know Scott?”
“His
school is across the street,” Darling said. “We’ve known Scott longer
than I’ve
known you.”
“But,
Scott can talk,” Reggie said. “Now, that’s something worth celebrating.
How
about pizza? Would you two like some pizza?”
“Sure,
but can I see your fish?” Scott asked.
“Sure
come on up to my place,” Reggie said.
Reggie
was leading Scott toward the door and it didn’t look like I could do
anything
to stop it. I know Doctor Randall said Scott wasn’t supposed to go off
alone,
but I didn’t seem to be able to stop them from leaving.
“Is
Reggie okay?” I asked.
“He
better be, he’s my little brother,” Darling said. “So, Geoff, uh, would
you
like a brownie?”
“I
was beginning to wonder if you’d ever ask.”
“I
was just waiting for the right moment.”
“And,
what moment was that?”
“When
I could get you alone when my medication was stabilized.”
“Feeling
good, are we?”
“Yes,
feeling very good.”
“I
don’t need brownies to make me feel good. I’ve got hands to feel good.
Come
here.”
Having
sex with Darling was like masturbating all afternoon, but every time
you got
close to coming you’d do something to distract yourself. Build up
slowly, stop,
ease down a few notches, build up slowly, again, then stop, and ease
down a few
notches. Over and over, neither of us was in a hurry to go anywhere
close to an
orgasm.
I
suppose the brownies had a lot to do with what was happening. Darling
had a
plate of them on the nightstand and whenever we’d hit a peak, she’d
stuff a
brownie him my mouth totally dimming my focus. She was much better at
holding
off, but then she was nearly thirty, or older. I didn’t really know how
old she
was. I didn’t really care.
By
the time we’d turned on ninety-nine point eight percent of our sexual
nerve
receptors for the umpteenth time, we were entwined like some Hindu
statuary and
there was no going back. Her mouth was stuck to mine with her tongue
nearly
down my throat when I felt her come fill the small gap between our
abdomens and
that was all I needed lose whatever inhibition was holding me back. I
practically had to tear my mouth from hers. Then planted it over her
right
nipple and bit down on it hard enough to make her pull me so close we
were one
entity with my teen cock pumping out my essence.
Then
I got the giggles. I don’t know where they came from, but they snuck up
on me
and bit me in the ass and I couldn’t stop laughing. Without warning
Darling’s
thumbs dug into my ribs sending me to a higher level of uncontrollable
hee-haws.
We were still laughing when Reggie and Scott came back from looking at
the
fish.
Scott
stood in the doorway and he stared at us. As I watched him his head
slowly sunk
down until he was staring at the floor. I knew he was reverting back to
the
land of the silent and if I didn’t do something quick, Doctor Randall
was going
to chew me a new asshole.
“Scott!
Don’t go away,” I yelled as I scrambled out of the bed and went to him.
As I
pulled his rigid body into a tight hug, Darling came over and started
undressing him. Soon Reggie was in on the act. We practically had to
carry him
to the bed and when we got there Darling stuffed a brownie in Scott’s
mouth.
“What
are you doing?” I asked, still unsure what Darling and Reggie had in
mind, but
I was getting a pretty good idea when Reggie stuck his face between
Scott’s
thighs and started to suck his balls. Darling kept working Scott’s
mouth,
forcing him to chew the brownie. I figured I couldn’t go wrong by
attacking
Scott’s growing hard-on and when I got it into my mouth, it quickly
stiffened
completely.
Reggie
moved further back and concentrated his efforts on Scott’s ass, which
finally
elicited a small groan from the boy. I kept working his cock back into
my
throat and brought a hand up to knead his balls; and, then, I felt the
warm,
moist sensation of someone’s mouth enveloping my erection. I didn’t
know who
was sucking me, I didn’t care, I was too busy driving Scott’s dick to
the edge
of ecstasy.
At
what point I became aware of Reggie’s dick sinking into Scott, I
couldn’t
really tell; and, then, I felt the unmistakable sensation of a stiff
cock
slipping up inside me. Scott and I were in a classic sixty-nine with
Darling
and Reggie pumping our asses. There was nothing to do except
concentrate on
what I was doing to Scott and hope we all hit seventh heaven close to
the same
moment.
The
pizza was homemade, including the sourdough crust which I guess Reggie
kept
ready in his apartment for whenever someone was over and pizza sounded
like a
good, easy idea for dinner. Darling made the sauce. After all the
brownies I’d
eaten I was surprised I could eat as much as I did, but Darling said it
was the
secret ingredient in the brownies that was making me hungry. I didn’t
know
drugs, so I had to assume she knew what she was talking about.
Scott
was subdued. He clung to me, as if he was afraid I might get away from
him. He
was falling for me and there was nothing I could do to keep his heart
at bay,
which made me feel sad, too. Whatever happiness we’d experienced
earlier was
gone in a moment of mutual orgasmic bliss.
After
the pizza, as we all sat in Darling’s living room watching the
afternoon movie.
I started massaging Scott’s neck, then leaned to his ear and whispered,
“I love
you.”
He
turned, smiled, and whispered, “I know, I love you, too.”
I
couldn’t help it. I began to cry. I put my arms around him and started
bawling.
Darling and Reggie came to us and tried to comfort me, while at the
same time
comforting Scott who I suspect wasn’t too certain what I was going
through.
Darling knew. Darling was my confessor. She knew my darkest secrets.
“Come
on, let’s get the two of you washed and dressed,” Darling said, softly.
“I’m
going to call Doctor Randall and have him come and get you two. You’re
close to
jumping, aren’t you Geoff?”
“Yes,
and I can’t help it,” I said. “If we have to take the bus back, I’ll
get off at
the bridge and take that dive.”
“What’s
wrong, Geoff?” Scott asked. I’d scared him with my talk of jumping, but
I was
close, very close to the edge, again. The eternal peace of death was
calling me
like a siren song calling sailors onto a treacherous reef.
I
started shivering and Darling pulled me into the bathroom. Reggie
turned on the
shower and both of them stood me under the hot water.
“What’s
happening to him?” Scott asked. Now, he was very scared. He may have
been nuts,
but his craziness never came close to the edge where life ended and
whatever
was beyond beckoned with its beautiful song of eternal happiness and
peace.
“His
mind is trying to die,” Reggie said. “We have to keep him warm, give
his body
enough stimulation to keep it going. Get yourself cleaned up and put
your
clothes on. Go into the bedroom and change the bed. Clean sheets are in
the
linen closet.”
“But
I . . .”
“Go
on, Scott, as soon as one of us can leave Geoff, we’ll help.”
I
wanted to die, I wanted to die, I wanted to die, and I couldn’t do
anything to
stop myself.
I
became aware of my bedroom. I didn’t know what day it was. It was day.
That
much I knew.
As
my awareness sharpened and my eyes came out of the drugged cloud of one
of
Doctor Randall’s injections, I began to take inventory of my situation.
It was
a practice I adopted in the county psych ward as a means of monitoring
my own
sanity. I remembered being at Darling’s. I remembered telling Scott I
loved
him, I felt an extreme sadness envelope me. I didn’t want to lose him.
I didn’t
want him to die. The only way to stop that was to stop loving him, but
I
couldn’t. I had to love him. So, there really wasn’t any choice. Was
there?
A
bit of me recoiled from that thought, but it was not big enough to stop
what
was going to happen. I sat up. Suddenly, I had to steady myself as a
faint
swept over me, darkening my vision. It must have been a good drug, one
that
Doctor Randall kept for special occasions. Psycho drugs, he called
them. You
had to be really sick to get that stuff. My brain slowly brought
everything
back into focus and I put my feet on the floor. My salvation was in my
bathroom.
I
had to stop myself loving Scott.
That
was all I could think of. I had to save him. He was too dear to die,
too sweet.
I had to save him. I had to die.
I
was crying. Tears dribbled out of my eyes. I had to die. I had no
choice.
I
reached my bathroom door. I opened it. I knew what I needed. I knew
what I
wanted. I walked over to the vanity and opened the medicine cabinet.
There
weren’t any razor blades. I don’t know why I expected any. You don’t
let a
suicidal kid shave with blades. You make them use an electric razor.
You can’t
kill yourself with one of those, unless you dropped it into the
bathtub, but I
had a shower. I opened the drawer under the sink. There was a lot of
stuff in
there. Just stuff, mostly, but in the back, way in the back, behind a
whole lot
of stuff, was a small Gillette dispenser. I only needed one blade.
I
thought of Hemingway. I thought of Robert Jordan. It was probably the
best way.
No chance for recovery, no chance of anyone stopping the inevitable
once the
blade found its target.
I
took the blade and returned to my bedroom. Doctor Randall was standing
there.
“What
are you doing?” He asked. It wasn’t the dad voice. It was the calm
voice of
someone who faced suicide before. He wasn’t asking what I was doing. He
was
asking why I had to do it. He wanted to stop me.
“I
can’t fall in love with Scott,” I said. “He’s too sweet to die.”
“What
makes you think he’s going to die?”
“Stevie,
Kiel, Tim, Sam, Mark, Peter.”
“And,
killing yourself is going to save him?”
“I
don’t want to cry anymore. Okay? I’m selfish. I’m doing this for me.
I’m tired
of grieving. Okay? Can’t you understand what I’m going though? Can’t
you understand?”
I
collapsed to the floor, dropping the blade. He got to it first and cut
his
finger picking the wicked little sliver of death up off the floor. I
looked at
him as he came over to where I was balled up trying to make myself as
small as
possible. I was crying uncontrollably. I was totally out of it. I
wasn’t going
to die.
I
felt the needle sink into my arm. The burning sensation was momentary.
I knew
the emptiness would not be permanent.
It
was night. My lamp was on. Mother was sitting on the edge of my bed.
She was
trying to smile. I’d disappointed her, again.
I
looked into her eyes. I couldn’t return her smile. I was not a good
son. I
started to cry. I rolled over onto my side and lost it, again.
After
a long time I became aware of Johnny sitting behind. I knew it was
Johnny. He
had a presence that was unmistakable. I rolled onto my back and looked
up into
his eyes. They smiled at me.
“How
is your mother?” I asked. I couldn’t see any purpose in talking about
my
miserable situation.
“Dying.”
He wasn’t crying. He appeared too calm. Was he on stronger drugs, too?
“Isn’t
there any hope?”
“She
doesn’t deserve hope,” he said, anger dripping from his voice. “After
what she
did to me, she deserves to die and I hope it is a horribly painful
death. She
needs to suffer.”
Johnny
hated his mother. Now, that was something.
“Suicide
watch?”
“What?”
“Are
you here to make sure I don’t figure out a way to kill myself?” I
asked. I was
smiling. I was trying to make a joke.
“Yes,
actually.”
“How
is Scott?”
“He
loves you.”
“I
know.”
“He
loves you very, very much.”
“I
know.”
“Mark
is going to live with us.”
“What?”
“Mark
is coming here to live with us.”
“Why?”
“I
don’t know.”
“Can
I use the toilet?”
“I
have to watch you.”
“Do
you want to hold it?”
“Yes,
but not for that.”
“I’d
like to have your arms around me, your naked body pressed against mine.”
“I’d
like that, too.”
It
was morning, again. Someone was in my bed, spooned against my back. I
felt
another presence on the other side of me. Scott and Johnny were
sleeping in my
bed. Now, that was good medicine.
“Now,
isn’t that the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen?” I heard Doctor
Randall’s voice
behind me.
“I
don’t know. I know it’s okay, but I just don’t feel comfortable seeing
them all
together like that.” I guess Mother had a small problem with gay boys
in
threesomes. What was going to happen when Mark moved in?
“I
want you two to know I am awake,” I said.
“How
do you feel today?” Doctor Randall asked.
“What
day is it?”
“Thursday.”
“I
lost a day.”
“Happens,
sometimes.”
“I
do feel better.”
“I
thought boy therapy might do you some good. Are you going to feel like
talking
today?”
“Can
we do a group? I’d like that, rather than one on one.”
“You
are not the doctor, but for you I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Still
trying to become my dad?”
“Geoff!”
“Sorry
Mother.”
“It’s
okay, Arlene, it’s just a little game we’re playing.”
“Well,
I don’t think it’s something that should be joked about.”
“Don’t
worry Mother, the good doctor is a lot closer to becoming my dad than
he was
back when I wanted a new psychiatrist.”
“Now,
I know he’s feeling better,” Doctor Randall said. “I’ve got a new
prescription
for you, Geoff. We’ll start it today. Okay?”
“Sure.
Now will you two leave? It seems I’m a bit underdressed right now and I
need to
go to the little boy’s room.”
“Yes,
he’s definitely feeling better,” Doctor Randall said. “Come on, Arlene,
we
don’t want to be around when the rest of them wake up.”
“No,
I don’t think I need to see that,” Mother said. She came over and we
kissed.
The doctor cocked his head like he was surprised Mother and I kissed on
the
lips. Mother smiled at him. “I want you to get better, okay?”
“Yes,
Mother, I’ll try.”
“Don’t
try. Do it!”
“Yes,
Mother.
“Are
they gone?” Scott asked. “I’ve got to pee.”
“Me,
too,” Johnny said.
“We’re
shutting the door, now,” Doctor Randall said. “Breakfast is in an hour.
Bright
sunny faces in an hour, okay?”
“We’ll
be there,” I said.
All
three of us were naked. We were all sitting on my bed. None of us had
erections. All that potential and none of us wanted anything close to
an
orgasm. Pretty pathetic if you think about it too much.
Scott
was not Peter. Their stories might have been similar, but their
temperaments
were too far apart for Scott to sexually aroused simply by sitting
naked on my
bed with me and Johnny.
Johnny
was upset about his mother, so any thought of sex was probably the last
thing
on his mind.
I
was still too drugged up to get anything going down there. I wanted to,
oh, I
wanted to, but the signals weren’t getting through.
“Geoff?
I’m sorry,” Scott said. He leaned his head against my shoulder. “I
didn’t want
to fall for you. I really like Johnny, but you made me talk to you.
Then Monday
morning when I did you and then you did me, I thought we were in love.
Then
down at Darling’s place when we sucked each other while Darling and
Reggie
fucked us, I thought we were in love. But, I’ve been talking to Johnny
and he
said you’re already in love with Tim. I don’t want to come between you
and Tim.
Okay?”
“Yeah,
okay,” I said.
“But,
can we still have sex? Sometimes? Like Johnny and I do?”
“Yeah,
I guess,” I said. He was so cute. How could I not say yes.
“Good!”
He
pushed me over and started rimming me. Johnny came around the pressed
his lips
to mine while his cock began to stiffen and pressed into mine, which
surprisingly seemed to have some life to it. Maybe a few signals were
getting
through.
My
ass was tingling from Scott’s attention. I wanted him in me, but Johnny
had my
mouth too busy for me to say anything about what I wanted or desired.
When I
thought I couldn’t stand it any longer, I felt the head of a cock
knocking at
my backdoor. I answered and it came in. I didn’t think it could get any
better
until Johnny’s lips left my mouth and began to work their way down
toward my
throbbing cock. I didn’t have to worry about being left without
anything to do
because Johnny shifted himself around and gave me his cock. I pulled it
into my
mouth. I thought of Mark and imagined him behind Johnny, his cock sunk
into the
boy.
I,
also, thought of Tim and could see us alone together in his sister’s
apartment.
We were in his bedroom and he was behind me. His little boy cock was
pounding
into my ass. His hands were stroking my cock. We were coming and we
couldn’t
stop.
I
let go into Johnny’s mouth, tightening my ass and sending Scott over
the edge.
And, Johnny wasn’t that far behind.
Later,
as we slowly came down from our orgasmic highs, I again thought of Tim,
wondering where he was, wondering if he was okay. I suddenly realized I
couldn’t remember the sound of his voice. I was losing him. I wanted to
cry,
but Scott pulled me over onto my back and kissed me deep and hard. He
pulled
back and looked down at me. He smiled.
“Thank
you,” he said. “Thank you for letting me love you just a little, if
only just a
little.”
That
was all I needed. I was going to be okay.