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:

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.”


“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?”


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?


“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.”


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.”


“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?”


“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.”


“Mark is coming here to live with us.”


“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?”


“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?”


“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.


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.