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 14 – All is not Forgiven

Mark came home, to our home that is, a week after almost dying. His mother and father brought him to us. It had been raining for three days and there was no sign of improvement on the horizon. Mother and Doctor Randall welcomed them into our living room. The rest of us, Sally, Scott, Johnny, and I, stayed in Sally’s room playing Chutes and Ladders. We kept the door cracked so we could eavesdrop, we didn’t want any surprises.

Doctor Randall sounded very clinical; in fact, more clinical than he usually sounded. From what he was saying, he figured Mark would be with us until the end of the school year, using the group home as a transition back to his regular life. He sounded upbeat that Mark had confided in me that he hadn’t really tried to commit suicide, but fell under Sam’s psychotic influence and did something he might not ever consider if he hadn’t thought he loved Sam.

I wanted to see Mark’s face as everyone talked about him, acting like he was not even with them. Even his parents sounded like they didn’t know their son and hoped the son they knew could return to them in six or seven weeks. I began to think Mark might have been drugged at the hospital and was simply running on body function while his mind stayed comfortably subdued.

Then Mother started talking about Mark’s room and how he could make it his own, just like at home because this was foremost a real home. She didn’t say it was Sam’s room. I think maybe the good doctor told her not to mention Sam. And, then she said, “Come on Mark, let’s go to your room.”

They passed by Sally’s door and actually Mr. Patterson was standing right outside, peeking through the crack at us. I could just see him smile. Then everything went crazy, just like you’d expect in a group home for psychiatric patients.

“This is Sam’s room!” Mark screamed. There was a sound, a heavy, dull thud. The sound someone makes when they fall to a carpeted floor in a house. Mark was crying. Not regular crying, crazy crying, incoherent babbling crying on and on about the room being Sam’s and Sam still being in there. Then suddenly he stopped.

“Geoff? Could you help me with Mark?” Doctor Randall asked when he opened Sally’s door a little. “I’ve given him a sedative and we need to get him comfortable.”

“Sure,” I said. Obviously, Doctor Randall had the injection in his pocket ready to jab Mark if he went crazy on them. I could have told them he was going to go wacko, but who am I?

Mr. Patterson and I got Mark to his feet and helped him into the bedroom. He was still conscious enough to walk, but that was the extent of his physical abilities. When we sat him on Sam’s bed I saw the revulsion in Mark’s eyes. There was just a flicker of awareness, but not enough to stop me from undressing him.

“Why don’t you guys go back to the living room,” I said. “I’ll get him into bed. I’ve done this lot’s of times.”

Mrs. Patterson gave me the oddest look. Then she looked at her husband, who looked at me strangely, too. Was I inadvertently supplanting their authority? Or, was it something else?

“I’ll do it,” she said, pointedly.

I shrugged and went out of the room. Just as I stepped into Sally’s room I heard Mr. Patterson say, “My son is not a homosexual. So, Arlene, I would appreciate it if your son left my son alone.”

They didn’t know. Mark had kept all of this a secret somehow. All the talk about Sam being one of the family wasn’t because they thought Mark and Sam were really, passionately in love, they must have thought the boys were simply very close best friends. I heard Mark start to whimper. Then there was nothing. Doctor Randall must have given Mark an extra dose. I went up to my room.

I didn’t hate them. They were friends. They had been friends, I thought. They were Mark’s parents. I saved Mark. I took the quilt off my bed and balled myself into my favorite corner. I didn’t want to think about being a homosexual. Someone to be feared. I wanted to be a little boy who had a friend who was hurting and I wanted to comfort him, but his parents wouldn’t let me touch him, lest I give him some horrible disease.

I don’t know how long I lay there listening to mind feel sorry for itself. I don’t know if I slept at all. I simply stayed under the quilt trying to be as small as I could. Trying to be as insignificant as possible. Trying not to be something my friend’s parents feared.

“Honey? Are you okay?” Mother’s voice intruded into my pity party. She pulled the quilt away from my head. “They’ve gone, okay?”

I didn’t say anything. I felt unclean, filthy, someone to be shunned. I wanted to cry, but that would have been giving into to them. Letting them win. I was mad at me and them.

“Geoff, honey, please?” Mother said. I felt her hand on my face. It felt warm, soft, comforting. It made me feel good knowing she didn’t think I was some kind of leper who had to be avoided.

I looked up into her eyes. She leaned down and kissed me. I pulled the quilt back over my head.

“I’ll be okay in a little bit,” I whispered.

“Do you want me to get Timothy?”

“No, please, not him, not now. Please, Mother, could I just be left alone for a while longer?”

“Sure, honey.” I felt her hand on my shoulder. It gave me a little motherly squeeze and a soft pat. Yet, it lingered there, softly caressing me.

“Mother, you’re not leaving,” I said pulling the quilt away from my face. She was smiling. The smile she gave me whenever the world came crashing down on my head. The smile she gave me before I went crazy and I started to look for ways to kill myself. The smile that says, “I know you’re homosexual and I love you. I will always love you.”

I pulled the quilt over my face so she couldn’t see the tears in my eyes.

I woke up in the middle of the night lying on my side with an erection slowly thrusting between my thighs, an arm draped over my chest, and hot breath on my neck in the slow, regular rhythm of sleep. By the size of the person, it could only have been Mark. I shut my eyes and went back to sleep.

When I awoke the next morning the erection was inside me, still slowly thrusting. The arm felt firm across my chest and two fingers were doing a very good job on my right nipple. Lips and a tongue were busy on my neck.

“I’m awake, already,” I whispered.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m not done yet,” Mark whispered between kisses. “I’ve missed you.”

And, his hand moved down to my own hard-on and began to stroke it in rhythm to his own thrusts. I shut my eyes thinking back to a time when this seemed beyond my wildest dreams. Mark the football player, the jock, boyfriend of Monica, and now he was waking me up to a good slow fuck. You can’t get much more romantic than that when you’re sixteen and horny as hell.

I felt the familiar tingle in my balls as my scrotum tightened and more blood was forced into my cock. I felt Mark’s cock change its rhythm to short quick thrusts and then it pulled almost out before being thrust forcefully back in and his body stiffened against mine. He pulled out again, then thrust back in. My own cock was going crazy as Mark tightened his grip in response to his orgasm.

We lay there held by Mark’s strong arms and my unwillingness to move. I didn’t care what his parents thought, Mark was about as gay as you could get as far as I was concerned. I’d know for certain when I fucked him because if he came like he usually did from just having my cock in his ass, well, you can’t get much gayer than that.

“I have to pee,” I whispered, not wanting to end the wonderful feeling of being in Mark’s arms.

“So do I,” Mark whispered and his cock twitched.

“Not in me you don’t,” I said pulling away from his still erect cock. “I’m not going to get a piss enema from you.”

“Ah, party pooper.”

“Pooper is right if I don’t empty this bladder soon.”

He beat me to the toilet, but stood aside and let my stream join his. Other than the bandage around his neck and the yellowing bruises, he looked lovely.

“Hey, you two, don’t flush, okay?” Johnny hollered from the shower.

“Oops, too late!” Mark hollered back as he pushed down the handle.

“Jesus Christ was Mary’s favorite son,” Johnny exclaimed stepping out of the shower. He looked lovely, too. His cock was up. Obviously, we’d interrupted a very touching moment.

“Do you want me to take care of this?” Mark asked, kneeling down in front of Johnny and putting his mouth over the soap covered cock. “Oh, damn, why didn’t you rinse. You’re supposed to rinse these things.”

He got up sputtering and spitting, and pushed Johnny back into the stall then followed him, kneeling down under the showering water. He quickly rinsed off Johnny’s dick and before he resumed sucking, he said, “I’ve got the front, you can have the back, Geoff.”

He put his hands around Johnny grabbing the boy’s two melons. When he pulled them apart I saw Johnny’s pucker, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get down on my knees and put my mouth on that part. It didn’t matter if Johnny washed it or not. I couldn’t do it.

I went back into my room and shut the door. I sat on my bed waiting for the inevitable ribbing, the joking, the putting Geoff down. It didn’t matter though. I couldn’t do that. I didn’t think I could ever do that to someone, even someone I loved dearly.

“The shower’s yours, Johnny helped me with mine,” Mark said walking back into my room drying his hair. He looked beautiful.

I grabbed my towel from the back of the chair by the bookcase and passed him without acknowledging his presence. His hand grabbed a forearm and held me firmly. I didn’t turn around.

“Johnny told me you don’t like doing that,” Mark whispered in my ear. “It’s okay. I don’t like doing some things, too.”

“Like what?” I asked, turning to him. He did everything. What didn’t he like?

“Like telling my parents I’m gay,” Mark said, pulling me into his arms and hugging me tight against him. He was kissing my neck.

“Your secret is safe with me,” I said feeling his left hand descend toward my ass. “But, if you don’t let me go, I’ll be late for school.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“Don’t sound so sad, you’ll have Doctor Randall to entertain you.”

“Oh, goody, I can’t wait. Just don’t be late coming home because I want that cock of yours up my ass. I want to have one of those explosive orgasms you give me.”

Mark was definitely gay. His parents didn’t have to worry about me being around him, he was doing all of this on his own.

I don’t know why I was so concerned about getting to school because it was a typical boring Monday of turning in weekend homework; reestablishing my place in the cafeteria, the Dolphin Table suddenly became the “in” place for unattached females during our lunch period; and, trying to get a good time on the first lap of the school track so I didn’t have to take an extra lap. The trick for me was not to trip over those itty-bitty cinder chips like I was prone to do.

What made this Monday special was the anticipation of another wild sexual encounter with Mark. It certainly sounded like he was back to wanting my concentrated interest in giving him more pleasure than he could handle. I floated through the day unable to pay attention to much of anything. The only problem I was having, though, were the endless erections I kept getting every time a memory of seeing Mark’s face when he released under me bathing both of us, the bed, and half the room with his come. Mostly, I thought of Mr. Patterson telling my mother I was to stay away from his son. That thought alone almost instantly knocked out an erection.

I practically ran from the bus stop to the house. Johnny was trying to keep up with me, but he gave up after the second block. The back door was locked when I tried the handle. Doctor Randall wasn’t at home. That was good, but maybe Mark wasn’t there either, that was bad. I fumbled with my keys dropping them onto the porch. Then bending over to pick them up the magazines I checked out of the library for a paper I was doing for American history fell out of my binder. When I bent over to pick them up my binder, math book, and a handout from biology spread themselves across the porch, too. I tried to pick everything up at once, spreading them out even worse. My cock was hard in anticipation to what was waiting for me inside. Then I felt a hand on my ass slip down between my thighs.

“You’re making me hot doing that,” Johnny said. “No one is home, so why are you in such a hurry.”

“Mark might be in there,” I said. “He could be in there.”

“If he was, he’d have opened the door.”

Yeah, Mark would have opened the door. Now, I was getting mad. All this hurrying and he isn’t there. He said he wanted me like when we first started having sex. This was to be his homecoming gift. This was going to be special for both of us.

Only, he wasn’t there. I plodded up the stairs to my room and started my homework. I heard a car in the driveway, but it was only Scott’s ride from his school. Another car arrived, but it was Sally coming home from her after school caregiver. And, then I was busy on my math problems. Not being particularly good at math, mostly because I didn’t see any sense in it, I struggled through the problems. It was just numbers or symbols representing numbers. I’d taught myself calculus when I was nine, but there wasn’t anything there, either. Give me a foreign language, especially something real foreign like Finnish or Basque and I was in heaven, but math just never seemed to click.

I felt two hands on my shoulders. The grasp was firm. I glanced at my left shoulder. It was Doctor Randall’s hand.

“He’s gone,” he said. “His father came this afternoon and took him to his brother’s.”


“Yeah, do you know him?”

“Yeah, I know him.” I should have said, “Yeah, he knew me in the Biblical sense,” but I didn’t think the good doctor would see the humor.

“I just wanted to let you know it wasn’t my idea.” The hands squeezed my shoulders. Those were dad hands.

Tears were in my eyes, but I didn’t want to turn around. It feels bad when you get it from people you think you like. Mark’s parents just didn’t understand, but there was nothing I could do to sway their minds. That was Mark’s job.

“Are you okay?”

“No, but I’ll get over it. It certainly isn’t something to die over. It’s just hard being me and having people hate me because of what I am, not who I am. You know?”

There was a final firm squeeze. I was really beginning to like the doctor in dad mode. He was getting very good at it. I kind of wish my dad had been good at it, instead of hating me for what I am.

I sat there looking at my math problems. They were all correct. They were always correct. I may not have liked math, but I was still got all the answers right. There just wasn’t any challenge, so I did sloppy work, didn’t turn in assignments, stupid shit like that. Trust me, you can be too smart for your own good.

Time seemed to drag on. I couldn’t think clearly about anything. My mind simply went on holiday, but left me standing at the bus depot. Nothing made sense any more. All the trouble I caused myself over Stevie’s death. Trying to jump off that stupid bridge was about the stupidest thing I ever did, except for going out on that bridge, again, after thinking Kiel and Tim were going together. Of course, the biggie was standing outside the railing on Jerry’s balcony. So close, and yet so very far away.

All that stupid suicide shit, for what? I was still as fucked up as ever, if not worse. I was pining away for a boy who in all likelihood was dead, or worse. I thought I was in love with a boy who until a few months ago was certain he was straight. And, his parents took him out of a home where he is loved by all because they’re afraid I might give their son the homosexual disease.

I was mad, but there was nothing I could do.

My second pity party in as many days was interrupted by a knock on my bathroom door. Johnny wanted something, but I wasn’t certain I wanted to deal with him just then. It’s kind of hard to feel sorry for yourself when you have to worry about upsetting an innocent bystander. I went over to the door and unlocked it, then walked back to my bed.

The door opened slowly and only his hand could be seen at first, like in a horror movie. Johnny’s smile came in and I had to chuckle. He was no horror movie. He looked worried. He came over to my bed and sat down beside me. His hand was on my thigh almost immediately.

“I’m sorry Mark isn’t here any more,” he said leaning against me.

“It’ll be okay after a while,” I said. “Maybe he’ll come back when they realize I’m not the big threat they think I am.”

“No, he’s gone,” he said as his hand massaged its way toward my growing dick. “They never come back. It’s just like in the hospital. They come in and you get to know them. Then, one day, you come back from the shower and the bed is empty. No one ever says why. They just go away. It’s sad.”

I could hear the fear in his voice. I think he saw all of us as potential threats to his happiness. Peter was gone. Sam left. And, now, Mark was gone and he hadn’t been here a day.

I looked down at Johnny’s hand as it closed in on its goal. My erection was as obvious as hell. I put a hand on his neck and started to rub that spot where he was ticklish. He scrunched up his shoulders and grabbed my dick. I leaned toward him and smelled shit.

“You didn’t wipe yourself,” I said pulling away from him. “Did you take a shower after PE today?”

“I forgot,” he said and his face changed. He was someone different. His voice was different, too, childlike. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

“Go in the bathroom and wash yourself. You smell like shit.”

“Don’t be mad at me. Please, I didn’t mean it. My mommy said I have to come home after school. I can’t go out and play with the other children. I have to come straight home. Please, I didn’t do it on purpose. Johnny forgot. Please, my mommy said I have to come home after school.”

“Johnny?” I nudged his shoulder, but it didn’t do any good. He was going away.

“My mommy said I have to come home. My mommy said I have to be a good little boy. My mommy said I can’t play with the other children. My mommy said I have to use a diaper. I have to wear plastic panties. My mommy gives me a bottle when I come home. She makes me put it in my mouth. My mommy makes me potty in my diaper so she can change me. My mommy says I’m her baby.”

He was losing it. This wasn’t the everyday sweet Johnny I’d come to love and welcome into my bed at night. This was the crazy Johnny, the Johnny who didn’t clean himself.

“Doctor Randall!” I yelled. “Doctor Randall! Come up here, please! Doctor Randall, I need your help!”

He was loud coming up the stairs. Stomping loud. I guess I never noticed that about him. He walked noisily if he was in a hurry.

“My mommy said . . .” Johnny went on and on like a scratched record. Tears were starting to dribble out of his eyes. His hand left me and he put his thumb in his mouth. I watched him as he sort of crumpled to the floor. His body was quivering. He wet himself.

“What’s wrong Geoff?” Doctor Randall said coming into the room. “Oh, shit! What happened?”

“I think Mark not being here set him off. Then I kind of scolded him for not cleaning himself. Is he going to be okay?”

“Go get my black bag.”

“The drug bag?”

“Yes, hurry, I need to get him calmed. Hurry!”

I practically killed myself going down the stairs. You don’t tell an uncoordinated teenager to hurry. I didn’t fall, but I took two stairs at once and felt totally out of control. I caught myself on the railing and sort of stumbled the rest of the way down. The bag was on the credenza and I opened it to make sure it was the drug bag.

When I got back upstairs, Johnny was half sitting on his chair and half leaning on Doctor Randall who was trying to get his clothes off.

“Get me a soapy washcloth,” he said.

I dropped the bag on the bed and went into the bathroom. There was a small plastic pail under the vanity we used when we cleaned the floor and shower. I rinsed it out and filled it halfway with hot soapy water. I grabbed a couple washcloths and a bath towel.

Johnny was naked when I returned. Doctor Randall stood him up and I knelt down and started to clean the shit and piss off him. He was still quivering slightly kind of like he was shivering from being cold. I cleaned him as best I could then changed the water to rinse him off. Although Johnny normally slept nude, we put him in briefs and a t-shirt. No sex for Johnny tonight. Doctor Randall gave him an injection and Johnny went to sleep.

“Thanks,” Doctor Randall said as we left Johnny. “You’d make a good nurse.”

“Why, because I’m gay?”

“No, because you care.”


“Now go down and see if you can get Scott to talk.”

“This didn’t happen when Peter or Sam left. What’s different?”

“It happened, but it was too subtle for you to notice. Johnny will be okay. I’ll keep him home for a couple days then he’ll be the happy, bubbly Johnny again.”

I looked back into Johnny’s room and he was balled up on his side with his thumb in his mouth. How long does it take to treat a child like a baby until it finally sinks in and becomes part of their persona? Give Johnny half a chance and he’d revert to a little baby that peed and shit on itself. I felt sorry for him, sorry enough to consider not having him back in my bed, ever. He was too dear, too childlike, to be sexually attractive anymore.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“You’re getting good with the dad grab,” I said, turning to Doctor Randall.

“The what?”

“Your hand on my shoulder. My dad used to do that. I guess it’s something you do to make a kid feel good. Right?”

“I guess so. I never really had a chance to be a dad.”

“I’m sorry, but I think you’ll be good, anyway.”

“Thanks, now go talk to Scott. He won’t talk to me.”

Scott didn’t answer when I knocked on his door, but then Scott hardly ever answered when someone knocked. I think it was because he had no personal space at home. His parents, his father especially, simply walked into his room whenever they wanted and his father wanted a lot. So, I opened the door and stuck my head in.

“Are you decent?” I asked.

No reply. Not unusual, either. If he was busy on something, he was very good at ignoring the outside world. He was sitting at his desk.

“Are you busy?” I asked.

No reply. I began to wonder if Scott had indeed returned to the land of unspoken words. I had to admit, though, it sounded like a beautiful place, but I could never do that. I was a word person. I had to talk, even when it wasn’t quite appropriate or wanted.

I looked over his shoulder and saw him working on a haiku and it was in Japanese. He was using a calligrapher’s brush and black ink. He looked up at me.

“I’m doing it for school,” he said. “My teacher’s parents are Japanese and they are coming here tomorrow from their home in Kagoshima, Japan. She’s going to bring them to school on Friday. I wanted to do something special.”

“You speak Japanese?”

“Yeah, and I guess, or at least my teacher says, I’m seem to have a feel for the culture, too. I did one for her for Christmas. She had it framed and has it in her apartment.”

“Why are you talking to me?”

“Why shouldn’t I, oh, you mean why am I talking to you and not to Doctor Tim or Johnny?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

He rinsed his brush and dried it. Then got up out of the chair and went over to sit on his bed. I sat down beside him. That was another thing that was strange of Scott, the ability to stop talking while he was doing something, or was it the inability to talk and do something? I couldn’t figure it out. He didn’t talk at meals. He’d talk before sitting down, but when we were passing the bowls and platters around, he stopped talking and refused to talk until he was finished eating. It drove Mother up the wall.

When I sat down he quickly leaned over and kissed me. Then smiled. I liked Scott’s smile, it was devious, full of unknown things. He was sort of like Peter when he kissed, but more innocent.

“I’m sorry about Mark,” he said.

I waited for more, but he wasn’t going to offer anything else.

“It’ll work out, everything works out in the end,” I said. Happy endings. That was what I was going to think about from now on. Happy endings. No more shit. No more unhappiness. No more sadness.

“No, he’s gone. I feel it. His spirit is gone from this house. He’ll never be in this house ever again.”

“How can you say that?” I asked. It sounded scary, like he could see into the future or something. And, he looked weird when he said it, like he saw into the future and was simply telling me what he saw or didn’t see.

“I don’t know,” he said shrugging his shoulders and then kissing me, again. “I just know he won’t come back. I don’t know if you’ll ever see him again, but I know he’ll never step foot in this house, ever.”

“What are you some kind of junior fortuneteller?” I was trying to make a joke, but his face changed, again, kind of like he was listening to something. Did he hear voices? Was Scott schizo? I wouldn’t be surprised considering what his father put him through.

“No, I just know, okay? I can do this? Don’t ask me to explain because I don’t understand it either. I just know sometimes. I can’t tell you what horse will win at a racetrack. My dad learned that one real quick. Then he fucked me without lube as punishment. He lost a lot of money believing I could call the horses, but I can’t do that. It has to be long term and I can’t make it happen. If you asked me what you were going to be doing thirty years from today, I can’t tell you. But, it might come to me that you’ll die on August 23, no August 22, 2033, late in the night. I forgot about time zones.”

“Time zones? But, I’ll be old.”

“Yeah, most people die young. I can see that, too. When I meet people, I kind of know if they’ll be around next year, or so. Oh, yeah, you won’t be living here, someplace east.”

“You’re weird.”

“And, crazy, too. Don’t forget crazy. If I wasn’t crazy, I wouldn’t be here talking to you. Oh, and about Doctor Tim? I didn’t talk to him because I was thinking about the haiku. You know I don’t talk and concentrate, too. And, Johnny? Well, I went up to his room, but he stunk. I thought we might fool around or maybe shoot some baskets, but he stunk.”

“Johnny has that problem,” I said. Thinking about Johnny curled up in his bed, drugged out of his troubled mind. Kind of pathetic if you thought about it too much. “Johnny forgets to keep himself clean.”

“But, he’s a neatness freak. He makes my bed when he comes down here, and I’d already done it!”

“Yeah, he’ll do your cleaning. He’ll clean his room, but he won’t clean himself. He has issues.”

“He’s crazy!”

“We’re all crazy, in a way, otherwise we wouldn’t be living here. Now, do me a favor and go talk to Doctor Randall.”

“What about Johnny?”

“He went crazy up in my room and had to be given an injection.”

“The yellow stuff?”

“No, the blue one.”

“Oh, I had that once. You don’t remember stuff after having that one.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He kissed me, again, deeper and harder this time. His hand was in my crotch looking for something that was hiding. He pulled away and looked at me strange.

“It’s got you upset, doesn’t it?”

“I keep losing boyfriends,” I said. Tears welled up in my eyes, again, but I didn’t want his comfort, not now. I practically ran out of the room and up the stairs to my room. I went into my closet and got my teddy bear. We flopped onto the bed and he started to make me feel good as only he knew how.

To say the least, dinner that night was a somber affair. With both Johnny and Mark gone, no one seemed to want to talk about anything. Of course, Scott didn’t say anything to anyone or acknowledge anyone else’s presence at the table. Sally looked sad. She just didn’t understand what was going on with any of us boys. I kind of felt sorry for her having to suddenly live with two or three crazy boys not including her brother.

I wanted to talk about Mark not being with us, but thought better of it. If the good doctor seemed to think this was a done deal, then who was I to argue with parents, especially Mark’s parents who didn’t like me because I was homosexual and might give their son the disease. I was mad at Mark for not telling them, but at the same time honored his decision to not tell them. You had to choose for yourself the time to tell them.

We were working on our apple pie a la mode when the phone rang. Sally, ever vigilant, sprang into action and was answering before Mother had a chance to remind her to ask permission to leave the table. I think Sally was just practicing for her teen years when she would spend most of her waking hours talking on the telephone.

“Geoff it’s for you,” she said walking back into the kitchen.

“Did they say who it was?” I asked. “May I be excused?”

“It’s Mark,” Sally said.

“Yes, of course, honey,” Mother said.

I practically ran to the phone. Then I stopped and stared at the receiver. I wasn’t certain I wanted to listen to Mark’s explanation to why he wasn’t living with us.

And, yet, “Hello?”

“Geoff, is that you?”


“Geoff, uh, I want you to, uh, sit down, please.”

“Mark, are you crying?”

“Please, Geoff, don’t make this any harder than it already is. Okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t see you anymore, ever.”

“What do you mean ever?”

“I mean we can’t talk or be seen together ever again.”

“Are your parents making you do this? Because if they are, I’ll, well, I’ll do something.”

“Please, Geoff, will you stop! Please! Stop! Just shut the fuck up, for once in your life.”

“What do you want?”

“I just called to say goodbye.”



Dead air.


I sank to the floor listening to nothing coming through the phone. Nothing. I was crying, well, weeping. I’d had my cry earlier.

“Here, let me take that,” Doctor Randall said taking the receiver out of my hand. I looked up at him as he put it to his ear then put it back on the cradle. He sat down beside me.

“You knew he was going to call,” I said feeling his warm body close to mine. I think he was in dad mode, but I wasn’t certain.

“Yes, I told his father it would be best if Mark ended the relationship on his own.”

“But his parents are the ones who are stopping it.”

“They have their reasons. And, like it or not, they’re awfully good reasons.”

“Reasons? Me being homosexual is not a reason.”

“Partly, it is. Mostly, though, it is the public’s perception Mark is not homosexual. Think about it Geoff. Think about what has been going on at school and around town since Mark was attacked. The whole premise to Mark’s defense is that he is not homosexual. What do you think would happen to him if suddenly everyone realized you’re his boyfriend?”

I sat there seething at the thought Mark’s parents hated me because I was queer. After a while, a long while, Doctor Randall’s words began to seep into my reasoning and I started to see things from Mark’s parent’s side. Like it or not, they had a good argument.

“Wait a minute? They know about me, but the way you’re talking they know about Mark, too.”

“Of course they do.”

“But, yesterday when they were here and Mr. Patterson told Mother to keep me away from his son. He sounded like he said Mark wasn’t queer.”

“A poor choice of words. He admitted it to me. Look, Mark doesn’t know they know. They want him to admit it, for his own good, if anything else. You know what it means to have a parent tell you he knows you’re homosexual. You know how that feels. Don’t you think it would have gone differently if you’d have told your parents?”

“No, not with my father.”

“Well, it certainly would have been different with your mother.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. But what happens now? What do I do about Mark?”

“You leave alone. You don’t talk to him. You don’t acknowledge his presence. You don’t say, ‘Hi, Mark,’ at school or anywhere else. As far as you’re concerned, Mark was never your friend. Period.”


“No, buts. You leave him be. I know this is going to be difficult because I know you love him, but you have to stop it. No can suspect you and him know each other, because people will talk. And, you know what happens when people talk.”

“They jump to conclusions. But, some kids at school know I’m Mark’s friend.”

“Drop it! Your friendship never existed. They were imagining things.”

“I’m going to my room.”

“Do you want anything to help you sleep?”

“No. What about getting Johnny to the toilet?”

“If you can get him up, take care of it. If not, I’ll check on him in an hour. I’m sorry, Geoff. I’m sorry it had to turn out this way.”

“I know. I’ll get over it. I’ll fall in love with someone else and I’ll lose them, too.”

As I lay in bed trying to go to sleep, I thought of Mark for awhile, but as my hand begin to entice my shriveled cock out of its comfortable nest of pubic hair, my thoughts quickly turned to Tim. We were at his sister’s apartment. He was kneeling between my legs. He leaned down and started licking the crease between my thigh and dick where I was super ticklish. I felt another body climb onto my bed.



“Did the good doctor send you?”


He slipped under the covers. His hand took over for mine and his lips locked onto my right nipple. I could feel his hard-on pressing against my leg.

I turned onto my side and said, “Fuck me.”

He lubed up and pressed himself into me.

“Hold me,” I said. “Go slow.”

Scott had his arm across my chest pulling me back toward him as his cock slowly thrust into me. I was so relaxed. It felt so good to have someone care for me.

“Geoff? Geoff are you asleep?” Scott was jostling me.

“Were you asleep?”

“Sorry, I got too comfortable. Just hold me and fuck me. That’s all I need.”

“But what about you?”

“Just hold me and fuck me. That’ll do me good.”

“You’re not going to fall asleep, again, are you?”

“Maybe. It doesn’t matter you don’t need me for this.”

“I’m not going to fuck you while you’re asleep.”

“Then hold me and stay inside me until I go to sleep.”

Mark returned to school the following Monday. He was wearing a turtleneck sweater and had an armed security guard walking beside him. When we passed in the hall before homeroom, I looked at the lockers on the opposite wall so I didn’t have to look at him. I didn’t see him until I was carrying my tray to the Dolphin Table at lunch.

He and the security guard were the only people at the table. I glanced out in the atrium and the fairy was back. How appropriate, I thought. I looked around the cafeteria for an empty seat, but the only one on an aisle was the next table. I sat down.

“Hey! Ain’t you the fag?” The kid next to me asked. “I ain’t having no fag sit next to me.”

“Then leave,” I said.

“I was here first, you leave.”

“Sorry, I don’t have a problem sitting beside you.”

“You know, it’ll be pretty easy to get you to go.”

“Go ahead, hit me! Go on, hit me! Under the new rules, you’ll get expelled and I’ll still be sitting here.”

He looked at me, fist ready to slam into my face. Then, I guess, he saw the error of his decision and returned to talking to his friends.

I picked at the food. I wasn’t all that hungry. Mark was so close, and yet so far away. Finally, I got up and put my tray on the conveyor. I stopped by the office.

There was a new secretary in there, but more importantly, Principal Washington walked out of his office. He looked at me, then asked, “Is there anything you want?”

“Yes, sir, I’d like to see if I can change lunch periods.”

“Here, we were waiting for you to come in,” he said handing me a revised schedule form. “I’m sorry the way things turned out.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

We looked at each other. I was wondering what it would be like to suck that dick of his. I expect he was wishing I’d just leave, so I turned to go.


I turned to look at him. His eyes were asking this time. I could see the anxious lust in them. I wanted to, honestly, I wanted to.

“Sorry, I can’t.”

I turned toward the door and left. Our opportunity was missed. I couldn’t forgive him for what he’d done to me. As much as I wanted to do him, I knew it was wrong. All he had to do was ask, but he chose to use his authority over me to push me into doing him. That was wrong. I knew that was wrong. I wasn’t a pushover anymore.