Date: Sun, 27 May 2007 21:36:39 -0500
From: Morris Henderson <bigmoh@post.com>
Subject: Lonely Stephan part 2 of 2

This story is fiction.  It did not happen although it could.  Do
not read this story if the graphic description of sexual intimacy
between teenage boys offends you or if it is illegal for you to
read such material.

Lonely Stepan - Part 2

Hurriedly, I cut two thick slices of roast beef and put them on plates.
I added scoops of mashed potatoes, also left from the night before,
and slathered them with gravy.  I added some buttered corn to each
plate and decided not to bother with desert.  We could microwave the
two plates when we got hungry.  I rushed to my bedroom and
debated over what to wear.  I packed pajamas not because I would
need them but because somebody might notice if they were missing.
I stuffed some clothes and a few toiletries in my gym bag and ran
downstairs.  I covered the two plates with plastic wrap and put them
in a box to carry.

Again, Stephan was waiting and opened the door before I could ring
the bell.  I hurried in, set the box on the kitchen counter, dropped my
gym bag on the floor, turned around, and grabbed Stephan in a
hug that he returned, matching my vigor.  We kissed, long and
passionately.  "This has been about the longest day of my life,"
Stephan said.

"Tell me about it," I replied.  "Every class at school seemed like it
was two or three hours long."

"Shall we?" he asked, motioning in the direction of the stairs.

"It's better than Monopoly," I joked.

"You're just afraid I'll bankrupt you," he joked in return.

"I'd much rather you corrupt me."

"Enough!" he exclaimed.  "Let's go."

We were soon on Stephan's bed and I was repeating what I had
done for him before.  However, expecting that he might again have
a hair trigger, I avoided touching his rigid cock in favor of massaging
his chest, stomach, inner thighs, and balls.  I proceeded gingerly
because the lilly-white skin streched over his bones with very little
muscle made him seem so fragile.  His eyes were tightly shut and he
would occasionally moan in pleasure, which let me know where his
most sensitive areas were.  After several minutes, I began to execute
a plan that I had devised while sitting in class.

I licked his shaft from its base to the tip.  That caused Stephan to
jerk.  He raised his head, opened his eyes, and discovered what
I was doing.  He said nothing but just smiled and laid back to
enjoy.  I teased his cock and balls with my tongue until I noticed
he was instinctively bucking his hips.  It was time to move in for
the finish.  I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock and
began to take more of it into my mouth.  Stephan cried out in
ecstasy.  I bobbed my head only a few times when Stephan called
out, "I can't hold it."  I responded by tightening my lips around his
burning rod and bobbing my head a little faster.  My efforts were
rewarded with several blasts of hot cream against the back of my
throat.  When he finally stopped trembling, I suckled the remaining
drops of his seed.

I laid down beside him and was gently massaging his chest when
he asked, "What made you do that?  I warned you."

"I wanted to.  I wanted to give you pleasure.  And I wanted some of
you inside me.  You see, your seed will be a part of me forever."

"That's sweet," he replied.

"No," I countered with a straight face.  "It's more salty than sweet."

It took a moment for him to catch my meaning but then he laughed.
Oh, how I enjoyed hearing him laugh.

"Can I have part of you?" he asked.

"You don't have to, you know.  I can warn you and you can finish me
by hand."

"I want to...really want to...I've wanted to for a long time and especially
since I met you."

Because of what Stephan said, I didn't warn him.  In fact, I'm not sure
that I could have.  By the time I was ready to shoot, I had lost all
control of my body and my mind was in orbit.  It was the most intense
orgasm I could imagine.

We cuddled together for a long time, simply enjoying the fulfillment
of our shared dream.  Eventually, we fell asleep in each other's arms.

It was almost eight when I woke to find Stephan sitting cross-legged
beside me and watching me.  Noticing that I was awake, he said,
"You're beautiful."  I sat up, grabbed him, and gave him a kiss.

"Been awake long?" I asked.

"Not long enough.  I could admire your body forever."

"That's sweet," I replied, mimicking his earlier comment.

"It's true," he protested.  "The only thing better than looking at you
is...well...I think you know."

"Enough of the flattery.  Let's have dinner and then figure out what
to have for desert."

Stephan laughed and said, "Maybe we should vote on it but I think
there will be only one candidate."

"Something hot and creamy?"

"Exactly!"

I reached for my clothes but Stephan said, "Wait.  There's no window
in the kitchen.  If we turn out the hall light, we can go past the living
room without being seen.  That means that...well..."  His voice became
tentative. "That is...if you're willing...we could have supper in the nude."

"No," I said trying to keep a stern look on my face.  Stephan's
expression of disappointment was obvious.  "If we do that," I
continued, "I'm sure to get a hard on and attack you before we
even get the plates on the table."

"That won't be all bad," he shot back.

I was half right.  I got a hard on before the plates were on the table.
Stephan saw it and playfully grabbed a steak knife to protect
himself from attack.  Both of us laughed and I couldn't remember
having more fun with anybody.  Rather than sit across from each
other, we sat side-by-side and were completely unashamed about
staring at each other.  It wasn't long before Stephan, too, was hard.

At the end of the meal, I had left a bit of mashed potatoes on
my plate to cool down.  Stephan's plate had more potatoes and
lots of gravy.  I picked up my bit of potatoes with a fork, brought it
close to my mouth, and dropped it into my crotch.  "Oh dear me," I
said as dramatically as I could.  "I seem to have had an accident.
However will I be able to clean up the mess I've made of myself?"
As I said that, I turned slightly toward Stephan and spread my legs
slightly.

Stephan lost no time in joining the fun.  "Not to worry, kind Sir.  Allow
me to help you out."  He got on his knees and ate the potatoes.  I
noticed that he deliberately smeared the potatoes into my pubic hair
and took his time licking it clean.  He finished his task by licking my
cock up and down although there was no reason except to stimulate
me almost to the point of orgasm.  "I hope that's satisfactory, Sir.
I'm a vegetarian so I only cleaned the your meat and didn't eat it."
Both of us then roared with laughter.

Stephan returned to his chair and said, "Enough frivolity.  It's time
to clear the table.  To my surprise, he took his plate, tipped it, and
let the remaining potatoes and gravy spill onto his stomach.  It slid
slowly down from his navel to his pubes.  He then looked at me and
said, "I think, Sir, you owe me a favor."

"Pleased to oblige," I responded and quickly went to my knees to
lick off the gravy from his stomach and pubes.  When I had
completed the task, I looked up and said, "I'm not a vegetarian.
Would you like me to remove the meat from you lap?"  I growled
and bared my teeth as though I were an animal ready to bite off
his cock.

Stephan quickly covered his crotch with both hands and yelled,
"No!  No!  I'm saving that for later."  Neither of us could contain our
laughter and almost collapsed in hysterics.

After clearing the table, I followed Stephan upstairs.  I found the
motion of his diminutive ass cheeks as he climbed the stairs quite
erotic.  At the top of the stairs, I grabbed him, turned him around, and
placed a hand on each of his ass cheeks.   "You have the cutest ass,"
I said before squeezing them and bending down slightly to plant a
kiss on his lips.

He grabbed my ass with both hands and said, "Not as nice as yours."

"Ah," I responded.  "I never realized the truth to the saying that good
things come in small packages."

He gave me an ambiguous look, buried his head into my chest, and
whimpered, "Oh, Josh.  If only I weren't so scrawny.  If only I had a
firm, strong body like yours."

I was taken aback by his comment.  He had taken offense at my
reference to his small body.  It was the first time that he had
shown real remorse over his physical condition.  He had mentioned
it before but never with such sadness.  I grabbed his shoulders and
pushed him backwards slightly.  He looked up at me with a surprised
look.  "Listen," I began.  "There's another saying: beauty is as beauty
does.  And you're beautiful.  You're bright.  You're talented.  You're
witty.  Most of all, I think you're courageous.  I don't know anybody
else who could be sick, lose a father, and live alone that could
possibly be as nice as you.  I sure couldn't."

Stephan, as he had done before, searched my face for evidence
of my sincerity.  "Thanks for saying that, Josh.  You may be
exaggerating things but it makes me feel better to hear it...and, of
course, to be with you."

"And one more thing," I said sternly.  "You want a firm body?"

He got a puzzled look.  "Ah...yes."

I stepped back a little, spread my arms outwards, and thrust my
hips slightly forward.  "This body is all yours...and yours alone!  Now
what are you going to do with it?"

Stephan shook off his funk and laughed, "I'm going to ravage it.  I'm
going to tickle it.  I'm going to admire...no, worship it.  I'm going to
order it into my bedroom."  He stepped aside, pointed to his
bedroom and commanded, "Go!  Now!"

"As you wish, Sir." I replied and marched down the hall and into
his bedroom.  He followed and, upon entering the bedroom, he
said, "You've got a cute ass yourself, Mister."  Pausing, he added,
"but I like your cock better."

"As I said, it's yours and yours alone.  That is, if I can play with
your cock, too."

"Wait your turn!  I'm going to ravage you first.  Get on the bed."

Quite willingly, I laid down to allow him full access to anything he
wanted.  He wasted no time.  He massaged, tickled, licked, and
caressed every inch of my body saving his final attention for my
balls and cock.  By that time, I was leaking precum profusely and
getting impatient for another blowjob.  I held my impatience in
check, however, to allow Stephan to do whatever he wanted.
Finally, I felt his warm, moist mouth engulf my throbbing cock and,
although I tried to hold back, I was soon filling his throat with
my cream.

He laid next to me while I recovered and then moved in for a kiss.
As his tongue invaded my mouth, I got a powerful taste of cum and
the unmistakable feeling of some cum sliding down my throat. He
had saved some to transfer to me.  When we broke our kiss, I said,
"Nice of you to share...but I like the taste of yours more."

He giggled like a little boy who had played a trick on someone but
then said, "Help yourself.  All you have to do is turn on the faucet."

"I'll turn you on, all right," I replied.  "But I'm going to take all you
can give me and I'm too selfish to share."  I immediately did for
Stephan what he had so masterfully done for me and, in time, was
rewarded with several swallows of his cum.

We then pressed out naked bodies together in a prolonged
embrace.  Unlike our previous post-orgasm embrace, we talked.
I told him about my likes and dislikes, my family, my recognition
of being gay, and how glad I was to have met him.  Stephan was
a little more reticent but eventually opened up.  I learned that his
father was a strict disciplinarian, was disappointed that his son
was not and could not be a macho athlete, and their relationship
was therefore one of mere toleration.  This seemed to explain
his lack of emotion over his father's death.  His father was openly
homophobic.  His mother was equally homophobic but based her
attitude on strict adherence to her minister's very literal
interpretation of the bible.  This, he finally confessed, was more of
a burden than his illness: having to conceal his increasingly
undeniable attraction to boys.

His illness was a mystery.  Several specialists had conducted test
after test with no definitive results.  They tried a whole series of
medications but each produced either no improvement or had
unpleasant side effects.  It was not only his mysterious illness that
kept him out of school and virtually confined to the house.  It was his
mother's irrational fear of her son being contaminated by "un-Christian"
influences.

The last revelation infuriated me and I said so.  Stephan,
however, defended his mother.  "She's doing what she really
believes is best for me.  I've learned, mostly from books, that
some of what she believes is irrational or unjustified but her
intentions are honorable.  Don't criticize my mother; try to
understand her."

My impulse was to debate the point with him but I realized that
his attitude and his love for his mother was unassailable.  It
suddenly struck me.  He, more than his mother, was conforming
to the message on his shirt: WWJD.

The more I learned about Stephan's life, beliefs, and attitude, the
more I admired him...and the more I wanted to bring a measure of
joy into his life.  Yes, I was happy to have found a partner with whom
to satisfy my unique sexual needs.  More importantly, however, I
was learning to love an extraordinary human being.

We finally fell asleep still locked in an embrace.  It was still dark
when I woke.  I looked at the clock radio and found that it was not
quite seven in the morning.  During the night, we had separated and
I suddenly felt...it's corny to say it but I felt incomplete.  I snuggled
up to Stephan and the warmth of his body, the closeness, felt
wonderful.  That was the moment that I realized he and I would be
together for a long time.  About half an hour later, Stephan stirred,
smiled, and gave me a kiss.  "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning, my love," I replied.

"What did you say?" he blurted out, now fully awake.

"I said, good morning, my love."

"Does that mean..."

"Yes, my love, it does," I replied and kissed him gently on the lips.

He rolled over, buried his head into my shoulder, and began to cry.
I hugged him for a moment before saying, "I hope those tears are
happy tears."

"You have no idea," he sputtered through his tears.  "You've made
me the happiest person in the world."

We hugged and cuddled for quite some time, each of us delighted
that we had found each other.  When his tears stopped, I asked,
"What do you suppose we should do to celebrate our union?"

He chuckled, reached down for my cock, fondled it, and said, "Does
this give you any ideas?"

We sucked each other to a climax that was, for me, not only intense
and pleasurable but extraordinarily meaningful.

At 10, the phone rang.  "Can I bring you boys some lunch?" my
mother asked Stephan.  He told her that was very kind and we would
appreciate it.  Just before noon, she arrived with her famous meat
ball subs, a bag of chips, and a six-pack of diet cola.  Stephan and
I were at the kitchen table where I was helping him with a math
assignment out of the home-schooling curriculum.  Math was one
subject I was good in but Stephan found difficult.  My mother didn't
stay long, just long enough to check on us and fulfill her duty as a
mother by feeding us.  I asked if I could stay another night and my
mother readily agreed.

As we ate lunch, Stephan said, "Your mother is awfully nice.  What
will she think when she finds out?   About us, I mean."

"I've thought about that a lot.  Even more since I met you.  I think
she'll be upset but she's a mother.  She'll get over it.  It may take a
while but she'll get over it."

"How about your father?"

"That's another situation.  He's really quite liberal but I've heard him
criticize things like civil unions between gays.  He's particularly
harsh when he complains about gay marriage.  He even uses words
like queer, fag, and fudge-packer.  Once, he said to me, 'Thank God
you're not one of those degenerates.' I don't think he would accept
having a gay son."

"Sounds like my father," Stephan said.  "So I guess that means we'll
have to keep things between us a secret."

"Unfortunately.  At least for a while.  Remember when I said we
should take things a step at a time and see what develops?  Well,
we did and things developed quite quickly.  We've known each
other for just a few days and look at us now.  Maybe our parents
will accept us faster than we think."  I knew I was suggesting
something that was very unlikely but it was worth hoping for.

"You don't know my mother," Stephan said despondently.

"She's a mother, isn't she?  Maybe she'll surprise you.  It will take
some time but I know she loves you.  Besides, doesn't it say
somewhere in the Bible to love a sinner?"

"Yes.  But my mother...she's..."  He stopped in mid-sentence,
thought a while, and said, "Okay, a step at a time."

We finished Stephan's math assignment and took a break...almost
two hours in bed showing each other our love.  In late afternoon,
Stephan's mother called.  "Hello...Everything's fine...How's Angela?
...A boy? That's wonderful...Yes, Josh even helped me with my math...
I'm sure that will be fine.  Don't worry about it.  I'm getting along very
well...I miss you too...See you then."

Stephan explained the other half of the conversation.  He had a new
nephew but there were some complications and his mother would
have to stay for at least another week to help.  "That means," he
concluded with a sly grin,, "We have a whole week--and another
weekend--together.

That night and the next morning, Stephan and I spent some quality
time together--in bed, in the shower, and even on the sofa.   At 10
on Sunday, I had to go home to attend church with my family.  I
knew that it was non-negotiable so I reluctantly gathered my things
and kissed Stephan goodbye, promising to stop by for a visit later
that afternoon.

During the following week, I spent every afternoon and evening with
Stephan.  My parents' only condition what that I do my homework
and be home by 10 p.m.  On Thursday, Stephan said he wanted to
show me a new drawing that he had made.  I was stunned when I
saw an exquisite portrait of me done in ink.  I gushed my praise
for the quality of the drawing and told him how flattered I was
adding, "But I didn't even pose for it."

"I did it from memory," he replied.  "Of all the drawings I've done,
this is my favorite.  I'm going to hang it right over there, above my
desk.  I can see it from anywhere in the room to remind me of how
much I love you."

"I'm flabbergasted," I said.

"Want to see the other one?" he asked.

"Of course."

He retrieved another drawing from the table next to his easel and
hesitantly handed it to me.  I gasped.  My heart skipped a beat.  My
eyes began to tear up.  It was his finest work.  He had used colored
pencils and it must have taken days to create.  The two of us were
sitting on a fallen log in a meadow.  We were nude and we each had
an arm around the other.   Stephan's head rested on my shoulder as
he gazed at my face and I returned the gaze.  In the background was
a forest with a deer grazing and three birds in separate trees.  A
snow-capped mountain pierced the sky in the distance.

"Like it?" he asked.

"I've never seen anything so beautiful," I said honestly.  "Especially
because you and I are together in it."  I carefully put the drawing
aside and drew my love into a long, passionate kiss.  I couldn't
help it.  It was now my turn to cry.

"I hope those are happy tears," he said.

"Happy doesn't begin to describe how I feel, my love."

"Would you like to have it?" he asked.

"Yes," I sobbed as I held him even more tightly.

Stephan let me get the tears out of my system and then, to lighten
the mood, he said, "Better not hang it in your bedroom."

I laughed, thought about it for a moment, and said, "One day I will,
my love.  It will be hung in a prominent place with soft lighting so I
can see it all night long."

I spent another glorious weekend with Stephan until, that is, Sunday
evening when I had to go home knowing that Stephan's mother would
return the next day and we would not be able to enjoy the exquisite
pleasure of expressing our love sexually.  It would be painful not to be
able to show my affection with with nothing more than a discrete kiss
behind a closed door.  We searched frantically for a way to resolve the
dilemma but every idea either of us had carried too much risk.

I spent every afternoon and nearly every evening after supper with
Stephan.  Wednesday evenings were the best because Stephan's
mother went to church service, leaving Stephan and I alone in his
house for almost three hours, which gave us our only opportunity
to be intimate.

My parents tolerated and sometimes endorsed my spending so
much time at Stephan's house.  Mrs. Benson seemed pleased as
well.  I'm sure they never suspected that we loved each other and
that it was torment not be able to share that love fully.

Three weeks after Stephan's mother's return, I stopped by his house,
as usual, after school.  There was no answer to the doorbell.  I
peeked in the window of the garage and saw that the car was gone.
I assumed that Stephan had yet another doctor's appointment so
I proceeded home.  Having put supper in the oven at six, I phoned
Stephan.  There was no answer.  I became concerned that
something serious had happened.  At six-thirty I phoned again and
got no answer.  Surely something as simple as a doctor's
appointment would not keep them out of the house so late.  When
my parents came home, I told them of my concern but, to my
disappointment, they were not as concerned as I was.

Just before seven-thirty, the time I normally went over to Stephan's
house, our phone rang.  My father answered the phone.  "Hello...
Oh, no...When?...Is there anything we can do?...I will...Please let
us know if there's anything, anything we can do...Bye."

My father came into the kitchen where my mother was clearing the
table and I was packing three pieces of cake to take over to
Stephan's house.  "Stephan took sick this morning and was rushed
to the hospital."

"NO!" I screamed.  "Is he all right?"

"No," my father said.  "He passed out this morning.  Mrs Benson
thinks it was a reaction to some new mediation.  An ambulance
took him to the hospital, he never regained consciousness."

"But he will," I screamed.  "He has to!"

"No, son.  He passed away late this afternoon.

"NO!" I screamed hysterically and I pounded the table with my fist.
"This can't be happening!"  I crumbled into a kitchen chair,
dropped my head into my arms on the table, and began to sob
uncontrollably.

My mother immediately sat in a chair next to me, put her arm
around me, and said, "It's all right, Josh.  I know he was your friend
but we'll get over it."

I was, by then, furious that fate had taken away such a beautiful and
talented young man.  I was also furious that my mother seemed to
have demoted him to just a friend.  My abject sorrow and my anger
clouded my reason and I shouted, "He's not just a friend.  He's my
boyfriend.  I love him."  Somehow I just couldn't talk about him in the
past tense.

"I understand," my mother said.  "He was a good friend and it hurts
to lose a good friend."

My fury rose, causing me to raise my head and shout, "No, you don't
understand.  We're boyfriends.  We're lovers."

"What are you saying, son?"

"Don't you get it," I continued to shout.  "We're boyfriends.  We're
lovers.  Do I have to spell it out?  We're both gay and we love each
other.  We've sealed that love by having sex.  It wasn't dirty.  It
wasn't evil.  It was beautiful."

My mother and father looked at each other wordlessly as I bolted
from the room, ran to my bedroom, slammed the door, and fell into
bed sobbing.  My mother, as any mother would do, followed me
and came into my bedroom.  "Just leave me alone," I shouted at her.

"I'd like to talk, Josh."

"Well I don't!  Just leave me alone."

"If that's what you want, I'll leave but at some point we need to talk.
Let me know when you're ready.  I'll be there for you."

I continued to sob as my mother left the room.  Eventually, I fell
asleep.  It was dark when I awoke still thinking about Stephan.
I checked the time: 5:30 a.m.  My parents would be getting up in
about half an hour.  Breakfast would be just past six and by seven
we would all be out the door.  I laid there for half an hour thinking about
Stephan, about my outburst to my parents, and what the future may
hold.  I heard my parents' alarm followed by their shower.  I decided
that I just couldn't face school that day.  I hoped my parents would
understand my not going.

My mother knocked on the door, opened it, and came in.  "Breakfast
in ten minutes," she said.

"I'll fix my own later," I replied.  "I'm not going to school today."  I
said it as an announcement, not a request for permission to stay
home.

"I understand," she replied.  "Will you be all right?"

"Yes."

"I hope we can talk about it tonight," she said.

"Okay," I replied but added defiantly, "But I want you to know that I'm
not ashamed of what Stephan and I did.  I'm sorry for yelling at you.
I would have liked to tell you differently but nothing changes the
fact that I'm gay and I love Stephan with all my heart."

"I know now how upset you are.  We can talk about it tonight."

She turned to leave but I called her back.  "Mother!  Stephan's
mother must never know."

"Of course.  There's no reason to tell her.  See you tonight."

I laid in bed for another hour or so still contemplating what the
future would be without Stephan, what my parents would do or
say to me, and whether I could ever find someone as beautiful
as the frail, bright, talented boy I loved deeply.  By mid-morning,
I reached a conclusion.  Whatever my parents said to me, I would
never deny that I was gay.  I knew that I would remain gay.  I didn't
have to come out to my friends at school right away but at some point,
I knew that I would have to be open about what I was.

I reached up to the top shelf of my closet.  From under a pile of
summer tee shirts, I pulled out the drawing of Stephan and I.  I
gently touched his face on the drawing and found myself saying
out loud, "I'll always love you."  I laid the drawing on my bed and
walked over to my desk.  From above the desk, I took down a
framed photograph of my Little League Baseball team.  I replaced
the photograph with Stephan's drawing and hung it above my
desk.  I suspected what my parents' reaction would be but I didn't
care.

In the afternoon, I walked over to Stephan's house and rang the
bell.  I knew it would be difficult but there was something I had to do.
Stephan's mother answered the door and I said, "I just wanted to
express my sympathy for your loss and tell you what a wonderful
son you had."

She burst into tears and hugged me.  "Thank you, Josh," she
sputtered through her tears.  "Thank you for being his friend.  He
was happier these past weeks than he's ever been."

I could easily have cried with her but I suppose I was too numb.
Besides, what good would it do?  "I really enjoyed his friendship,
Mrs. Benson.  I learned a lot from him that I'll never forget.  He
will be a part of us forever."

I felt the tears coming and decided to leave before they did.
"Please let me know if there's anything I can do."  Perhaps too
abruptly, I turned and ran home.  I was able to hold back my tears
until I got in the house but I sobbed on my bed for a long time.

When my parents came home, I had supper ready and had
decided that somehow I would have to get on with my life without
Stephan.  I had three places set and hoped the dinner conversation
would not focus on Stephan or my revelation that I was gay.  It was
as I hoped  There was no mention of Stephan or my being gay.
After eating, my father went immediately into the Den having said
nothing to me and very little to my mother since he got home.
I helped my mother clear the table and she asked, "Are you
ready to talk now, Josh?"

I didn't want to.  I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts but I
said, "Okay."

We sat at the kitchen table and she said, "Josh, I don't approve of
what you and Stephan did.  I have to be honest with you and say
that I don't like it.  However, I also have to say that I love you.
You're my son and I will always love you."

It was not what I expected.  She seemed to accept having a gay
son much sooner than I would have predicted.  I could live with her
disapproval of my actions and was relieved that there was no
morality lecture because it would surely start an argument.

"Your father, however," she continued.  "Is not as forgiving as I am
willing to be.  Please be patient.  It will take much longer for him to
come to terms with what you've told us.  Can I give you some
advice?"

"Sure, mom."

"Tread lightly.  Let him absorb it.  Don't confront him or throw it in
his face.  In the language of teenagers, be cool.  Okay?"

"I will.  But he'd better not confront me or throw it in my face.
Because I won't stand for his attacking Stephan, me, or the
relationship we had together."

"Don't worry," she replied.  "I talked to him last night and he agreed
not to punish or antagonize you."

"Thanks, mom.  I love you both."

"And we love you, Josh."

For the next two days, my father and I hardly spoke to each other.
That was just fine with me.  It was better than arguing and certainly
better than hearing that I was sick or evil.  My parents took time off
work to take me to Stephan's funeral.  It was sparsely attended,
mostly, I assumed, by members of Mrs. Benson's congregation.
It was also gratefully brief.  Half way through, I couldn't help myself
and began to cry.  Much to my surprise, it was my father who put
his arm around my shoulder and gently hugged me.  Perhaps, I
thought, he had had enough time to accept a gay son if not forgive
me.  We didn't go to the cemetery because I couldn't bear to see the
casket bearing a precious boy being put into the frozen ground.

Upon returning home, I went to my bedroom, mouthed "I love you,
Stephan" to the drawing above my desk, and laid on the bed.
Moments later, my father came in.  He seemed nervous and he
spoke with unusual awkwardness.  "Son, I just want to say how
sorry I am that Stephan passed away.  I know he meant a lot to
you."

"Yes, dad, he did." I replied while resisting the temptation to explain
just how much he meant to me.

"That's one of the cruelties of life--to lose someone close to us."

Why could he not bring himself to say someone we love?  Still, I
was encouraged that he was expressing sympathy instead of
condemnation.  As he rose to leave, he saw the drawing on the wall
above my desk, and gasped.  His face reddened with rage. "That's
too much!" he shouted.  "I've tried to understand.  I've left you alone.
But that pornography has to go!"

My impulse was to lash out.  Calling the drawing pornography was
an attack on my love for Stephan and on Stephan's undeniable talent.
However, hoping to avoid a shouting match, I drew a deep breath,
got off the bed, and walked over to stand in front of my desk and the
drawing.  I stood there with my arms folded.  I looked my father in
the eye and said with all the conviction at my command, "That drawing
is art, not pornography.  It represents our love.  And if it goes, so do I."

I hadn't thought through the ramifications of my threat.  Where would
I go?  What would I do?  However, if I had thought it through,
I would have said the same thing.  My calm determination must have
disarmed my father because he just stared at me for a moment
before walking out of the room.  The drawing stayed and so did I
but my father and I rarely spoke to each other for years.  During
that time, it often seemed that my mother played the difficult role
of buffer between my father and me.

Mrs. Benson moved to New Jersey soon after Stephan's death to
be near her daughter.  Before she left, she gave me the portrait of
me that hung above Stephan's desk but, she said almost
apologetically, she was keeping the rest as a memory of her son.
I understood that and have often wondered what she thought if
and when she opened the chest with the nude male drawings.

I'm now in college.  I've never sought nor met another guy who I
felt worthy of replacing Stephan in my life.  In fact, it was more
than three weeks after Stephan's death before I could even
masturbate.  Even then, I felt guilty that Stephan couldn't join me.

Rest in peace, my love.