Date: Sun, 21 May 2000 23:21:59 -0700
From: Country Guys <j_and_g@telis.org>
Subject: A New One -- After All This Time

Jim and Jimmy

I plan this as a novel, covering the lives of Jim and Jimmy. I'd be very
pleased to receive your comments, suggestions and criticisms.

Greg

J_and_G@telis.org

Chapter One
"Once you've done it once, you might as well do it again."


James B. Keith, Sr. figured he had to be just about the proudest man on the
highway. He was on his way to see his son graduate-with honors-from State
College. It was a trip he could not even have imagined nine years ago.

Nine years ago... The beginning of what he always thought of as 'the bad
years'; the years when his relationship with his son had turned to shit and
neither of them, it seemed, could listen to anything the other had to say.
It had been bad-for both of them-and got worse with every confrontation,
every rebellion and every attempt Jim made at disciplining the boy.

It started when his wife, Jimmy's mother, ran off with Jimmy's seventh
grade teacher. What made it all the more horrible was that there'd been no
warning, no sign of trouble leading up to it. They'd been a family, a happy
family he'd thought, and then suddenly, one afternoon she was gone, leaving
Jim and Jimmy at loose ends, blaming themselves and then, after a time,
blaming each other.

He remembered that day well. It was in January, a Wednesday, and it had
been very cold. Sometimes Jim thought the weather might have been a
omen. Jimmy was just a kid then, twelve years old and beginning to pick his
way through puberty. He'd come home from school happy because Mr. March,
his teacher, had been absent that day and the substitute hadn't known what
homework to assign so she had let the class go with no assignment at
all. Jimmy went home looking forward to an afternoon in the warm den with
his comic books and the TV and perhaps a cup of hot chocolate. What he
found was a cold, empty house.

There was a note from his mom, stuck to the refrigerator with one of the
cute little bunny magnets he'd given her for her birthday. The note simply
said that she loved him and he'd better call his dad at work and ask him to
come home.

When Jim got there Jimmy had already found his mom's empty closet and the
other note, the one she'd left on the bed. That one was not much longer
than the one on the refrigerator and didn't say a whole lot more except
that she couldn't go on pretending with them any longer and that this
seemed the best thing for all of them. She'd apologized to Jim, said it
wasn't his fault and asked him to take good care of Jimmy. That was it. No
word of where she was going or what she was going to do. She didn't even
bother to mention Mr. March; she just said she would be fine and they
shouldn't worry. She also didn't bother to mention that she had taken every
penny from their checking and savings accounts. Later Jim found that she
had even taken the little stash of extra money he kept in his sock drawer,
money he had used to buy small presents for her and Jimmy.

They denied it at first, of course, deciding that it was some sort of joke
and she'd come home any minute crying "Gotcha" and they'd all laugh and
then they'd ask her never to scare them like that again.

But she didn't come home, that evening or any other. She had gone for good.

The next day Jimmy wouldn't go to school. He'd convinced himself that his
mother would come home and he wanted to be there when she did. Jim stayed
home too, and while Jimmy kneeled on the living room couch watching out the
front window, Jim closed himself up in the bedroom with the phone book and
called everyone he could think of who knew her. It took eight calls before
one of her friends took pity on him and told him about Mr. March.

The affair had been going on for well over a year and it seemed as though
everyone but Jim and Jimmy knew about it. What made it worse, Jim thought,
was that he hadn't had the least idea about it. Not a clue. On top of
everything else, she'd left him feeling stupid.

Jimmy, of course, had to be told about this mother and Mr. March and Jim
handled it badly. He was hurt and angry and feeling emasculated and Jimmy
heard all that and more in his voice even if he didn't understand some of
the words. All Jimmy wanted, really, was to be hugged and told that it
would be all right and Jim didn't do that. In fairness to Jim, those are
the very things he needed too, and there was no one to hug him, either.

In the first weeks after she left both father and son became the butt of
rude jokes and snickers and rather than pull the two together it tore them
apart and they soon took to alternately screaming at each other and
sulking. Any sense of family they might have had slipped rapidly by the
wayside.

Jimmy dropped all his friends and spent most of his time in his room
watching TV. When Jim told him he shouldn't be watching so much television
they got into a terrible fight and Jimmy hurled the television set through
the window. Jim wouldn't buy him another one so Jimmy took to building
intricate and very beautiful models of old airplanes. When the police came
to the house and told Jim the model kits had all been stolen Jim stormed
upstairs and smashed them all.

It got worse. Jimmy discovered drugs and through the drugs he acquired a
whole new set of friends. For some reason he never allowed himself to get
into the really hard stuff but he began to smoke marijuana and drink a lot
of beer. He often went to school, when he bothered to go at all, with a
buzz on, usually from smoking a couple of joints but once in a while from
alcohol or a couple of lines of coke. He didn't learn a whole lot during
those years.

Jim had a hard time of it, too. The people at the construction firm where
he worked were perhaps a bit kinder than Jimmy's school friends but
everyone knew what had happened. Jim handled it by pretending nothing had
happened and by being the best, most hard working civil engineer he knew
how to be. He took on new projects, worked late nights and on weekends and
generally became the star of the firm. His personal life was a shambles and
his son was sinking in shit and he couldn't seem to do anything about
it. To survive Jim had to succeed at something. He just had to. Work was
the path of least resistance.

There were other things too: odd feelings he sometimes had and strange
dreams which he couldn't remember clearly but which made him feel
uncomfortable with himself. Sometimes he found himself staring into space,
not thinking anything and he wondered if he might be going crazy. Other
times, working at a frantic pace, he would suddenly wonder if he was trying
to kill himself.

Life went on this way for three years and it almost destroyed them both.
Then, on a warm spring weekend in May they reached a turning point and
managed, for once, to take the right path.

Mr. Caughlan, Jim's boss, had found him in his office late one night,
sitting rigidly in his chair, tears running down his face. Jim had been out
most of the afternoon Mr. Caughlan knew, talking to Jimmy's probation
officer. He also knew Jim was often out, dealing with his son's problems.

Mr. Caughlan gave Jim two things that evening. The first was a piece of
advice: Get the boy off somewhere, away from his friends, and lay it on the
line. Tell him that this is it; either it gets worked out or the next time
he's arrested, the cops keep him. The second thing he gave Jim was use of
his cabin at the lake, as a place to confront his son. Jim declined the
offer at first but, after a sleepless night thinking about it, he saw the
merit of the advice. Nothing else had worked and he knew they couldn't
continue on their present course. Neither of them could take much more of
that.

So they went up to the lake, Jim and his son, where they yelled and swore
at each other for two days before finally, in a state of near exhaustion,
something snapped and they began to talk to one another. And listen, both
to themselves and to each other. Once that started, the dam broke and they
got it all out, the hurt, the fear, the desperate loneliness they both
felt. They cried together then and decided that somehow they had to pull
together, they had to become father and son again.

In the six years following that weekend they had worked together-and
separately- to make themselves and each other proud. They went back to the
cottage at the lake as often as possible and somehow each visit seemed to
bring them closer. As he grew older Jimmy thought it strange that
Mr. Caughlan always seemed ready to let them use his place at the lake but
he was happy there and never dreamed of questioning it. It was, after all,
where his life had been saved.

And now, after all that, Jimmy was graduating from college, eighth in his
class.

It was also Jimmy's twenty-first birthday and his dad had one hell of a
gift for him. As it turned out, Jimmy had quite a surprise for his father,
too.

Graduation was held in the late afternoon so Jim went to his motel and
checked in before finding his way to the small stadium where the ceremonies
were to be held. He arrived at the stadium early so he could get a seat on
the lawn, close to the graduates. He made an effort not to point his son
out to the other parents seated around him but it was hard not to. It was
harder still not to jump up and applaud when Jimmy's name was called and
the president of the college shook his hand and presented him with his
diploma. Jim thought that might be the proudest moment of his life.

When the ceremony was over he found Jimmy in the crowd of graduates and
parents and caught him up in a bear hug. Jimmy hugged back and then kissed
him on the mouth which embarrassed him. "Thanks dad," Jimmy whispered.

When the hand shaking and back slapping had pretty much petered out Jimmy
went back to his dorm to change and then met his father at the steak house
next door to the motel. It was considered to be the best steak house in
River City and, Jim thought, only appropriate for a combination
birthday-graduation dinner.

They met in the lounge where they ordered martinis and the cocktail
waitress had the good sense to ask Jimmy for his ID which he displayed with
pride. This would be his first legal drink.

When the drinks were served Jim touched his glass to Jimmy's. "Son, I doubt
that there is a prouder father than I in this town tonight. Thank you with
all my heart." They drank and smiled at one another. Jimmy wondered how he
was going to begin telling his father about his life.

"Oh, one other thing. Your birthday present. I couldn't actually bring it
along but I do have this." He pulled a long envelope out of his coat pocket
and handed it to his son. Jimmy opened it and pulled out what appeared to
be some sort of legal papers. He looked at his dad questioningly.

"It's the deed to the place at the lake," Jim said quietly.

Jimmy looked from his dad to the papers and back to his dad. "But that's
Mr. Caughlan's place. How'd..."

Jim laughed. "It happened six years ago, son, a few months after we first
went there. Somehow I knew that place would be important in our lives so I
just talked and talked and talked until I talked him out of it. I finished
paying it off a couple of months ago." He finished his drink and beamed at
his Jimmy. "Of course, you still have to sign a few papers but aside from
that the deed is done. My son, you are now a man of property."

Jimmy sat still for a moment, stunned. Then he beckoned the cocktail
waitress. "Another drink, please, for me and my friend here."

A little later they went in to the dining room and greatly enjoyed each
other, prime steaks, slightly sentimental conversation and a couple of
bottles of an excellent Merlot. Afterward, with the cheese and coffee, they
enjoyed snifters of a very old, very smooth brandy.

When Jim got up to go to the rest room he found he was more than a little
unsteady from all the wine. When he returned he sat heavily and said, "I
sure hope you have alternate transportation because neither one of us is in
any shape to drive you over to the dorm. "

Jimmy laughed. "Nonsense. I'm perfectly okay." To prove it he got up and
went to the rest room. When he came back a few minutes later he shook his
head. "Might as well order another brandy, dad. I think I'm going to have
to bunk in with you."

His dad smiled and signaled the waitress. "So. You really have grown up,
haven't you? My god, a responsible man of property." He laughed again.

Two brandies later they walked unsteadily across the drive and barely
managed to find Jim's room. There, without ceremony, they stripped off
their clothes, used the bathroom and fell into the bed, both more asleep
than awake when their heads hit the pillows. They didn't even say 'good
night'.

It was three twenty-six by the bed side digital clock when Jimmy floated
into half consciousness. He wasn't sure just where he was or just who's
body he was pressed up against but he was sure it was a man: his fingers
were splayed out over a warm, furry belly. He dozed off again but the
realization that he was curled up with a man filtered through and, despite
the alcohol, his cock began to rise, pressing itself against his father.

Jim awoke a little too, feeling the warmth of the body against his back and
the growing pressure in the valley between his buns. He stretched and moved
his legs a little, allowing the growing pressure clearer access to his body
before he, too, slipped back into sleep.

The change in position brought Jimmy almost to consciousness. His cock,
almost completely hard now, was getting cramped and sending signals of
discomfort to his brain. He rolled away a little, spit in his hand, rubbed
the saliva over his hard cock and rolled back. His cock found its mark and
slipped in like it was an old friend. The pleasure of entry bubbled to the
surface of Jimmy's mind but even that wasn't enough to fully wake him. He
sighed and pulled himself closer to his dad.

The slow, gentle entry brought Jim a dream in which he was being taken by
some sort of mythical satyr who laughed delightedly as he filled Jim with
his huge organ. In the dream Jim was afraid he might come before the satyr
was through with him but at the same time he wished the satyr would take
hold of him, to see what pleasure he brought.

The two men, Jim and Jimmy, father and son, lay that way for quite a long
time, connected by the bridge of Jimmy's rigid flesh. Then Jimmy's hand
found his dad's erection.

In his dream Jim knew he wasn't going to be able to resist the satyr's
ministrations. He found himself slowly approaching that point of no return
and he had no power to stop, and no will either.

Jimmy began to move, slow, short strokes that pushed him ever closer to the
edge of orgasm. He had some vague idea who his partner was but not enough
to give him any concern. He just wanted to give his partner as much
pleasure as he could while taking his own. He lost track of who was doing
what; he couldn't tell if he was inside or outside or, indeed, if any part
of him existed beyond the pleasure he was slowly pushing to explosion. He
didn't care, either. The explosion had taken on a life of its own.

Jim, for his part, gave up trying to control what the satyr was doing to
him. He surrendered to it and became one with it and then let it do as it
wished.

And then it was over. For both of them. At almost the exact same moment.
There was no outward explosion, no great noise, only a huge wash of
pleasure over both of them, a release such as neither had ever felt before.
It seemed to take a long, long time.

That very well could have been the end of it and probably would have been
if Jimmy had simply withdrawn, rolled over and fallen deeper into sleep.
Jim would have awakened to find his cock and the sheets a bit sticky and
might even have been embarrassed to have had a powerful wet dream-his first
in over twenty years-while sleeping with his son. Jimmy might have
wondered, his own cock still a bit sticky, why there wasn't any evidence on
the sheets but probably wouldn't have thought much about it. Twenty-one
year olds don't.

That, however, is not what happened. Instead, Jimmy pressed closer before
deep sleep overtook him and he slept with his dad's cock nestled in his
hand. When they woke a couple of hours later Jim still had Jimmy inside him
and his cock was glued to his son's hand. There was no possible way to deny
what had happened. As if to make sure there could be no misunderstanding,
they each blossomed into full erection as soon as they realized it had not
been a dream.

"Jesus." It was Jim.

"Yea. Jesus. What do we do now?" Jimmy moved inside his father but decided
that wasn't the thing to do. He gently pulled out. "I gotta pee."

In the bathroom he cleaned his cock, urinated and then wrung out a wash
cloth with hot water. Back in the bedroom he handed the cloth to his
father.  "You may need this," he said with a smile.

Jim took the cloth but made no move to use it. "I... I don't know what to
say. What..."

Jimmy smiled, took the cloth from his father and threw back the covers.
"Well," he said, gently washing his father's cock, "it seems pretty likely
that this wasn't the first time for either one of us. That..."

Jim was beginning to harden again so he took the cloth from his son. "Yes,
but I'm... I mean, you're my..."

Jimmy laughed, just like the satyr in Jim's dream. "So?"

Jim climbed out of the bed. "Wait. I've got to go to the bathroom."
Standing at the toilet Jim couldn't help but watch himself in the mirror
behind it. He ran a hand over the stubble on his face and wondered what
sort of man would do what he had done, would allow himself to-he put the
vulgar name to it-to get fucked by his own son. And God help him, disguised
as a dream or not, that was just what he'd done. Now what? he wondered.

Back in the bedroom Jim found Jimmy stretched out on the bed, on his back,
looking thoughtful. "Look, dad, don't let this get to you. I mean, you
liked it didn't you? It sure seems like you did." He gestured at the
obvious wet spot on the sheets and broke into a grin. "Come on, let's do it
again." He chuckled and looked like the sexiest man in the world, "I mean
once you've done it once you might as well do it again."

There was a certain logic to what the boy said. And he was such a beautiful
boy. Jim shocked himself with his own thoughts and shook his head, trying
to clear it.

Somehow you experience a lot less conflict when you're twenty-one than when
you're forty-three. Jimmy's dick began to lengthen and pull away from his
belly.

"Look, Jimmy, we ought to talk about..." Jim sat on the bed but he didn't
finish the sentence; Jimmy pulled him down and covered his mouth with his
own. They kissed for a long time and when they pulled apart they were both
achingly hard.

Jimmy slowly slid along his fathers body, licking his way across his chest
and then down his belly, to the base of his cock. Then he straddled his
dad's legs and pressed his own hard cock against his dad's. "Looks like a
good match, doesn't it?"

Something let go in Jim's head and he suddenly dropped whatever guard he
had managed to build up and simply accepted the situation for the
moment. "Yea, I guess it is."

Jimmy took both cocks in his hands, squeezing them together and fondling
them. "The ol' Keith cock, huh? Big father, big son." He laughed that
satyr's laugh again. "I get kidded about that sometimes. You know, about
being big."

"You should have seen your Granddaddy. He'd put us both to shame." Jim
wondered where the hell that came from.

"You saw Granddad? Naked?"

"He used to take me to the 'Y' on Saturdays, to swim. They always swam
naked at the 'Y' in those days." He reached down and Jimmy relinquished the
double handful of hard cock to him. "Never saw him hard though. Seems
strange to me, a boy seeing his dad hard."

Jimmy reached out and rolled one of his dad's nipples between his fingers.
"Not strange. Nice. You got any condoms with you?"

Jim nodded. "Shaving kit in the bathroom." Jimmy trotted off to find them,
his cock swaying heavily out in front of him. Jim wondered for the tenth
time if this was a good idea but then decided he didn't care. He'd given
himself up to Jimmy and for now he'd just ride it out.

Jimmy came back with a couple of condoms and the jar of lube he'd found. He
climbed back up on his fathers legs and leaned down to kiss his cock. "I
got to apologize for what happened last night. It's the first time I ever
did that without protection."

Jim nodded and smiled. "First time for me, too, so I suppose it's okay.
You..."

"Yeah. I'm okay. You too, I guess." He began unrolling the condom over
Jim's cock.

"Yes. But," he indicated the rubber slowly covering his cock, "it's better
this way. You sure you want to do this?"

Jimmy's voice was suddenly thick with desire. "Oh, yes sir. I do want to do
this."

"Please. Don't call me sir. It makes me feel old."

"What?" Jimmy said, smearing lube over the condom, the laugh back in his
voice, "old enough to be my father?"

"Something like that I suppose."

Jimmy pulled himself up and then slowly lowered himself onto his dad's
cock.  It felt like the biggest thing he'd ever had in him and it felt
wonderful. He had to run the higher multiplication tables in his head to
keep from coming.

"You okay son?" The 'son' part didn't sound right to him considering what
he was asking about. He decided he'd have to stop that, call him Jimmy or
something.

"More than okay, dad. Lots more." The 'dad' part aroused him even more and
he wondered if this was some sick psychological thing. When he hit bottom
and was sitting in pubic hair he decided he didn't care. He just wanted
this man to fuck the shit out of him. He began to ride his father's dick
like a cowboy.

"Easy, easy," Jim said, grabbing Jimmy's hips. "I can't take much of that.
Here, let me." He pulled himself up and rolled them both over so he was
lying over Jimmy. He set the pace with long, slow strokes. He still wasn't
going to last long though. He was so excited by this boy, his... This boy.

Jimmy's eyes had begun to glaze over and his breath was coming in short
gasps. He was close and he was having trouble controlling it. When he felt
it begin to happen he pulled his dad's head down and kissed him, burying
his tongue in his dad's mouth. That did it for his dad, too.

When it was over and they were able to control their breathing again Jim
pulled out, leaving Jimmy with a deep empty feeling. "You like that?" Jimmy
asked when his dad came back from the bathroom with a hot, damp cloth.

"You might say." He leaned over the bed and kissed Jimmy, long and
deep. "Especially that part. Now come on. Get out of that bed and get
dressed. It's time for breakfast and I'm starved." Jim really was hungry
but he was feeling he had to get away from this for a time, too. It was
overwhelming him and he found it impossible to talk about anything with
this kid while they were both naked. He watched Jimmy getting dressed and
it made him hard again.