Date: Thu, 18 Sep 2003 00:31:40 +0000 From: Guy Jameson Subject: The Sons of JJ Jameson Chapter 18 JJ resumes the telling of our story. If you're under eighteen, or even the age of the grandsons who have written portions of this saga, you may be too young to be reading it. But I'll leave that decision up to you. For the rest of you, I hope you are continuing to enjoy reading this writing as much as I've enjoyed my part in it. THE SONS OF JJ JAMESON CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE PROM, OLD FRIENDS RETURN, NEW FRIENDS ARE MADE, A BIRTHDAY PARTY 1997-2000 So Joe and probably the other boys think I'm clueless about what goes on in this house! I may sometimes seem to be distracted by any number of things-after all living with a lover who is the grandfather of my sons, having five sons who give every indication of being gay, working etc.-could give that impression. But I know what is happening. If I miss something Guy keeps me up to date. No child could have a better mother than Guy. The boys attend the small private school, St. George Academy, where I teach. The founder of the school was a Roman Catholic, but created a totally independent school which would welcome children of any ethnic or religious background. As a result, the student body includes a very diverse group of kids. The school prides itself on cradle to high school education and several of the students, as is the case with George McGee, have been there their whole lives. The school keeps itself small on purpose. Here children have found a nurturing atmosphere unlike most private schools or any of the public schools I've ever witnessed. Class sizes in the Middle and Upper Schools are kept to a maximum of fifteen students, though there may be more than that in a particular grade. Classes usually include children of different age or grade groups. Students get to know each other and their teachers on a much more personal level than is common in American Education. It all works out well for them. With the boys going here, I'm also able to keep tabs on what they do. The one draw back of the small size is that competitive sports programs have to be run through an outside agency, such as the YMCA. Frank (AKA Guy) and I have never hidden the fact that we are gay from the boys. But because we had young kids around, we believed it was necessary to be discreet in our own physical relationship. That is why we maintained separate bedrooms, even though only one might be used on any given night. I was afraid if we openly slept together, we'd influence the boys unduly to believe they had to be gay too. I suppose it was pretty na‹ve to think that by witnessing our physical love they would be more apt to become gay than if they just knew we were. Anyway that was the way we started out and we continued that way as the boys grew older probably because it was easier on us. Now that I look back on it, we might as well have fucked regularly in the living room. The boys seemed to have found boy to boy sex on their own. My only excuse, other than stupidity, is that we had no guide in maintaining a household such as ours. We felt we were paving new ground. Outside the family group we never made an issue of being what we were. It was neither socially nor legally acceptable. I'm extremely proud of my sons. They have developed into caring and loving brothers and damned fine examples of the human species. My one regret is that Guy has always been their primary confidant. I guess I'm a little jealous on that score. But at least they had one parent in whom they could and did confide. Boys need that. One rule of the house was that breakfast always be eaten at the table and everyone would be present. There were only rare occasions when that rule could be bent. Most of the time we were all present at dinner as well. Meals were eaten in front of the TV on extremely rare occasions-when there was a program we would all watch about some pressing social or political issue. The boys knew such programs would be discussed at length. Regular meals, eaten together, provided the opportunity for all sorts of family discussions. There was little need for special 'family meetings'. We had one every day. It was May 1997-Joe's graduation from high school was imminent and most of the members of his class were busily preparing for the big day. One annual event leading to commencement was a spring dance. The underclass students in the high school made all the preparations. The graduating seniors were the guests of honor. Both middle school and high school students attended. Seniors were expected to dress in formal attire. "Joe," I said innocently-believing a simple question would lead to a simple answer, "Have you ordered your tux?" "What for, Dad?" "For the dance, of course," I said with just a tinge of sarcasm. "Nope, I haven't. I'm not going." "Why not? You've attended these dances every year for the last six years-always as a host. Don't you think you should attend when you're being honored." "No, I don't think so, Dad. I don't find dances to be just a lot of fun." "But Joe, you like to dance. And you dance very well. I've seen you do it around here all the time," Guy stated. "What's wrong, Boy?" "George's parents will be there, Dad. They're going to be chaperones." "Yes, I imagine so. They've helped chaperone every dance you boys have been involved with." "But Dad. This is different. There's only one person I want to dance with and his parents will be there. In the past George and I have always served on committees for the dance. We could stay off the floor and work together without anyone noticing. It was no big deal that we didn't dance. This year, all the committee work will be done by underclassmen and we'll be forced to dance or sit at the table-a couple of very obvious wallflowers. It's just not going to be any fun . . . and it won't be safe." Joe was obviously becoming a little upset by this discussion. "Dad, I've decided not to go and that's that. I'm not going. It would just be too hard not to be able to dance and to watch the girls swarm all over George and then to see him turn them down. If I'm not there, no one will miss me. George can dance with every girl who wants him to. It will just make it a lot less awkward if I stay home." Guy interjected in a voice that was calmer than I was feeling, "Joe, is dancing the only problem here? Or is part of the dilemma that George's parents will be there?" "It's the dancing, Guy. Even if the McGees were not there, we still couldn't dance together." "Why not," Guy and I asked in unison. This conversation was getting to the point that perhaps privacy was desired, but it had begun at breakfast and everyone thought he could put in his two cents worth. Jason said, "Dad, Guy. Boys don't dance with each other. It's just too gay. Even at St. George's. It's not a safe thing to do." "That is a load of shit! Jason," responded Ron, rather forcefully. "Who's going to care? Everyone knows that George and Joe are hooked up." "Language, Ron." "Excuse me Guy. But what I said is true. Everyone knows about George and Joe and no one gives a . . ." At that point Joe was on his feet, reaching to grab his younger brother, knocking over his plate and a pitcher of milk. "So who did you TELL? SHIT FOR BRAINS! YOU KNOW . . . " Fortunately Guy was sitting next to Joe and grabbed him firmly by a shoulder, throwing him back into his chair. Guy stood, walked behind the boy and held him in his seat with both hands on his shoulders. He leaned into the boy's ear and whispered something. Joe calmed himself a little. Ron had a startled-no fearful look on his face. Joe was not a lot older than he, but was considerably larger and stronger. Ron obviously hadn't intended to make his older brother angry. "Joe . . . I didn't tell anyone. Everyone knows because you and George are so obviously together. You're always at his side. You nibble food off each other's plate at lunch. He sneezes and you hand him a handkerchief. You get thirsty and he gets a drink. No one would be surprised if you fucked in the middle of the classroom!" "Uh, sorry Ron. I didn't know we were so obvious." "It's been going on for two years, Joe. How many blind kids do you think are in your class? But even a blind person could see how you feel about each other. I've even been asked when you two plan on getting married!" Ron is the observant son. He often overstates his case but he usually sees things pretty much the way they are. "And while I'm on the subject, Jason," Ron continued, not wanting to give up the floor, "the way you make moon eyes at Bobby Johnson, people think you two are together too. And Dad . . . " Everyone stared at me. "That new art teacher, Mr. Fleming, if he doesn't quit watching you the way he does, you're going to make Guy jealous." "Yeah I've noticed that too, Ron," interjected David. "Mr. Fleming asked me the other day if Dad is seeing anyone." "WHAT? WHEN?" "Calm down JJ. Mr. Fleming obviously has good taste," Guy laughed. Guy continued, "It's pretty obvious that going to a small school makes it impossible to keep secrets from your mates." "But why hasn't anyone ever said anything to George or me?" Joe said in a much calmer and slightly chagrined voice. "George still isn't out to his parents and you'd think they would have heard something by now. His mom is at school every week doing volunteer work." "Why would they say anything, Joe?" Ron pointed out. "It's so obvious that it's an accepted fact and no one cares. If you and George go to the dance and then dance together, no one is going to say a damned thing!" "Language, Ron." "Sorry Guy." "OK, the way I see it," Guy began starting to formulate a plan, "the only problem with you and George going to the dance and dancing together is George's parents. Right?" "Well not quite 'the only problem'. Even if the kids won't squawk, there's still the faculty. What about Dad's reputation and all that? The faculty won't let us dance," Joe observed. "If what Ron and Dave have said about Mr. Fleming is true, I guess my reputation has been made anyway," I said with a laugh. Then more seriously, "I don't know what the faculty will do, Joe, but I doubt there will be a problem there. You and George are highly regarded by all your teachers. Who you choose as a dance partner will not shock anyone." "Then, as I said, the problem is George and his parents . . . Unfortunately there's nothing we can do about that. Joe, you need to talk to George. I'm not trying to tell you two what to do, but it seems a shame, you'd miss out on the dance simply because he can't or won't tell his parents something they already know and have accepted." "Guy what makes you think they know? Have you said anything to them?" "Of course not, Joe. I told you two years ago, I'm not dipping my oar in that ocean. But I don't see how they could help knowing. They're good people and more importantly good parents. They love their son and keep up with what he is doing. However, they have said some things to me that make me sure they know. Frankly, I thought George and they had had their talk." "Ohhh, Guy. If George could only get the talk going, I'm sure things would be so different," Joe sighed. We sat in silence for a few minutes, allowing the conversation to be absorbed. Then I noticed the clock. We'd been talking far too long and were running late. "OK, boys. It's time to get out of here. Five minutes and the Jameson Express heads out. Be on time." "You boys just leave everything where it is. I'll clean up his morning. You do need to get out of here." The boys left the room. As I was turning to walk out, Guy said, "Oh and JJ about this Mr. Fleming . . ." The next afternoon, when the boys and I arrived at home, we had company. Ian and Colleen McGraw, George's parents, had arrived shortly before we did. Guy was just then serving coffee. Joe greeted his friend's parents and introduced his brothers. Mr. McGraw's face was blank, unreadable. Colleen's eyes indicated she had been crying. Joe started to sit down when Guy said, "Joe, we'd like to talk to Ian and Colleen alone for awhile. You and the boys go do your homework. We'll call you if you're needed." "Sure, Guy. Come on brothers, I think the adults want to talk about us." The boys left; Guy brought a fourth cup of coffee and sat down. "OK, Ian I suppose you want to talk about Joe and George," Guy began the conversation. "George told us about his relationship with Joe last night. I want to thank you for helping him see his way to opening up to us. We've known he was gay and in love with Joe for several years. In fact we thought they had become a couple long before George said they had. All George used to talk about was 'Joe this and Joe that' starting when they were children. By the time they were seventh graders, the talk was more serious." "I told George that coming out to you would not come as any great surprise. But I really thought he'd done it before now." "I guess," said Ian, "at some point we could have brought up the topic, but we kept waiting for him. I'm glad he's finally told us; . . . I just wish he'd done it before now. I guess the dance made it necessary for him to say something." "To avoid trouble with you and their classmates, Joe had decided he wouldn't go. The boys convinced him that if he and George decided to dance together, no one would be either surprised or shocked. In fact it would be expected. It was a very interesting family meeting." Everyone laughed, though Colleen McGraw wasn't sure there was anything to laugh about. We got into the reason she had been crying. "What I'm afraid of is that the boys will be provoked by some one who doesn't approve of them flaunting their relationship. There's a big difference between knowing something exists and actually seeing it demonstrated. I'm just not sure they should dance together." "Colleen," I said, "I don't believe anyone is going to object too strongly at the dance. All their classmates like both Joe and George and I don't think there is so much concealed homophobia that there will be any support for someone who tries to start anything. I'm not worried about what either the students or the faculty might do." "Well, JJ, you know the students better than I do, so for now I'll let my mind rest easily on that score. But what about after the dance-when their friends won't be around to help shield the boys?" "You mean at school? Or perhaps off school property? I think the boys are quite capable of taking care of themselves. I don't approve of violence, in spite of my military history, but very few of the boys at school are going to physically attack them. As far as harassing them? -You know that's not tolerated." "Of course we know that. Do you really think that everything will go OK?" asked Ian. "I think so," Guy and I answered together. "What about after graduation, JJ?" Ian asked. "Do you think the boys are going to continue with their plans? I know Joe has talked about nothing but going into the Corps. George is equally dedicated to going to college to become a teacher. By the way, I think we can credit you with that decision." "Thank you, Ian. I'm never embarrassed by a student wanting to walk in my shoes," I answered still trying to maintain a light-hearted mood. "Joe is going into the Corps. In fact he will report the end of July." "They both seem to be more dedicated to their life-time ambitions than to each other. But in so many ways they give the appearance of being so much in love," commented Colleen. "They just have their heads screwed on straight, I think," imposed Ian. "I'm not sure they're on straight," quipped Guy with a bit of a laugh. "But they know what they want out of life." "Won't Joe have trouble getting into and staying in the Marines? . . .What with 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' I'd be afraid Joe would get into real trouble," said Ian. "The only thing Joe has ever wanted to do in life is to be a Marine," I observed. "He knows what he'll have to do about the 'Don't' rules. But if George is going into teaching, he's not likely to have any more freedom than Joe. That's especially true if he plans to teach anywhere around here. And it won't make any difference whether he goes into public schools or private. He'll have to really watch himself and be careful whom he dates." Our conversation ended after a little more talk about the boys' dedication to their chosen professions. We finally agreed that we had to trust Joe and George to be able to adjust the way they lived to fit into the real world. If things didn't work out, we knew, and I think they knew, we'd be there to provide support for them. George and Joe attended the dance the following week. They danced together and they each danced with a couple of girls who seemed smitten with the boys. Everything went smoothly. One would have thought that with this group of friends, being gay was as accepted as any other way of life. It was a beautiful thing to watch. Graduation was the end of May. The boys worked for Guy's friend, Bob, as they had done every summer since their sophomore year until it was time for Joe to head for the Marine Corps Recruit Depot in San Diego. Their last night together was spent in the Upper Room. I have no idea what went on up there, nor do I intend to ever ask. I thought it was remarkably quiet for most of the night, especially for two young men who had such strong feelings for each other. But the next morning, the signs of a night spent in passion were definitely present. George had several bruises on his neck, shoulders and chest. Joe seemed to have fared only a little better. Fatigue from a sleepless night was quite evident. As the time approached to take Joe to the airport to leave, there were many whispered words, kisses and hugs. George did not go with us to see Joe off on his life plan. Their good-byes had been said. The following Sunday, the remainder of the Jameson gang went to church as usual. Except we were saddened by Joe's departure. None of us liked the fact Joe was absent but knew that he had to leave the nest at some time. I requested prayers be said for him. Since the coming of Philip Shirley as our rector, the church had more than doubled in membership and weekly attendance. He was a powerful preacher-which is unusual in the Episcopal Church. His services were beautifully conducted, along the lines of what is often referred to as 'High Church'. Many of the new members were single men with a good showing of male couples. The other parishioners didn't seem to mind, or make comment about this obvious attraction to the gay community. The parish had for a long time been the headquarters of both Integrity, the Episcopal organization for gays and Dignity the corresponding group for Roman Catholics. Many of the older families in the parish had gay family members or gay friends. A former rector had a son who had died of AIDS. It was a totally accepting parish. I was the Lay Reader that morning. As I joined the procession behind the acolytes, Jameson Team now led by George, I noticed a familiar head and physique in the congregation. I hadn't seen him come into the Church but I recognized him almost immediately. As I took my seat to the left of the altar, I looked out to see Victor. He was seated with Tom Matthews. It had been twenty-four years since I had held him in my arms the night before I left Tulsa for my own entrance into the Corps and almost that long since I'd heard any thing from him. I caught his eye as the processional hymn concluded. The expression on his face was at first one of surprise, then of joy as he caught me staring holes into him. When I stood to read the Lesson from the Epistle, Victor and Tom both smiled warmly at me. They were the only people in the congregation I could see. When the service finally reached the 'Exchange of the Peace', the three of us headed straight for each other. Very quickly I welcomed them to the church and invited them for Sunday lunch. They were only too happy to accept. At the end of the service, I stripped out of my cassock and surplice as quickly as I could (and I'm pretty good at getting clothes off in a hurry), told Jason, Ron and Rob I had someone I wanted them to meet. "So shake a leg, boys. Divest as quickly as possible and meet me outside. Grab Guy and Dave. We're going to have company for Sunday dinner." "What's going on, Dad? You look like you're seen a friendly ghost." "Better than that boys. I've found the Prodigal Brother. Now hurry up. And George, if your parents can spare you for one meal, you're invited to come too." The Church was emptying slowly. No one rushed out of the service on a normal Sunday because the organist always played for several minutes after the Recessional. As he finished playing, there was a round of applause from those who tarried. Victor and Tom had been sitting near the back of the Church. I found them talking to Philip. I wrapped Victor in a big hug. He returned the hug and kissed me passionately on the cheek. "I thought after I had several letters returned from Camp Pendelton that I had lost you forever, brother. Then I come home and find you with Fr. Shirley just as you left me." "Victor I'm so glad to see you. But how . . . how did you two hook up again? What are you doing here?" "Tom was transferred here by his employer. We've been a couple since we graduated from university. I've tried to find you, but could find no clue as to your where abouts. How long have you been in Tulsa?" I finally remembered my manners. "Philip would you like to join us for dinner?" "Not today, JJ. You two have a lot to catch up on. We'll have plenty of time for me to join you at another time. Besides . . . I have plans today." Philip nodded his head backwards. I followed his gaze and saw a young man I had only seen at church a couple of times before. Philip smiled, sheepishly. "Father! And you a priest! Shame on you for having such impure thoughts about one of your lambs." "A lamb, he's not. More like a ram. A priest I am but I'm a man too." "Well, Padre, I guess that's one way to increase the size of the parish," I teased. "Just be careful. The Bishop is becoming more tolerant, but he might not be ready for one of his priests marrying another man." "I'll handle the Bishop. You men have a good reunion." I guided Tom and Victor out the front door toward the parking lot. David immediately set upon us. "Hey, Dad, who's coming to dinner?" "Victor, Tom, I want you to meet my youngest son, David." The other boys and Guy joined the group. I made the introductions. "JJ," Victor began, "You old dog. Four beautiful sons and a father in law? I never thought of you as the marrying kind. Where's your wife?" "Good question, Vic. We haven't seen hide nor hair of her in twelve years." "I didn't see your name in the list of service leaders this morning." "I changed my name to Jameson when I married Guy's step daughter. Hey we don't want to stand around here when we have a great dinner waiting for us." Victor and Tom followed us to our home. The afternoon was spent sitting beside the pool, drinking beer and talking-reliving everything that had happened to us over the last two decades. Guy and the boys drifted in and out of the conversation trying to understand some of what had happened between us. I filled Tom and Victor in on how I ended up meeting Frank, getting married and having all these boys. They were surprised when I told them there were actually five sons and that it appeared they were all gay. The weather turned very warm. Eventually the boys, including George, were swimming and playing in the pool. In spite of the fact we had guests (but I guess Victor and Tom were now accepted by the boys as family) the boys were not wearing swim suits. Tom and Victor thoroughly enjoyed the show-five very attractive boys, naked who wouldn't enjoy it? I invited them to join the boys, but Tom declined for both of them. "All we'd need is to get naked or even in a suit and we'd get the reputation of being dirty old men. We'll have to let the boys get to know us a little better, I think." "Well, they certainly seem comfortable around you two," I told him. "Otherwise they'd at least have on Speedo's." "JJ, how do you stand it? Having these guys around all the time, naked some of the time. I'm afraid I'd be erect and wanting to fuck all the time!" Victor exclaimed. "Or are you doing them?" "Shut up Vic!" Tom whispered sharply. "Just because JJ's gay and his sons are gay doesn't mean he has to be fucking his own boys. That's just a load of crap and you know it." "Hey lover, I was just kidding. JJ, I'm sorry if I offended you. I should know better than to think you'd molest your own sons. But . . . what about all that cute meat you must see at school?" Victor laughed. "It's all cute and it's all horny. Just one of the benefits of teaching, I guess, Victor. And I do enjoy looking. But just looking is all I do. I like my freedom much too much to be fucking every cute boy I see. Besides, there is such a thing as ethics, you know." "Yeah, of course," Victor said sheepishly. "Really I was only kidding. Or maybe I was seeing myself in the same situation. It is hard, isn't it?" "Yeup, it is hard. There have been times, especially at school, I wear a tight jock strap under my clothes. Some of those boys could be tempting." We all laughed. But Victor was right. Being around my sons, naked or otherwise, and then teaching those cute young things at school did sometimes send my heart racing. Other times, alone, I'd fantasize about a particular boy coming on to me. In the fantasy, I'd allow myself to be seduced. Guy and I talked about these feelings. More often than not we'd end up jacking each other off or spend a very pleasant, heat filled hour of fucking our brains out. Guy often had the same fantasies I did. I wonder how many of us, especially older men, would object seriously to being seduced by a good looking hunk-at least one that was of legal age. Victor and Tom became regular fixtures at our house. They had developed over the years the same comfortable marriage-like relationship that had developed between Guy and me. The four of us frequently went out together-theater, concerts, ballet or movies and dinner. They became good uncles for the boys. As often as possible, the stands at soccer matches were occupied by this newly extended family. When the weather permitted, Victor and Tom joined us in the pool. At first neither of them could be around the boys five minutes before throwing an erection. But it was just laughed off by all of us. The boys realized that even 'old' men could become sexually excited. For the first time in our lives, Victor and I were able over time to develop the kind of brotherly relationship we'd both wanted and missed as kids. Tom, my one time tormentor became my brother-in-law in all ways except the "law" part of course. Life was good. Our home was stable. Guy and I quit the fiction of just being father and son in law and began to sleep openly together. The constant presence of young boys growing into men pretty well required we keep ourselves in shape. Soccer helped. Guy and I also began jogging every morning before I'd head off to school. We didn't live far enough away from the school to require using a car, so Jason, Ron, Rob, David and I began riding bicycles to school whenever the weather permitted. And in Oklahoma that could be most days. Frankly I was pretty happy with the way I was looking-even at 45 years old. I thought I looked damned fine. At 60, Guy looked to be no older than I was. There were ups and downs, of course. Barry Reingold was constantly in the news. His witch hunts for gays in every public institution kept him and his congregation constantly busy. They held protests at every gay pride celebration. On several occasions these protests came close to being violent as gay men grew tired of having threats and curses thrown at them. Barry's group showed by their actions they would only be too glad to bash a gay head for Jesus. They picketed Holy Cross when things were otherwise too quiet. And yes, Barry tried to get me fired from St. George's. Fortunately I'd never hidden my homosexuality at school and so the head master never took Barry's threats seriously. The school may not have grown into being one of the major private schools in town-at least not in size, but parents didn't stay away in droves either. The school always had a waiting list. Even the reappearance of Victor and the fact that he too had a male lover did not stop Barry. He preached that Satan had come to Tulsa and people flocked to hear him. He attracted a lot of attention when the City Commission was presented with a proposed non-discrimination ordinance that included 'sexual orientation' as a protected class. Barry and his followers were able to kill the ordinance but the other city leaders continued their time-honored position of 'live and let live'. Then in 1999, the proverbial shit hit the fan. THE TULSA WORLD OPINIONS AND EDITORIALS March 13, 1999 The case of Barry Reingold ended yesterday with a conviction this paper never thought would happen. Mr. Reingold was convicted of a variety of state and federal crimes, including embezzlement, tax evasion, misappropriation of funds and fraud. For those crimes he was sentenced to twenty years in the federal penitentiary. We just wish that being a general nuisance were also a crime. Maybe we could have been shed forever of the most bigoted individual this city has produced since the death of the Ku Klux Klan. Barry Reingold has long held that any liberalization of our city and its views on everything from women's rights, equality of the races, homosexuality, acceptance of ethnic and religious diversity-just any kind of change was a blow against God-or at least Barry Reingold's image of God. Maybe he should have read his Bible a little more closely and found the passage that says, "Thou shalt not steal". But fortunately he did not and we are well rid of him. As I said, "Life was good". Jason graduated from high school in 1999. He had already said he had no desire to go to college and he certainly wasn't going into the Navy or Marine Corps. As he grew up, he became Guy's primary assistant in keeping the acre of grounds around our home in shape and beautiful. He worked summers for Guy's friend, Bob. He came to know the kinds of plants and the types of grass we needed to grow around the place and made the property a show place. We had many requests to open the grounds to allow people to just drive through and admire the spring planting. It was pretty obvious Jason had found his calling. Upon graduation Jason decided to begin his own land scaping business. He also began dating. Even though, he was legally too young to drink, he was big enough and looked old enough to go into any of the half dozen gay bars and get waited on. Rarely was he asked for identification and when he was the bartenders usually looked at his ID, gave Jason a wink and served the beer he requested. One such bartender was a man called Cherokee. As Joe would say, 'Cherokee was a righteous piece of work'. Cherokee was about three-quarters Cherokee Indian and very proud of his Indian Heritage. (Actually, he called himself a 'First American'.) He was just over six feet tall, dark complexioned, coal black hair and eyes and gave every appearance of being as hard as a rock. He wore his hair long-about eight inches or so below his shoulders. Sometimes he braided it, but most of the time he let his hair flow. I met Cherokee one Saturday night-it could have been Sunday morning. Whichever day it was, it was a good deal later than Jason normally stayed out. I had fallen asleep in the Living Room and was awakened by them trying to come into the house quietly. (Why is it that when we try to be the quietest, we end up being the loudest?) I went out into the entry. Jason had one arm wrapped around this beautiful young man. Cherokee was wearing a pair of Levi's that looked like they had been painted on, a pair of cowboy style boots and a tight white tee shirt inscribed, "This Land Is Our Land". "Sorry, Dad," Jason apologized. "We were trying to get into the house without disturbing anyone." Jason made the necessary introductions. "Since you're awake would you mind terribly if I didn't get up for Church in the morning. I don't think we're quite ready to go to sleep, yet." "Obviously, you two plan on going to your room to 'stay awake for a while', right?" I asked. "What are you going to do about Ron? Unless I miss my guess you two don't plan on doing what you're going to do in absolute silence." "Oh, shit, Dad. I didn't forget Ron. I hoped we could use Guy's old room? As you say, we don't plan on being too quiet." Cherokee started to protest the line this conversation was taking and turned as if to bolt out the front door. Jason caught him. "Hold on there, Injun! I've finally got you where I want you and you're not escaping that easily." "But you're Dad . . . is?" "Dad, tell this gorgeous hunk of an Injun that you're cool with him spending the night. He's not used to meeting his date's parents as they come into the house for a bit of play. We haven't been able to find anyplace but a cheesy 11th Street motel for six months. I'm tired of us having to run the risk of bed bugs and paying an arm and a leg for it when I have a perfectly good place for us. And Cherokee is still living at home. His parents know he's gay but he has to share his bedroom with two younger brothers. They don't have room for us to be together." "Cherokee, I know about my son. As he says I'm 'cool with it'. You are welcome to spend the night here together. Just don't make so much noise as to wake the dead and everything will be OK. As far as Church tomorrow is concerned-Cherokee, you're welcome to accompany us. But Jason you know Guy would be upset if you missed Church entirely. We'll have breakfast as usual, with one additional plate. Guy will want to meet you anyway." "But Dad, Cherokee doesn't have a change of clothes and you know how Guy is about men wearing Levi's to Church . . . Maybe . . ." "I think that's your way out. I know we don't have any clothes that'll fit him that Guy will approve of. So after breakfast, you two can go back to bed. That'll give you a couple of hours of complete quiet to 'sleep'. But you'd better plan on having breakfast with the family." "Family?" began Cherokee. "How many people are we talking about?" "Don't worry about it, man. Guy and the brothers are going to love you. You'll be lucky if you don't get raped by my little brothers." Jason laughed. Cherokee looked at him as if he thought Jason had completely lost his marbles. "You two get to bed. We'll work out the details in the morning . . . And Jason, you do use . . ." "Yes, Dad! We're playing safe." We went into the separate bedrooms. Unfortunately Guy's old room was next to the one we now shared. I took off the pair of shorts I'd been wearing and slipped naked into the bed next to my father-in-law/lover. Guy rolled over onto his side. I slipped my arm under his head and pulled him close to me. "What's going on?" "Jason brought home a friend. You'll meet him in the morning, I think." "Where are they going to sleep?" "In your old room, unless, of course you want to boot them out," I laughed. "No. That's fine with me." We cuddled more closely together, Guy's face digging into my armpit. "Umm, you smell good." I kissed his forehead. "Can't you do better than that?" I leaned down onto his mouth, digging my tongue past his teeth. "That better?" "Much." "Good night, JJ." "Good night, Frank." We actually fell asleep for a little while but were awakened by a loud war hoop from the room next door. The battle cry was followed by the noise of the bed banging against the adjoining wall. Judging from the other noises we heard. The boys hadn't gone to sleep. "They sound like they're having fun," whispered Guy. "Are you sure they're being safe?" "We can hope, so, Frank. But judging by what we're hearing it's too late to worry about that right now." Frank raised up on his elbow. "Maybe you should have moved Ron down here." "I think you're right. I also think we're not going to get to sleep for a while." "Do you have something else in mind?" "Unh huh." Guy leaned over me and took a nipple between his teeth. "Something like that?" "Unh huh." He continued to nibble my nip and with a feather like touch began to stroke the other one. "Like that?" "Unh huh." I felt of his hairy chest, running my hand down his abdomen to his thick bush of pubic hair. Taking his now hard cock I began to stroke. Guy kissed his way down my body, licking my own carpet of hair, stopped to clean out my navel and bit gently at the skin around it. His hand found my cock and stroked it in the same rhythm I was using on him. Once my penis was hard enough to satisfy him, he kissed further down, licked my nuts, soaking the hair, took one into his mouth and rolled it around with his tongue. I was rubbing his body, enjoying the feeling of him taking control of mine. The place on my leg where our bodies joined became wet as he rubbed himself against me. My cock was dripping lube like a teen-ager. He took my member into his mouth, licking his tongue under my foreskin tasting the mixture of lube and cheese. "Umm, you taste as good as you smell, Jay." He went back to work on my cock, swallowing all of it down his throat. I began thrusting my pelvis into his mouth, hell bent to release a load for him. Guy pulled off of me. "Oh no, you don't. You're not getting off that easily. I intend to fuck you so hard you'll let those puppies next door know you're not just an aging old queen. Now just lie back and let me work on you." We shifted positions as Guy knelt between my legs, pushing them over my shoulders. I held them close to my chest as Guy went tongue and nose into the crack of my ass. We both loved to rim and be rimmed and Guy was an expert. His tongue pushed into my hole as his mouth circled it, sucking it open for him. The deeper he drove his tongue into me, the louder I moaned out my lust. He inserted first one, then two fingers into my ass, forcing me open like a rose bud. The further he pushed his fingers, the deeper his tongue could go. "OH GOD, FRANK. EAT MY ASS. TAKE ALL OF IT YOU OLD FUCKER. EAT ME!" I was totally unconcerned at that point about how loud I was getting and I was always loud in rut. Guy pushed two more fingers into my spit-wet hole, then his thumb, opening his hand to spread me. He kneaded my insides with his hand, pushing his fist into me. He found my prostate and massaged it wickedly. "FRANK, I'M GOING TO CUM. FRANK, OH, GOD, FRANK!" He immediately pulled his fist out of me. "Not yet!" He lined his cock up with my opened ass and thrust deep into my cavern. "OH, YEAH, FUCK ME . . . FUCK ME! MAKE YOUR COCK SLAM INTO ME! I NEED YOU FRANK. FUCK MMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeee!" Guy fucked his cock into me as hard as he ever had. I felt his cock swelling inside my body. "OH, YEAH, JAY! CUMMMM FOR ME BABY! LET IT GO!" My cock began jerking against his heaving chest, blowing gobs of my cream between our bodies. At the same time I felt his hose turn loose of his own cum, filling my hungry hole. He fell on top of me, rubbing against my body with his. His cum had filled my ass past the rim. I could feel it spilling out between my cheeks onto the sheets. He lay quietly. "Oh, Jay. You're as good as you ever were." "So are you grandpa." We laughed as his softening cock slipped out my ass. We were shocked out of our feeling of quiet. "OH, JASON! DRIVE THAT HARD WHITE MEAT INTO MY BROWN ASS!! YEAH. FUCK ME COWBOY. FUCK ME!" "INJUN, YOU'RE GETTING ALL MY WHITE MAN'S LOAD! TAKE IT YOU CUM HUNGRY SAVAGE!" "I LOVE YOU! WHITE MAN!" "I LOVE YOU! INJUN!" There was the sound of hard grunting as the bed slammed into the wall. Then Quiet! Guy and I, now cuddled against each other, began laughing. Our boys were growing up. What felt like a litter of puppies jumping onto the bed awakened us the next morning. Dave and Rob, naked as they often were, forced themselves between Guy and me. "Come on you two. It's time for breakfast. We've got to get to Church." "We're not going to make early mass, Dave. We didn't get much sleep last night-waiting up for Jason to get home. We'll go to the twelve o'clock service today." "We can't go late, Dad. Rob and I are servers today-at the early service." That popped our eyes open. "Come on old man. I guess the puppies are right. We have to get up. Besides, JJ, aren't you reading this morning?" "Oh, shit, Frank. You're right. I just hope I can stay awake during the sermon. It wouldn't do to fall asleep right in front of the whole parish." "Language, JJ, language." "Yes, daddy. I'll try to watch it." "You two get Ron and start breakfast. Your Dad and I will be out in a few minutes." "Ron's already up and cooking. We're ready to eat now, you two. Shag those old man asses out of bed and let's get going." Guy threw the covers off us and we began to climb out of bed. Rob watched us. "Yuck. You two sure made a mess last night." I followed Rob's gaze and saw the rather large spot of dried cum on my side of the bed. My stomach was covered, matting my hair against my stomach. "You look like Dave when he forgets to clean up at night," our son said trying hard not to laugh his head off. "OUT! We'll be just a few minutes. NOW, YOU TWO, GET OUT!" Rob and Dave left laughing audibly. Guy and I were standing in the middle of the bedroom, shocked looks on our faces as we realized we'd never fooled anyone. It took Guy and me about half an hour to get cleaned up and dressed enough to go to the breakfast room. While we were showering and shaving, some kind fairy had brought two cups of chicory coffee and left them on the bed tables. I'd never needed my caffeine so badly as I did that morning. "What about Jason and his friend?" asked Guy. "Are you going to get them up?" "I told them last night they'd have to join us for breakfast, but since Cherokee doesn't have a change of clothes, they could stay home from Church." "I think that would be OK. But just this once." "I'll wake them." But when I knocked on the bedroom door, there was no answer. I cracked the door enough to see the bed. It was empty. About that time, there was a loud laugh from the kitchen. Guy and I walked into the breakfast room to see five young men sitting at the table, enjoying a hearty meal of pancakes, sausage, coffee and whatever other trimmings the three younger boys had been able to find. Cherokee had been introduced and was being royally treated. Ron, Rob and David had begun dressing for Church-trousers and shirts were on. Jason and Cherokee had just pulled on the jeans they'd worn the night before. When he saw Cherokee, I thought Guy's eyes would pop right out of his skull. Cherokee was beautiful, even with hardly any sleep the night before, he was a hunk of a young man. Jason was sitting with his arm around Cherokee's shoulders. His fingers playing through the long hair that trailed down his back. Both young men had obviously showered. The "Good Mornings" were passed around and Guy and I sat down. Ron served our plates as Rob refilled our coffee. David could not take his eyes away from his brother's boy friend. We finally managed to eat, dress and make it to Church on time. We left Jason and Cherokee home. The next week Jason announced that Cherokee had quit his bartending job and was going to join him in his infant land scape service. That same day Cherokee moved his belongings into the Upper Room with our enthusiastic approval. We'd returned to a complement of seven men in the house. As I've said, "Life was good." The following year Ron graduated from high school. He intended to join the Marines just as had his older brother. It was also the year of David's fourteenth birthday party. I knew by that time about David's love of cock-in his mouth, up his butt. It didn't matter to the little slut. Guy and I had the same conversation with Dave and Rob about safe sex and keeping it in the family we'd had with the older boys. As far as I knew-and I was pretty sure I would have known otherwise-they followed our rules to the letter. It was more and more difficult to watch my sons grow up. They were fine looking boys and sexy as hell. David at fourteen looked like he was at least two years older. His chest was chiseled muscle. Like his brothers, he had hair on his chest and had to shave daily to keep his beard under control. He was only inches shorter than I was. The hormones were having only the best effects on this boy's body. But seeing him and his brothers and now Cherokee around the house, usually naked and sometimes half hard was having it's effects on me. As I've said so much virile nudity in the house has influenced Guy and me to stay in the best physical shape we could muster. More and more often I found myself fantasizing about my sons. What would it be like to take their firm young bodies to bed, to feel the smoothness of their skin. To stroke their beautiful cocks. But I resisted temptation. I had no intention to take any of them by force and there was no reason to think that they would want me. After all, if nothing else, they had each other. But images of their bodies haunted me; keeping my libido raging from the time I'd see them in the mornings to the time they finally went to bed. I was beginning to wonder if I wasn't just an aging queen or worse yet a pedophile. Guy was becoming concerned about me. "JJ, I know you want those boys-especially David. I can't say I blame you. I often think about them too. But you have to get over it. You know you're not going to rape your own sons and until one of them comes to you, they are taboo. But at the same time I have a feeling that not one of them would resist you if you tried something. You need to think about what you're going to do if one of them comes to you." "Frank, that'll never happen. Why would any of our sons want to have sex with me? I am their father, after all." "Don't rule anything out, Jay. There are times when I get really intuitive, you know. There's just something in the air. Don't know what it is, but it's there." Birthdays in this house were always considered a big deal. The celebrant was given his choice of activities and guests. The house was decorated to the nines and usually filled with happy young boys. There were always plenty of presents to satisfy the most demanding greed. Dave's birthday was no exception. He wanted just his brothers and dads and of course the newest addition of the family to be present. Guy baked an angel food cake from scratch and topped it with strawberries and real whipped cream-not that stuff that comes in a tub or spray bottle. We'd always allowed the boys to have wine and beer-hoping to remove some of the mystique from those beverages. I'd asked him if he didn't want some of his buddies from school or from his soccer team to be invited. "No, Dad. I want just the family . . . and that includes Cherokee. That would make this a really special celebration." "What about your Uncles Victor and Tom?" "Not this year, Dad. Please . . . I want to keep this party just between the seven of us." In addition to the cake, Guy fixed a terrific but simple dinner. Cherokee had gotten hold of some fresh venison steaks from his father. They were wonderful grilled. We had fresh corn, a mixture of squash, red and green peppers, onions and tomatoes on skewers, all grilled. Dinner was eaten outdoors. It was a lovely evening. Guy had also provided several bottles of pretty good wine. The weather was perfect; the moon full. The boys danced as Guy and I watched. Every once in a while, Guy and I allowed ourselves the sinful luxury of enjoying a little of Oklahoma's second largest cash crop. It was, as it is in most states, illegal, but our whole family relationship could probably have landed us all in the state pen. So one more stupid law broken was no big thing. Cherokee had managed to get hold of some very fine Oklahoma Gold, which the boys also enjoyed. We were all in a very frisky mood by the middle of the evening. Rob put on a CD featuring a band I'd never heard of. He said they were local but very good. I have to agree that in our very relaxed state of mind, the band sounded pretty decent. The music hit a number that we used to refer to as 'bump and grind'. All five of the young men were dancing. David really got into the music, swaying his hips in a most seductive manner. Then off came his shirt. (OK, you're going to ask anyway so I'll explain. For our parties and large dinners, we did dress. The boys had put on some of their best clothes. Not suits and ties-we didn't want to go over board, but good slacks and shirts.) David twirled his shirt over his head, wrapped it around his butt and pulled it through his legs. I don't know who he'd seen dancing in this manner, but it was having a definite effect on my groin. The other boys stopped what they were doing and began whistling and making catcalls for David to take it off. And David did. He tossed his shirt at Rob, who caught it in mid air. Dave removed his belt and tossed it to Ron. He unbuttoned the top of his trousers and began playing the zipper up and down, exposing his thick bush of dark brown pubic hair. Getting his shoes off caused a miss in the music's beat, but his trousers came off easily. The shoes and trousers were simply tossed to the side. His dance continued. He teasingly approached each of his brothers-like a slut. He danced to Cherokee and pushed his groin into the man's face, rubbing his cock and pubic hair against his head. Leaving Cherokee, David danced to Guy and repeated the same enticing movements for his grandfather. Dave danced toward me. His cock was jutting out in front of him, hard, his foreskin pulled about half way off the head. He stroked it with his fist, in time to the music. Juice was dripping from his fingers. David stuck his slime coated fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean, all the while looking into my eyes. He danced up to me, slipped between my legs and gyrated his naked body in front of me. Dave took my hands out of my lap-and pulled me to my feet. He ran his hands over my chest, pulling the shirt's buttons from their holes, exposing my bare chest. David pulled the shirttail from my trousers, finished unbuttoning it and pulled it off my shoulders. He took me around the waist and pulling me to him, forced me into his dancing rhythm. We were dancing bare chest to bare chest. David ran his hands down my back past my waistband into my trousers, cupping my cheeks in one hand. With the other he pushed me slightly away from him, undid my belt, button and pulled the zipper down. "Take off your shoes, Dad," he whispered in my ear beginning to nibble my ear lobe. I slipped off the shoes. He let my trousers fall to my ankles. "Daddy, I want to dance with you naked. Kick off your pants, please?" By this point, my dick was as hard as it could get. Juice was dripping down the shaft onto my balls. The smell of lust was whirling around us like the most enticing perfume. "Daddy, please fuck me. Right here, right now. Fuck me, Daddy. Please. I've wanted you for so long. Please do it." OK, call me weak. Call me a pervert, a child molester, a pedophile. I'm all those things. I could blame it on the wine and the weed. I could blame it on David's dance. I could blame it on allowing my boys to run around naked all their lives, exposing their growing bodies to my lecherous eyes. But I won't. The truth is, I wanted this boy. I wanted him as much as any man could possibly want another man. I picked David up, arms around his back and the backs of his legs. I didn't realize I had the strength to do that. Lust added to what nature and being in shape had created. I vaguely recall hearing my sons and even my lover cheering me on. Whether they did or didn't, I don't know. I was feeling only my youngest son naked and horned in my arms. "Fuck him Dad. That's what the little slut has always wanted. Fuck the slut." I took David to the nearest lounge and laid him out. He raised his legs, exposing his beautiful young rose bud. His own lube was covering his stomach, exuding a scent that can't be described. The sight and the perfume of his young body filled my senses. I lined my cock to his hole and thrust in-all the way in. There was no tenderness in my thrust. I jammed my dick in as far as it would go in one shove. He screamed, not in pain, but expressing his own lust. "FUCK ME, DADDY. FUCK MY ASS. FILL ME WITH THE CUM THAT MADE ME. FUCK ME, DADDY!" I fucked him. I drove my shaft into his young hole with all my strength. I pulled back and shoved in again. He wanted it hard and he got what he wanted. I fucked his ass! Driving into him again and again. Sweat was dripping from every pore of my body, falling on his. We were drenched in sweat. Again and again he called for me to fuck him. With each cry, I fucked harder. Pile driving into him. I was a truck driving through a wall. I was a 30- caliber gun driving bullets into his body. I was filling his young ass with my cum. David's cock erupted like a volcano. He spewed his cream over his head, onto his face, onto my chest as I continued my thrusts into him. We were spent-totally, completely spent. I fell onto his heaving body and lay there as we returned to normal breathing patterns. Then tears began forming in my eyes. I cried with great sobs. "I've raped you. I've raped my baby-my youngest son. OH, GOD. FORGIVE ME! DAVID FORGIVE ME! I DIDN'T WANT THIS TO HAPPEN." I got off the chaise and ran for the house. Guy was right behind me. As I crossed the living room running toward our bedroom, Guy and one of the other boys tackled me to the floor. Guy forced me onto my back and slapped me several times across my face. My hysteria began to ebb. "I told you, Jay. This boy has wanted you all his life. Don't spoil your gift to him. It was a holy and good thing." "Frank, I've raped my youngest son. How can you call that a holy and good thing? It's everything evil and sick. I deserve to die and go straight to hell. I've broken every trust I've been given in these boys." Guy slapped me again-twice! "Stop it, Jay. Stop it. You've done none of that. You've done exactly what that boy wanted. You've given him something he could get from no one else in the entire world. You love him and you've given him proof of your love. Now stop this hysteria." Then to Jason he said, "Get me a glass of brandy for your dad. Make it two. One's for me." My crying stopped. Guy was holding me in his arms. Cradling my head. Brushing my hair. Kissing the tears from my eyes. "You'll be OK now, Jay. You'll be OK." David knelt beside me. "Daddy, thank you for that. I've wanted you for as long as I can remember. You gave me what I wanted-the best birthday gift any boy could ever receive. If anyone needs forgiveness, it's me. Daddy, I love you. He bent closer and kissed me tenderly on my lips. Jason returned with the brandy, gave one to Guy, the other to David. David held the glass to my lips and helped me drink it. Guy and Jason left the room, David was now holding me to his body as if he were the parent and I the child. We remained there for I don't know how long. Eventually, totally wiped out, I allowed David and Guy to carry me to my bed. Guy undressed and got into the bed next to me. "Guy, may I sleep with you two? Please, Guy?" "Of course, David. Climb in." David crawled into the bed, lying between his grandfather and me. He was cradled against my back. I could feel his cock pressed against my ass. "I think he'll sleep, now Davey. We ought to try to also."