Absolute Convergence
Chapter Ten
By John Yager

This is the tenth chapter of an ongoing series. I sincerely appreciate all the correspondence this story has prompted. Thank you for your encouragement, suggestions and criticism.

Many of you have commented on the ways this story parallels your own experiences. I hope that means that I've struck some common threads in the lives of Gay men. In your messages I've been touched by what you've shared with me. I sincerely appreciate your candor and your trust.

Andrew continues to provide much needed proofing and editorial help, for which I am sincerely grateful.

This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. Any similarity to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental. This is a work of gay erotic fiction. If you should not be reading such material or if such material is not to your liking, please exit now.

This work is copyrighted © by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author.

If you wish to receive e-mail notification of subsequent postings, please let me know by sending your request to the e-mail address below.


I woke the next morning before Rick. It was a rather gray fall day and the soft morning light entering my windows fell across his naked body. The bed covers had slipped down during the night so only our lower bodies were covered. I lifted myself up onto one elbow and let my eyes roam freely over Rick's muscular chest and shoulders. He had the hard, defined body of an athlete.
Both of us worked out many hours a week because we were on the football team. But there was something different about Rick's body and my own. I knew I had a good physique. Many people had told me so. Many people had referred to Joyce and me as being such a beautiful couple. That always embarrassed me. But this was different. Perhaps it was just genetic. Maybe Rick had inherited a certain kind of body, a certain metabolism which allowed him to have such hard, defined muscles.

Exactly how old was Rick, anyway? I realized I didn't know the date of his birthday. My own didn't fall until July, so I wouldn't be eighteen until after I graduated from high school. I'd been lucky, I guess. Many schools would have made me wait another year. It was possible that Rick was nearly a year older than me. Perhaps that explained his more mature body.
But as I looked at him I realized that there was something innately youthful about him. In many ways he really seemed like a child, not the muscular young man I knew him to be.

Rick rolled a little onto his side, facing away from me. I used my foot to push the sheet down a little more, revealing his bulbous ass. No tan line, as I remembered. We'd both done our share of skinny dipping over the summer. I pushed the sheet a little lower. His thighs were huge, muscular, well defined. At rest Rick resembled a statue I had seen pictured in an art history book, an ancient Roman statue of a dying warrior.

I reached out and stroked his shoulder with my hand. The warmth of his body continued to surprise me. I moved my hand down along his flank and then onto his buttocks. He moaned, still asleep, but obviously aware at some level of being touched.

It seemed odd to me that in our repeated sexual encounters Rick had always insisted on being fucked. I was certainly glad to oblige, but it did surprise me. He was so masculine. In other ways, even sexual ways, he was so aggressive, so in charge. Yet when it came to fucking or being fucked, he always wanted me to be the invader. I wondered what that meant. It was all so new to me in those days that the idea of someone being innately submissive or dominant had not yet dawned on me. Rick was, after all, the only person, guy or girl, with whom I'd had real sex.

In some ways I was looking forward to being fucked and had suggested to Rick that we should reverse roles at least once, even though the idea of his cock in my ass frightened me a little. But Rick obviously enjoyed being fucked so much and I assumed if he found it so wonderful, I would to.

I slid down beside him and pressed my body against his, letting my arm go around his torso and stroke his chest. I loved the feel of his chiseled pectoral and abdominal muscles as my hand moved over them. Rick moaned and immediately moved back against me, pressing his ass against my crotch.

He was fully awake now. He reached back to grasp my cock and guide it to his ass. With only the clear fluids leaking abundantly from my cock as lubricant, he pushed back. "Yeah, Rob," he moaned.

This had not been what I'd intended. I'd just expected to cuddle against him a little before we got up to begin the day. Instead I found myself pressing my cock into his pulsing ass. I moved forward slowly, aware of the tightness of his ass and the lack of lube on my cock. Rick pressed back forcefully and the head of my cock slipped past the muscular ring of his ass. He was so hot, physically hot. Rick pushed back again but didn't seem to be making any progress. He moaned.

"Let me get the lube," I whispered.

"Yeah, I guess you better."

I pulled out and rolled over into a setting position. The lotion we'd used the night before was still sitting on my bedside table. I poured a generous amount of it into the palm of my hand and spread it over the length of my cock, leaving an especially generous amount on the head.

"Roll over," I whispered in Rick's ear. He started to roll onto his stomach but I reached out to stop him. "No, on your back," I said.

"I like it on my stomach."

"Not this time. I want to see your face."

He groaned but complied, rolling onto his back and lifting his legs as I moved between them. I lifted his legs and supported them on my shoulders. I reached for the lotion again and poured more into the palm of my hand, then massaged it into the crack of his ass and began to probe with a single finger.

Rick's head went back into the pillow. "Oh, yeah," he said, his voice nearly a moan.

I worked the single finger into him, spreading the lotion over the interior walls of his ass. When I felt him relax a little I removed my finger and immediately began to work in two. Each time we'd done this I had been amazed how easily he opened to me. Two fingers were followed by three. I looked down to see how the little pink pucker of his ass had now become a ring of pulsing muscle, open and waiting.

"Yeah, man, now," Rick whispered.

"In a minute," I said as I began to press a fourth finger into him. I knew after three he could take my cock, but seeing him open like that so amazed me that I wanted to push it just a little further, a little wider, just a little more. As I pressed four bunched fingers into his gaping hole I kept my eyes fixed on his, watching for any sign of discomfort. There was no indication of pain but his eyes opened wide in amazement.

"Oh, Rob," he whispered, "that feels to fucking good."

"You okay, Babe?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, his voice little more than a whisper. His head was arched back into the pillow and his eyes had rolled back so far I saw little more than white. It was as if he was in a sort of trance. "I don't know what you're doing, but it feels so fucking great."

"I'm going to fuck you now."

"Yeah, do it, Rob."

I slowly withdrew my bunched fingers and wiped them on a wad of tissue, then positioned myself between his wide spread legs and pressed into him. Unlike the discomfort he'd experienced the night before, he now seemed to be in an almost blissful state as I leaned into him and felt the length of my hard cock slide fully into his waiting hole.

"Oh, yeah," Rich moaned when I was fully in him. "Now do it, man, fuck me hard."

I pulled back and then slid in full length again. I pulled back again and rammed my cock into him at greater speed, feeling his body recoil as my body collided with his. As I continued to fuck him, giving him everything I had, not relenting, just going for broke, I felt my own climax building quickly and him stiffen as every muscle in his magnificent body was contorted by the coming end.

It was over too quickly, but I don't think either of us had experienced a more powerful climax before. Rick's eyes were wide, almost bulging, as if he had been caught on the very brink of some bottomless pit. He reached for his cock but I stopped him.

"No, Rick, don't touch yourself," I commanded sharply and his hand froze inches from its goal.

I pounded into him again and again and with each entry felt the head of my cock jolt over the knot of his prostate. Human anatomy, especially human male anatomy had been an interest of mine since junior high and I knew the scientific term for many body parts long before I knew the slang expression for them.

One more jolting return and Rick's cock exploded. Blasts of liquid pearl shot up along his belly, landing in the deep, defined gully between his muscular pecks. As he came the muscles of his ass convulsed, clamping down on my cock and sending me over the edge with him. I felt my own cock swell and explode deep in his bowel. I filled him with my seed. Then, exhausted, I fell forward onto his chest, feeling the heat of his seed as it was pressed between us.

"Oh, yeah, Rob. "It was so fucking intense."

I couldn't help chuckling as I lay panting on his chest. We were both gasping for breath.

"Why you laughing, Bro?" He only got the words out in gasps.

"That's what you said the first time I fucked you."

"Well, it's true."

"I know, Babe, I know." I lifted my head and kissed him, deeply, lovingly, passionately.

It was at that very moment, as we lay there mouth to mouth, our bodies pressed together in the heat and sweat of our spent passions, that my mother gave a gentle knock on my bedroom door.

"You boys up yet?"

"Yes, mom," I responded, again thankful for the lock, "we're up."

"In more ways than one," Rick whispered.

"Well, come on down as soon as you're dressed. Breakfast is nearly ready and we need to leave for church in about an hour." We heard her tread diminish as she walked back down the hall.

Church that morning was especially cool. Dr. Walker, our regular minister, had relinquished the preaching duties to Ted Tucker, our youth pastor, and the service really seemed to relate to young people.

Joyce had asked Deb to join her at our church as well and the four of us sat together near the front with a bunch of other kids we all knew from school. The girls were coming back with Rick and me for lunch at our house. My mother had suggested it as a way of sort of finishing off the Homecoming weekend. I'd been pleased Mom had thought to do it.

I noticed that both Rick and Deb turned around a couple of times during the service and finally realized they were looking back at the choir, which was in the balcony at the rear of the church. They also seemed curious about the service and Joyce and I made a point of helping them through the liturgy, which was new to them.

Ted's sermon was about the youth in everyone. When he preached, which was about once every other month, or whenever Walker was out of town at some clergy conference, it was almost as if he was just talking with you, one-on-one. You could tell it was a well thought out sermon but it was almost conversational. There was none of the formality or pompousness of older ministers. That day he talked about how youth was a time of learning and exploring and how adults should encourage such an attitude in their children. "In fact," he said, smiling out at the entire congregation, "I'll go further. Don't just encourage such attitudes in the kids, try to rediscover it and foster it in yourselves. People talk about a generation gap. We expect the kids to think like adults. Maybe if adults could just relax and try to think like kids, we'd go a long way toward bridging that gap."
My folks took off as soon as the service was over so Mom could get lunch on the table. Joyce and I and Rick and Deb hung on a little to visit with Ted as we left the church. Rick was obviously impressed by the service. As the four of us walked on home he began to ask questions and make some comments about it.

"I've never heard a sermon like that at our church," Rick began. "He didn't raise his voice once and he never banged on the pulpit."

"Those aren't hallmarks of any sermon I've heard at Trinity," Joyce responded.

"Well they sure are at our church," Rick said. "The whole thing was different from our church."

"I liked Ted's sermon," I said, feeling as if I should get in on the discussion.

"Me too," Rick agreed, followed by positive remarks from both Joyce and Deb.

As we came around the last corner and climbed the stairs to our front porch, Rick said, "that Ted Tucker seems like someone you could really talk with."

"Yeah," I agreed, "he is."

"I mean you could really open up to him, tell him about the things you're thinking."

"Yeah," I tried again, "I think he'd really try to help any kid who came to see him, really open up to them, whether he was a member of the church or not."

"That's sure different from the pastor of our church," Rick said, almost under his breath, as we reached the front door. I noticed Deb was looking at him rather strangely.

Mom, as usual, had fixed a great lunch. The six of us, my folks, Rick and Deb, and Joyce and I, sat around the table long after the meal was over, just talking about the weekend.

We hadn't had a chance to tell them much about the Homecoming dance and my mother, especially, was interested in every detail. She wanted to know what the decorations had been like and to hear all about the girls' dresses.

Dad, of course, insisted on replaying every aspect of the football game. He was great at that, and actually, I sometimes really got some good advice from him. In his day he'd been a good player on our high school team, good enough that people still told me about him. They seemed to think it was great that both my brother Ted and I had sort of followed in his footsteps. Spring River is a small town and such things matter.

Eventually the topic of conversation got around to church.

"Had you two never been to Trinity before?" my mother asked.

"No, ma'am," Rick said.

"Both of your families are active at Berea Chapel, aren't they?" my father responded. My folks didn't really know Rick and Deb's parents but Dad at least recognized their fathers because they were occasional customers of the lumber company.

"Yes, sir," Rick said.

There was a rather awkward silence around the table.

It was Joyce, bless her, who stepped in. "Deb tells me they have a very active youth program there," she said as she gave Deb, who was sitting just across the dining table from her, a sweet smile.

"Yes," Debbie said, they have a lot of activities for kids."

"They want to keep us busy," Rick said.

"Well," my mother said, "I guess our service was a little different for you."

"Yes, ma'am," Rick said quickly, "it would take some getting used to, but I really enjoyed it, especially the sermon. It was sure different from any preaching I ever heard."

"We couldn't figure out at first," Deb said with a shy smile, "where the music was coming from."

"I saw you guys looking back at the choir," I put in.

"That was definitely different," Rick grinned.

"Does your choir sit in front, then?" my mother asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Rick responded, and did not elaborate.

Debbie seemed to think something more needed to be said. "We sit up behind the pulpit, Mrs. Ballinger, and we don't have robes like your choir."

"Yes, dear," my mother said, her voice conveying her sympathy at Berea Chapel's distressed state. "I was there for Martha Johnson's funeral last winter. I do remember now how the church was arranged."

There was another long silence, during which everyone seemed to be concentrating on my mother's good food. When the conversation did pick up again, it was my father who started it and the topic was again football.

The afternoon ended early and Deb and Rick left. We all had work to do before classes on Monday and Joyce didn't stay much longer either. I walked her home and was back at my own house by four o'clock. Our teachers had been kind, not giving us much homework over Homecoming weekend, but I did work on my French lessons a while, before fatigue caught up with me. It had been a hectic weekend and I realized I`d only gotten about three hours of sleep the night before. I was in bed by nine and slept soundly until seven the next morning, when my alarm went off.

It's odd how an idea can occur to you and then find a way of being implemented very soon. Other ideas you`ve kicked around for ever just sit there in your brain, never being given an opportunity to become anything more than an thought. It had never occurred to me before to talk with Ted Tucker before hearing him preach. I think the idea of actually going to see him came to me that Sunday afternoon over lunch with Rick and the others.

Then the very next Friday afternoon I got home early. We'd had no football practice that day. When I got home my mother asked me if I'd help her carry some boxes of old preserving jars to the church. They were going to be used by her ladies group for some project of other. The boxes were heavy and I was glad to help. No sooner had I carried the last box in from my mother's car when Ted came into the kitchen.

"Well, good afternoon, Mrs. Ballinger," he said in his usual hardy manner. Then he saw me and added, "well, Rob, glad to see you as well."

"Hi, Ted," I responded, realizing that I might have a chance to talk privately with him.

"Dear," my mother said, "you should not call Mr. Tucker by his Christian name. It shows a lack of respect."

"Oh, it's all right, Mrs. Ballinger," Ted said in my defense, "I tell the kids to call me Ted. After all, I'm not all that much older than some of them."

"Well, I don't know," mother said, "I guess I was just raised to think clergy should be shown more respect."

"I really liked your sermon on Sunday," I said as I moved the last of the boxes to the storage area. "I'd like a chance to talk with you about it." It was awkward not knowing how to address him. I would have liked to just add, "Ted," but didn't want to rile my mother again.

"Any time, Rob," Ted said with a smile.

"How about now?"

"Sure. Do you need any more help, Mrs. Ballinger?"

"No, that was all I was going to do today. I just needed Rob to help me with those heavy boxes."

"Well, if it's okay, Mom, I'll stay and talk a little. I'll be home in time for dinner."

"I'd be glad to take you home, Rob."

"Oh, thanks, but it's not much of a walk."

Ted and I saw my mother off in her car and then went up to his office on the second floor of the church office wing.

"So did you have some questions about what I said last Sunday, Rob?"

"Well not so much about what you said, Ted. More about some things which I thought about later. Your sermon sort of got me thinking."

"Well, shoot. Let's see where this is going."

"Can I assume what we talk about is just between us?"

"Absolutely. You haven't shot somebody have you?"

"No, nothing that serious." We both chuckled but I sort of got the feeling Ted knew where the conversation was going.

"Then my lips are sealed."

"Okay." Then I suddenly felt very reticent. Did I really want to tell Ted about the things that were going on in my life? I realized that until I had a better idea of where he might be coming from I wanted to keep it fairly vague. "I guess you get a lot of guys my age who want to talk about sex, right?"

"Yeah, just about every kid who comes to see me gets around to sex eventually. Not many have the guts to jump in first thing."

"Kids? Guys and girls, too?"

"Yes, Rob, girls, too.  But with girls I try to turn them over to one of the ladies on the church staff."

"So what you said Sunday, about our generation thinking differently from our folks, do you think that's a big part of the problem?"

"Well, actually, what I said was that young people these days don't really think all that differently from their folks. They just think they do. The kids forget that their parents were young once, too. And the parents forget what they were like at the ages their kids are now."

"So maybe the differences aren't so great after all."

"Maybe. There are changes. Morality is less rigid now. Maybe a lot of the old rules have broken down. Maybe they needed to break down. But the important things, like the Golden Rule, haven't changed. We're still expected to treat others as we want to be treated."

"And you think that's more important than all the rules about sex?"

"Yeah, Rob, I do. I guess that view might get me into trouble with a lot of people in this congregation, but I think the really important thing is just being responsible to one another. That's really the higher standard and if we follow it I don't think we`re going to go too far wrong."

"So are you saying the biblical rules about adultery and fornication may not matter so much anymore?"

"Oh, they matter. They've kept society on a more or less even keel for a long time. But what lies behind them, and is even more important, it the commandment to love." He paused and then reached for a Bible on the shelf near his desk. "Do you remember what Jesus said to the woman caught in adultery?"

"He told her to go and sin no more."


"So he did say she had been sinning."

"Yes, I guess so. But the elders wanted to stone her because that was what the old law said should be done."

"And Jesus said the one who was without sin should throw the first stone."

"That's right, Rob. I think he was saying that there's a higher law. Nobody had the right to judge her if they had any sin in their own life."

"Man, if we followed that principal the court system would grind to a halt."

"Yeah, probably."

"So are you saying we should just love one another and not worry about trying to impose any sort of standards on others?"

"I guess society would get into real trouble if nobody was willing to be the judge, but I'm sure glad I wasn't called to do it."

He looked at me for several minutes. I knew he was going to ask me something and I was more or less prepared for the question. When he did ask, it was not exactly what I'd expected.

"Are you in a situation with someone, Rob, where you need to be exercising a special degree of responsibility for them?"

I'd expected him to ask if I was in a sexual relationship. I sort of figured he might think things between Joyce and me had moved on to a more intimate level. Ted knew we were going steady.

I looked down at my feet for a moment and then decided I'd just have to trust him.
"Yeah, I guess that sort of sums it up."

It was Ted's turn to be silent. He was clearly thinking through is response.

"And do you think you are being responsible?"

"I don't know. I hope so."

"Have you pushed this other person into doing more than they want to do?"


"Has that person pushed you?"


"So where you have gotten to is more or less by agreement."

"Yes, I really think that's right, Ted."

"I said I think the law of love is more important than the laws about sex, didn't I?"


"Well, in this situation, can you tell me you are acting with love toward the other person? Are you being responsible?"

"I think so." I paused then added, "I hope so."

"Can I assume you know enough to be careful?"

"How do you mean?"

"You aren't risking a pregnancy?"

"No. That's not an issue."

"You're sure about that, Rob?"

"Yes, Ted, absolutely sure."

"Okay." He was again silent, thinking. "Rob, let me ask you to think about this. If you should get this person pregnant, would you both be willing to get married, to raise the child, to take responsibility for it? Would you be willing to be responsible to each other and to the child, even if it meant changing all the plans you've made for you lives?"

"That isn't going to happen, Ted."

"But if it did, would you be willing to marry her?"

I held my breath. I waited longer than I should have waited. Ted must have thought I was weighing his question.

"If you can't answer that question, Rob, you need to really think very hard about the situation you've both gotten into."

"It isn't a girl, Ted."

He looked at me for a very long time. I could hear my own heart beating.

"I'd assumed we were talking about Joyce."

"Yeah, I thought that was what you assumed."

"I guess in a way I'm relieved."

"That it isn't Joyce I'm involved with."


We both sat there looking at each other.

"You and Joyce are going steady, aren't you?"


"Does she know? About you and this other boy, I mean."

"She knows I'm attracted to boys, not to girls. I sort of think she suspects this guy and I have been together."

"Are you saying she wouldn't be upset if she does know?"

"She wouldn't be upset. We don't have that kind of a relationship."

"Do you love Joyce?"

"Yes, very much, but not sexually."

"Do you love this other boy?"

"I don't know. I care a great deal for him."

"How does he feel about you?"

"I guess he's in love with someone else, but he cares for me, too."

"Someone else?"

"Yes. He's also going steady, but with them it's different. I think they will get married."

"And what about you?"

"I'll go to college next fall and I guess that will more or less end my going steady with Joyce."

"And how does she feel about that?"

"She plans to go back east for college.  I guess we'll go steady as long as it's beneficial to both of us."

There was another long silence. Eventually Ted spoke again. "You know, Rob, you've made me realize how smug I've become."

"How do you mean?"

"I guess I thought I had it all figured out. Everything I was saying about love being the higher law, if that's really true, it has to be applied to the situation you're really in, as well as to the situation I thought you were in."

"Yeah, I suppose that's true."

"I was asking you if you'd gotten into this relationship by mutual consent, if either of you had pushed the other, if you were really being responsible to each other, really looking out for the other person's well being."


"Well, I guess if those questions are pertinent to a heterosexual relationship, they should also be pertinent to a homosexual relationship. I've tried to be nonjudgmental about men who love other men, but I didn't really want to face the issue. I felt comfortable just ignoring it. You've made me look at it square in the face."

"So do you hate me for what I am, Ted? Do you hate me for what I've told you?"

"No. I don't hate you. I guess there are a lot of people in the church who'd say I should." He paused again, then went on. "No, that's not what they'd say. They'd say I should hate the sin but love the sinner, but what they'd really mean was that it was okay to hate the sinner, too."

"So am I a sinner, Ted? I guess a lot of what I've heard would indicate the Bible says I am...a sinner, I mean."

"I guess I'd have to say what Jesus said, `let him who is without sin cast the first stone.'"

"But he also said, `go and sin no more.'"

Ted reached out and put his arms around me. He held me in a close, loving embrace. I felt his love but knew there was nothing sexual about it.

When we drew apart and he looked into my face I saw that he'd been crying.

"Do I know the boy?"

"No, I don't think so."

"He isn't a member of our church?"


"Does anyone else know about this, Rob, your parents, your brother?"

"No, no one else."

"Will you promise me to leave it at that for now?"

"How do you mean?"

"Don't tell anyone else."

"No, I won't tell anyone."

"Can I ask you one more question, Rob?"

"Of course."

"Do you think in any way you chose this?"

"You mean, did I choose to be gay?"

"Gay, yes, that is the word now, isn't it?"

"No, Ted, I never chose to be gay."

"Not in any way?"

"Not in any way I'm aware of."

He hugged me again and then we said good bye. I told him I'd be back to talk with him more the following week. As I started to leave he said, "Thank you, Rob."

"Thank you?"

"Yes. I have a lot of thinking and a lot of praying to do before we talk again, but I feel honored that you trusted me enough to share all this."

I just smiled and turned and left. As I walked home that evening I felt a lightness, a buoyancy I hadn't felt for weeks. I had no idea what Ted would eventually have to say, but it was enough for now that I had told someone and they had not immediately thrown me out. I knew that whatever direction Ted eventually turned, he would give it serious thought.

To be continued.