Absolute Convergence
Chapter Twenty-seven
By John Yager

This is the twenty-seventh chapter of an ongoing series. I want to thank all the readers who've written concerning this story. I'm surprised and pleased by the response the series has prompted. All your comments are read and I try to respond promptly. If there is a delay in my response it's usually because I'm traveling.

My objective in writing Absolute Convergence is to deal with issues which have impacted and influenced the lives of gay people in the period between the 1960s and the present time, or put another way, from "Pre-Stonewall" days to the era of "Don't ask, don't tell."

Many readers have asked if this story is, at least in part, autobiographical. I wouldn't be honest if I said it wasn't. I do want to make it clear to readers that I'm not Rob, Rick, Steve, Sammy or Roger Bardwell, all of which have been suggested by readers as my counterpart. I'm not any other specific character in the story and none of them, individually, is me. The story is raising many more questions than it's answering and I certainly don't claim to know the answers. It's my hope that by raising questions I may prompt more consideration of issues facing gay people in the USA and throughout the world.

Many readers have commented on the religious strains of the story. I must say that I am a Christian layman, but not a trained theologian. I have asked for advice from several clergy friends but must again say that the opinions expressed are my own.

Andrew continues to provide much needed proofing and editorial help, for which I am sincerely grateful. I could not post chapters as quickly as I've been doing without his invaluable assistance.

This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons and any similarity to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental. It's obviously a work of gay erotic fiction. If you shouldn't be reading such material, or if such material isn't 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.

All the stories I've posted on NIFTY can be found by looking under my name in the NIFTY Prolific Authors lists. If you'd like to receive e-mail notification of subsequent postings, please let me know by sending your request to the e-mail address below.


By Sunday evening I knew I was really in love with Steve and I felt certain that he was in love with me.

The feelings I had for him were entirely different from those I had for Rick. Rick was the first person, other than my own family, whom I'd really loved and he would always have a unique place in my heart.

I knew I loved Joyce as well, but there, too, it was different, distinctive. What I felt for her was Platonic but no less real. I had a protective affection for her which had lasted ever since the day I asked her out on our first date.

With both Rick and Joyce I'd come to know them well. I knew their foibles, their strengths and weaknesses and moods. I could tell within a moment of her answering the phone how Joyce was feeling and how her day had gone.

I could see Rick across the gym or across the football practice fields and know if he was happy, sad, aggressive, passive or horny.

Steve was different. He always remained, on some level, a mystery to me.

I guess I'm getting ahead of myself and need to go back to Saturday afternoon.

After our wrestling match, when he'd fucked me for the first time, he'd gotten up and stood over me like a victorious warrior. There was nothing hostile about his stance, it was just an expression of the obvious. He had taken me.

He stood there naked, his cock softened but still wet and shiny, still dripping with his come. His hands were on his hips and he looked down at me as I lay sprawled on the mat, my chest heaving from the exertion, my ass gaping from the assault of his huge cock head.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, my voice rather weak, "I think so."


It wasn't a question, just a statement of the obvious.


"It'll take a time or two, but you'll get used to it."

He was right, it did take a time or two before I got used to it, accepted it, but it never stopped hurting. His cock was no longer than mine and the shaft was about the same thickness as mine. The difference was in the frightening size of its head. It was huge when he was erect, even thought it looked so normal and unthreatening when his cock was soft.

"Here," he said, holding out his hand to me.

I took it and he pulled me up. We stood there, not touching, just looking at each other, assessing the meaning and portent of the moment.

"Let's go upstairs," he said, and I followed obediently.

As we headed toward the stairs he stooped, first to pick up my jockstrap, which had been tossed aside, then to retrieve his own supporter and the bottle of lotion which he'd used as lubricant. He turned a little to look back at me, then headed up the stairs.

When we reached the bathroom he pointed in. "Get in the shower," he said. "I'll be there in a minute."

Again, I obediently did as I was told. The hot, soothing water was cascading over my back by the time he returned. It made my ass sting at first, but gradually I felt the muscles of my sphincter relax. I knew I'd be okay.

"Turn around," Steve said as he got into the shower with me. I did as he said. "Okay, fellow, assume the position." I spread my hands and leaned against the tile wall at the back of the stall. I turned and looked at him over my shoulder, afraid he was going to fuck me again. "Relax," he said, sensing my concern. "I'm going to take care of you."

I saw he had a tube of some sort of amber ointment which he spread generously over the index finger of his right hand.

"Relax," he said again as he began to work the salve over my tender rear. When he'd spread it over the cheeks of my ass he pressed in a little and I felt my ass yield to him. Slowly, patiently, he worked the stuff into my ass, twisting his finger in slow turns until it thoroughly coated the battered tissue .

I heard my own involuntary sigh as a comforting warmth spread from my ass until it seemed to move to the furthest parts of my body.
"Like that?"

"Yeah," I whispered, "oh, yeah."

As he continued to work the soothing salve into my butt I felt my muscles relax and a feeling of well-being sweep through me.

"Are you going to fuck me again?" I said, realizing as I asked the question, that I was completely submissive to his will.

"Nope, once a day, remember?"


"Yeah, I don't allow myself to get fucked more than once on a single day and I figure that goes for you, too." He leaned forward and gave my right ear a little nibble, then delivered a sharp slap to my rear and backed away. "Now, let's get cleaned up and then fix some food. My body is yelling for calories."

We showered without saying more, washing ourselves and each other, moving back and forth between our mutual labors with contented ease. I felt very much at one with him.

Bardwell's house was snug and warm, even thought it was a cool day outside. We toweled each other dry and opted for gym shorts and white athletic socks, and wearing nothing more, headed for the kitchen.

Over bowls of cereal and fruit at the kitchen table, an odd late afternoon meal, we began to talk about what had happened between us and what it all meant.

"You're new to this, Rob," Steve had begun. "We'll need to take it slow."

"You're not my first boyfriend, Steve. I've told you about Rick."

"Sure, and I've told you about Tim and Larry and Roger and Bill."

"And a couple of others," I grinned, looking across at him. "So what's the point?"

"Well, for starters, how are we going to define our relationship? What are the rules?"

"Do we need rules? I mean, I won't have sex with anyone but you and you won't have sex with anyone but me."

"For as long as we both shall live?"
"Sounds okay to me."

"I love you, Rob, but you are very naive."

"You mean you intend to have sex with some other guy?" He was silent. "Guys?"

"Well, that's where the rules come in."

"So you want me to give you permission to have sex with other people." I looked across at him wondering if he were teasing me or if he really meant what he was saying. "I'm not sure I could handle that."

"Why not?"

"Well, I guess I figured we'd be faithful to one another."

"We will be faithful, Rob, but we define the terms. We make the rules."

I was silent for a minute or two, just watching him, trying to figure this out. "You want to fuck Sammy, don't you?"

He grinned.

"I fucked him so you want to fuck him, too. Is that what this is all about? You want to get even or something."

"I don't want to get even. I don't need to get even, Rob. But Sammy is kind of cute in his own boyish way."

"Bastard," I said, almost meaning it. I would have been able to carry it off with a lot more authority if I'd been able to avoid a wide grin.

"Maybe he'd like to come over and play with both of us at once."

"Now that really does freak me out, Steve."

"Having sex with another guy while I was there to watch, or me having sex with him and you watching...which scenario freaks you most?"

"Both, I guess."

"How about us doing him together. We can make a sort of Sammy sandwich and we can be the bread."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"No, Rob, not really."

We sat in silence while I thought about Steve's suggestion. The idea of the two of us having sex with another guy did sound very hot. In fact, I found I really wasn't all that shocked by it. I'd certainly have to come to terms with a different kind of relationship with Steve than the one I'd envisioned.

"Look, Rob," Steve said after a long pause, "I understand why the straight world has come up with the rules it has. Procreation has always been the main reason for it."

"Sure," I agreed, "if you were married to a woman and she had a child and you were expected to raise it, you'd want to know it was your own."

"I guess inheritance plays a big part in it, too," Steve added.

"Of course. Marriage is more than a contract between two people. That really struck me at Rick and Deb's wedding. It's a sort of social contract between the two of them and their families and the whole community. Marriage and monogamy have been important to the stability of society for most of human history."

"But," Steve continued, "men are basically the restless ones. For every married woman you find fooling around, you find six or eight married men doing it. It's our nature, fellow, it's the way we're made. If we were a straight couple I'd understand the reason for monogamy, but we're two guys. With gay guys it's different. We can be faithful to each other in our own way, play by our own rules, and have a little fun with other guys, too. Nobody gets hurt as long as we agree about what we want and how we're going to play the game."

I sat there for a good bit longer, trying to find the words I wanted. Eventually Steve tired of my silence and asked, "so what do you think?"

"I think you're full of shit, Steve Chapman."

He got up and came around the table, put his arms around my neck and leaned over to kiss the top of my head. His lips lightly caressed my hair as he moved down until his mouth was against my right ear.

"So," he whispered, "you don't want us to bang Sammy together."

"Well," I grinned, "it actually sounds like a totally hot idea."
"He has a real cute ass."

"How about us getting to know each other first."

"I have a feeling," Steve whispered in my ear, "that could take a lifetime."

"Um," I responded. He was licking deep into the channel of my ear, his breath making it cold and hot all at the same time. I looked down at my shorts, all I had on at the time, and saw my cock was rock hard, forcing the loose fabric out into to form a wet, pulsing peak. "So do you think maybe we could go back to bed and get to know one another a little bit better now?"

"I think that's a wonderful idea."

When we reached Bardwell's bedroom I reached out for Steve and pulled him into a warm embrace. We stood in the space between the bed and the wardrobe, holding each other and gently kissing. We were both still wearing only our gym shorts and as our bare chests pressed together I felt my skin tingle and my arousal increase.

"I'm beginning to like this room more and more," Steve whispered as he took his lips from mine.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"What do you think of this wardrobe?"

"I kind of like it," I said. "It reminds me of a story I read as a kid."


"Yeah. So you read it too?"

"Read it? I devoured it. I must have read each of those books three or four times."

"So do you think we should see where we might end up if we try climbing in there?" I asked, reaching for the heavy walnut door.

"No," Steve said, pulling my hand away from the door. "For now at least, I want to stay right here in this world with you."

We kissed again and then, by mutual consent, crawled into bed. For an hour or more we held each other, kissing gently, just getting to know each other in a more personal way. I loved exploring Steve's magnificent body and my wet lips found their way over every square inch of it as he worked with equal patience over mine.

As we continued to make gentle love, I to Steve, Steve to me, we turned slowly until our faces were aligned with our crotches. I tugged his shorts down enough for his hard cock to escape and began to attack it as his wet tongue ran up and down the length of mine. We were both on our sides by then, our gym shorts down around our knees and it wasn't long before the head of my cock was deep in Steve's throat.

I went more slowly with his, licking it, kissing it, spreading my mouth open as wide as it would go to accommodate his massive cock head. It was slow, but I gradually took his full length, my throat gradually relaxing to let him in, just as my ass had done. I felt a real sense of accomplishment when I felt my lips press against his pubic bush and knew he was in as far as he could go. I loved the feeling of his huge cock head in my throat. This was my boyfriend and I was possessing him.

We were both moaning as we both began to thrust. I withdrew only a little, fearing I'd not be able to take him back in again, but slowly it became easier and soon Steve was fucking my throat as powerfully as I was fucking his. He came first, shooting a barrage of his scalding seed down my throat as I swallowed rapidly, only tasting it a little, but liking what I did taste. His seed was musky and nutty, completely unlike Rick's or my own, filled with his powerful masculinity and of a seemingly endless supply. Again and again he exploded in my throat as the head of his cock swelled to even greater size.

My own cock was erupting in Steve's mouth. He'd managed to pull back a little so the bulk of my come flowed over his tongue, giving him a more satisfying sense of its taste. He rolled it slowly around in his mouth before swallowing it.

When it was over we both backed off, moaning, happy, filled with an even greater sense of our love.

Steve managed to turn around and join me with his head on the pillows, a sweet, happy smile on his handsome face. We kissed again and I tasted myself in his mouth and on his lips. We embraced and drifted off into a contented sleep.

About four in the morning I woke with an urgent need to pee. I managed to extricate myself from Steve's embrace and swing around so my feet were on the floor. Then, taking my first step toward the bathroom, I tripped and fell with a loud thump onto the carpeted floor. My shorts were down around my ankles and had sent me sprawling.

"What the hell," Steve moaned as he woke.

"Go back to sleep," I said. "I just tripped on my shorts.

He groaned and turned over as I went off down the hall. When I returned and crawled under the covers, seeking the warmth of his body, Steve rolled over and took me in his arms, pressing my head against his chest. Pillowed against me, his hands moving slowly and lovingly over my chest, I felt as safe and comforted as a child.

"So you're really going to take me to church in the morning," he said, his voice little more than a whisper.

"I thought you were okay with it."


"Second thoughts?"

"No, not really," he said, pausing, and then added, "I guess I still don't see the point."

"I guess you never went to church much as a kid, right?"

"Not much. Christmas, Easter maybe. We went to church with my dad's folks when we were visiting them."

"Do your parents believe in God, Steve?"

"I guess dad believes in something. I don't think he believes in God in the way you mean."

"What about your mother?"

"Oh, she's definitely an atheist. She says all religion is just a crutch, a nice story dreamed up by people who are unable to face hard, cold reality. For her anyone who really believes in God is just a kind of intellectual coward."

"Hum," I said.

"What does that mean?"

"Oh, it just reminded me of something Ted Tucker said once."

"Tucker? That's the youth pastor at your church in Spring River, right?"

"Yeah, the guy Rick and I talked with so much."

"So what did he say about the cold reality of human existence?"

"Well, he put it just the opposite of the way you mother does."

"How do you mean?"

"He said the universe points to the existence of God, its order, design, you know, the whole sense of a designer, not just chance."

"Yeah, I've tossed that idea at mom a few times."

"Ted said the real cowards are the atheists, not the believers. The atheists want to live without restraints, without anything like absolute truth. That way they can live the way they want and not fear divine disapproval. They're cowards, Ted says, because they deny the existence of God so they don't have to deal with him."

Steve didn't respond. He was silent and his gentle stroking of my chest slowly stopped, his hand resting on my chest. I figured he'd gone to sleep and I too drifted off.

Late the next afternoon after we'd gone to church and had lunch back at Bardwell's house, we headed back to campus. I went on to my room and Steve to his. About seven there was a soft knock on my door.

"Come in," I called, figuring it was Steve.

"You interested in supper?"

"Yeah, I guess," I said, putting down the book I was reading and rising from my bed.

"Heart isn't back yet?" Steve asked, referring to my roommate.

"He usually gets in late on Sunday night."

"So maybe we could do something," Steve said with a grin, moving across the small space and hugging me.

"Not likely," I laughed, pushing him away. This place is like Grand Central, especially on Sunday night."

"Well, I guess we may as well go get some supper."

"Yeah, that's our best choice."

As we walked across the dark campus a kind of silence fell between us. I was thinking about our weekend together and realizing that life was definitely going to be harder and a lot more complicated now that we'd been together. Because of his silence I assumed Steve was thinking the same thoughts. When he spoke he caught me completely off guard.

"I do believe in God, Rob."

"Yeah, what brought that up?"

"I lay awake a long time last night thinking about what you'd said."

"What Ted Tucker had said," I corrected him.


Silence fell between us and nothing more was said until after we'd eaten and were on our way back toward my dorm.

"So does believing in God make any difference?" I asked, wondering where his earlier admission might lead.

"Oh hell yes," Steve said, pulling me off the path and into a dark clump of thick shrubs. He drew me to him and his lips met mine. We kissed deeply and long. "I just haven't figured out what the difference is yet," he said as we continued on along the dark path.

To be continued.