Date: Sat, 28 Dec 2002 19:16:43 EST
From: Tulsadriller7@aol.com
Subject: Tales from the Ranch, Chapter 24/?

Disclaimer:  The following story is a work of fiction.  If you
are offended by descriptions of homosexual acts or man/man
relations, please exit this page.

TALES FROM THE RANCH
Copyrightc 2002 by Tulsa Driller 7.  All rights reserved.

This is a story of men who have two common interests.  You will
see that they love the land where they live and work, but it is
also the story of young men who love other men and their coming
of age in a culture of prejudice and misunderstanding.  It is a
story, which deals with difficult and often disturbing issues
but, nonetheless, issues which must be confronted in today's
world.

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 work is copyrightedc 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.

PLEASE:  In a perfect world AIDS doesn't exist.  My characters
have unprotected sex.  I hope you use proper precautions because
I'd like you to be around the read the last chapter of this
story.

Tales from the Ranch
Chapter 24:  An Uneasy Sunday
     Tom and Eddie had decided they both would sleep in this
Sunday morning.  As far as they were concerned, Saturday and
Sunday mornings were for each other.  Eddie liked to run the
other mornings and while Tom wasn't a runner, he usually worked
out by himself after getting home from school, while Eddie was
coaching some of the teams he was involved with.
     Eddie awoke first and peered at the clock.  It was 7:50,
late for them to sleep at anytime.  Well, they'd had a busy day
on Saturday, going to visit the scout camp and the wonderful
picnic with Craig and Dale.  He lay there; savoring the time with
his lover and thinking of the wonderful times they had
experienced the last three years since they had become lovers.
     He had a hardon and although he knew it was partly because
he had to pee, he was still turned on by having his lover sleep
in his arms.  They always slept closely spooned together, both on
their left sides with Eddie behind Tom.  Seldom did they ever
leave this position during the night, or if they did, they always
found their way back before the night was over.
     Eddie couldn't resist running his fingers through the light
fur on his lovers chest, then moved his hand down to Tom's cock,
which was also semi-hard.
     "Mmmnn" was what he heard as Tom pressed himself back
against Eddie's hairy chest.
     Eddie decided that it was time for them to both be awake and
he kissed his way up the back of Tom's neck, then over to his
right ear, finally devouring it in his mouth, licking all around
it and inside with his tongue.  It had the desired effect as Tom
groaned loudly, taking Eddie's right hand and kissing each of the
fingers in turn, while rubbing his back against his lover's
wonderful chest.
     He rolled himself around so they could share a morning kiss
as they gathered each other into their arms.  He loved to run his
fingers through Eddie's light fur and pinch his nipples, which
were already erect.
     "Hi there," he whispered, while massaging Eddie's nipples
and pinching them lightly.
     "Hi there, you," Eddie replied.  "How's my lover this
morning?"
     "Great, except I gotta go piss, like a horse," Tom answered.
     "Me, too," Eddie answered as they swung themselves apart and
headed to the bathroom together.
     Eddie brushed his teeth while Tom peed, then they changed
places.  When they were through, Tom led the way to the kitchen
with Eddie right behind him, pinching his butt.  While Tom was
getting the coffeepot ready, Eddie pulled two glasses out of the
cabinet and filled them with orange juice, then got out a package
of sweet rolls to bake.  His next action was to preheat the oven
while Tom got out a pan to put them in.
     They worked so well together in the kitchen, although Tom
really did most of the cooking.  Tom headed back to the bedroom
for some shorts so he could retrieve the Sunday paper from the
front lawn.  The paperboy never managed to get the paper on the
porch.  He wondered if there were any more surprises on the steps
as last Saturday when he found the "burning sack of shit" on
their steps.  He laughed to himself as whomever had pulled the
trick didn't know what they were doing.
     As he walked back in the house, he started laughing to
himself.
     Eddie was still in the kitchen and turned to see what was so
funny.
     Tom caught his questioning look as Eddie said, "What.?"
     "Just thinking about last Saturday morning when I found the
sack on the front steps.  I can't believe that Coach Dennison
called the Police about it," he giggled.
     Eddie laughed.  "Obviously it was someone who was unhappy
with the athletic department.  I don't think it was meant for
you, since you teach history," he teased.
     "Doesn't matter.  At least it didn't do any damage.  They
were either inept or just having fun.  Certainly, I'm not going
to worry about it."
     By this time the rolls were in the oven and Eddie handed Tom
his orange juice.  They sat on the bar stools at the counter and
lay the paper between them.  As soon as their juice was gone, Tom
took the glasses to the sink to rinse them and poured each of
them a cup of coffee.
     Eddie was reading the comics, but leaned up to kiss Tom on
the lips.
     "Don't forget that we may have a visitor at church this
morning."
     "Yeah, I wonder what's going on with Brett Jenkins. Junior?"
Tom replied.
     "All I know is what Fr. George told me last evening when he
called.  He said that he'd been wanting to see the inside of the
church and that he and Paul had invited him to come to the solemn
high mass and that I was to watch for him and seat him with you
down to the front where he could see everything that happened."
     "Fine with me.  I can't imagine that any of his family knows
he's planning to show up here."
     "We'll just play it by ear and see what happens," Eddie
said.
     They went back to reading the paper.  In a few minutes the
buzzer for the oven went off and Tom got up to get the rolls and
ice them.  Thank goodness for Pillsbury and their version of an
"instant breakfast".  He brought the pan and the coffeepot back
to the counter with him, then got a small plate and a fork for
each of them.
     "Ummnn, you're a good cook," Eddie said as he leaned up for
another kiss.
     "Julius Child at your service," he kidded.
     "You're better looking, anyway," Eddie laughed, and got
another kiss from Tom.
     "You say the nicest things and you know, compliments will
get you everything," he said, as he tweaked Eddie's nipples.
     "I know," he grinned as they settled back to read the paper
before getting ready to go to church.
     * * * * *
     Jason and his tent mates were awake as soon as they heard
the first notes of "Reveille" played.  Like the morning before,
they each had dried cum on their bodies.
     As they were preparing to start the day, Scott reminded
Dusty and Jason that "mum was the word" and promised them that
they might be able to have a "campout" in his basement soon.
     "Awesome," was Dustin's reply.
     "I can't wait," said Jason.
     Each of them pulled on shirts, pants and boots to exit the
tent, use the Porta-potties, brush their teeth and wash up so
they could have breakfast.  Like all boys, their stomachs were
bottomless pits and the kitchen wagon was doing a thriving
business, trying to fill the boys up with scrambled eggs, hash
browns and pancakes.
     The Assistant Scoutmaster, Doug Harper, made the
announcement that the Youth Minister from the Methodist Church
that sponsored the troop would hold a church service for the boys
at 8:30.  He then reminded the boys that tents were to be struck
by noon so everyone and their equipment could be transported back
to the church at 12 noon.
     That gave the boys less than 45 minutes to get ready for the
service, and then they could finish packing their equipment and
backpacks in preparation for leaving the campgrounds.
     Jason was one of the boys assigned to police the campsite,
picking up trash so the grounds would be as clean as when they
arrived.  The boys had been drilled about keeping trash picked
up, so there really wasn't more than a grocery sack full of
baggies, sacks from snacks and a few aluminum cans.  Again, he
felt very proud for being able to help, plus there wouldn't be
any trash left on his family-owned land.
     About 8:15, Alan Martin arrived to conduct the service.  He
had already prepared some of the older boys from the troop who
were members of his church to read scripture and assist with the
service.  He brought along a teenager who played the guitar to
provide music for the service.  At the appropriate time, the boys
gathered and were given song sheets containing the words to hymns
and songs they would sing during the short service.
     Alan Martin was completing his seminary studies so he could
be ordained as a member of the clergy of the United Methodist
Church.  He had served as Youth Minister of the Williamsport
church for the last three years, a job which he loved.  He hoped
he would find a position which would enable him to continue
working with the youth as so many of them were troubled by family
problems, low self-esteem and a few who were gay and having
problems dealing with it.
     As the boys gathered, Jason couldn't help but think of the
differences between worshiping out in the open with a Boy Scout
Troop in a camp setting as opposed to his own church.  He had
seldom experienced a service outside the solemn high mass at St.
James, his family parish.
     * * * * *
     Neither Kevin nor Jack slept very well that night.  Although
they hadn't kept each other awake, they each dreamed of the
happening with the rattlesnake and seeing Sandy struck while
trying to protect them.  Kevin, of course, blamed himself.  Jack
wasn't sure he wanted to come back to visit, although he had been
assured it probably couldn't happen again.
     After the second time Kevin woke up from the scary dream, he
made his way to Jason's bed where Jack was sleeping.  They
snuggled up together and soon both were fast asleep and this time
the dreams were pleasant for each of the two boys.
     They both woke up, Jack a little confused as to where he was
and wondering why Kevin was curled up against him.
     "Kevin.?"
     "Yeah, Jack?" he questioned back.
     "When did you get in bed with me?"
     "After I had a bad dream the second time.  I forgot that you
were in Jason's bed," he said, realizing that he wasn't exactly
telling the truth.
     "Okay, not a problem.  I had a couple of bad dreams, too,
but after that they were good ones, "Jack said.
     They both got out of bed and Kevin showed Jack about the
bathroom and the shower.  Jack, of course, thought it was really
something special as he'd never seen a big shower like that in
anyone's home.  One of their bathrooms at home had a tub shower
and the other had a shower enclosure, but it was in his parent's
bathroom.
     Jack took a shower while Kevin brushed his teeth and trimmed
his fingernails.  As he got out of the shower, Kevin couldn't
help but notice that Jack didn't have a foreskin, but that his
little cock appeared to be about the same size as his own..
     They traded places and Kevin quickly shampooed his hair as
he showered.  The warm water felt good.
     As his mother had requested, Jack only had to put on good
dress clothes to go to church with his mother and younger brother
- after Kevin's family dropped him off at his house on their way
to church.
     They made their way downstairs, Kevin missing Sandy leading
the way so she could be let outside.  That made him sad and he
grimaced as he thought about what had happened the afternoon
before.  He was dreading what Jason was going to say when he
found out what had happened.
     Mrs. Wood had waffle batter mixed up and told the boys to
pour themselves juice or milk, whichever or both they wanted to
drink.  She served the waffles on plates and there was a platter
of sausage links and bacon for them, too.  As they were eating,
Marty came in the kitchen, wearing shorts and a t-shirt.  He
helped himself to a cup of coffee after greeting the boys and
Mrs. Wood.
     She asked Marty if he wanted a waffle and he agreed they
looked good, so she started another one baking.
     "Hi Dad," Kevin said.
     "How's my boy this morning?" Marty said as he ruffled
Kevin's hair.
     "Daadd. now I'll have to go back upstairs and comb my hair
again, he whined.
     "Oh, well excuse me.  I didn't mean to muss up your curls,"
he teased back.  This was part of an on-going joke they had
between them as both Jason and Kevin kept their hair short enough
that it seldom needed more than an occasional swipe to put it in
place.
     "How are you this morning, Jack?" Marty inquired.
     "Fine," said Jack.  Both of us had bad dreams but Kevin got
in bed with me and I think we both slept okay after that."
     "I hope you'll come back to stay here again.  I can almost
guarantee that something like yesterday won't happen around here
again."
     "O. okay."  Jack was a little hesitant.  Marty decided to
drop the subject as he could tell that both boys were still very
uncomfortable talking about it.
     Mrs. Wood set a plate in front of Marty with the waffle and
had warmed up the sausage and bacon in the microwave.
     "Thanks, Bertha," he said before he began eating.
     "You're welcome.  Is Chris coming down soon?" she asked.
     "I'd give her another 20 minutes if I were you," Marty
laughed.  He wasn't about to admit to anyone that they had just
had a terrific morning before getting out of bed.
     * * * * *
     Dale and Craig also slept later than usual.  It was after 7
o'clock when Craig came to.  They were still in the same position
as when they had gone to sleep, facing each other and entwined in
each other's limbs.  Craig loved the feel of Dale's hairy body
pressed against him.  Dale was beautiful, a hunk, an excellent
lover, intelligent and belonged to him.  He thanked his lucky
stars they had found each other - or maybe it was that Craig had
found Dale.  Who cared how it had happened?  Dale seemed as
anxious for a relationship as Craig was.  They were together,
each filling an empty spot it the other's life.
     Craig wondered if he had rushed things too much in asking
Dale to live with him and be his partner in life, but Dale was an
adult male who had felt unloved all his life.  Craig had made him
realize that there was love all around him, just waiting for him
to wake up and accept the fact.  Yes, they were going to have a
good life together.
     Craig wiggled his body more tightly to Dale's.  This had the
desired effect as Dale was instantly awake and returned the
favor.
     Dale rejoiced at seeing his lover and it made him hard, not
that he already wasn't, but there was a difference between a
"piss-hard" and being hard for one's lover.  Their lips met.  No
"morning breath".  They enthusiastically swabbed each other's
mouth with their tongues, grinding their bodies against each
other, making each harder.
     "If I don't go pee, I won't have to," Craig said, meaning
that he had to pee in the worst way.
     Dale rolled out of bed and held his hand out to Craig to
help him get up.  They exchanged another kiss and both headed to
the bathroom to relieve themselves at the same time, playing
their piss streams together like young boys.
     As their flows abated, they gave each other a kiss, then
shook their cocks of any remaining urine and turned to each other
again for another deep kiss.  From the standpoint of anyone who
might be watching, love for each other was very evident.
     They headed to the kitchen to make coffee, pour juice and
enjoy the start of the day.  As Craig was starting the coffee,
the phone rang and Dale answered it.  It was Marty.
     "Dale, I'm sorry if I woke you up, but I intended to call
last night and wasn't able to."
     Dale immediately picked up on the fact that something wasn't
right, from the tone of Marty's voice.
     "What's wrong, Marty?" he asked.
     "We had a problem at the ranch yesterday evening and
everything is under control, but Chris and I wondered if you and
Craig could join us for our Sunday dinner after church today."
     "Let me check with Craig, but I think we're okay," he said.
     Holding his hand over the receiver, Dale asked Craig,
"There's been some kind of a problem at the ranch.  Can we go
there for dinner after church?"
     "Sure, no problem.  What happened?"
     "I don't know, just a minute."
     "Marty, sure we can be there.  What happened?"
     "Kevin and his friend, Jack, were out close to where the
geese have their nest.  He wanted to show the young family to
Jack.  They discovered a four-foot rattler close-by.  It struck
at them, but Sandy intercepted it.  She took two severe bites
while trying to kill it and a result she died, trying to protect
the boys."
     Dale immediately got tears in his eyes.
     "What can I do to help?" he questioned.
     "Just be here.  As you know, Jason is on the scout campout
and we'll pick him up after church to bring him home.  I just
think that the whole family needs to be here to help him and
Kevin with their grief.  Kevin blames himself and. we all know
that isn't true, but he thinks Jason will be upset with him."
     "Marty, I'm so sorry.  That's a tough thing to have to tell
Jason, but we'll be there to support you," Dale said.
     "Well, we'll see you fellows about 12:45 for 'happy hour' or
whatever word we can call it today.  Thanks, Dale, for the
support you and Craig will give us."
     "Marty, we - and I'm sure I speak for Craig - will do
anything we can to help you and your family."
     "Thanks, both of you.  We'll see you about 12:45. actually
before that at church, won't we?"
     "Yes, Marty.  And. thanks for including us as family
members."
     "You fellows are tremendous and our whole family loves you
just as if you were blood relatives," Marty replied.
     They exchanged "good-byes" and the connection was broken.
     "What was that all about?" Craig questioned, sensing that
something was not right.
     "Kevin and his friend, Jack, came upon a rattlesnake
yesterday evening.  It struck at them, but Sandy intercepted it
and tried to kill it.  Unfortunately, she was also the victim
when it was over."
     Craig was horrified.  "The boys are okay, aren't they?"
     "Yes, but I would guess from what Marty said, they are both
upset and Kevin blames himself for what happened.  He thinks
Jason will blame him for Sandy's death."
     "Oh, dear.  What does Marty want us to do?"
     He said that he considers us as blood relatives and wants us
to be there when they tell Jason what happened."
     Craig was torn between being upset at what had happened and
his joy of the fact that Marty considered them as part of the
family - to be there during a family crisis, and that's exactly
what this was.
     The two men found themselves in each other's arms, saddened
by the fact that Sandy was gone, but happy she had given her life
to protect her beloved boys and that they were unharmed.
     "This is tough," Craig said.  "I feel so sorry for Kevin
with what he must feel."
     "I have a hard time believing that they want us - outsiders
- there today," Dale said, still somewhat stunned by the turn of
events.
     "Hon, I think this is the greatest compliment the Williamson
family could give you - us - asking us to be part of their family
when there is a crisis."
     "I know, but it's an overwhelming thought.  I'm so glad they
want us both there," Dale said.
     * * * * *
     Bret Jenkins, Junior, awoke and decided that he wasn't going
to attend church with his family.  Although he usually attended
Sunday School and church, at least his father had quit insisting
he sit with his family during the service.
     He figured out that he could go to Sunday School, then walk
the six blocks to St. James and still be on time for the service
he'd been invited to attend.  That way he wouldn't arouse any
suspicion on the part of his father.
     As he showered, his mind wandered back about six years and
he thought of the Reverend Billy Bob Jones and the things that
had happened to him.  He had enjoyed the attention of the
minister.  He felt really good when the minister told him that he
was a special friend and then fondled his little cock.  He was
really turned on by being able to do the same to the great big
cock that Rev. Billy Bob sported.  This had gone on for about
three years and then all of a sudden the minister threatened him
again about ever telling anyone about what they had been doing.
That was the last time he had been with Rev. Billy Bob Jones,
although the minister acted friendly to him, but only when there
were other people around.  Bret was one confused boy.  He had
experienced a very early introduction to sex, and then the person
who had started it all had denied that activity to him.  He
became sullen and withdrawn.
     His parents were concerned, but Rev. Billy Bob told them
that Bret Junior was troubled by demons and that they should pray
for his happy soul to be returned.  His parents were dumb enough
to believe it.  After all, who could question Billy Bob Jones?
     It wasn't until about a year later, when he was 14, and was
with a friend that he discovered that almost all boys enjoyed
playing with themselves and each other.  Frankie was enthusiastic
with the discovery that Bret might turn out to be a jackoff
buddy.  They enjoyed getting together at Frankie's house whenever
his parents were away.  The third time after Frankie showed him
that he could produce what he called "cum", Bret kept at it until
he discovered he could, too.  He, of course, thought it was neat
as well as feeling extremely good.
     He then developed guilty feelings about doing it with
Frankie and quit going to his house.  He preferred to play with
himself in the privacy of his own room, but still had a guilty
feeling that it wasn't "right" to enjoy himself in this manner.
It all came back to a talk that the Rev. Billy Bob Jones gave to
his boys Sunday School class.  Rev. Billy Bob had told the class
that it was sinful and immoral to "cause yourself pleasure" and
that you could go to hell as a result.
     So, he was in a dilemma about the whole idea.  First of all,
there was no denying that it felt good.  Second, he knew that
other boys did it all the time, too.  Third, he didn't really
believe that you could go to hell for such a simple pleasure.  It
wasn't like he was lying to someone, or hurting them.  Fourth -
and this was the big one - Rev. Billy Bob had played with him and
let Bret touch his big cock.  However, the minister had never
produced any cum, as it was called.  What did that mean?
     The warm water was stimulating and he wanted to jerk himself
off, but knew he was expected downstairs for breakfast and just
barely had time to get dressed before doing so.
     * * * * *
     Dale and Craig finished in the kitchen, having loaded the
dishwasher and pouring another cup of coffee to enjoy.  Dale went
to the door to get the Sunday paper.  He debated about going to
the bedroom to put on a pair of shorts, but remembered their
neighbors were on a trip, so he didn't bother.  He grabbed the
paper, feeling daring, and returned to the living room.  They
settled in easy chairs and put the paper on the coffee table
where they both could reach it, then took turns reading the
various sections.  As they read, each made comments to the other
about whichever article caught their eye at the moment.  It
seemed as if half of the paper was made up of advertising
supplements today; most were for stores in Austin, but a few of
the chains had branches in Williamsport.  The prices would be the
same in Williamsport as in Austin for Radio Shack, Dillard's,
Penney's, K-Mart and Target, to name a few.  Craig was thinking
about buying a couple of additional pieces of luggage and a
garment bag since Dale didn't have any and he wasn't sure if
there was room to pack everything they both needed for the next
weekend.  Sure enough, Dillard's had the same brand and color as
he wanted.  He could take care of that tomorrow.
     Although they had spent a lot of money on rings, Dale still
wanted to get Craig something for his birthday that was just for
Craig - from him.  He wondered if he would like a neck chain or
maybe a bracelet, something that could be seen when he was
wearing it.  He would go back to Mercier's Jewelry tomorrow to
see what Antoine might suggest.
     "Are you going to wear one of your new outfits to church?"
Craig asked, breaking Dale's thoughts.
     "Sure.  What do you suggest?"
     "How about your new coat and one of the pair of slacks?" he
asked.
     "You help me decide," Dale said, flashing one of his 1000-
watt smiles.
     "How about the light gray pants, blue oxford shirt and the
red and gray tie with crests on it," he suggested.  "I washed the
new shirts and pressed them, so they are hanging with your other
clothes."
     "Hey, thanks.  I hate to wear new clothes until after
they've been laundered."
     "I do, too, but these can go to the laundry with the other
things we send there from now on," Craig replied.
     "I can iron shirts," Dale said, a little defensively.
     "We both can, but treat yourself to having your nice clothes
professionally cleaned and laundered."
     "Okay." Dale was a little hesitant.
     Craig stood up and walked over to Dale, sitting on his lap
and giving him a big kiss, which was returned with enthusiasm.
     "What was that for?" Dale questioned.
     "For being you, and I love you," Craig said, kissing him on
the end of his nose.  Both could feel themselves and the other
becoming aroused.
     "And I love you, too."  Then with a smirk he added, "Hey
fella, you wanna play around a little?"
     "Craig glanced at the clock on the wall.  It was 8:30.
"Sure, I've got the time, you got the place?"
     "As a matter of fact, I do," Dale said, wiggling his upper
lip and eyebrows.  "It's a special room right around the corner
where we can get horizontal."
     Craig had his arms around Dale's neck, so he thought this
was as good a time as any for what he was about to do.  He slid
his left arm under Craig's legs and wrapped his right arm around
his waist, scooted forward in the chair, then stood up, carrying
Craig.
     Craig was astounded.  He knew Dale was strong, but not like
this!
     "I haven't had a chance to carry you to the 'marriage bed'
yet.  Then I'm going to wonderful things to your body," he said,
giving Craig another kiss as they went through the bedroom door.
He backed up to his side of the bed, sat down, then lay back
holding Craig so he was on top of him.  Craig wiggled himself
around so they were lying front to front; their cocks snuggled
beside the other.  They started kissing with a passion they
hadn't experienced before.  Soon Dale worked his mouth around to
Craig's ear, then used his mustache to tickle it both inside and
out, then applied his tongue and mouth to it, too.
     Craig almost came from the sheer sensation it caused.  His
cock spit out a copious amount of precum onto their bellies.
Dale's cock must have done the same, because they started mashing
their groins together, sliding around on each other.
     His mouth started seeking out whatever part of Dale's body
it could find, finally making connection with his right nipple.
A little saliva, then a couple of light bites and it was standing
tall and proud.  He worked himself around to give the same
attention to the other one.
     Dale flipped Craig around so that he was on top of him.  He
gave Craig the same treatment, causing him to moan his enjoyment.
Then he went lower, tonguing out his navel, bypassing his cock
and devouring his balls.  At the same time, he wet his right
index finger and worked it past Craig's sphincter muscle.
     Then, using his tongue, he licked Craig's perineum and
tickled it with his mustache, working his way on down to his
sphincter.  He pulled his finger out, wet two of them and worked
them inside Craig, tickling his balls with his mustache and
working his tongue back down to deposit more saliva on his
fingers.  Craig was almost having convulsions; he was bucking up
and down on the bed so hard.  Dale loved to hear what he though
of as "Craig noises" and that stimulated him, also.
     Dale pulled his fingers out and stuck his tongue in the
place just vacated.  He then used his mustache to tickle Craig up
and down his crack.  Craig was leaking precum like crazy and Dale
gathered up as much as he could to supplement his already wet
fingers, plunging two back into Craig's ass.  They slid in with
no resistance.
     "Fuck me. put it in me." Craig was almost panting.
     Dale wasn't sure Craig was open enough and pulled his
fingers out so he could lean up to get a tube of lube out of the
nightstand drawer.  He put the nozzle in Craig's asshole and
squeezed a generous glob inside.  The cold KY Jelly got Craig's
attention  "Fuck me now!!!" Craig was wanting it badly and Dale
was ready to give him what he wanted.  He lubed himself,
squeezing more precum out of both cocks.  That was slicker than
KY, he thought.
     Craig had already started to raise his legs to allow Dale
room to maneuver.  He moved his lower legs up on his shoulders to
allow his butt to tip up.  Dale placed his 7-inches at the
entrance, then pulled his foreskin back and shoved gently.  It
slid in with ease.  He paused for about a minute to allow Craig
to adjust, then felt Craig pulling himself onto his cock.  He was
buried to the balls in just a few thrusts.
     "DO IT!!" he heard.  "Fuck me!!!"  Craig was really enjoying
this and it turned Dale on like never before.
     He could sense that he was in deeper than ever before, and
then all of a sudden it was like another door opened in Craig's
ass.  Dale gave another thrust and felt a new sensation.  Craig's
eyes opened in surprise.
     "Are you okay?" Dale lovingly asked.
     "Yeah, it feels like you are way up inside me now - and it
feels like nothing I've ever felt before," he gasped.  "It feels
great!!"
     Dale held it there for a little bit until he felt Craig
starting to move up and down on his shaft.  There was definitely
a different feeling than he'd ever had before.  He wondered if
there was another sphincter muscle at the bottom of Craig's colon
and he had pierced that.  He hoped it hadn't done any harm, but
Craig seemed to like the feeling.
     Craig dug his heels into the small of Dale's back.  "Okay,
cowboy, ride me hard. like I've never been ridden before."  Craig
couldn't believe he'd just said that, but guessed that in the
heat of passion one might say anything.
     It turned Dale on to be called 'cowboy' and that's just what
he was going to do. ride Craig's ass like it had never been
ridden before.  Together they set up a rhythm and it was like
their team was going for the gold.  Craig leaned up to kiss Dale
and their mouths found the other.  Craig's cock was sliding
around between their bellies and Dale seemed to be hitting
Craig's prostate about every third stroke.  At the rate they were
going, neither was going to last another minute.  They were too
far into this marvelous sensation to even think of slowing down.
     Craig felt the tingling sensation, indicating that he was
going to cum before Dale got the same signal from his own body.
Craig started, somewhat involuntarily, squeezing his sphincter
muscle on Dale's out-stroke.  A few of those and Dale knew he was
going to cum and it was going to be harder than he had ever
experienced.  Their passions were at an all-time high and it was
as if they were trying to pull themselves into the other, being
connected the entire length of their bodies.
     Craig started it.  His first eruption painted both their
chests, giving more lubrication between their bodies.  The second
shot triggered Dale and he buried himself deep as he released
three waves of cum in his lover's ass.  He cautiously pulled out
some, Craig fired another shot between them and Dale unloaded two
more.
     Meanwhile their mouths were sealed together and tongues
seemed like they were buried in the other's throat.  They each
experienced several more spasms, but nothing like the first few
rounds.  They were gasping for breath, their arms running up and
down the other's body, causing still more sensations.  Dale's
cock twitched again, triggering another small earthquake
somewhere inside Craig.
     "God, I love you." Craig was almost sobbing.  "That's the
greatest feeling I've ever had."
     "Babe, you are great.  I don't know how I was lucky enough
to find you, but you are never going to get away from me."
     "Try and make me leave," Craig gasped out.
     They clung to each other, Dale relaxing enough to lie on top
of Craig so they could still kiss.
     After what seemed to be an hour, in reality just about 10
minutes, they had recovered enough to move.  Dale felt himself
being expelled from his lover's asshole.  Craig clinched his
sphincter as if trying to keep it inside him, but it had the
opposite effect, except to milk out the last drops of Dale's cum.
     "That was the most incredible feeling I've ever had," Dale
whispered as if he were drained of the power to speak aloud.
     "Me too.  Your carrying me in here really turned me on.
It's like nothing I've ever experienced before, but I sure want
to. forever."  Craig kissed Dale on the end of his nose again.
     "I've been wanting to pick you up and carry you in here, but
wasn't sure you would like it," Dale said.
     "Oh yeah, I liked it alright.  Are you sure you won't hurt
yourself?"
     Nah, you don't weigh any more than those bales of hay," he
teased.  "Beside that, you aren't scratchy and you kiss back,
too," he giggled.
     "Let's go shave and shower," Craig said.  "It's almost 9:30.
     "You've got the time and I've got the place," Dale laughed.
     "I've always got time for you if it's going to be like that
every time."
     "And I'll always have a place for you," Dale said, standing
up and holding his hand to help Craig out of their bed.
     As they were standing side-by-side to shave, Craig said,
"Your mustache just about drove me up the wall.  I may grow one
just so I can return the favor.  That was fantastic!"
     "Just wait until it gets a little more filled out and it
will get longer, too.  And. yeah, I agree you might look really
good with one, although you're awfully cute the way you are," he
giggled as Craig wiped some shaving cream across his nose.
     "Don't ever call me 'cute'," Craig laughed.  I'll have you
know I'm as masculine as you are even if I was just on the
receiving end of the most fantastic fuck I've ever had.  And. I
hope that isn't the last one," he added.
     Dale was sure the banter was in good fun.  He certainly
didn't mean to offend Craig.  He decided that he needed to make
sure.
     "Sorry, hon.  You are 'cute' but I mean as in 'handsome'.
I'm sorry because I didn't mean to offend you."
     "Babe, I was just teasing you," Craig told him.
     By this time they were both through shaving and kissing
again.  Soon they both had leftover shaving cream all over each
other's faces.
     "I'm glad we found each other, 'cause you've made my life
come alive," Dale said as they headed to the shower.
     "What do you think I just experienced?" Craig said.  "I'm
going to be reminded of this every step I take for the next two
days," he laughed.
     They shared another kiss as Dale started the water.
     Realizing they didn't have all that much time, there was no
more playing around in the shower.  Each was lost in their own
good thoughts as they shampooed their hair and washed themselves
clean.
     Getting out of the shower, they took turns drying themselves
and helping the other, also, then dried their hair and combed it,
using a little hairspray to hold it in place until it finished
drying.
     Dale proudly put on his new clothes and Craig chose a
similar outfit, with darker slacks and light tan coat.  Together
they looked like they had just stepped from the pages of GQ
magazine.
     Craig drove his car and they parked in the large lot next to
the church.
     As they were walking up the sidewalk, a young boy, probably
about 16, joined them.
     "Hi," he said.  "Aren't you Dale.  that helped with our
little league team?"
     Dale hadn't really been paying any attention.  "Yes," he was
hesitant because he couldn't think of the teen's name.
     "I'm Bret Jenkins. Junior," he proudly said.  "You were one
of our coaches a couple of years ago."
     Dale remembered that the boy had not been a good player.
His heart wasn't in the game and he didn't respond well to
coaching.  "That's right," Dale said.
     "This is my first time to go to church here.  Father George
invited me to attend.  He said that Mr. Thompson was one of the
ushers and that I was to sit close to the front with Mr. Bryant."
     Dale suddenly remembered that he used to see Bret and his
family at the Victory Temple.  His father was the church
treasurer and had tried to get Dale to give them a large sum of
money in remembrance of his mother after she died.  He had been
pretty aggressive about it, too.  Dale had refused because he
thought the church had treated his mother badly and the minister
hadn't even come to see her after she became really ill.
     By this time Craig was holding the door open for Bret and
Dale.  Eddie Thompson was standing inside, handing out the
service booklets and greeted the three by shaking their hands.
     "Dale, Craig, do you want to sit with Tom down toward the
front and help Bret with the service?"
     "Sure," Craig said, not giving Dale a chance to reply.
     "He's sitting about the fourth row on the right side," Eddie
said.  "Thanks guys."
     The three set off down the long center aisle with Craig
leading the way.  He stopped at the row where Tom was sitting and
genuflected, then sent Bret into the row.  Tom moved over to make
room for them.  Craig entered the row, following Bret.  Dale made
his reverence to the altar and sat beside Craig, following him as
he pulled a kneeling cushion from under the chair, then knelt in
prayer.
     Bret was watching Craig and Dale.  Tom nudged him and
whispered, "If you want to say a prayer of any kind, if it's for
forgiveness or thanksgiving, you can do so either by sitting in
your seat or kneeling.
     Bret, of course, wanted to try the "whole experience" and
noticed that both Craig and Dale crossed themselves after they
knelt in prayer.
     "Do I need to do that?" he questioned Tom.
     "No, it's a symbol of reverence, but it's not necessary.
God will hear you either way."
     That was news to Bret.  He had never been convinced that God
heard his prayers.
     He decided to kneel, so pulled the cushion out, but didn't
know how to make the sign of the cross.  He prayed that he was
sorry to doubt that God existed and asked for forgiveness of any
wrongdoing he might have committed.  He suddenly felt better.
     About that time Craig sat back on his chair and Bret noticed
that he left the kneeling cushion on the floor in front of him.
He did the same.
     Craig was thinking that he had two novice charges to take
under his wing this morning.
     About that time the organ prelude started.  Bret was all
ears and then all eyes as the acolytes appeared from one side and
started to light the candles, both behind and on the altar table,
then two candles which sat on large pedestals on either side of
the altar.
     The parishioners of St. James preferred the older,
traditional ritual where the priest celebrated the mass with his
back to the congregation, acting as intercessor for the
congregants.  Although the altar table had been moved out to
allow the priest to face the congregation, mass was seldom
conducted in that manner.
     Bret, like Dale had been the week before, couldn't get over
the power of the organ as the sound swept the building; the high
notes crystal clear and the low notes seemingly made the walls
vibrate.  He was almost on sensory overload and the service
hadn't even started yet.
     Dale glanced at his service booklet.  The prelude was listed
as "Maestoso in C-sharp minor" by Louie Vierne.  You could hear
the music bouncing back and forth from the front to the rear of
the building, almost like an echo when it was at the back.  It
ended with a glorious trumpeting, and then it was quiet.
     The choir sang an Introit from the back, then the
processional hymn was another hymn that was familiar to all, "O
God, Our Help in Ages Past".
     Bret couldn't believe the choir and clergy processing in
their colorful vestments, the swinging of the censer, people
bowing as the processional cross and candles passed their row.
     As the service progressed it was time for the sermon, this
time given by the assistant rector, an older priest who looked
like Andy Rooney, but sounded more like Richard Burton, the Welsh
accent coming through clearly.  His homily was based on Matthew's
story of the Beatitudes, the Sermon on the Mount.  Although Dale
hadn't had much religious training, he loved this story as it
made him feel that there was hope for him as well as all others.
     When it came time for communion, Tom hastily instructed Bret
about receiving the bread and wine and told him to watch Craig,
but that he didn't have to make the sign of the cross.  This time
it was Dale who led his row to the communion rail, however, he
was fortunate to be next in line after a person he could watch to
make sure he did the right thing.
     At the close of the mass, after the recessional hymn, Bret
was to the point of tears.  He couldn't talk, he was so
emotionally overcome.  Tom, Craig and Dale sat with him during
the organ postlude while he calmed himself.  First he put his
arms around Tom, sobbing on his shoulder, then sat back in his
chair.  Craig gave him a handkerchief so he could blow his nose
and wipe away tears.  Then Bret clung to Craig, saying, "I never
thought church could be like this - so beautiful."
     Then he added, "Reverend Billy Bob Jones is a fake.  This is
what church is supposed to be like, where everyone is loved and
can be loved by God.  Not that we're all going to hell like Rev.
Billy Bob says"
     The three men didn't know what to think.  Dale had had
somewhat the same feelings the week before, but this observation
was coming from a teen - a 16-year old boy.  However, he
remembered the ranting and raving that Billy Bob Jones did from
his pulpit, but seemingly able to extract money from his
congregation anyway.
     Tom felt responsible since Bret was supposed to be his
charge, but he was at a loss for words, not ever having met Billy
Bob Jones (although he'd heard plenty about him) or attended his
church.
     Marty and the rest of the Williamson family had been sitting
a couple of rows back from the men.  As they were on their way
out to go to the parish hall, Marty put his hand on Dale's
shoulder and asked if everything was okay.
     Dale was a little confused about the whole scene; however,
he felt a great deal of empathy for Bret.  "Yeah, Marty, thanks.
He's a little overcome by the service and being here for the
first time."
     "Okay, see you and Craig a little later," he said, giving
Dale's shoulder a squeeze.
     Craig and Tom seemed to have gotten Bret calmed down and
asked him if he wanted to go get a cookie and some punch at the
coffee hour.
     "Sure," he replied, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary
had just happened.
     So, the three men and Bret, joined by Eddie, started toward
the parish hall.
     Tom and Eddie dropped back so they could exchange some
words.
     "What happened, is he okay?" Eddie asked, worriedly.
     I think it's a whole bunch of things.  The beauty of the
ceremony, but I think he's on a guilt trip about something that
happened at his church.  Do you think that his minister has
people convinced that they are going to hell?"
     "Who knows?  I've had several boys from that congregation on
my teams and they are all afraid of their shadows.  Most are
pretty quiet and withdrawn and don't trust anyone."
     "Well, something has happened to this boy and I intend to
get to the bottom of it.  He's scared to death of something - and
it's not just that he thinks he's going to hell," Tom said.
     "I'll help you, but we'd better talk to Fr. George and get
some guidance from him on how to proceed," Eddie said.
     "Fine, but we may be in for a few surprises," Tom replied.
     Craig and Dale had started Bret toward the table with the
cookies and other refreshments and then pointed out the table
where he could get punch or lemonade and he was off.
     Tom spoke up, "Hey guys, what do you read out of all this?"
he questioned.
     "You got me, Craig said."
     "I may have more of an insight that the rest of you," Dale
said.  "My mother always was made to feel unworthy to go to
church over there.  The Rev. Billy Bob Jones had her convinced
that she was going to hell because I was born out of wedlock."
     Eddie and Tom were both stunned at that statement, but it
seemed to fit some of the other things that were slowly surfacing
about the Victory Temple and Rev. Billy Bob Jones."
     "What do you mean?" asked Tom.
     "Well, they thought she had sinned because I was born
without she and my father being married.  They never offered her
the chance to repent of her sins and she always felt unworthy and
it passed on to me.  I didn't ever feel welcome there and I never
heard the term 'God loves you' until I came here to church with
Craig.  And. I'm sure, given our present circumstances being
lovers, that neither of us would be welcome if we chose to go to
church there.  Rev. Billy Bob Jones seems to prey on those he
deemed has sinned, but gives them no hope of salvation.  But.
he's more than willing to take their money to help absolve them
of their guilt.  Bret's father is the treasurer of that church
and he came to me for a donation after my mother died.  I refused
and he didn't want to take 'no' for an answer."
     "I think we have to take this a step at a time.  Maybe if we
can get him to talk to Fr. George, things may become more clear
as to what is going on," Eddie said.
     The others agreed.  About that time Bret came back with a
napkin, six cookies and a glass of punch.  As he was approaching
the men, another boy from his class intercepted him and they
started a conversation.  The other four men headed to the
refreshment table.
     Father George and Paul entered the parish hall and were
immediately in the middle of a swarm of the members of the
parish.  To a person who had never been there before, it was
almost comical.  They were so well liked by the congregation and
the members were anxious to prove it.
     The efforts of the priest and music director/organist had
gained the church more than 200 members in three years time.  It
was the fastest growing parish in the diocese, and although the
Bishop wasn't happy with a gay priest and his lover being under
his charge, he couldn't very well say anything under the
circumstances.
     Finally Fr. George broke loose from those crowded around him
and made it to the refreshment table, greeting Tom, Eddie, Craig
and Dale, giving them each a hug as he went by.  This gesture
didn't go unnoticed by Bret.  He suddenly remembered the times
when Rev. Billy Bob used to hug him. and the other things they
had done together.
     Fr. George spotted Bret and headed toward him, giving him a
hug around the shoulders as he greeted him.
     "How did you like our service?  Does it compare with what
you are used to?"
     "I didn't think church could be so. grand. and you didn't
tell us that we were going to go to hell. one time," he said.
     "My dear boy, if you believe in Jesus Christ and that He
died for our sins and you have been baptized in the true church,
then you are not going to hell.  I can personally guarantee it,
as God is my witness," Fr. George said.
     Dale was standing close enough that he heard this
conversation and he moved over to where Fr. George and Bret were
standing.
     "I heard what you just said, and I can vouch for what Bret
said.  Those who attend Victory Temple have no hope of salvation
according to the Rev. Billy Bob Jones," Dale avowed.
     "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint him, but we'll never convince
him that God loves all of us.  If he gets into heaven, it will be
because he snuck in the back door," Fr. George said.
     Bret's eyes immediately started tearing up.  "I don't want
to go to hell!" he sobbed.
     Fr. George realized all of a sudden that there was a big
problem.  Bret was a member of Victory Temple and he had just
told him that he might not make it to heaven and that his
minister probably wouldn't, either.  He didn't intend for the
conversation to take this route.
     "Bret, listen to me.  Every church has their own belief -
that's why there are so many denominations and even all of the
churches within each denomination don't always agree.  We, as
Episcopalians believe that if you have been baptized and
confirmed as a member of this church, that you will go to heaven
unless you totally screw up, like committing murder or something
equally bad, like denying that the Triune God doesn't exist.  We
don't believe that you have to be 'reborn' or a dozen other
things that the Pentecostals believe.  Our faith is a very simple
one and I'll be glad to sit down and discuss any and all beliefs
we - or any other church - may have.  But now is not the time,
okay?"
     "Okay, Bret said.
     "Come see me any evening after school.  If you enjoy
attending church here, Paul will audition you to see about
placing you in the choir.  I think you would really enjoy that,
am I right?"
     "Yes. I don't know what my parents will say, though."
     "If that becomes a problem, I'm sure that there are many of
us who will help you though this, okay?"
     "Yes.  Thank you for being so kind and inviting me here
today.  It was beautiful and I enjoyed it. but. I have a lot of
questions, too."
     "I'm sure you do, but you have a lot of friends here and
we'll be glad to help you with anything that's bothering you,
okay?" Fr. George asked.
     Bret was relieved.  He told everyone goodbye and left the
parish hall.
     Fr. George watched him exit and turned to the men standing
around him.  "Guys, we have a big problem that's about to erupt
here in Williamsport.  I have a feeling that Bret is about to
collide with his father's way of thinking and some of us are
going to be his refuge."
     The others, Paul, Dale, Craig, Tom and Eddie were not
surprised, but didn't know what to say.
     * * * * *
     Jason enjoyed the church service.  It was fun to sing "folk
hymns" accompanied by a guitar that were quite different than
what he was used to.  Some of the other boys sang
enthusiastically because they were more familiar with them.  It
was fun to sing together with the others.
     Alan Martin was a super youth minister and seemed to connect
with all the boys immediately.  He wasn't like the staid, pulpit-
pounding ministers a lot of churches had.  He told the simple
story of God's love for each of them.  There was no threat of
God's rejection if you sinned, or ever-lasting punishment for any
infraction of the Ten Commandments.
     Instead, he talked about love and respect for friends and
being able to help each other when a problem was encountered that
you couldn't solve by yourself.  He told the boys that even
though he might not be associated with their own denominations,
that he was available to talk and counsel any of them, regardless
of the problem.  And. most importantly, it would be kept
confidential.
     Jason had no problem with this.  He respected Alan Martin
and his views, but was thankful that he had his own rector, Fr.
George to talk to.  He also had the trust of his brother, parents
and friends, such as Dale that he could go to.
     Too soon the campground was ready to vacate.  This had been
an exhilarating experience, in more ways than one.  He was
growing up and he had been exposed to many facets of scouting,
from working with others as a group, to learning about the sexual
aspect of himself and others.  Both would serve him well for
years to come.
     By 12 noon the various trucks and vehicles were loaded and
they were ready for the trip back to Williamsport.  Jason was
thankful that the weather had been good for his first camping
trip.  He'd heard stories of campouts like this where it had
rained the entire weekend.  It didn't sound like fun.
     By 12:15 or so, they were back at the Methodist Church
parking lot.  Marty was waiting for them to arrive, having sent
Chris and Kevin home with his parents.
     "Dad," Jason yelled, running toward Marty and jumping up,
wrapping his arms around his neck.  "The campout was great.
Thanks for coming out to visit and see what we are learning."
     Some of the other fathers were standing around watching.
Several were wishing that their son's would still hug them and
others were appalled at the open display of affection between
father and son.
     Marty made sure that Jason picked up everything that
belonged to him and that he told his Patrol leader and
Scoutmaster goodbye and thanked them for the weekend camping
trip.
     "Hey, Jason," Scott said, "we'll get together for an
overnighter at my place to work on your Tenderfoot Badge, okay?"
     "Sure," he replied.
     Jason was elated.
     After they had everything that belonged to Jason, his cot,
air mattress, sleeping bag and backpack, they headed to Marty's
car.
     "How was the first campout?" Marty asked as they drove away.
     "Dad, it was the neatest thing I've ever done," he replied.
     "I always had a great time in Scouts," Marty told him.  He
wondered if Jason had been initiated into the world of Boy Scout
sex, but didn't ask.
     As they drove to the ranch, Jason gave a complete (well,
almost complete) run-down on the whole weekend.  Clearly, he'd
had a grand time and Marty was glad he was happy with the
experience.
     Coming up the driveway, Jason saw Craig's car in the
driveway.  "Are Dale and Craig gonna eat with us again today?" he
asked, clearly happy.
     "Yes," Marty said somewhat dreading the truth of what had
happened the evening before.
     "Neat.  They're great guys.  I like them," Jason replied.
     "Jason, I want you to go upstairs and shower, then get
dressed for Sunday dinner.  We'll have our drinks while you are
cleaning up, okay?"
     "Sure, Dad," Jason replied, not picking up on Marty's more
somber tone of voice.
     They got Jason's backpack out of the trunk, with Marty
reminding him that they would get the other stuff out and put it
away later.
     Kevin had already changed out of his best clothes and was
with the family in the living room.  The adults were having
Bloody Marys and Kevin had a glass of milk.
     Jason didn't pick up on Kevin's reluctance to talk to him.
He was too excited about the camping trip.  He went upstairs to
shower and dress for the Sunday meal.
     It wasn't until he came back downstairs that he missed
Sandy.  Thinking she might be outdoors, he didn't give it a
second thought.
     The happy chitchat drew to a close as Jason entered the
room.
     "Do you want some milk, juice or a non-alcoholic drink?"
Martin asked.
     "Some orange juice would be good," Jason said.
     Marty took a deep breath.  "Jason, we had a problem here at
the ranch yesterday evening.  It was a bizarre incident, but one
that couldn't be helped."
     Jason scanned the room.  Everyone had a somber expression on
their face.  He didn't like what he saw, but still didn't have a
clue as to what was going on.
     "Son, Kevin and Jack went out to look at the goslings last
evening.  There was a rattlesnake close by.  It struck at Kevin
and Jack, but Sandy rushed it, taking the bite.  She tried to
kill it and got bit again. I'm sorry Jason, but there was nothing
the vet could do for her."
     Jason was stunned.  He didn't know what to say or do.  He
turned pale and the excitement of the camping trip drained out of
him.
     Tears formed in his eyes and he looked around to see who to
go to for comfort.
     "Jason, Sandy didn't make it, but she prevented something
harmful from happening to Kevin and Jack.  She was brave beyond
words and she gave her life to protect your brother, just as she
would have done if you had been there, too."
     He fought the tears back and went to Marty, then Chris, then
Kevin for comfort.
     Kevin started in. "Jase, I'm sorry, it was all my fault.  If
I hadn't taken Jack to see the little goslings, this wouldn't
have happened." he said, crying.
     "Kev, it's not your fault.  You know that Sandy would do
anything to protect us. and she did.  I'm gonna miss her, but she
saved your life.  Don't blame yourself. it's not your fault."
     Jason ended up being the comforter rather than the one to be
comforted.
     Dale and Craig were standing there with Craig's arm around
Dale's side.  They both felt badly about what had happened, but
marveled at Jason's ability to take charge of the situation and
turn it around to comfort Kevin.
     That was the end of the tears.  Both boys had grown in years
from the snake episode.
     As Martin fixed a second round of drinks, Chris happened to
notice that both Dale and Craig were wearing new rings and she
demanded they show them to her.
     They proudly walked over to her and she gave her approval,
and then asked that they show the others.  Everyone was impressed
and said so.
     Marty looked at them, then said, "Wow, you guys are really
serious about each other, aren't you?"  Then he looked
embarrassed.  "Sorry, I didn't mean for it to sound that way, but
you have made a commitment and I think it's great."  He then
shook hands with both and gave each a hug around the shoulders.
     Both Dale and Craig were proud of their commitment to each
other.  Dale told them that they were considering asking Fr.
George to bless their union, but that he wanted to wait until he
had been baptized and confirmed in the church.
     "That's wonderful," Chris said.  "Will you allow us to have
a reception for you here, afterward?  Or, you can have the
ceremony here, if you wish."
     Craig spoke up.  "We haven't even thought about anything
beyond the idea, but we both thank you for the support you have
shown us today."
     Dale said, "We haven't even talked to Fr. George yet, but I
have to go through inquirers class, then go through the rites of
the church to become a member.  I think it will mean a lot more
to me if that happens first."
     "Of course," Martin started applauding.  "We want to be
involved in this.  We're your family now, Dale and Craig,
remember."
     Both Dale and Craig had tears in their eyes as they hugged
each other, then made the rounds, hugging everyone in the room.
     Mrs. Wood walked through the door to announce that dinner
was ready, wondering what was going on.
     * * * * *
     Bret Junior arrived at his house about five minutes after
the rest of his family.  His father was in a foul mood because
he'd learned that a couple that had generously supported the
church were leaving Williamsport because of a job change.  This
family contributed a lot of money to Victory Temple and it
appeared that source of revenue was coming to an end.  As church
treasurer, he didn't know where the money to replace the deficit
was going to come from..
     Then after they went in the house, Beth reminded him they
had forgotten to pick up Paul at the Methodist Church parking lot
where the Boy Scout troop had returned after their camping trip.
Bret Senior was ready for his Sunday dinner and didn't want to
have to go pick him up.  His wife, Beth, had tried to smooth
things over which further irritated him.  As he was backing the
car out of the driveway, he spotted Bret walking home - from the
opposite direction he should be coming from the Victory Temple.
     As he drove down the street, he remembered that he hadn't
seen Bret sitting with some of the young people he usually sat
with.  He made a mental note to find out where he'd been.
Arriving at the parking lot he saw that Paul was the only boy who
hadn't been picked up and Doug Harper was loading Paul's
equipment into his pickup to take him home.  This further
irritated Bret Senior so, instead of being happy someone was
looking out for his son, he was fuming when he pulled up
alongside Doug's pickup.
     "Get your stuff and put it in the trunk," he yelled at Paul,
not bothering to acknowledge that Doug was standing there.  He
got out of the car and opened the trunk.  "Hurry up, it's time
for dinner!" he continued his tirade.
     Doug realized that there was a problem, so thought he would
try to diffuse it.  "Mr. Jenkins, we didn't know if you were out
of church yet, so I was going to see to it that Paul got home
with no problem as he has too much equipment to carry by
himself."
     Wrong thing to say.  He became the target instead of Paul.
     "If my boy is big enough to go on your camping trips, he's
big enough to get himself home and if he has to make more than
one trip to do it. so be it.  As far as I'm concerned, that
organization of yours is about the most useless in town.  These
kids need to be in church on Sunday morning instead of out in the
county, doing God knows what."
     Doug wanted to deck his idiot, but remained cool and under
control.
     "Sir, we had a church service for the entire troop this
morning.  Alan Martin, who is the Youth Minister at this
Methodist Church, conducted a very nice service for the boys and
they enjoyed it.  You realize that Boy Scouts have to believe in
God and we try to augment the teachings of every faith and build
on that."
     "I don't want anybody from another church putting any other
ideas in my kids head.  It's bad enough the stuff they learn in
school these days.  Maybe it's time our church started a
Christian School here in Williamsport and fought the ideas you
liberals teach."
     Paul, by this time had all his stuff in the trunk and would
have liked to be able to disappear.  "Dad, all my stuff is in the
trunk.  If Mom's ready for us to eat dinner, then we better go."
     Wrong thing to say again.
     "We'll go when I'm ready.  This guy thinks because he has a
Boy Scout uniform on that he knows everything.  Now get in the
car."
     Paul climbed in the front seat.  He wished that Doug had
been able to take him home instead of his father showing up.  He
would have gladly walked home to avoid the scene that was taking
place.
     Doug decided that this was a good time to leave, too.  There
was no use to try to reason with this hothead.  He got into his
small pickup, started the engine and told Bret, "Goodbye.  It's
always good to talk to you and get input from our scout's
parents."  He drove out of the parking lot thinking 'what an
idiot that guy is.'  He felt sorry for Paul.
     Bret, of course, wasn't pleased that he'd been cutoff.  He
wondered if Doug Harper even went to church.
     The drive back to the Jenkins home was quiet.  Paul wasn't
about to say anything about what a great time he'd had -
especially to be away from his father for the better part of two
days.  As he parked in the driveway, Bret opened the trunk.  "Put
your stuff away then go take a shower.  You don't smell very
good."  Bret went in the house and Paul put his stuff in the
garage.  He would clean it up and store it later.
     He walked in the house expecting to see his mother in the
kitchen.  Instead he heard his father berating her for not having
the food on the table, ready for him to sit down and eat.
     "It will only take me five minutes. I didn't know how soon
you would be back. and you know you don't like cold food."  Beth
Jenkins was almost in tears.  She hated it when her husband was
in a bad mood and it seemed he was that way most of the time
recently.  That, coupled with Bret Junior's being non-responsive,
was having a bad effect on her other three children, Paul, Terry
and Sally.
     Paul started for the stairway.  Hurry up and change clothes,
Paul.  We're about ready to sit down."
     "I told him that he has to take a shower first.  He doesn't
smell clean."
     "Hurry up, honey," she told Paul.  She intended to serve the
food when he was back downstairs and ready to eat with the
family.  There was no reason her husband should punish him
because he hadn't had a shower for two days.
     Paul encountered his brother, Bret, in the upstairs hall.
He had changed clothes and was waiting to be called to sit down.
He wanted to avoid his father as much as he could today.
     "Boy, Dad's sure in a foul mood.  Mr. Harper was going to
bring me home because Dad hadn't picked me up yet and he didn't
like that, either.  Then Mr. Harper tried to be nice to him and
that made it even worse.  What's wrong with him?  He didn't used
to be like this?"
     "I don't know, but I think it has something to do with the
church.  I think a lot of people have stopped going to church
there and that's giving them money problems."
     "I gotta get in the shower, or I won't get to eat and I'm
hungry," Paul said heading toward the room he and Terry shared.
     Paul was through the shower in record time and pulled on a
clean pair of chinos and a knit shirt.  Beth was just putting the
last dish on the table when she called the children and her
husband to the table.
     The blessing was short and to the point, instead of Bret's
usual long prayer.  It was almost like he was mad at God.  The
meal started off quietly, but then Terry and Paul started talking
about Terry's overnight stay at the Williamson's ranch and Paul's
camping trip.
     Their father glared at them, but they didn't notice.  Beth
seemed to sense that trouble was brewing, but she wasn't prepared
for the outrage that suddenly occurred.
     "God dammit!!  Will you two shut up above how wonderful the
Williamson's ranch is?  That fag-loving' family is the reason
that Gerald and Suzy Hilton are leaving Williamsport for a better
job.  Marty's so tight with all his money that they wouldn't up
his salary at the bank, so he took a better job and they are
moving to Houston.  They're the single largest contributors to
our church."
     It suddenly got ghostly quiet at the dinner table.  None of
them had ever heard Bret take the Lord's name in vain, let alone
scream at his family.
     It slowly became clearer to Beth as to her husband's mood.
Victory Temple and Rev. Billy Bob Jones had lost several members
the last couple of months and since her husband was the church
treasurer, she suspected there were severe financial problems -
there always had been, but people usually responded to the
badgering they got every Sunday.  She knew that her own family
gave more money to that church than they could afford.  She
didn't know how much because her husband handled all the money,
except what he gave her for groceries and clothes for her family
- and that seemed to be grudgingly.
     The two boys shut up and everyone ate in silence for a few
minutes.  Bret Senior was disgusted at himself for losing his
temper and taking the Lord's name in vain, but he hated the
Williamson family and all he perceived they did (or didn't) do to
help the community.  To him, anyone who went against Rev. Billy
Bob Jones' teaching was wrong and this family certainly was wrong
in his book.
     He glared at his oldest son.  "Why were you walking home
from the west instead of the east awhile ago?"
     Although he had prepared an answer, the question caught Bret
Junior off guard and he couldn't talk.
     "Uhmmn," he started to reply.
     "Dammit, I asked you a question.  I didn't see you sitting
with your friends in church this morning.  Now I want an answer
and I'm going to check it out.  If you are lying to me, I'm going
to beat you so hard you won't be able to sit down for a week.  I
don't care if you think you are too big to be spanked."
     Beth and the other children were horrified.  She tried to
give Bret Junior a smile of support, but she was scared of her
husband.  He'd never acted like this.
     "Uuhm," he cleared his throat, trying to stall.
     Bret Senior threw down his fork and napkin.  "I asked you a
question - and I want an answer!!"  He was shouting again.
     Bret Junior knew there was no use lying.  He knew he was
going to get punished and he might as well get it from telling
the truth instead of lying and his father finding out about that,
too.
     "I. I. I've always wondered what it was like to go to church
at St. James, so I went over there last night and a woman had me
help carry flowers in and I got to look around.  Then I met
Father George and he invited me to attend their mass this
morning.  I sat with Mr. Bryant and he was helpful in explaining
things to me."
     Bret Senior was stunned.  Then he was livid.  He turned red
and he was so mad he was almost shaking.  Never had he expected
what he'd just heard.
     "You went over to the 'fag cathedral' that the Williamson
family owns?  That place is full of fags.  How dare you skip out
of our church to go to a place where they mock the Lord with
their sinful ways?"
     Young Bret remembered what Fr. George had told him about
salvation.
     "Fr. George said that Rev. Billy Bob Jones was wrong, that
anyone who has been baptized and believes will go to heaven."
     "You little shit. you're not worthy to go to heaven. and
after what you did this morning you'll rot in hell just for
gracing their door with your presence."
     Bret screamed back at his father.  "I'm not going to hell
because I'm going to join a church that believes that God loves
everyone. and I'm going to be baptized there, too.  You and Billy
Bob are the ones that are wrong!"
     "GO TO YOUR ROOM!!! - and don't come out until I say it's
okay.  I'll deal with you later, you dumb little hellion!!!"
     Young Bret was only too glad to leave the table.  He was
glad that he'd eaten most of his meal.  He defiantly tromped up
the stairs and started to slam his door, but thought better of
it.
     The rest of the family sat there not knowing what they
should do.
     "If any of you agree with him, you can go to your rooms,
too.  Otherwise, eat your dinner."
     No one could finish the meal, except for Bret Senior who
acted like nothing had happened.  He was boiling inside, but
didn't show it.
     Beth silently said a prayer for her son, and then asked God
to forgive her husband.  There was cake for dessert, but she
wasn't going to serve it unless she was told to do so.  Finally,
although Paul was still hungry, he asked to be excused.  Terry
and Sally also asked to be excused.
     "Stay away from your older brother," came the warning.  "I
don't want you talking to him."
     After the three children left the table, Beth stood up to
start clearing the table.  She didn't want to cross her husband,
but she felt Bret was being too hard on their son.
     "Don't you think you were a little hard on him?  After all,
he was just curious about that church.  I've always wanted to see
the inside, too."
     Bret glared at her, thinking he'd been challenged.  "Oh
great, my son defies me and now my wife tells me she agrees with
him.  Do you have any idea how it looks for a man in my position
at the Victory Temple to have my family go to church someplace
else - somewhere where they make a mockery of religion by their
fancy ceremonies and preaching that God loves everyone?  Well,
I've got news for you, woman, God doesn't love everyone and
belonging to that cathedral is no guarantee that you're going to
get into heaven.  I guess I need to have Billy Bob explain some
things to you in case you've forgotten."
     Beth didn't say anything.  She simply gathered the plates
with the half eaten meals and removed them to the kitchen.  'What
is wrong with Bret?' she wondered.  There had to be problems at
the Victory Temple.
     She realized that Bret had gone out the front door, gotten
in his car and driven off down the street.  This was her
opportunity to try to comfort her children, so she went upstairs.
They were all in Bret Junior's room, the door open, clinging
tightly to each other.
     "Your father is gone for a little bit, but I don't know how
soon he will be back.  I don't know what the problem is," she
said, reaching for the children to help comfort them.  "Just
don't do anything to upset him when he comes back."
     Beth decided that she had better get the kitchen cleaned up.
She didn't want to further trouble the waters.
     * * * * *
     Bret Senior drove around Williamsport, trying to clear his
head.  He hadn't meant to be so hard on Bret Junior, but he'd put
up with his stubborn silence for almost three years and now he
had done something that was unforgivable, in his father's eyes.
     He drove to Rev. Billy Bob's house, but his car wasn't
there.  He figured that he and his wife had been invited to
someone's home for dinner.  Bret knew that Victory Temple had
borrowed money to cover their operating deficit, he had co-signed
the notes and the shortfall was growing.  The oldest note of $50
thousand was coming due and the bank had suggested that
responsible members of the congregation secure the renewal.  At
first he had considered a second mortgage on his own home, but
others he had talked to were reluctant to give their personal
guarantees.  Two of the people he had asked had started attending
another church.  Then the big blow was when Gerald Hilton said
they were moving to Houston for another job at a higher salary
and better chance of advancement.  Gerald was Vice-President of
Operations at the Bank of Commerce, the bank the Williamson
family owned.  He and his wife, Suzy, contributed almost $1,000 a
month to Victory Temple and had never asked for anything in
return.  They had also been extremely generous when funds were
needed for one thing or another that was outside the budget, like
repair of the heating and air conditioning system.
     The latest financial statement showed that the church owed
$350 thousand on the building and then there were two notes to
cover operating expenses that totaled another $100 thousand.
They hadn't been able to do anything except pay the interest on
those notes for over a year.
     Driving on, he ended up at the Victory Temple building.
Rev. Billy Bob's car was in the parking lot.  He thought it was
strange, but maybe he was here to meet with someone who needed
help with a problem.
     Letting himself quietly into the church, he headed toward
the office complex.  It was unlocked and the door open.  Billy
Bob was in his office waiting for a ten-year-old boy, Sammy
Murdock, who hadn't shown up, yet.  He was five minutes late.
Hearing a noise, Billy Bob thought it might be Sammy, but instead
it was Bret Jenkins.  That gave him a start.  He realized that he
was going to have to be more careful when meeting these young
boys in his office.
     "Oh. hi Bret."  Billy Bob was very nervous.  He needed to
get rid of Bret.  "I didn't know that you were coming back."
     "I. I think I left my Bible in the pew where we sat this
morning," he replied, wondering what was going on.
     "Okay.  Well, pal, I have a meeting coming up shortly.
Counseling, you know?" he told Bret.
     "I'll find it and then go on, but I need to meet with you,
too, to talk about the Hilton's leaving the church."
     "Give me a call when you want to get together," Billy Bob
said, going back into his office.
     Bret didn't have any reason to go anywhere except home, so
he left the building.  As he was starting to leave the parking
lot, he saw a young boy enter the building.  It looked like the
Murdock's youngest boy.  What on earth would Billy Bob be
counseling him about?
     * * * * *
     Bret went back home.  The kitchen was clean and it seemed as
if no one was in the house.  Beth was lying on their bed, sound
asleep.  He took off his good clothes, hanging them up.  Seeing
his wife lying on the bed wearing her slip made him horny, but he
put it out of his mind.  He didn't know where the kids were and
he and his wife hadn't had sex except after they went to bed for
years.
     He wanted to talk to his oldest son.  He hadn't meant to get
mad at him, but with everything else that had happened lately,
this had been the last straw - having his son attend church
somewhere else, even if he was just visiting.  It just didn't
look right for a son of the church treasurer to do that.
     Paul was in the garage, cleaning his camping equipment and
putting it away.  Bret apologized to him and gave his a squeeze
around the shoulders, something he never did.  Paul thought it
odd, as his father hadn't touched him, except to spank him, since
he was about 10 years old.
     "Where's your brother, Bret?" he asked.
     "You sent him to his room.  He was still there the last time
I saw him," Paul replied.
     Bret left without saying anything more to Paul, who was
relieved to see him go, but he felt sorry for his older brother.
     Bret Senior found his son sitting at his desk doing
homework.  He knocked softly on the door, even though it was
open.  Bret Junior turned around and was not pleased to see his
father standing there.  He was afraid, not knowing what was going
to happen next.
     "Son, can I talk to you?" he asked softly.
     "Yeah." Bret said, hesitation evident in his voice.
     "I need to make it clear to you as to why I don't want you
going back to the church where you went last night and this
morning."
     "Dad. it was beautiful and the music was so grand and their
robes...  I really felt that I'd been in a special place this
morning."
     Not what his father wanted to hear.
     "Bret, listen to me.  That church is very liberal in their
views of how they think about things.  They are like the
Catholics, they think they are better than anyone else and they
try to push their views off on other people who don't know the
true way like we do at Victory Temple.  Rev. Billy Bob works hard
to make people realize that they have to work for their
salvation.  It's not something that's just handed to you because
you have been baptized.  I don't care what they told you, but
that's not the way it works in God's real world."
     As he was saying this, the thought crossed his mind that
maybe Billy Bob could be wrong, too.  'Naa, those churches had
been around for hundreds of years and hadn't done anything to
update their theology and beliefs.  They needed someone like
Billy Bob to make them realize the world had changed.'
     "But Dad. they do everything with reverence - like they are
in God's presence.  There's no screaming or pounding or yelling
at people to repent, like Rev. Billy Bob does.
     "Bret, I told you that I don't want you going back there.
You'll get exposed to some bad things.  That church likes faggots
- queers - homosexuals - perverts - whatever you want to call
them - and the Bible says that's wrong.  How can they call
themselves Christians and not believe the Bible?"
     "I didn't see any faggots there," Bret said, realizing that
he wouldn't know what one looked like, anyway.
     "Their minister is a faggot.  He's 'married' to another fag
- the music director.  They sponsor a kind of fag club.  The
Williamson family gives a lot of money to that church and their
new general manager is a faggot that lives with another one.  And
I hear that some schoolteachers go there, that are fags, too.
It's bad enough that a church likes them, but now they have them
teaching in the school system, recruiting young boys like you.
Rev. Billy Bob and I are going to go sit in the parking lot the
next time their fag club meets and get their names.  Then we'll
make sure everyone in town knows who they are.  That's why I
don't want you going there.  I'm just trying to protect you from
someone who might harm you, to try to seduce you and do bad,
nasty things to you."
     Suddenly, Bret Junior realized a couple of things.  Dale
worked for the Williamson ranch.  He remembered that he and his
friend, Craig, were wearing rings that were alike.  Also, Mr.
Thompson and Mr. Bryant were schoolteachers and they were wearing
rings alike, too.  Those guys didn't act like faggots, but he
also didn't know how faggots were supposed to act.
     Dale had been a little league coach and everyone knew that
Mr. Bryant and Mr. Thompson lived together.  They had been nice
to him and he would like to have them for friends.
     His mind was spinning now.  Rev. Billy Bob more nearly fit
the description of a faggot. and he had done some things with
Bret that could be considered wrong or nasty.  What his father
was telling him didn't make any sense; he would have to think
about this some more.  The books he had read in the library
didn't cover all of what his dad was telling him.
     "Son, I'm telling you this for your own good.  Stay away
from there or you will get caught up in something that's not
right.  Something that's really bad, like force you to do nasty
things that are against your will."
     Bret was uncomfortable with this conversation by now and was
more confused than ever.  He agreed just to get his father to end
the conversation.
     "Okay, Dad, if you say so."
     "That's my boy," Bret said, giving him a squeeze around his
shoulders.
     Bret Junior was equally startled.  His father hadn't touched
him in years except to paddle him when he was being punished for
something.
     His father left and he went back to his homework.  He had
some very specific questions.  Now to figure out how to get the
answers he needed.
     * * * * *
     (to be continued)
     * * * * *
Author's Note:  This is my first attempt at gay fiction, and the
only way I can learn whether or not I should continue is from my
readers' feedback.  I would appreciate your comments, criticism,
suggestions, and anything else that you would care to say.  All
Email will be answered.  If you wish to receive e-mail
notification of subsequent posting, please let me know by sending
your request to the e-mail address below.  Contact me at:
tulsadriller7@aol.com

Thanks for the overwhelming response to previous chapters.  I'm
sorry it has taken so long to write this chapter, but with the
seasonal activities and everything else that's been going on,
there just wasn't time to write.  Hopefully, I should be able to
get back on schedule after this next week.

My special thanks to Paul Daventon for his proofreading help.  He
is the author of  "Turning the Page" found in the "Adult-Friends"
section of Nifty.  Please read it.  He's working on a new story
for the college section.  I've proofed the first few chapters and
it's going to be a great story.