FOR LOVE OF A DREAM - 9



Copyright 2012 by Carl Mason


All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. However based on real events and places, "For Love of a Dream" is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Further, as in real life, sexual themes unfold gradually. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl_mason@verizon.net


If you would like to read additional stories by this author, please turn to the "Authors/Prolific Authors" link at the beginning of the Nifty Archive.


This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults and teenagers. As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, remember that maturity generally demands safe sex.



CHAPTER 9


(Revisiting Chapter 8)


Nels only wished that Kenny and he could have flown west together, been able to stay at the house for a few days while details settled out and, then, maybe, driven the 16 or 17 miles south to the Stanford campus together. Well, that wasn't going to happen tomorrow. Nels realized that his obligations to his dad and the pressure of inescapable decisions made it impossible. Actually, he fully accepted the obligations, albeit at the same time that he wondered about Stanford...and Kenny. Jason sounded overjoyed to hear that he was returning home on the morrow...though Nels suspected that he would have some "accounting" to do.


Kenny had to leave within minutes. (His uncle was picking him up. Fortunately, they got his clothes back on him before he sprinted for the door!) Jacob and Nels enjoyed a delicious dinner and talked (too) long into the night. Nels was ready for the next steps in his life. Feeling he had made the right decision in quickly returning to the Big Apple and confiding in Jacob, he turned over and fell asleep almost immediately.


(Continuing Our Story: The Horse Farm and the Boeing)


Nels was certainly correct about having "some accounting" to do, but, perhaps, he underestimated the pleasure with which Jason welcomed him home. The elder Sears even came to the airport rather than await the lad's arrival at home. The twin bear hugs with which they greeted each other left little question as to the joy with which they greeted their reunion.


Once the big limousine had cleared the airport, crossed the major north-south roads, and begun to head up into the hills of the estate country, the impeccably dressed financier turned to his rather grubby offspring with his first question. Treading softly, he asked, "Did you get done what you needed to accomplish, son?" "Yes, sir!" Nels answered definitively, adding, "Though I enjoyed it thoroughly, it felt good handling a couple of my own problems. Just for the sake of the record, dad, the way you trusted me taught me something that I won't forget, not that your financial support was any less appreciated. Thank you." "Good," Jason replied gently, placing his arm around Nels' shoulders and allowing his fingers to affectionately tweak the lad's earlobe. "Next steps?" he smiled.


"Dad, with classes starting next week, I won't be able to get into Stanford this year without your assistance. It's always been my first choice. The grades are no problem, not with only five 'Bs' over four years at Crocker Memorial," he snickered, and the activities list speaks for itself. Rather, the problem is that I've managed to miss every deadline for admission to the freshman class." "Whoa, Big Guy!" Jason rumbled. "I dare say that the public is well aware of major reasons for your...tardiness. I'd be surprised if Admissions people down on the Farm are any less aware. [Author's Note: Senator Stanford's 8,180-acre mid Peninsula property, including his famous horse farm, was part of the grant that allowed the Stanfords to establish the University in 1891. "The Farm" is still a major nickname.] May I run interference for you on this one?" "Yes...and thanks again," the young man replied. "Anything else?" Jason asked.


"Sir, Ken Alison, a friend of mine - about my age, for he served in the Army in Afghanistan - was just admitted to Stanford. I was hoping that the two of us could have flown west today. For a variety of reasons, this didn't work out. Would it be at all possible for you to call the Alisons, or Kenny's uncle who is a lawyer, and invite him to stay with us until we get everything under control down at school? I'd be happy to meet him at the airport, by the way." Without further questions, Jason said, "No problem... Give me the phone numbers, and I'll take care of it this afternoon."


About two hours later, the phone rang for Nels. Kenny was so excited that his babble could barely be translated into standard English. "What kind of magician are you, Sears?" he asked. "My uncle knew who Jason Sears was. When he told my folks, that was the end of that. And I'm going to be staying with you until we can get things going at Stanford! Wow! Man, they got so much of the message that they're actually allowing me to travel across country alone! What in hell is this about your also being admitted as a Stanford freshman?"


"Wow, indeed," Nels exclaimed. With the slightest trace of sarcasm, he added, "You do realize, of course, the Dad is honored beyond belief to be entertaining an Afghan vet. If you can convince him to let you do something other than exchange war stories, we might see a bit of the City. As well as getting down to Stanford, we might also see just a bit of the Peninsula that's really God's country. Maybe even have a special dinner in the City... Hey, before I forget it , please immediately e-mail me with 1) all of your flight data (since I'll be meeting you), 2) your preference between having your own bedroom and occupying the extra bed in mine, and 3) any foods or liquids which you simply can't eat/drink without breaking out in a 'B&G rash'. More on that really sickening rash (which rumor has it is an STD) and my joining you at Stanford when we have time to talk. Following a few more minutes of chit-chat, the boys wrapped things up with Nels' reminder that he needed the data... like yesterday.


After a pleasant family dinner and a quiet evening, Jason had turned in. He had just turned his reading lamp off when he heard a knock on his door that stood slightly ajar. As it swung open at his invitation, he instinctively looked up to behold what had to be a dream. For a minute or so, Nels stood tall in the moonlight that filtered in through the room's great Palladian window. Even though the Greeks would have seen a god, Jason beheld the ultimate perfection of the young adult male.


The light was such that it could not illuminate the body's full muscularity as if spotlighted while in play on a sunny beach. True, the higher surfaces of the muscles - the magnificent facial planes, the biceps, pecs, abs, and quads - glowed softly as if lighted chemically from within. Otherwise, however, the illumination was more like that of a light fog gently backlit by a distant moon, a mist that sent tendrils down into the lower valleys, a mist that gave depth to the vision and mystery to that which could only be imagined.


Slowly, ever so slowly, the beloved figure approached, finally bending down and slipping into the bed beside him. The flesh was firm, but warm; the scent so very familiar...and so missed whenever absent from his life. (Sometimes, Jason's mind momentarily wandered back to the fairy tales of his childhood. Was it at all possible that a figure constructed of steel, polymers, and innumerable other substances that he couldn't even pronounce had come to life...like a latter-day Pinocchio? Would the miracle be any less than that which transpired from the union of a human egg and a sperm?) No matter... This was his dream. He reached out and gathered in the scrotum that hung well down between the lad's smooth, muscled thighs. For a moment, he played with the heavy balls that filled the depths of the sack made of soft hairless flesh. Then sensing a growing warmth in the muscular tube that was rapidly increasing in length, girth, and hardness, he quickly ran his tongue from the root to the moist tip that was fast uncloaking. With a Herculean effort, he reached under the lad's heavy torso, turned him over, and fastened his lips on an already quivering anal sphincter. The cry of "Oh, dad...I love you so" rang in his soul as he continued.


Nels was still ecstatic when he checked his computer first thing in the morning. Putting Kenny's message with its travel data into his pocket, he reminded himself that his friend would be arriving around 1:00 pm, pdt (Pacific Daylight Time). He could also tell Mrs. Sampson, the head housekeeper, that Kenny would use his second bed and his bathroom. (Avoiding the virulent B&G rash would be an ongoing project!) Noting that his dad was already at the breakfast table, he sat down, grinning at the cook who was already setting a plate down at his place. "Oh, man!" he exclaimed to Miss Tyler. "Your chow is fantastic. I really needed some of that in New York!" "Chow?" Jason sniffed. "Where did you learn that one...in West New York?" "Guess so, O Grand Poo-bah," Nels laughed. "Sorry you have to go into work today, but I'll take care of getting Kenny situated. Should dinner still be served at six, unless we hear from you to the contrary?" "Six is fine, son." Jason said quietly. "Anything else?" Nels almost choked on his orange juice as he realized that he had almost forgotten to tell his dad that Kenny still had some open sores from gruesome experiences in Afghanistan. He knew that he would try to be the "good guest" and share, but... Jason almost spilled the last of his coffee as he heard one of his colleagues making his way up the driveway. "Thanks for telling me, Beast," he said. "I'll try to be good," he added...with obvious regret. Noting that the cook had gone into the pantry, he placed his hand lightly on Nels' shoulder and whispered, "Always remember that I love you. By the way, I don't believe that I've told you explicitly that you have been admitted to Stanford's freshman class. I sent you an e-mail with some information you need to know." With that he was out the door.


(Hey, Dude!)


"HEY, DUDE! OVER HERE..." Nels had been searching the faces of arrivées for a good 15 minutes, but had yet to spot Kenny. "Damn!" he growled, "How many planes dump their passengers here during lunchtime? Guess they don't even want to give them a free pak of peanut butter crackers!" "Hey, Dude! Over here..." "There it is again," the big blond thought. "Man, what a screech!" Swiveling his head around, he finally caught sight of his friend in the swirling crowd. "Oh, no! What in hell?" he moaned. Dodging the bamboo trees, the strikingly handsome redhead gradually worked his way across the arrivals area, Nels realized that he was lugging a surfboard. His travel dress consisted of sandals and a pair of lime boardshorts coupled with a tight wife beater in the colored stripes of the gay flag! "Hey, Dude!" the ghastly apparition blared for the third time as it swept Nels up into a major bear hug. Would that a newspaper photographer hadn't chosen that time to sweep San Francisco's International Airport! Sheesh! After snapping several pictures, he appeared to be setting up for an interview when Nels grabbed Kenny by the arm and headed for the safety of the bamboo forest.

 

"Kenny!" he choked. Clearly upset, he exclaimed, "Believe it or not, this is San Francisco, not LA! (Kenny's jaw dropped as Nels stood about two inches in front of him, red of face, and even sputtering a little as he struggled with his frustration.) "Chill, friend," Kenny said in a low voice. "I only wanted talk like they do in California, dress like they do in California, and..." (Pause.) "Well, I just wanted to say I was happy to be in California...and to be with you. Obviously, there are some things that I've got to learn about this state... I sure hope nothing's happened to change your feelings about me." (Pause.) "Nah, friend," Nels replied firmly. With a grin he added, "I'm just havin' my period. Relax, but let's get the hell out of here." "Right on!" Kenny exclaimed, "though first we need to pick up two large bags that checked in lockers. Dad's shipping the rest in a big old steamer trunk." The redheaded one shook his head and grinned wryly."


Finally, the two enormous bags were loaded into the limousine's trunk (with enough space for one or two more), and the surfboard was lashed to the roof. Sweating, Kenny first looked at Nels, then around the parking lot, at the surfboard-laden black limo, and finally back over to Nels. With a crooked smile, he commented, "Well, S-e-a-r-s, I will admit that it looks a little out of place. Pictures of LAX (Los Angeles International Airport) I saw on the 'Net showed all kinds of limos... and surfboards lashed to just about everything on wheels. Guess San Francisco and LA are a little different, yes?" "Believe it, New Yorker, believe it!" laughed Nels, strapping himself into the driver's seat. Northern and southern California are really like two different states...in addition to being two states of mind. Although I much prefer this area, each has a lot to offer. You'll see." Suddenly, Nels' phone rang. It was Jason, checking in from his office in the City. "Hi, Dad!" the blond said happily. "What's up?" It seems that Jason wanted to greet their houseguest personally... and tell them of a change in plans. He wanted them to meet him at a noted restaurant in the City called the "Delhi" at seven. When the call ended, Nels explained that he had suggested the weary traveler simply come to the restaurant dressed as he was. Unfortunately, he explained to Kenny, Jason had held out for a suit and tie - which he hoped the Easterner had packed in one of his suitcases. "You do have one with you, don't you?" he chortled. "Man, Nels," the redheaded one nearly exploded, "If you really suggested to your father that I wanted to come to a fine restaurant dressed this way, you're certifiable!"


The bickering abruptly ended as the limo entered the Alison property and began its drive up the hill. "Holy shit...", Kenny mumbled, barely under his breath. Cordially greeted by the staff, he (and his two enormous suitcases) were almost magically transported to Nelson's apartment. "Gotta get a shower and peel these clothes off..." Kenny mumbled as Nels headed immediately for his word processor. "One sec, friend," the redhead murmured. "Dad sent me an e-mail that he wanted me to check immediately. Ha! Yeah... Come over here and check this out." Looking up at Kenny who had quickly moved beside him, Nels wrinkled his nose and groaned, "You stink!" "Yes, mother. Now that message..." Nels read aloud, "Stanford has appointed an advisor to help you and your friend with the many forms and tasks that others have been completing for some time. Give Ms. Joan Philbrick a ring immediately at the number noted below and make an appointment. She works in the office of the Vice Provost for Undergraduate Education. Love, Dad." Nels was only able to speak with a secretary, but made an appointment with Ms. Philbrick for 9:00 a.m. the next morning.


Rising from his word processor, Nels held a hand out to his friend. When taken, he vigorously pulled him into his body. "Gotta get a shower," he mumbled, "but first, love, these 'dude-duds' gotta go! May I do the honors?" Kenny growled, "Be my guest, limp dick!" Using one hand to steady the lad, Nels used the other to simply rip the cheap fabric of the striped wife beater off his body. Red Alison almost bent over backwards as his host's lips buried themselves in the hollow between his heavy neck and shoulder muscles. Those selfsame lips began exploring his muscular torso as his fingers untied the cord holding his boardshorts. Untied, Nels pushed them down off Kenny's rounded buttocks and the major protrusion up front. "At least you know when to go camo," the blond grunted. "One point for California!" his friend panted. Still hugging, kissing, and wildly exploring the other's muscular body, the two friends stood in shower stall, allowing the water to wash away some of the day's frustrations. "Oh, love," Alison whimpered. "I need you in me...so bad..." Passions rising, he muttered roughly, "I've had enough of this dance! I'm yours, Nels. Take me!" (Pause.)


"You had any real experience back there, buddy?" his blond companion asked. In a discouraged tone of voice, the beautiful redhead whispered, "No, love, but all of us have to have a 'first time', don't we?" "I can't believe I'm saying this, Kenny," Nels interrupted, "but the first time takes time if it's going to happen in a way that you'll remember all your life...all our lives. Wait just a few hours and I'll get you ready. In the meantime..." Provocatively, Nels licked and then bit gently on Ken's nipples before beginning to kiss his way down his torso. (Believe that his fingers, lips, and tongue were working in full harmony as they paid homage to every muscle in Ken's well defined torso.) When his knees finally rested on the tiled floor, he stopped abruptly, looked up at his friend mischieviously, then rose just enough to swallow most of Red's hefty boner in one gulp.


[Author's Note: Time to be heading into the City, good Reader! We'll leave the two lads in the shower stall and pick them up about 45 minutes later. The evening air was atypically warm and the top was down as the small convertible that Nels had selected from the garage headed north.]



(To Be Continued)