Date: Mon, 7 Oct 2013 21:36:51 +0100
From: Lamort DeLioncourt <lamortdelioncourt1954@hotmail.com>
Subject: Bobby and I Chapter 8

Bobby and I
Chapter 8

When we got to Grandma's house, Mr. Evans unloaded me from the car, and got
me into the house. He took me to the dining room, and sat me down at the
table. Grandma and Bobby joined me.

Grandma said that with all that awful hospital food, it was time for a real
meal. She called Mrs. Evans, and asked her to serve lunch. Mr. and
Mrs. Evans had worked for Grandma for over 20 years, and they were friends
rather than employees. Mrs. Evans took care of the house and cooking, and
Mr. Evans took care of the landscaping and transportation.

Lunch was a beautiful roast chicken, with mashed potatoes and gravy, and
asparagus with hollandaise sauce. It was a delightful lunch, but I was
still having some difficulty chewing my food.

After lunch, Bobby and I walked out to the garden and found a quiet place
by the fountain to sit and talk. I told him how much I appreciated his help
and his Dad's help during this ordeal. I also told him that he had spent an
excessive amount of time staying with me, and was neglecting his family. I
told him Grandma would take good care of me, and he needed to go home and
spend time with his family.

Bobby was looking away from me while I was speaking, and when I finished,
he turned back to me. He had tears streaming down both cheeks. I asked him
what was wrong.

When he was able to compose himself a little, he told me what had gone on
while I was in the hospital. The day after the beating, my Dad went over to
Bobby's house to see his Dad. My Dad told his Dad everything he had seen us
doing.

Bobby's Dad had called him into his office and sat him down for a talk. He
asked Bobby if what my Dad told him was true. Bobby didn't lie and told him
it was. His Dad wanted to know if this was something serious, or if this
was like the boys playing with each other's dicks. Bobby then spoke the
words that would change his life forever. He told his Dad, "I love Barry."

His Dad told him that there was no place in his home for queers or fags,
and that if he really loved me, then he needed to get his stuff together
and get out. His Dad also told him not to say anything to the boys before
he left. His Dad's last words to him were, "I have no son named Bobby, and
you have no Dad named Frank."

Bobby went up to his room, packed what few things he thought he needed into
his camping backpack, and went downstairs and out the front door. He told
me he never looked back as he walked away.

Bobby caught a ride with a friend to the train station and bought a ticket
to Montauk. In just under an hour, Bobby was in Montauk. He called my
Grandma and she sent Mr. Evans to pick him up.

The next day, Bobby and Grandma came to the hospital, and Bobby never left
my side again.

I was crying while he recited these events, which changed his life
forever. I felt that I was responsible for ruining all the good things in
his life. I finally asked him why he didn't just lie to his Dad so
everything could stay the same. He told me, "Nothing would be the same if I
lied about loving you, I can't keep hiding my feelings for you."

I leaned over to him and he put his arms around me. We kissed our first
kiss since this terrible ordeal had begun. I broke the kiss, and asked him,
"What do we do now?" He shook his head as we cried on each other's
shoulders.

After we finished our talk, I told him we needed to tell Grandma what was
going on. I felt it was unfair for her not too know what was going on.  We
went inside and found her in her sewing room working on a quilt. We asked
her if we could talk to her, and she smiled and said sure.

We went to the sitting room, and once settled, she asked Mrs. Evans bring
us some tea. After the tea arrived, she looked at both of us
expectantly. We were having difficulties finding our voices, and the right
words to use.

She took the initiative, and spoke first. "Your father was here while you
were in the hospital; he told me you were both faggots and that you both
were thrown out of your homes, and could never return. He also told me that
if he ever found that I helped you in anyway, he would never speak to me
again." She smiled her famous little girl smile as she said, "That about
cover it?"

I know the color drained from my face, and Bobby looked stunned. I finally
managed to say yes, that was about it. I also told her we needed to make
sure my Dad never found out that she had helped us. I didn't want her
oldest son never speaking to her again. Grandma laughed, and told us that
Dad would never stop talking to her, because if he did, she would cut him
out of her will.


Grandma then gave us her warmest, kindest smile and said she had some
things to ask us. "First", she said, "Do you really love each other?" We
both nodded in unison. "Do you understand that the path you are choosing
will cause you great pain and hardship in the future? We again nodded
yes. "Do you understand that by choosing this path, you will never be able
to turn back?" We paused for a moment then nodded yes again. Her last
question was unexpected, "Is there anything I can do to make you change
your minds?" We both shook our heads no.

"Well then, I won't try to dissuade you. You will stay here with me until
Barry is completely healed," she said. She told us she would provide us a
safe haven from my Dad, but that we needed to leave New York as soon as
possible. If your father finds you, he will most likely beat you again, and
you might not survive.

We thanked her for her kindness, and she got up and went back to her sewing
room.

Bobby showed me the way to our bedroom. The stairs were a nightmare of
pain, but I managed. The room was warm, and with my taped ribs, I was
feeling hot. I took off my shirt, and hung it up in the closet. I went over
and sat down on the bed while Bobby took his shirt off. When he turned his
back to me, I was stunned. His entire back from the tops of his shoulder
blades to his lower back was a massive black and blue bruise. I asked him
what happened, and he laughed and said, "Your Dad." I instantly remembered
Bobby being thrown across the hall and smashing into the wall. I asked if
it was still painful, and he told me it was at times, especially when he
leaned against something. I tried to apologize for what my Dad had done,
but Bobby told me not to worry.

Our lives settled in to a routine, we took all our meals with Grandma, we
spent time out in the garden, and a couple times a week Mr. Evans would
take us to the beach, for what Grandma called therapeutic sun and air.

Days turned into weeks, and wounds healed. Soon the doctor was visiting,
removing the tape from my ribs. Then he was back to remove the cast. On his
final visit, he carefully checked my nose and eye. He told us the eye
socket had healed nicely and I shouldn't have any problems with it. After
examining my groin, he told me he saw no reason why my penis wouldn't work
correctly. All the swelling had resolved and the soft tissue damage to the
shaft had healed. The scars from the stitches in my scrotum were already
beginning to fade; I looked like I had pink racing stripes on my
scrotum. My circumcision was high and extremely tight, due to the amount of
damage, the skin had sustained, and I had a dark scar circling my dick.

A couple of nights later, I saw headlights in the driveway. Grandma didn't
usually entertain visitors this late in the evening, so I wondered what was
going on. I went out in the hall and walked over to the
staircase. Mr. Evans was opening the door, and my Dad pushed his way
in. Grandma stopped him in the foyer and asked what he wanted. He started
shouting that he knew she was hiding the faggots and he was here to do
something about it. Grandma told him to get out, and he grabbed her
arm. Mr. Evans stepped up behind him, taking him by the arm and telling him
it was time to go. Dad spun around as if to hit Mr. Evans, but Mr. Evans
backed up a little and looked down, indicating the small gun in his
hand. He again, very politely, invited my Dad to leave. Dad looked at him
and said, "You wouldn't dare". Mr. Evans looked him dead in the eyes and
said, "I assure you sir, that if you touch anyone else in this house I will
shoot you." With those words, he released the safety and cocked the gun. My
Dad was speechless, and pushed his way out the front door. He got into his
car, and with tires squealing, tore down the driveway. On the way, he
managed to hit one of Grandma's five hundred pound lions, which guarded
each side of the circular drive.

Bobby missed the whole event, having been in the bathroom. He came over to
me and asked what was wrong. He told me later, that I was shaking so bad
that it looked like I was having a seizure. I was unable to speak. He saw
that my pants were wet, realising that I had peed in them.

Grandma came upstairs to check on me, and Bobby told her I must have been
having a seizure. He told her he had seen a kid at school have one, and he
peed in his pants too.

Grandma knelt down, and held me tightly to her, all the while whispering
that everything was ok, that Dad was gone. She didn't let go of me while
she called Mrs. Evans upstairs to draw a bath for me. She told me I would
feel much better after a nice hot bath.

She then explained to Bobby what had just happened. He stared at her in
disbelief. She asked him to get me to the bathroom and out of my
clothes. She asked him to put the wet pants on the towel bar so Mrs. Evans
could take care of them.  Bobby got me into the bathroom, got me naked, and
got me into the tub. I don't remember Bobby taking me to the bathroom. The
funny thing was that for being so scared, I had a hard-on. Bobby looked at
it and said, "Hey, look at that. You got a stiffy". The warm water made me
feel instantly better. My voice returned and I told Bobby I had never been
so scared in my life. I was sure Dad had come to the house to kill
me. Bobby said that obviously, Mr. Evans thought the same thing, and that's
why he was carrying a gun.


Bobby joined me in the tub, and I asked if the warm water helped his
back. He said it did. I could see his hard-on through the suds and I
reached for it. I wrapped my hand around it, and stroked him up and down,
squeezing the shaft with each stroke. He told me I didn't need to do that,
and I told him I wanted to. After a few minutes of stroking, I told him to
move up on his knees and straddle my lap, so I could suck his dick. He said
he didn't think this was the right time for sucking. I told him to shut up
and bring his stiffy to me. He did as I asked, and I slowly licked and
kissed his dick and nutsack. It felt so right to be doing this again. I
licked up to his head, and found that he was pumping precum out. I slowly
took him into my mouth, and before I could get him into my throat, he shot
his load. Cum was blasting out of him in unbelievable quantities. I kept
sucking while he kept shooting. He must have fired off a dozen shots before
he was done. I held him in my mouth while his cock finished pulsing. As he
withdrew, I sucked him clean, leaving no cum behind.

He sat down on my lap, and caught his breath. He apologized for shooting so
soon, explaining that he hadn't cum since the night of the beating. His
cock never softened, and I told him to get back up on his knees. In the
blink of an eye, his hot meat was back in my mouth for round two. He lasted
much longer this time, but still unloaded an incredible amount of cum into
me. His cock finally softened, and I cleaned him as he withdrew from me.

He moved back to his previous position in the tub, and stretched out. My
dick was still hard. I wrapped my hand around it, and didn't feel any pain,
so I started stroking it. It felt nice to be able to stroke my dick
again. It felt strange stroking without my foreskin. There was absolutely
no skin movement on my shaft. My hand had to rub over the newly exposed
head, which was still sensitive to any touch. Fortunately, the water acted
as a lubricant.

When Bobby saw what I was doing, he moved back over to me and replaced my
hand with his. He was an expert at masturbating a tightly circumcised
cock. He worked me for a few minutes, and all of a sudden cum was flying
out of me. I didn't even feel a build up to orgasm. I just started
shooting. I must have shot at least six wads before I softened. Bobby was
pleased, telling me, "Looks like everything still works." I reminded him
that the doctor had told us that if my penis worked, I would be able to
ejaculate, but it would be thin and watery, not thick and creamy. Bobby
looked at me and said, "Does that matter?"

When we were both completely soft, we got out of the tub. Mrs. Evans
knocked on the bathroom door, and slowly opened it. She had big bath
towels, which she had warmed for us. We looked at each other, and her, and
she said, "You boys don't have anything I have seen before." She held out
one of the towels and indicated she wanted Bobby to come over to her. He
did so and she wrapped the towel around him, while pulling enough up to dry
his hair for him. Next was my turn and she did the same for me.

She picked up the dirty clothing, and took the wet pants from the holder. I
tried to apologize for peeing in my pants, but she held her hand up to stop
me. She told me she was surprised that all I did was pee in them. She then
told me she had washed plenty of peed in pants in her life.

She left, and we walked down to the bedroom. She had laid out silk jammies
for us, and on the tea table was a silver service tray with a pot of hot
cocoa and two cups on it, there was also a small tray of biscotti
cookies. The hot cocoa smell was marvelous, wafting across the room. We got
our cocoa, and sat down on the soft chairs. We didn't speak much while we
dipped our Biscotti in the hot cocoa.

Bobby looked at me and I looked back, we were both thinking the same
thing. Bobby spoke first, saying, "We need to leave tonight before your Dad
comes back and hurts someone." I told him I agreed, but we had
nothing. Where were we going to go? Bobby said he heard there was a large
queer community in San Francisco, and he didn't think my Dad would travel
that far to find us. I agreed again, but that didn't help the problem of no
money. Bobby said that Victor had told him that many men would pay money to
have sex with boys. Victor knew because he used to do it at the marina to
supplement his pay. Bobby thought that maybe we could work our way to San
Francisco sucking cock and letting men suck us. Bobby also brought up the
topic of anal sex. He told me Victor told him that he made more money
letting men fuck him, than any other way. I told him I was willing to do it
if it was the only way to get away from my Dad. Bobby looked at me and
said, "I'm still waiting for you to fuck me, then I will think about
letting some man do it for money."

We decided that we would leave that night so as not to endanger Grandma or
the Evans.

The first thing we had to do was get to Penn Station. Trains went
everywhere from there. Bobby had a small printed train schedule, and we
checked it. The last train to the city left Montauk at 1:00am. Since it was
only 9:00pm, we had plenty of time to get to the station.

We waited for the house to settle down for the night, before leaving. I
wrote a note to Grandma thanking her for everything, and I explained Bobby
and I needed to leave so Dad wouldn't hurt them. I left the note on the
dining room table where she would find it in the morning when she came down
for coffee.

We gathered the best of the winter clothes that Grandma had gotten us, and
packed the camping backpack. We slipped down the stairs, and left through
the front door.  At the end of the driveway, I stopped and looked
back. With tears in my eyes, we continued on our way, knowing that I would
never see this place or Grandma again.

We made our way to the main road, and were able to catch a ride to the
train station.

The only person at the station besides us was the ticket vendor. We took a
seat out of the wind, and started to make a plan to get to the city. The
ticket vendor kept looking at us, and smiling. It was getting cold, when he
came out and asked us if we were waiting for the train, and why were out so
late at night. We told him about a sick relative in the city, and that we
were trying to get there. He told us to come inside and warm up. We
followed him in, and sat down on the sofa that was in the office.


This is an original work of homoerotic non-fiction. © 2013 Lamort DeLioncourt
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