Date: Thu, 19 May 2011 21:40:38 -0700
From: h.schreiber@hushmail.com
Subject: Just Like Scott Chapter 19 by Hans Schreiber

Warning! This story is a work of fiction written by a legal age adult. Any
similarity between the fictional characters and any live persons is purely
coincidental. This story contains fictional descriptions of sexual activity
between consenting minor youth. If you are under the age of 18, and/or if
you are offended by this content, and/or if it is illegal in your
jurisdiction to possess or read such material, please leave now and do not
read this story as neither the internet host nor the author can be
responsible for your actions. Please, always practice safe sex; no
momentary thrill is worth your life.

This work is copyrighted (c) by Hans Schreiber. You may not reproduce this
story in whole or in part without the express written consent of Hans
Schreiber at h.schreiber@hushmail.com.

Chapter 19

Back on the Farm

	Scott followed Mr. Jenkins around and learned where to put the
irrigation tubes. Mr. Jenkins was twice as fast at getting them started as
Scott was. "Do it like this," Mr. Jenkins said. "Toss the rubber end into
the canal and let 'er fill. Then peel the foreskin back off'n the aluminum
end and put yer hand over the hole like this. Give a couple quick pumps
with yer hand and out she squirts. Almost like jerkin off, but not as
satisfyin'." He grinned at Scott's embarrassment over his
crudeness. Mr. Jenkins expelled a thick brown mass of chew spit onto the
ground and wiped his chin with his sleeve. "In a couple days, you'll have
'er down like a pro. Hell, you'll be better at this than gettin' yer own
tube squirtin'."

	Scott tried following his example, folding the canvas piece back
off the end of the tube and pressing his palm to it and pulling it free
quickly several times, but it just didn't work as easily for him. "Why'd
you put this canvas on the ends of the pipe, anyway? It kinda gets in the
way."

	"That's what I'm callin' the foreskin. It's a little trick of mine
and it really does work just like a foreskin on yer dick. It spreads the
flow out just enough to prevent the force of the stream from ruttin'out all
my furrows. It saves me a shitload o' time repairin' 'em. Course, if yer
dick's one o' them cut type, you prob'ly got no idea what the hell I'm
talkin' about."

	"Okay, yeah, I get it. Mine's not cut actually, so I do understand
how it sort of spreads out the piss stream if you don't pull the skin back
from the hole."

	"Ahhh, yer one o' the club members too, eh? Not too many of us
around. So I guess I don't have to show ya how it works, but I do gotta
piss anyhow. Feel free to join me if'n ya need to."

	Scott did need to pee, but he wasn't about to expose himself to
Mr. Jenkins. Things had gone from uncomfortable to downright weird. "Nah,
I'm good. So you want me to finish up here, now I know what to do?"

      Mr. Jenkins unzipped his jeans and fished out his own six inch
irrigation tube. He tugged on it a bit to get as much out of his fly as
possible. He stuffed his fingers of his left hand into the back pocket of
his jeans and draped his dick over just two fingers of his right hand. He
glanced over at Scott. Scott couldn't resist looking out of curiosity. It
appeared to be about the same size as his but maybe a little thinner. Scott
thought it was kind of disgusting how his grey pubes stuck out of his fly
at the base of his dick.

      Mr. Jenkins grinned when he saw Scott was peeking at him and said,
"Sure. When I finish up here, I'll walk back to the house and check on my
gates along the way, and you can take the truck back in. I'll make us up a
little snack and a cold drink fer when yer finished settin' water."

	"Umm, I appreciate that, but ... I've never driven before. I'm only
15. Mom won't let me try driving until I turn 16 and take driver's ed at
school this winter."

	"Well that's just horseshit. This is farm country. C'mon, we're
gonna give ya yer first drivin' lesson. Let's hurry and get the rest o'
these tubes a pissin' and I'll let ya drive us back." Mr. Jenkins stuffed
his dick back into his jeans. Scott thought it was really weird that
Mr. Jenkins never did actually go pee.

	"Wow. Thanks, that's awesome."

	Scott doubled his efforts to prime the tubes and by the end of the
sector, he was much faster but still way slower at it than Mr. Jenkins. It
was hot and Scott and Mr. Jenkins both shed their shirts, tossing them in
the truck cab. Scott was impressed with how buff Mr. Jenkins was for an old
guy. His skin was leathery looking though and he had a patch of grey hair
on his chest between his nipples. When they were done, Mr. Jenkins slapped
Scott on his sweaty back and told him he did a good job.

      They walked back to the truck and Scott caught the keys Mr. Jenkins
tossed to him before he climbed into the passenger seat. Scott was both
excited and nervous. He climbed in behind the wheel and found the place to
insert the key.

	"This ain't the easiest damn thing to drive so if'n ya learn on
this beast, ya can drive anything. It's a manual tranny so ya gotta push in
the clutch with yer left foot. That's it. Now start it." Scott tenuously
turned the key and the motor growled to life. He held the key a little too
long and it ground the starter a bit. He apologized, but Mr. Jenkins said
it was no big deal, that it just takes getting used to. Scott was grinning
and showing his dimples.

      "Now what?"

	"Put 'er in gear. Slide the stick all the way over toward ya and
then up. That's it. Now what ya wanna do is slowly let off the clutch
whil'st ya give 'er a little gas."

	Scott pushed the accelerator and dumped the clutch much too quickly
and the truck lurched forward and jerked, throwing him and Mr. Jenkins into
the back window and then forward again as it jumped and jerked, then
died. "Oh, sorry. I blew it. Maybe this isn't a good idea."

	"Yer not quittin' after one try are ya?"

	"Well, I just don't want to wreck your truck."

	"Hah, this piece o' shit? Not possible," chuckled Mr. Jenkins. "Now
try again, only this time slooooowly let out the clutch and just a little
bit o' gas."

	Scott concentrated. He inched the clutch slowly out just like on
his dirt bike when he wanted a smooth take off and edged the gas on
smoothly. Having ridden a dirt bike helped him with the concept and this
time there was only a slight jerk as the clutch disengaged and he was
moving down the dirt road. "Whoo-hoo, I did it!"

	"Damn nice. Yer a fast learner. Now ya need to shift to second. Let
off the gas, push in the clutch quickly, pull the stick straight down into
second. Let out the clutch."

	Scott thought about how he'd do it on his dirt bike and quickly
pushed in the clutch and the engine revved, so he let off the gas, pulled
on the stick and it ground a bit because the engine was still a little
revved, then let out the clutch and gave it the gas again. It wasn't
terribly smooth, but it wasn't half bad for a beginner. Scott smiled over
at Mr. Jenkins.

	"You'll be ready to race Indy by end o' the summer."

	Scott parked the truck in the yard sort of out in the open where
Mr. Jenkins said to. He assumed he had him park away from anything out in
the middle, so he didn't accidently crash it. "That was great," bubbled
Scott. "Thanks for teaching me."

	"Mighty welcome. Shit, a boy yer age should'a been drivin' at least
a year now."

	"Think I could do it again sometime? Keep practicing?"

	"Surely. Just make sure I'm with ya, 'til yer practiced good at
it."

	"Cool. Hey, this leather cover on the shifter knob is really soft."
Scott rubbed his palm over the soft brown covering.

	"Heh, well it should be soft, that there's the scrotum of a five
point buck I shot up Cottonwood Canyon a few years back. His head's mounted
in my livin' room and I et the rest of him, right down to his little
nuggets that used to fill that sac."

	Scott pulled his hand away and studied Mr. Jenkins. "Eww, you're
screwing with me, right?"

	"Nah, swear to God. I cut his balls off and cleaned it out good,
then stretched it over the knob and let it dry. As it dried, it shrunk up
over it good and tight. Look, there ain't no seams in it at all. My daddy
actually taught me how to do that. Pretty damn neat, don't ya think?"

	 Scott reached over felt it again. It was extremely soft. He felt
all around and sure enough, there were no seams in it anywhere so it had to
have shrunk down onto the shifter.

	"All right, stop playing with my scrotum and come on in for some
cold water, or I might even have some lemonade."

	"Oh, no thank you, I need to get home. I got some stuff to do
around there before my mom gets back from picking up a good friend of
mine. Thanks for letting me drive."

	"Yer welcome. Lissen though, come on in and get a drink and then
we'll put yer bicycle in the back o' the truck and I'll drop ya on home. I
insist. Ya worked hard and I know yer thirsty."

	"Well, okay. I guess. Thanks."

	They walked into the back door of the farm house into a mud
room. Mr. Jenkins pulled his rubber irrigating boots off and set them along
the wall under jackets and raincoats hanging on hooks. He went to the
opposite wall and washed his hands in a small sink next to a toilet in the
corner. A mirror ran all the way from the wall corner above the toilet and
clear past the sink. Scott kicked off his old, muddy tennis shoes and
followed Mr. Jenkins through a door on the other side of the sink into the
main part of the house.

	"Sit yerself down on the couch right there and I'll get us
somethin' cold to drink."

	"Umm, I actually need to use the bathroom, should I just use the
toilet in that room we left our shoes in?" asked Scott.

	"Sure. Go ahead."

	Scott headed back to the small room and just pulled his blue nylon
shorts and boxers down off his ass and down to his thighs since the shorts
didn't have a fly in them. He'd just started to spill into the toilet when
the door opened and Mr. Jenkins walked in. Scott flinched and tried to inch
toward the sink and restrict the view, but he quickly realized he was
completely visible in the mirror. He could see Mr. Jenkins checking him
out.

	"Need my knife from my overalls pocket to open the juice can."
Mr. Jenkins fumbled in the pocket of his overalls and then walked out again
with one eye focused on the image in the mirror as Scott shook off and
squeezed out the last drops.

	Scott washed up and headed nervously out into the living area again
and found Mr. Jenkins on the couch with a tall can and two glasses of iced
lemonade on the coffee table. Scott walked around the table and sat on the
couch. Mr. Jenkins held his glass up as if to make a toast. Scott lifted
his glass and clinked it against Mr. Jenkins' glass. "Here's to a good
season and to a good new farm hand."

	"Thanks. I appreciate the work."

	"Pleasure's all mine. I need the help. I need help with lots of
things these days. Especially since losin' ma wife last year. Ya know
Scott, I can tell, yer a fine young man." Mr. Jenkins reached down and
squeezed Scott's bare leg just above the knee. "That's quite the piece o'
equipment ya got there between yer legs. Bet ya got lots o' girlfriends
wantin' a piece o' that." He winked and grinned, then took a sip of his
lemonade.

	"Uhh, no, not really."

	"Really? That surprises me. A nice good lookin' kid like yerself?
I'd think they'd be linin' up."

	Scott blushed and gulped his lemonade. He was really
uncomfortable. He stared down at the hand on his thigh but Mr. Jenkins
didn't take the hint and move it.

	 "Ya know, Scott," began Mr. Jenkins with an awkward tone, "there's
other things around here I could have ya help me out with, so ya could earn
some exter money. If ya kinda get what I mean." He slid his hand up Scott's
thigh bunching up the leg of his blue, nylon shorts. "Let's say, if'n you'd
be a willin' to help me do some plowing in the back forty, I'd be willin'
to pay ya real good fer that." There was a note of desperation in his voice
almost. It was both creepy and sad.

	Scott's heart was pounding. He looked at the anxious expression on
Mr. Jenkins' face and felt the old farmer's rough hand on his upper
thigh. He guzzled the remaining lemonade and set the glass on the table and
stood up. "Maybe, I dunno. The waterin' might be all I really have time
for. We'll see. I better get going now. You don't have to drive me; I can
ride my bike. Thanks again for the job and letting me drive."

      Mr. Jenkins set his own glass down and looked down at his
crotch. "Sure. Hey, lissen, no troubles okay? I understand. I'm ashamed I
was askin' about yer help with ... other things. I just get so lonely fer
... well, ya know since my wife died. So ya gonna come back at six fer the
final waterin'? Or, do ya need to be there with yer visitor? If ya don't
wanna come back, I'll understand."

	"Oh, I'll be back. It's my job and I don't skate out on work. That
just isn't right to do. Besides, my mom would never allow me to do
that. And yeah, no troubles."

	"That's right good. I won't be messin' with yer work ethic, or any
other of yer high ethics fer that matter. Ya got my word. See ya at six."

	 Scott was relieved to be on his bike and pedaling away. That was
really, really weird and left Scott's stomach a little tight. Scott kept
trying to focus away from Mr. Jenkins and onto Tom. He couldn't wait for
him to show up. The idea of Tom staying at his house really excited
Scott. He cleaned his bedroom spotless, even vacuuming, and moved clothes
he seldom wore out of his closet and into boxes, making room for Tom's
clothes. He thought about sharing his bed with Tom and immediately popped a
huge boner. He was tenting in his shorts. He wondered if Tom might want to
try tying him up to his bed for some hot fucking action sometime when his
parents were gone and they had some freedom to really play around. He
pulled his shorts down and sat on the bed. He grabbed hold of his tent pole
and started jerking it furiously thinking about being tied up naked on his
bed. He took himself to the edge a couple times before squeezing his
pre-cum onto his finger and licking it off. Then he pulled his shorts back
up and decided to save it for Tom later on that night.

	Scott finished up his house chores and headed outside. He smelled
like one of Mr. Jenkins' hogs after he finished roto-tilling one of the
three gardens and trimming up the hedges. Scott pulled his shirt off again
and was just headed into the house when he spotted his mom's car. Scott
started waving his shirt over his head and jumping up and down like a
schoolboy at recess. He was so excited, he could hardly contain himself.

	He ran around the car and pulled the passenger door open. "TOM!!"
Scott reached in and gripped Tom's hand and started pulling him out of the
car almost before Tom managed to get his seatbelt released.

	Tom lumbered out and Scott embraced him, pressing the side of his
cheek against Tom's broad chest and giving a bear hug. Tom groaned and
struggled to pull Scott's arms away. "Dude, my ribs are bruised, let go."

        Scott pulled back and said, "Oh Tom, man I'm so sorry. What
happened to you? Dude, your face is a mess."

      "I got into a little scuffle in the jail."

      "Oh man, I'm so sorry. I can't believe I did that to you. Can you
forgive me?" Scott was sick to his stomach, thinking about Tom getting
beaten up in jail all because he'd falsely accused him.

      "You didn't do it to me. This big, ugly redneck did it."

      "Scott, help Tom with his suitcase and come inside. It's hot out
here," said his mom.

      Scott opened up the hatchback and pulled Tom's only suitcase out and
wheeled it into the house. "Follow me. I cleared up some room in my closet
for you to hang your clothes up."

      "Don't take him in that pig sty," his mom urged.

      "It's not a pig sty. I cleaned it up."

      "This I have to see for myself," his mom said suspiciously.

      They all walked into Scott's room and sure enough, it was
spotless. "My goodness, I can't believe my eyes. Sammy go get the camera,
we need to record this moment for posterity."

      "Mom, stop. I'm not that messy. You should see Nick's room."

      "Well you're not Nick and I'm not Nick's mom, but I'm glad you
cleaned your room even if you did do it for Tom and not for me."

      "Look," Scott said excitedly, "I cleared all this space in my closet
and I even opened up one drawer in my chest for you. I could probably make
room for a second one if you need it. And this is our bed we'll be
sharing."

      "Whoa, hold on. We haven't really figured this all out yet. I mean,
we need to talk it all through. I really appreciate you guys rescuing me
and all, but I'm not planning on barging in on you full time. I just need a
place to crash until I can figure something else out. I can just sleep on
the sofa or something."

      Scott looked crushed. "Oh. Okay. I just thought ... well I guess I
just assumed."

      "Goodness no," said his mother. "It would not be appropriate at all
for you two to share a bed together. If anything, we can move Sammy in here
and Tom can take Sammy's room until he can find another place."

      "All right. But since I cleaned out my closet can he at least put his
clothes in there?" Scott asked.

      "Sure. That would be fine, if it's okay with you Tom," said Scott's
mom.

      "Great with me. Thanks."

      They spent the next hour moving Sammy's essentials into Scott's room
and even ended up putting Sammy's clothes in Scott's closet, making room
for Tom's in Sammy's closet since that made much more sense. It still
annoyed Scott that he'd done all that work getting ready for Tom to share
his room and now Tom was taking Sammy's room instead. He tried really hard
not to let it show, but his disappointment was pretty obvious.

      "I have to go do the six o'clock irrigation," Scott said, noticing
the time. "I'm gonna be late."

      "Maybe Tom can drive you over," suggested his mom.

      "Yeah. I'd love to tag along," agreed Tom.

      They hustled out to the van and headed off to Mr. Jenkins' farm.

      "Well, who's this big, tall drink o' water? Is this the friend ya
were so anxious to get home fer?" asked Mr. Jenkins.

      "Yes sir, it is."

      "Scott, don't go callin' me sir, it sounds like I'm somebody I
ain't. Just call me Jack. It's easy to remember; my folks named me after my
favorite pastime. Go figger. I wonder how they knew?" Mr. Jenkins slapped
both thighs, spat a wad of chew spit, and laughed hard at his own joke.

      "I suppose," said Tom, "they just looked between your legs and saw
what was dangling there and just figured it would probably work out that
way." Tom kept a straight face and pushed the van door shut.

      Mr. Jenkins looked up at Tom and pointed a crooked finger at him,
laughing even harder. "Boy, that's hi-larious! I like you. Ya all just here
on a short visit or ya gonna be around a while?"

      "I'm not sure. I need to see if I can find a job for the summer until
college starts up this fall. If I find one, I'll stick around for sure,"
said Tom.

      "Hmmm, you're a big, strong boy. You ever work a farm?" asked Jack.

      "No, sir. I mean, Jack. Sorry."

      "Hah, no troubles. Ya willin' to learn?" asked Jack.

      "Certainly. You need help?"

      "I sure do. I'm shorthanded this year. Can ya start in the mornin'?"

      "Yeah. I certainly can. Really? You mean it?" Tom asked almost afraid
to believe it could actually work out so well.

      Scott held up his hand and they gave each other a high five. Scott
was excited that Tom had a job and would be staying around. Being this
close, he'd for sure want to stay with his family if he could. He made a
mental note to warn Tom about Mr. Jenkins, though.

      "When I say mornin', I mean five a.m. is that okay? We work sunup to
sundown, but I pay as good as any farmer in the valley and I provide a bunk
and three square meals. We eat over at the widow Adams' place up the road a
bit, and she's one helluva cook. You get half a day off on one day during
the week and all day Sunday. If'n yer interested, ya can bring yer stuff
over tonight and I'll set ya up in one o' the bunk houses."

      	Scott's countenance immediately drooped as he heard the last
part. That meant Tom wouldn't be staying with them. Tom noticed Scott's
sulking look and put things together.

      "That's great. I'll bring my stuff over tomorrow if that's all
right. I'm already committed to the Johnsons for tonight."

      "Suit yerself, now we better quit yackin' and hightail it out to the
lower forty before our waterin'turn's over with."

      They all loaded in the old truck and Jack let Scott drive again. He
was proud as a peacock to show Tom that he could drive a stick shift. It
was a lot harder to shift the gears with Tom's long legs in the way. "You
gotta sit in the bed when we head back; you don't fit in here with those
big legs," said Scott. Tom just smiled. He was used to being teased about
his height.

      "Hey Tom, feel how soft this shifter cover is," said Scott. Tom
rubbed his hand over it and was impressed. He couldn't believe it either,
when Scott told him what it really was. They all made jokes like - no
wonder the shifter is always stiff with its scrotum getting rubbed all the
time. Mr. Jenkins said, "Maybe you could borrow the truck for a date and
you could ask yer girl if she wants to feel yer scrotum while yer driving."
They all laughed, but it seemed odd to Tom how much Mr. Jenkins liked to
talk like a high school kid. Scott sort of got it now, though and wasn't so
shocked.

      With Tom's help, they set the tubes quickly. Scott was a bit annoyed
that Tom figured out how to start them right off the bat. Tom was amused by
Mr. Jenkins' reference to the canvas on the end of the tubes as
foreskin. He caught Scott's eye and gave a wink.

      Tom was real excited about getting a job and having a place to
stay. He was feeling a little uncomfortable barging in on Scott's
family. Scott was beside himself with joy in finding Tom and having him
around, but seriously disappointed about Tom staying at the Jenkins'
farm. He had other ideas in mind for Tom and him.

      When they arrived back home, Scott's dad was home from work also, and
everyone sat down to dinner. His mom asked how Scott's first day of work at
the farm went and he said it was fine, but they had big news. Tom told them
of Mr. Jenkins' offer and that made everyone happy. Scott shoveled a chunk
of meatloaf into his mouth and said, "They even have a bunkhouse Tom can
stay in, so I guess I cleaned my room out for nothing."

      "Well, I don't mind," said his mom. "I may bring a homeless man home
every week, if it gets you to clean your room."

      "Mom, that's rude."

      "I didn't mean it rudely, dear. It was just a little joke." Scott
just shoveled in more meatloaf and shook his head in embarrassment.

      "But at least we'll get to see each other some over at the farm since
we both work there," Scott added cheerfully.

      "It sounds like I'll be pretty busy, sunup to sundown, Mr. Jenkins
said," interjected Tom.

      "I wish I could go work on the farm too," said Sammy feeling a little
left out.

      "I'll keep you plenty busy right here on our little farm," said his
mom.

      "This isn't a farm, it's just a big garden," whined Sammy. "And I
don't get paid for working here."

      "Well, I've been thinking it's about time you did. You're growing up
and need some more responsibility. We'll make a chart of the things you
should do and if you do them without us nagging you, we'll pay you ten
dollars per week," said his father.

      "Really? Cool."

      "And Tom, you're welcome here anytime for meals or to do your wash or
anything you need. If you need to borrow a vehicle ever, just let us
know. You've been a good friend to our family and haven't been treated very
well in return for it, I'm afraid."

      "Things have definitely improved from yesterday," said Tom
smiling. The discussion moved on to the nightmare Tom experienced over the
previous 48 hours and the family was aghast at the treatment he got. Scott
explained how he came to suspect Tom falsely and got emotional. His dad had
to finish the explanation.

      "Tom. I'm sorry I didn't tell the truth right at first. I was scared
to. I didn't mean for you to get hurt," Sammy said with his voice
quivering.

      "Don't worry about it, Sammy," Tom said kindly, "You meant no harm
and it all worked out. All except for that Devon creep getting away with
what he did. That bothers me, I'm not gonna lie. The police are really not
going to do anything about him?"

      "No, I'm afraid they don't have enough solid evidence to move
forward. His father, it turns out, works in the District Attorney's office
over in Boise, so I don't think they dare charge him without being sure
they have enough rock solid evidence to definitely make it stick. It's not
politically savvy to go accusing another D.A.'s kid with child molestation
unless you've got a rock solid case," said Scott and Sammy's father.

      "Daddy, do you think Devon will really kill us?" Sammy asked with
quivering lips.

      "No, son. That was just him trying to scare you. And we won't leave
you alone again, so you don't have to worry about that. We'll protect you."

      "That's right, Sammy," Scott said, gripping his little brother's
arm. I'll never let that creep near you, and if he tries anything now,
we've got Tom to help pound him."

      "That's right. Too bad I didn't know he was hiding in your closet and
I would have taken care of him right then," said Tom. "He'd still be in
surgery having my boot removed from ... well, you know where." Everyone
smirked.

      "Tom, I want to talk to you and Scott privately after dinner. Let's
walk out back," said Scott's father in his matter of fact voice.

      They all helped clear the table and Sammy reluctantly helped his mom
clean up the kitchen while the other three men went out for their
talk. Sammy hated being left out of the discussion and wondered what they
were talking about. If his mom knew, she wouldn't tell Sammy anything.

      The three walked down by the garden and Mr. Johnson turned on the
hose and started to sprinkle the cucumbers. He looked at Tom and said,
"Tom, I meant what I said inside. You are welcome here. We owe you a good
deal. You inspired Scott to stand up for himself and stop wasting his
musical gift. You saved Sammy from God only knows what fate at the hands of
that Devon creep. But there is one matter that's troubling me and I need to
get it out."

      "Yes sir," Tom said unemotionally.

      "Out of all this mess, Scott revealed the true reason you and he left
Camp Challenge early. I understand young boys being sexually charged up and
experimenting together some, but you're a little old to still be doing
that." He turned to Scott and added "Honestly, son, so are you." Turning
back to Tom he asked, "Was it just a lark, or are you two emotionally
involved?"

      Scott sucked in a gasp of air and held it, a bit shocked how blunt
his father was being. He stared at Tom, judging his reaction. There was no
visible reaction. Tom stood steady and his expression didn't change. Scott
shuffled his feet nervously and focused on the puddle of water forming
around two cucumbers, since his father had stopped waving the nozzle
around.

      "I'll answer you as honestly as I can," began Tom seemingly in
complete control of himself. "I honestly don't know if I'm gay or not, but
I think I may be. I think Scott is a wonderful young man and I was wrong to
engage in sex play with him at camp. I have promised God, after the last
couple of day's events, not to engage in any more underage sex - period. I
make you that same promise. I'd like to remain friends with Scott as a
person, if you'll permit that. If not, I'll understand."

      "Good enough then." Turning his attention to Scott, he added, "Scott,
you're growing up and it's hard sometimes. You're figuring things out for
yourself right now. You need to have a normal high school experience.  I'm
glad you got the dirt bike, that's good for you. I'm glad you're getting
involved in your music again, too. Just hang out with buddies your own age
and chase around a bit, but stay out of any real trouble. Got it?"

      "Okay," was all Scott could come up with to say.

       "Well, I think I've sufficiently drowned the cucumbers. I said what
I needed to. Good night." Scott's father turned off the water and walked
calmly back into the house. Halfway there, he stopped and turned
around. "Oh, and Scott."

      "Yeah dad?"

      "Could you ask Mike to come over one night this week? We need to have
a little chat with him also."

      "Umm, sure." Scott didn't like the idea of that. He realized he was
going to have to own up to what he told his parents about Mike and him
doing sex stuff together and worse, about what Mike did with Sammy. He
didn't think that discussion would go as well as the one with Tom just did.

      Scott and Tom sat on the block wall and watched the sun set.

      "Wow. That was intense," said Scott. "Sorry for all that."

      "You have a great dad. He cares about you and wants what's best,
that's all. He could have freaked out on us like my father would have."

      "I guess he's pretty cool," Scott agreed. Then he looked over at Tom
and said, "Dude, I'm so glad you're here. When you left me that note with
the money, and I thought I'd missed you and would maybe never see you
again, I lost it. I think about you all the time. When I thought you
attacked my little brother, I was totally sick to my stomach."

      "How could you even think I could possibly do that?" Tom sounded
hurt.

      "That's what made me sick. I didn't think you could, but all the
evidence was there pointing at you. Then when Sammy finally said it was
Devon and I realized what I'd done to you, I hated myself for it. Was it
really awful in jail?"

      " Look at my face. That pretty much says it all. But worse than the
beating I took, was the way my uncle looked at me this morning. Nothing I
can do or say will ever change his mind about what he thinks I am. I'm sure
my father is just as disappointed. I'll never be able to really face any of
my family any more at like reunions and stuff. I'm sure my poor mom's
embarrassed - all over a little sex. I thought just giving it a little time
would heal things between my father and me, but now, I don't know
anymore. I really just don't know. You're lucky to have a father like
that. He was pretty cool about things considering what's been dropped on
him recently."

      "Yeah, I guess so. I never really thought about it from his
perspective. He doesn't say much usually. When he does talk though, it's
always carefully thought out. He's pretty good to all of us. I am lucky. I
hope I can be like him. Maybe that's why I like you so much. You're a lot
like him. You're smart and kind and funny in a dry kind of way, and you
know just what to say to help people."

      "I seem to have answers for everyone but myself," Tom said wistfully.

      "Do you ever think about our time at camp? I do all the time. I think
about you being close to me and holding me when we zipped our bags
together. I think about you being inside me. Remember how you said you had
special feelings for me or you wouldn't have done it with me? Do you still,
or did I screw it up by accusing you?"

      "Nah, you didn't screw it up. You only did what you thought you had
to. It couldn't have been easy admitting all that stuff to your
parents. Did you tell them we actually went all the way with each other?"

      "NO! I just said we were messing around together naked and people
jumped to conclusions. But I'll never forget those feelings I had when you
put it inside me and held me while I got used to it and then the freaking
awesome feelings when you pumped it inside of me. It was the most amazing
experience ever. I want to do it again with you so much you don't even
know."

      "Scott, I'd love to share that again too, but I promised not to. I
think about you a lot still too. I do have loving feelings for you and I
enjoyed our time together. When I promised God not to do any more underage
sex, I was masturbating after my shower and I was actually thinking about
you while I was jacking it. But, like I told you, I still have to talk to
Jeff and sort that out. I have to. Can you understand that?"

      "Not really. Not if you really love me like you say you do."

      "I guess I shouldn't expect you to. But it's just something I have to
do. You can feel love for more than one person at a time - like you love
both your mom and dad at once."

      "That's not the same thing and you know it."

      There was a long silence as the last of the sun slipped behind the
western landscape. "So ... you're still in love with that Jeff guy?" Scott
finally found courage to ask.

      Tom opened and closed his mouth a couple times without saying
anything. On his third attempt, he said, "Jeff was my first kiss, from a
boy or a girl. He was the first person to touch me in a sexual way. I was
the first person to touch him in a sexual way. That has a powerful effect
on a person. We shared laughs and disappointments ever since we met at
freshman basketball camp before high school. That's a long time. We trusted
each other with private information that we shared with no one else. We
told each other about our attempts to date girls. We laughed about our
stupidity with them. Yes, I loved him and I still do. I have to know if he
still loves me. I just have to know."

      The lump in Scott's throat prevented him from speaking. They sat in
silence for a long time. "I guess we better go in. We have to get up early
to go to Mr. Jenkins' farm," Scott said weakly.

      "Yeah, guess we better," Tom agreed. Scott stood up and reached out
his hand to Tom, who took it, locking thumbs. Scott pulled him up and they
stood close, silhouetted in the dim glow of fading sunset. Simultaneously,
they glanced nervously toward the house then gently embraced each other.
Scott laid his check against Tom's chest and closed his eyes. He was
careful not to squeeze Tom's sore ribs too hard. Together, their body
language communicated it was enough, and they pulled away and stared into
each other's eyes. They took one more nervous glance toward the house and
shared a gentle kiss on the lips. Then, they walked side by side into the
house.