Date: Wed, 27 Jul 2011 10:47:30 -0700
From: h.schreiber@hushmail.com
Subject: Chapter 26 of Just Like Scott 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.

Just Like Scott

Chapter 26

Revelations

	"No!" Scott cried out as he bolted upright from his nightmarish
dream. His heart was pounding and sweat beaded on his forehead. The
disturbing image of the train rushing past him as he clung to the rusty
lever, and the smiling faces of the passengers in the windows left him
slightly nauseous. Morning's first light was filtering in through the
sliding glass windows of Mike's apartment slowly enlightened his mind to
the realization it had been only a dream. Desperately, he tried to remember
which way he had shifted the lever at the last second, but the recollection
was gone, faded with his hopes of being free of his decision.

	He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and went to the toilet to drain
the Dr. Pepper from his bladder, stretched to capacity. He washed his hands
and stuck his hair under the faucet. He squeezed the excess water out of
his shiny, brunette hair and felt around for a towel with his eyes
closed. When he hit upon it, he pulled it off the rack and gave his thick
locks a furious toweling off. Opening his eyes, he shook his head
vigorously. His hair fell mostly in place and he searched in the drawers
for a brush to complete the job. Finding Mike's hair brush, he pulled it
through his hair a few times and then trotted over to Mike's bedroom.

	Scott opened Mike's second drawer and borrowed an old t-shirt to go
with the borrowed shorts and boxers. He pulled on his shoes and retrieved
his bicycle from the patio. When he grabbed the crossbar, he was reminded
of the pain it caused him the day before when his foot slipped off the
pedal and he winced at the memory.

	In spite of Scott's attempts to be quiet, the noise disturbed Mike,
who sat up on his elbows. "Scott? You leaving?" he mumbled, peering at his
friend through squinted eyes.

	"Yeah dude, I've gotta go set the morning water."

	"K, call me later."

	"I will." Scott put the kickstand down and crawled over to Mike on
the floor. He leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. Scott
thought to himself as he took in Mike's pretty, blue eyes and long lashes,
"I hope I didn't send the train down your track." They smiled at each other
and Scott carried his bicycle out the door, down the steps, and out to the
sidewalk. He climbed on and adjusted the boner in his shorts to a more
comfortable position.

	As he rode, he thought about the events of the prior evening. He
wondered if he was doing the right thing by abstaining from sex. He
realized it was going to be harder than he thought. His dick throbbed and
his balls demanded relief. He felt like Mike was really sincere about what
he'd confessed to him. Tom on the other hand deserved a fair shot. Scott
felt like he could love them both. He wondered if he couldn't be in love
with both of them and see how it all played out in the end. He was, after
all, only fifteen like Mike had said. Was he setting himself up for
disappointment? Tom said he was planning on trying out girls even. What if
Tom decided he was straight or bi and ended up liking that girl from the
registration office? He could waste years waiting for Tom and miss out on a
relationship with Mike and then still end up without Tom. He had to talk
Tom into abandoning the no sex vow. One thing he was sure of, until Tom
gave it up, he was also going to hold out. Only then could he know for sure
that Tom would respect him and appreciate his level of commitment to the
relationship. Hopefully, Mike wouldn't give up and stray from him in the
meantime. That was the risk. That was the move that could risk his penis
for the Queen. That was the double jump. He smiled at the metaphors.

	When Scott rode in, Mr. Jenkins was just leaving Tom's cabin. They
waved but did not speak to each other. Scott waited for Mr. Jenkins to go
into the house then rushed behind the cabins. He peeked into Tom's window
to observe Tom doing nothing more than lacing on his work boots between
spoonfuls of Cheerios. Tom's bed was unmade but otherwise normal. There was
no cash lying around nor was there any evidence of cum rags or
towels. Scott retreated to the shed, a bit ashamed of himself. He pulled on
the rubber boots, grabbed the shovel, and rode his bicycle out to do the
watering. His mind swirled around looking for the path of least resistance
much like the water bubbling out of the canvas foreskin of the tubes. Each
time he successfully coaxed the water out and lay the tube down to begin
gushing its contents out the foreskin, he imagined his coaxing his own tube
to spew its contents. He was either fully boned or partially boned the
entire time he set the morning tubes. Twice, he'd pulled his shorts and
boxers down and grabbed his tube for a couple of furious jerks until he got
control and forced himself to quit.

	Since he needed to practice the trumpet, Scott didn't ride his dirt
bike after finishing with the water. He shed the rubber boots and climbed
on his bike to pedal home. He wished he knew where to find Tom. He peeked
in his cabin window, but he wasn't there. He wanted to see him if just for
a brief time. He wanted to reassure himself that he was all right - that no
train had run him over. Scott arrived home and found his father out front
on a ladder repairing a broken rain gutter. "Need some help?" Scott
offered.

	"Sure. Could you pass me up the drill motor?"

	Scott made sure it was plugged in tightly and climbed the first
couple of rungs to pass up the drill to his father's hands. "Dad, can I ask
you something?"

	"Sure."

	"How did you know you were in love with mom? What did it feel like?
How did you know it wasn't just infatuation?"

	His father stopped what he was doing, laid the drill on the edge of
the roof and looked down on his eldest son. Before answering, he climbed
off the ladder and put his arm around Scott. "Let's take a breakfast break
and talk." They walked into the house and poured themselves a bowl of
cereal and a glass of juice. Scott toasted some of his mother's homemade
wheat bread and buttered it.

	Scott savored the first bite of the hot bread and the creamy butter
made love to his taste buds as it slid across his tongue. His father took a
bite of his toast as well and after swallowing, said, "I'll tell you about
love and infatuation. When you meet someone and you get all excited every
time you think about them, that's simply lust. When you meet someone and
really grow to know them intimately and you begin to think only about them
and no one else, that's infatuation. When you meet someone and grow to
really know them and you start to think of them constantly all day and all
night to the absolute exclusion of everything else in your life, that's
love."

	"So it's not possible then to love two people at the same time?"

	"Not truly, except as a parent, but that's not what I think you're
asking me. Now it's my turn to ask you a question. Why do you want to
know?"

	Scott should have been smart enough to realize his question would
lead to this kind of question back from his dad, but he hadn't and it
caught him totally off guard. He felt the discomfort as the time for
answering grew unaccountably long. Finally, his dad placed his hand on top
of Scott's. Scott looked down at his cereal that was growing soggy in the
2% milk. Pressure built in his chest and tears stung at the corners of his
eyes until his dad reached over and kindly lifted Scott's chin upward and
towards him. Kindness and understanding were in his blue/green eyes set
deeply within their wrinkled sockets. "It's all right if you are asking
about Tom or Mike. I understand. I know."

	Scott burst into tears of relief. His dad stood and pulled him from
his chair and embraced him. Scott melted into the safe embrace of his
loving arms. The smell of Old Spice and the fuzzy feeling of his soft
flannel shirt were both comforting and familiar. He gently stroked Scott's
back like he had done whenever Scott was upset as a small boy. When Scott
calmed down and stepped back, he wiped his runny nose on the sleeve of
Mike's old t-shirt and brushed away the remnants of tears from his
eyes. "Are you disappointed in me?"

	"Disappointed in what? A fine son who loves and cares about people?
A responsible young man who works hard and earns his way? A great brother
who takes care of his little brother? A boy who gets good grades, never
gets into mischief, and does whatever I ask? What is there I should be
disappointed in exactly?"

	Scott smiled through his tears in appreciation and said, "Well,
just that I'm not into girls."

	"I don't really care for cats. Are you disappointed in me over
that?"

	Scott cocked his head and said, "Dad, that's not a very good
example."

	His dad cracked a smile and with a twinkle in his eye said, "Sure
it is. It's better than you think. Think about it." Scott stared at him for
a minute but then just shook his head and hunched his shoulder indicating
he had nothing to offer for an idea. "Well," his father began to explain
with a sly smile, "It turns out, neither of us likes pussy all that much."
Scott laughed in spite of himself. Together, they shook with
laughter. Scott had never heard his dad talk like that and the sheer out of
character nature of the comment left Scott unable to do anything but
laugh. The laughter was infectious and they were both nearly in tears from
it. As they calmed down, they both took up their places in front of their
soggy cereal.

	"Scott, I don't want to pretend that you don't know your own mind,
but I do want you to be sure about the path you're talking about
taking. Being gay is not an easy road in many respects - certainly not in
this town. If you're sure this is who you are, your mother and I won't add
any stress to your life over it. We love and support you in your chosen
path. We only ask that you be true to the ideals of respect and decency
we've instilled into you and that live a discreet and decent lifestyle. If
you are going to live as a gay man, find a real partner who you love and
respect and be true to each other the same way your mother and I are with
each other. I'm not suggesting you rush into a relationship like that now
at this age, but when the time comes for you to make that kind of
commitment, make it carefully. Make sure it's based on love and not just
lust or even infatuation. Rampant gay promiscuity isn't any more acceptable
to us than it would be if you were running around with trampy girls."

	"Dad, I'd never be like that."

	"I know. I just needed to say it. Just so the understanding is
clear."

	"Why did you include mom when you said that? Have you guys already
talked about this? Does she know about me?"

	"Never underestimate the wisdom of a mother. Definitely never
underestimate your mother. She's very perceptive. She's actually the one
who helped me accept what had become pretty obvious. After the incident
with Sammy and all that you revealed because of it, we were pretty sure
which direction you were leaning. Plus, there are other little clues. It's
hard not to see how you look at Tom and how you have been with Mike for
some time. Even as a small boy, you were fascinated with all things boy
related. There's one thing that doesn't add up though."

	"What's that?" Scott asked between bites of soggy Cinnamon Toast
Crunch.

	"I always thought gay men were very neat and tidy. Your room has
heterosexual slob written all over it."

	"Dad. It's not that bad. You should see Nick's."

	"I can only imagine. So tell me again, why did you ask me that
question about what love is like? What's going on with you?"

	"At camp, I fell into something with Tom. The way you put it, I
guess I was just in lust, but I think it's more like infatuation and I'm
sort of stuck in infatuation with him. He's a wonderful person. He's
amazingly kind and understanding like you are. He's really intuitive and
loves to help other people. He like understands how people are feeling even
when they don't really know themselves. I feel safe and comfortable around
him. He's a man of his word too. I tried to get him to cheat on his
commitment to you about no more sex stuff, but he refused and even got a
little angry with me for tempting him. I'm sorry I did that, by the way."

	Scott's dad just nodded agreement that he should be sorry for that
but didn't reprimand beyond the scowling look he gave.

	Scott continued, "I decided to show him my own personal commitment
towards him by not only accepting the no sex deal, but by taking the same
no sex vow and I'm living up to it. I haven't even ... uhh ... you know,
done it with myself. Yesterday, though, after all the commotion with Devon
was over and I went to spend the night at Mike's house, he confided in me
that he's gay and is in love with me. That makes everything all mixed up
because I realize that I love him too, but it's different from Tom. Mike
and I go way back before we even knew what gayness or love meant. We've
been best friends forever and so my feelings for him are based on a ton of
things. It's left me all confused. Then on top of that, I can tell that Tom
still has strong feelings for his old boyfriend, Jeff. Even though Jeff,
was totally cruel and jerky to him when he tried to talk him into getting
back together, Tom still has strong feelings for him. Tom claims he doesn't
know for sure if he's gay or not, and said he's even going to try dating
some girls. How could he not know at his age? I can even tell he is. Dad,
you wouldn't believe this girl at camp, Michelle, she was knockout gorgeous
and she practically begged him to sleep with her and he turned her
down. Now he says he might still like girls. No way."

	Scott's dad lifted his bowl and drank the remains of his cereal
milk with the straggling floaters in it then leaned back in his
chair. "Sounds like you have a problem."

	"Are you serious? That's your advice? You're not going to tell me
what I should do?"

	"I already answered your question about how you know when you're
truly in love. I also already told you it's way too soon to worry about
forming a lifetime relationship. Sometimes you have to live in Infatuation
City for a long time before you get to move on to Love Ville. Don't rush
it. You're only fifteen years young. I think you should follow Tom's
example and actually try dating some girls in high school, as well - just
to be sure."

	"Look, it may well not be Mike or Tom you end up loving as a
lifetime partner. It's too early for that kind of decision. As for your no
sex pledge, I have no problem with that if you can keep it up. Well, except
the no hands thing might be taking it a little too far, but otherwise it
will keep you safe. There's one thing I want to caution you about, and I
know we've already had this discussion, but never engage in any risky
behavior. I mean never, ever, ever. Even if someone promises you they're
safe and clean and you think you trust them. The last thing I want to do on
this earth is bury a child."

	"I won't dad. I promise."

	"Let's go fix that rain gutter before your mother gets up and docks
my pay for lally-gagging around."

	"Okay. Then I'll go practice my trumpet." They worked together on
the rain gutter and then fixed three sprinkler heads. They washed the
family van together having a short water fight in the process. Scott ran
laughing as his dad chased him with the bucket of soapy water. Luckily, he
missed him when he tossed it. They walked around to the back porch and
stripped out of their water soaked clothes and hung them across lawn chairs
to dry. It had been a while since Scott had seen his father naked and he
was fascinated to observe how very similar their privates were. Scott
headed to his shower and his dad went the opposite direction toward
his. Before he cleared the doorway, Scott turned and watched his father's
naked backside disappear down the far hall. He smiled in appreciation of
his good fortune to be his son.

	Scott had just climbed out and was drying himself off when there
was a tap on the door.

	"Yeah?"

	"Are you decent?" his mom's voice asked.

	"Not yet, I'm just drying off."

	"Good," his mother said and let herself in laughing in satisfaction
at Scott's reaction to quickly cover himself up.

	"You'll always be my little boy no matter how big you get," she
said as Scott wrapped the towel around his waist. "And my, have you ever
gotten big." Scott couldn't think of any reply to her brazen and bizarre
comment. She pulled him into a hug and whispered, "Your father told me
about your discussion. I just want you to know I love you dearly and always
will." She took his face in her hands and stared him in the eyes. "Just
like I knew I had to let you find your own way with your music, I know I
have to let you find your own way in this. I trust you will be wise and
true to yourself in the end. Just be assured, we will always love you and
you always have a safe and loving place to come home to."

	Scott smiled appreciatively, and said, "Thanks. Now go away so I
can get dressed in private. Geez, I'll never get you."

	His mom chuckled to herself, well pleased at the discomfort she had
inflicted. She took some sort of sick satisfaction in inflicting it on him
and Sammy. Maybe it was her way of getting even for being stuck in an all
male household. She wheeled around without saying anything more and left,
pulling the door closed behind her. Scott looked in the mirror, wrapped his
arms around himself and smiled. "I got the best parents on earth," he said
out loud. He dressed and headed to his room to practice his trumpet. When
he opened the instrument case the envelope he had gotten at his first
practice session was lying on top of his horn. He'd forgotten to give it to
his mom like he was supposed to.

	"Mom," he called as he looked for her around the house. She was
nowhere to be found. He looked outside in the garden, and he checked the
driveway to be sure the van was there. He even looked in Sammy's room but
it was empty. Sammy had gone to Tommy's house. He went to his parent's
bedroom last and saw the door was closed. He grasped the handle but didn't
turn it. He stood there, still and quiet. He smiled to himself as he heard
his mom's voice.

	"Oh yes," she said, "that's the spot. Don't stop. Oh, Oh, Oh,
Ohhhhhhh! Put little snaky in! Hurry! Stuff little snaky in me now!" Scott
stifled a snicker. He knew he should just leave, but he couldn't pull
himself away. A naughty thought crossed his mind and he wondered if his
mom's pussy looked anything like that Cheryl girl's from camp, hers being
his only real life experience with seeing one. Soon, he heard the rhythmic
squeaking of bedsprings and a mild thump, thump, thump of the headboard
against the wall. Scott boned up imaging his wonderful parents sharing
their intense love for each other. Soon his dad started grunting in time
with the thumps and squeaks, which were increasing in speed and intensity
until he cried out.

	"Ohhhh yes! Oh, hell yes! That was a good one," he announced. Scott
imagined his father thrusting hard into his mother's vagina and draining
his balls of his seed. He remembered the contorted looks on Tom's and
Mike's faces followed by intense satisfaction when they shoved themselves
deeply into his body and unloaded their seed into him. He remembered the
wonderful feeling he felt from providing his friends such intense
satisfaction. That emotional rush he experienced then was as pleasantly
satisfying as the actual physical sex had been. He took immense
satisfaction in bringing others pleasure.  When the post climactic purring
and smooching started up behind the closed door, Scott turned and followed
his raging boner down the hall and back to his room. It was all he could do
to control himself and not jack off. He threw himself into his trumpet
practicing with full devotion to take his mind off his sexual urges. A dull
ache started in his groin from the blue balls effect of holding off.

	Once he heard commotion in the house, he finished up with the
phrasing he was practicing on an opera piece by Richard Wagner, Der
Fliegender Hollander or Flying Dutchman. Scott set his horn back in its
case, grabbed the envelope and went looking for his mom again. When he
found her, she was with his dad out back sitting on the rock ledge and
talking. His dad had a hose in one hand watering the cucumbers. He couldn't
help but wonder if he was the topic of their conversation, but he didn't
ask. "I was supposed to give this to you. All the new people got these to
give to our parents at the last orchestra practice."

	Scott spent another full two hours practicing his trumpet before he
had to go change the water. He took the last half hour to have some fun
with a couple of sultry jazz pieces by Miles Davis, KC Blues and So
What. Before stowing his horn, he drained the spit valve, and wiped down
his beautiful, silver trumpet with a soft rag. Then, he headed out for a
quick snack before leaving to do the afternoon water change. When he walked
into the kitchen, his mother was at the table with a sad look on her face
and the orchestra papers in her hand.

	"What's wrong?" Scott asked.

	"Scott, sit down."

	"What?" He was a little worried at her tone.

	"I have some bad news for you. You're not going to be able to
continue with the orchestra I'm afraid. These papers outline the cost of a
tuxedo, music fees, dues, and worst of all, travel costs for when you
tour. Sadly, it's all out of our budget. Just the gas going to Boise and
back every week is challenging."

	Scott's good mood faded. He loved the orchestra experience even
after only one week. Being a part of something that wonderful and
professional inspired him. The music they made as a group was so
enthralling to be a part of, he desperately wanted to continue. It was such
a higher caliber than the school orchestra and it was crushing to think he
had to quit. He'd already made some friends and the director had praised
his ability.

	"Maybe I could just borrow a tuxedo. I have friends in the school
choir and they have tuxedos I could borrow."

	"No, Scott, it has to match and you have to buy it through the
Philharmonic. But if it were just the tuxedo, we'd find a way to swing
it. The problem is the ongoing fees, especially the travel costs."

	"Maybe I could get a job? I could sell my motorbike."

	His mom jerked backward in shock. "You would seriously sell that
machine you love so much to stay in the orchestra?"

	"Mom, don't get me wrong, I don't want to, but I can eventually get
another dirt bike. This is a brief chance to be part of something like the
Youth Philharmonic."

	"That is very mature of you. Your dad and I will discuss it and see
if there's anything else we can figure out. Even if you sold your bike, I'm
not sure we can manage it."

	"Well, I gotta go."

	"OH!" Scott's mom exclaimed with a note of distress, "I forgot I
had a grilled cheese on the stove for your lunch." She rushed over to the
stove and slid the pan off the burner. "Do you mind it burnt on one side?
I'm sorry."

	"No, I'm kind of getting used to getting burned lately. Thanks for
making it." He gave his mom a peck on the cheek, grabbed a sports bottle
from the cupboard and filled it with Kool-aid then took off on his bike to
Mr. Jenkins' place. He held on to the bars with one hand and ate the top
half of his grilled cheese with the other. When he had devoured as much as
he easily could, he slung the burnt side into the bushes and licked his
greasy fingers. In the barnyard, Tom came out of the shower stalls and
carefully pranced along the gravel in his bare feet back to his cabin.

	Scott found it odd for Tom to be showering mid day. He decided to
share his bad news about the orchestra with Tom. He missed being able to
talk with him since he was always busy on the farm. It seemed like they
hardly ever saw each other. If he was going to ever get Tom to love him in
the way his dad said like how nothing else in the whole world matters,
they'd have to spend some time together. Scott rapped on the cabin door and
it slipped open.

	"Hey Scott. Come on in."

	Scott pushed the door open further and stepped in and closed it
behind him. Tom was still wrapped in his towel and brushing his teeth by
the sink. His bed was still unmade as it had been earlier. Scott was
reminded what an amazing, tall, strong body Tom had. His auburn hair was
darker from the dampness of the recent shower and the smattering of
freckles on his face and the top of his back seemed more pronounced. Tom
slurped in some water and spit into the sink then set his toothbrush in a
glass. He pulled the towel free of his waist and wiped off his mouth then
started drying his hair and upper torso. Scott watched with rapt
preoccupation as Tom's smallish dick swayed side to side while he toweled
himself off. Scott's anus reflexively clenched as he recalled the magic
time when he was first penetrated at Camp Challenge by that very dick,
attached to that magnificent body, housing that incredibly noble
spirit. All of that made Tom whole as a person. He could almost feel the
overwhelming surges of intense stimulation all over again as he reflected
on that virginal experience. Tom was and always would be his virginity
snatcher. Cheryl truly did not count.

	"What?" Scott realized Tom had asked a question, but he was too far
into his daydream to have any idea what it had been.

	"I asked, 'If there was something special you wanted to talk to me
about?'"

	"Oh, I was just gonna tell you about Devon getting arrested and
then share some different news with you that's not so good."

	"Oh yeah, tell me how it went down." Tom pulled on his briefs and
squished his toys behind the obscuring white fabric. He pulled up a chair
and leaned forward in anticipation.

	"Mike and I dressed up like hicks and went early to the
restaurant. We sat in a corner booth where we could avoid being seen and
got to see the whole scene. Jeff was great. He didn't even look
nervous. They were laughing and joking and stuff and then I guess Jeff got
him to say what he needed him to, because as soon as Devon tried to get the
waitress' attention, the cops got up and arrested him. He started cursing
Jeff out and yelled that he'd set him up. He was crying when they dragged
him out in handcuffs. It was great."

	"I'm so glad Jeff did the right thing and helped us get Devon," Tom
said with a satisfied tone.

	"Me too," Scott agreed.  "Mike and I went and talked to him after
the cops left and he was really sad. He felt stupid for being with a guy
like Devon. He said he felt bad for the way he treated you. I told him he
should feel bad and that you were the real deal. I told him that you still
love him. I told him he was stupid if he didn't try to get you back."

	Tom's eyes widened and he leaned even closer in toward Scott. "You
told him that?"

	"Yeah."

	"Why would you do that? Does that mean you've abandoned your quest
to make me your lover?"

	"No. I'm still on that quest."

	"Then why'd you tell him that?"

	"Because it's true. I can tell you still love him, and he was
really stupid for doing what he did. I don't want you to pretend to love me
if you really want him more. I want you to want me more than anything else
in the whole world, like you can't think of anything else but me. But if
you're still stuck on him, I'd rather you were truly happy than be selfish,
even if it means I lose you to Jeff."

	Tom slid his chair over and pressed their foreheads together. They
were nose to nose and eye to eye. "You're amazing. You never stop
surprising me." Tom slipped his nose tip just a smidgeon to the left and
kissed Scott's lips. "Thanks," Tom continued after the kiss. "So does that
mean you're back to enjoying your wild and crazy teenage sex life?"

	Scott considered telling him about the kiss Mike planted on him in
the restaurant and Mike's later confession, but before he took his fingers
off that chess piece, he decided better of it and moved back into a safe
position. "No," Scott said emphatically. "I told you. I'm sticking to it as
long as you're sticking to it. I haven't given up my "quest" as you call
it. I made a vow and I'm not breaking it until you do."

	Tom just shook his head in disbelief. "Okay Don Quixote. You're
crazy, but I know there's no point trying to talk you out of chasing your
windmills. You're way too stubborn. So what's the other news?"

	"Donkey who?"

	"Don Quixote. Don't worry; you'll have to read about him in an
English class somewhere along the line. So what's the other news you have?"

	"Oh that. Well, I got a letter from the Youth Philharmonic
Orchestra. There are all kinds of costs we didn't figure on with travel and
a tuxedo and music fees and all kinds of other fees. My mom said we can't
really afford it. I offered to sell my dirt bike, but she said even that
wouldn't be enough. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Every time something
wonderful comes along in my life, it has a burnt side. Camp Challenge ended
badly. I lost, and found, and lost you again. I got accepted into the
philharmonic, and now I have to quit because of money. That's just my
stupid luck."

	Tom didn't speak. He simply stood up and walked over to an old
boot. He reached inside it and pulled out a wad of bills. He came back and
set them on the table and said, "There's over a thousand dollars
there. Take it and put it towards the orchestra. If you need more, I can
get it."

	"Where did you get all of this?"

	"Doing special projects for Mr. Jenkins, mostly. Let's just say
he's a very generous man when you help him out. Plus, I got some skills
you'd never expect and it's just what Mr. Jenkins needed."

	Scott's heart sank from his chest, dropping right past his stomach
and landed with a thud in his testicle sac. He couldn't believe his
ears. So much for Tom's noble spirit. So much for his stupid ass "no sex
until I'm in love" pledge. Scott felt betrayed and foolish beyond words. In
a terse voice, he asked, "Just exactly what special projects have you been
doing for old man Jenkins?"

	Tom seemed perplexed by Scott's change in tone and demeanor. A dark
aura seemed to have fallen over him. Nonetheless , Tom answered his
question honestly, "Well, just this morning, I helped with his thrashing
machine." Tom chuckled a bit. "It was a bit painful. We finished up just
before you came in. That's why I was in the shower cleaning up. That was
the roughest thing he's had me do yet and I was even bleeding a little from
it. And then last night, I stayed up past midnight plowing his back forty
as he calls it. It's not always fun putting in the extra time, but he pays
really good for it and I like the money. He knows other farmers nearby who
are like him and have need of my skills. He says they'll all pay me good
money for it too. He says it's something I can do all through the
winter. That's when most of the farmers want it since they aren't busy with
the farming. So don't worry about taking the money, I'll just make more."

	Scott was on the verge of exploding. Multitudinous foul, dirty,
angry names were flowing through Scott's mind but he held his tongue. The
level of betrayal was only surpassed by his feelings of stupidity. He was
being manipulated and worked. He was a big schmuck. The hurtful anger was
so intense, he couldn't even speak. Tom was just a big phony. Finally, he
shoved the cash across the table and stood up defiantly. "I don't want your
damn money. Not like this. I ... I ... I can't even talk about it."

	"Scott, why are you acting like this? It's no big deal. You helped
me out with your paycheck when I was more desperate than I'd ever been in
my whole life. I was honestly considering suicide when I was walking alone
down that road from Camp Challenge and then you stepped out of the woods
and gave me a gift. A gift that was much more than just money, it was a
gift of caring. You showed me that someone in the world cared about me. You
restored my hope. You saved my life and now it's my turn to repay you in a
small way. Why is that so upsetting to you? I really don't get it."

	"You think I'm stupid? You think ... Oh never mind. I have to go do
the watering. Run off with your precious Jeff and do your special projects
all you want. You all deserve each other." Scott stormed out the door
leaving Tom bewildered and intensely saddened. Scott was too complex to
understand. He only hoped that he could try and talk rationally with him
after he cooled down from whatever had set him off. Tom finished dressing
and headed out in the old Ford truck to find the other laborers and take
them to the widow's house for lunch.

	Scott fought tears of anger and frustration, but mostly of severe
disappointment over Tom's flagrant and wanton disregard for his "no sex"
pledge. Here Scott was willing live up to it no matter what and Tom was out
getting thrashed and God only knows what else by Mr. Jenkins, and he even
had plans to sell himself to other lonely farmers around the valley. The
worst part was how casual he acted about it. Did he think just because
Mr. Jenkins is an old man, it doesn't count? Scott was disgusted every time
he thought about it. Then he set his mind on a plan of action. He doubled
his efforts on the watering tubes and pedaled hard back to the barnyard. He
got out of his rubber boots, pulled on his shoes and marched over to the
farm house. Mr. Jenkins came to the door with a glass of lemonade in his
hand.

	"Howdy Scott."

	"Hi. Umm, can I come in a minute please?"

	"Wa'll sure ya can." He stepped back and pulled the door open with
him. Scott marched in and straight over to a kitchen chair. Sitting down he
waited for Mr. Jenkins to join him.

	"Care fer a lemonade?"

	"Yes please. I'm very thirsty."

	Mr. Jenkins poured a tall glass of the refreshing yellow liquid
over ice cubes and handed Scott the glass. Then he sat down kitty corner
from Scott at the table. "So, what's itchin' at ya?"

	"Do you remember offering me some extra money if I were to do some
"special" projects with you?"

	Mr. Jenkins sat back in his chair and sipped his lemonade. "Yeah. I
recall that. Seems you weren't too keen on mah idear."

	"Well, I've reconsidered and I'd like to take you up on it. How
much do you pay for, umm, plowing the back forty, for instance?"

	Mr. Jenkins snickered. "Y'all gonna make a fine bizness man
someday. Ya'll get right ta the negotiatin' don't ya? How's 150 dollars
sound to ya?"

	"I want two hundred."

	Mr. Jenkins studied him a while and then said. "All right. I spose
you'd be worth that. When'd ya have in mind ta perform this here li'l job?"

	"Now."

	Mr. Jenkins nearly dropped his lemonade. He set it on the table and
grasped the glass with both hands, "Like in right now?"

	"Yes sir, if you can."

	"Oh shit yes, boy. I def-nitly can. Ya'll are sure about this now?
Ya'll really wanna go through with it?"

	"Yes sir. I'm absolutely sure. I really want to do it with you."

	"All right then. Damn. Who'da figgered. I'll go get showered up and
ya'll do the same. Ya'll use the shower in the mud room. When yer done, dry
off and hightail it in to mah bedroom." He was practically giddy with
excitement. Scott finished off his lemonade and put the glass in the
sink. He walked resolutely to the shower stall in the mud room and stripped
naked.

	He took a quick, hot shower and wrapped the towel around his
waist. Then, he thought better of it and just hung the towel up and walked
stark naked through the old man's house to his bed chamber, his long uncut
dick swinging in the breeze. He walked into the bedroom and found it
empty. The blankets were all pulled down, and so Scott climbed up on the
bed and lay on his back, waiting for his employer to show up. He was
shaking a bit from nervousness, or was it leftover anger at Tom. He wasn't
sure and it didn't really matter. The sheets were cool under his naked
skin. The feather pillow molded to his neck and head.

	Scott felt his heart beating inside his chest. When Mr. Jenkins
emerged from his bathroom into the bedroom, Scott's resolve started to wane
slightly. The old man was reasonably fit and slender, but his skin
definitely showed the signs of aging. His uncut dick was shorter than
Scott's but slightly fatter, and the old man's wrinkly balls were covered
with scraggly grey hairs. Scott hoped he had spit out his wad of chew and
decided kissing would be out of bounds. Even boned, the old man's penis
head was mostly covered by foreskin, and judging from the intensity of the
boner there was no mistaking his level of arousal. There was an excitement
in his quickened step and he had a wad of twenties in his hand. Scott was
still limp.

	The lonely farmer set the cash on the nightstand and climbed up on
the bed. "Ya'll are one be-a-utiful sight." He slid his weather worn hands
up Scott's young firm chest and rubbed at his large brown nipples. With one
hand, he cupped Scott's balls and with the other he took hold of his limp
dick and peeled back the foreskin. The old man peered at it intently as he
moved it from side to side. Then, the old man bent over and licked around
the ridge of Scott's glans. Scott's pent up sexual needs and the
manipulation of his sensitive head overruled his revulsion to the act he
was committed now to perform, and his penis began to swell in the old man's
grasp. Mr. Jenkins smiled on one side of his mouth as the first surges of
blood filled the spongy tissue within Scott's penis.

	The farmer worked the soft, young flesh of the submissive boy's
virile tool up and down in a slow deliberate manner, stopping occasionally
to lick and nibble at his head. Scott peeked up to watch as the last drops
of blood pushed their way into the spongy caverns of his large dick to
achieve a full erection. Mr. Jenkins looked at him and smiled like a
schoolboy who just got his first hand job behind the cafeteria.  Scott
dropped his head back down to the pillow and tried to separate his mind
from the coming physical experience.  "At least," he thought, "I'm doing
something nice for the old man." Suddenly, Scott had a scary thought and
rose up on his elbows. "You have to use a rubber before you start plowing."

	"Ahh, I'm clean. Ya'll don't hafta worry none 'bout that."

	"NO! No way. No rubber, no plowing."

	"All right. If'n ya'll insist." He released Scott's dick and pulled
one from the nightstand drawer. He set it on Scott's chest and resumed his
jacking action on Scott's gorgeous piece of manhood. Briefly, Scott thought
the old man might not have one and it would be an excuse to get out of the
situation. Scott dropped back into the feather pillow, closed his eyes and
accepted his stupidity. It had been so long since Scott had cum, the
urgency began to grow quickly from Mr. Jenkins' attention to his dick and
balls.

	"I might shoot if you keep that up much longer, so if you don't
want me to this soon, you need to stop jacking me a while." There was a
clinical nature to Scott's voice and manner. The old farmer stopped his
jacking and began feeling up Scott's ample balls. The old man pulled out a
bottle of lube and drizzled some over Scott's balls and he rubbed it into
the crack of his firm ass. Scott squeezed his eyes shut and imagined he was
riding his dirt bike. "Bumpy trail coming up," he said to himself, "better
get ready." He actually imagined himself riding Nick's track naked.

	The lonely farmer was dripping pre-cum and he started stroking his
dick while he was rubbing his fingers through Scott's crack.

	"Hey," Scott said, having another thought cross his mind. Would you
pay extra if I let you tie me up?"

	The old farmer looked at him for a bit and then said. "How much?"

	"I don't know, say an extra fifty?"

	"All right. Damn, you're makin' mah day."

	The old man disappeared and returned quickly with some soft cotton
rope. He took Scott's left foot and hog tied it to his left hand. He did
the same to Scott's right side. Then he wrapped a rope around each of
Scott's thighs just above his knees and tied them to the bedpost over
Scott's head. His feet and hands were pulled up in the air and Scott's ass
was exposed wide open for the plowing to begin. Scott felt ridiculous and
was glad no one but the old farmer could see him. Old man Jenkins was
leaking like a faucet when he rolled the rubber onto his dick. Scott took
in a deep breath and blew it out, then he bit his upper lip and prepared
himself for the ride. "How much did you pay Tom to plow his back forty?"
Scott blurted out.

	"What?" Mr. Jenkins asked confused.

	"When you fucked Tom, how much did you pay him?"

	"I don' know whatcha mean, boy."

	"Come on, don't play dumb. I know you do this with the one Hispanic
guy and with Tom. I've seen it through the window of the Hispanic guy's
cabin and Tom told me you did it with him."

	The old man pulled his dick away from Scott's clenched pucker and
sat back on his haunches. "Son, Tom an' I ain't done nothin' sexual
together. He ain't willin' an' I ain't gonna press it. I don' deny, I done
some wit Jose, but that there ain't none o' yer bizness."

	"What's this all 'bout for real? Why'd ya change yer mind 'bout all
this? Sump'n aint addin up."

	"I just want it same as Tom, that's all. I know you did it with Tom
and what's good for the goose is good for the gander. If he can go having
sex with you for money, then I can too. So get it over with, pay me the
money, and let me get out of here."

	"Son, I'm not gonna do this. Ya'll are here fer the wrong
reasons. I shouldn't oughta been doin' this ta begin with. Jus' the idear
of havin' somethin' sweet as ya'll got the better of my right thinkin'
agin."

	"No. I need the money more than Tom does. Just do it and get it
over with please. Just fuck me."

	"Ya'll kin have the money. Jus' jackin' an suckin' that sweet dick
o' yers, and feelin' up them tender young oysters in yer sac was worth the
money. As for Tom, I propy-sitioned him, no doubt, but he weren't havin'
none of it. Nuh-uh, now way, no how. Lord knows, I'd love a piece o' that
fine body, but he is dead set agin it."

	"That's a lie. He told me you kept him up past midnight plowing the
back forty last night. And, he said he worked on your "thrashing machine"
this morning and you even made him bleed from doing it. I'm not stupid. He
even plans on selling his "special" talents to neighboring farmers all
winter long like some kind of farm boy hooker. He told me that straight out
and showed me all the cash you paid him for it."

	Mr. Jenkins started to laugh. He laughed so hard it shook the
bed. He laughed so hard he was snorting out of his nose and holding his
belly. He laughed so hard, he lost his erection. Scott grew more and more
annoyed and upset. He strained against his rope bonds. He wanted to slap
the old man. He was tired of everyone making a fool of him and laughing at
him. He felt really foolish tied up like a calf in a rodeo while the naked
old fart just laughed his head off at him. Tom was mocking him and now
Mr. Jenkins was just plain laughing out loud to his face. "Untie me! I
wanna leave. I hate you all. You think you can mess with me like some
puppet, but you can't. Let me go! He jerked and pulled at his bonds, but
that only made them tighter.

	"Settle down son. I'll untie ya. But first, ya'll are gonna lissen
up."

	Scott stubbornly squirmed and pulled at his ropes. Mr. Jenkins just
watched in odd amusement, occasionally breaking out in little spurts of
leftover laughter. Finally, Scott gave up and calmed down and Mr. Jenkins
continued. "Tom and I ain't done nothin' sexual. We actually did plow the
back forty last night and were fer a fact up past midnight doin'it. This
morning, Jose and Manuel are plantin' the back forty we plowed up. It's an
actual part o' the farm an' we actually did plow it up last night. It's
jest like Tom told ya, only we done it with a big tractor. I paid him exter
fer it since he stayed up past midnight ta finish it fer me. As fer mah
"thrashing machine" well ..." Mr. Jenkins broke into another fit of
laughter and then wiping at his eyes continued, "Tom's an expert
welder. Seems his neighbor was a welder back in Boise and taught Tom how ta
do it. He's mighty good at it, too, has a real steady hand. Well, he went
an' welded up a broken bracket on mah thrashing machine and in the
pro-cess, I let a chunk o' metal I was holdin' in place slip and hit his
shin makin' it bleed all over the place. A thrashin' machine's used ta
harvest grain, boy. It ain't nothin' like this here machine ya'll was
picturin'." He grabbed his semi-hard dick and flopped it up and
down. "Hell, that's just plain hi-larious."

	Scott's face was burning with embarrassment. He'd been wrong all
the way about Tom. He'd almost offered himself up to old man Jenkins in
some sort of twisted act of jealous revenge for no good reason. Mr. Jenkins
untied him and gave Scott the money. Scott declined, feeling stupid and
like he was taking advantage, but Mr. Jenkins said the entertainment value
of the thrashing machine was well worth the money and asked what he needed
the money for so badly anyway. Scott explained about the orchestra
costs. Mr. Jenkins promised him that he would find plenty of legitimate
special projects for Scott to do in order to be able to pay the orchestra
costs. He seemed to feel it an obligation considering what he'd just about
done.

	Scott thanked the old man and apologized for what he'd done and
then dressed quickly and went to find Tom. Mr. Jenkins was apologizing to
Scott all the way out the door. Scott found Tom taking his turn in the
tractor, planting the back forty. When he saw Scott, he stopped the tractor
at the end of the row and climbed down. "Tom, I'm sorry," Scott said. "I'm
so sorry." He started to cry. Tom put his arm around him and asked what was
wrong. Scott told him the whole story about his misunderstanding and the
whole experience with old man Jenkins. Tom couldn't resist laughing over
the thrashing machine, but quickly stifled it when he saw Scott's defensive
reaction. Tom was very disturbed by old man Jenkins' behavior but at least
gave him credit for not going through with it and for apologizing once he
realized what was really behind Scott's offer for the sex.

	"Tom, I'm so confused. Last night, Mike told me that he loves
me. He's gay like I am and he loves me. And, well, I love him too, but I
love you also. If I share my love with Mike, I cheat on you. If I wait for
you, Mike may find someone else and I could lose him. You love Jeff still,
and so I don't know if you can ever love me instead. Like really love me,
not just a little brother kind of love, I mean. I don't know what to do."

	"Scott, please listen to me this time. You are a kind, caring, hard
working, bright, witty, wonderful young man. But you are so hung up on
whether you are doing the right thing all the time, you end up doing the
wrong thing. You're so busy worrying about what everyone else thinks you
should be or do, you can't believe in your own value. I love you. Mike
loves you. Sammy loves you. Your parents love you. It's okay to accept
whatever level or type of love people have to offer without having to
exclude everyone else's love for you. Be a high school kid with an emphasis
on "KID." Have some fun. Chill out on all this love drama. Share your love
with Mike. If that works out later on, when it's the right time, then
great. If not, let it be a cherished memory. I really do still love Jeff. I
can't help myself.  After you left my room, I called him and left my cell
number on his phone and he called me back already. We're having lunch
together after basketball practice on Thursday. Don't waste your youth
hoping for me Scott. I'll always love and care about you. You saved me
after my father left me behind at Camp Challenge, and I will always love
you for that, but my heart was already given away to Jeff, and I couldn't
change that no matter how I tried. Do you understand?"

	Scott smeared the tears down his cheeks and wrapped his arms around
Tom's large frame. They held each other in silence. A slight breeze wafted
across the landscape, gently tousling Scott's beautiful, brown hair. The
hum of the tractor idling in the background reminded them it was time to
move on with the demands of life. Scott watched as Tom scaled the tractor
and settled into the cab of the large green behemoth. The engine revved and
the lid over the exhaust pipe flipped open. Slowly, Tom rumbled away from
Scott at a snail's pace, spreading his seed into the back forty.

	"I guess the train went down Tom's track after all, but he survived
somehow." Scott muttered.

	Scott sent a text to Mike. "Can u meet at farm?"

	A text instantly returned, "Sure. When?'

	"Now."

	"Coolio."

	Scott had just finished packing a backpack with Mr. Jenkins' help
when Mike pulled into the gravel driveway. His bicycle tires crunched in
the loose gravel. Scott met him and they slapped palms and bumped chests in
greeting. Mike walked his bicycle over to the shed and Scott pulled out his
dirt bike. He handed Mike an extra helmet. Scott started the motor, and
motioned for Mike to climb on behind him. Scott refused to tell Mike what
he had in mind. "It's a surprise."

#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#

One more chapter to go. This time I mean it. Hope you will come back for
the finale.