Date: Tue, 12 Feb 2008 13:19:05 -0800 (PST)
From: larry_c_ @ excite.com
Subject: My Own Story, chapter 5

Please write me and let me know your opinions...but be constructive!

A story of how a kid got caught up in sexual involvement with his friends;
if this offends, do not read; if this is illegal in your area, stop now!
So, if you do continue, you do at your own risk, and hopefully pleasure as
well.

Now this is turning into me becoming an Adult giving his story! (Still
reminding you that there is some truth to every story told...but it's the
fiction part that keeps us all out of jail!) The answer to just how much is
truth will never be known...sorry!

We left off last time with...

Our future had to exist simply on the wonderful memories of these past
three days if we were to survive. It's a good thing that we were both
experienced performers...because this would be the biggest role we'd ever
play...and we both knew it!  ... to fall away from my commitment to my wife
again...I just couldn't...No way...I can't allow anything to ever hurt her
if she were to discover it or hear about it from someone else...I...I
just...


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			       My Own Story
			       Chapter Five

I worked for the next eight years as a Music Teacher in my own home town,
because I had been asked by my own HS Instructor to take his place as he
went on Sabbatical , and upon his return, I was asked to replace the Vocal
Teacher who resigned to get herself married. (Mainly because she had become
pregnant, and needed to make it look good if she ever wanted to teach again
after the kid was born.

I silently struggled with ideas about a few of my young male students, but
for five years I never let on to any one of them that I had any interests
other than creating musical professionals from raw material in both males
and females that truly had possibilities to carry their talents as far as
they wanted to go.

My wife and I were very busy at home, trying to create a child or two of
our own. She really wanted a family to care for, and I wanted to prove to
myself that I was finished with the male-male thing, and wanted only to be
a good husband to her.  We tried and tried to hit the right times in her
cycle, made trips to the doctors for check-ups and tests...every possible
way to conceive known to mankind...only to find that she was unable to get
pregnant. As soon as she discovered this, her interest in having sex
dwindled, as did our frequency of intercourse. She claimed "it hurt", and
loving her as I did, I agreed not to force things to happen.

But I was still young enough that my body kept telling me I needed it. My
right hand of fellowship no longer gave me pleasure enough to suffice my
desire. I began sneaking off to the XXX Arcades on my way home from school
in the evenings. Besides, there were many evening rehearsals for those big
school musicals and drama plays, and I would "stay on campus" between
classes and the practices. (At least that was what I told my wife.) She
worked until six each evening, so she knew we couldn't meet for dinner in
the short time between her getting off and my need to be back on campus
anyway. This gave me ample opportunity to use a few quarters for
entertainment...which often led to a back row seat in the feature room as
well.

Sometimes, the person seated next to me in the feature room was a total
stranger, but more often than not...the guy was a former school mate of
mine from High School days...or maybe even a recent graduate from my music
department...  someone who had felt the same way as did I, but waited until
now to be "out" enough to share those desires with me. Funny thing...most
of them were guys I had wanted to get to know in those earlier years, but
was too afraid to ask. There was, of course, an unwritten agreement among
us all to keep these contacts a secret, because of the fact that we all had
prominent community positions to protect.

My wife and I also allowed students to come to our home at any hour of the
day and night if they had problems to discuss. As I may have mentioned
earlier, my students called me "Papa", and of course my wife donned the
tag, "Mom" to all those who chose to come by for chats. She mothered so
many of them, and loved every minute of it. Then suddenly, one student
changed our lives significantly. The young man's name was Howie.

The situation began in my classroom during choir hour. Howie had been in my
classes for two years already, and I was acquainted with some of his story
because he sang lead Bass, and also performed in school musicals. The main
reason he had become close to "Papa" was that his father had died in bed
while smoking as he was too drunk to realize the hot ashes started the
bedding on fire...and too weakened from the alcohol to move when the blazes
erupted. Howie's mother became so depressed over her life situation that
she committed suicide in a local river. The kid had a grandmother, uncles
and aunts, and older siblings, but none were able to take him in...or if
they did, couldn't put up with his disturbed temperaments. Music and Drama
seemed to be the only thongs that helped him vent and stay civil.

Howie became my right hand man and accomplished a lot of good things
because we worked so well together, and he respected me greatly. Yes, I
believe there was a love there because I became almost like a surrogate dad
to him. He had been living in foster homes since he was ten years old, and
almost every two or three months he would be moved to another place due to
problems that would develop with each family as he stayed there. The only
solidarity of belonging that Howie felt was with me at school, and of
course the times he came by the house and spent many an hour with me and my
wife both.

Then it happened...Howie showed up to class one afternoon, came to me and
said he really needed help, and then passed out on my classroom floor. I
had a VW Camper at the time, and so I took him out to the vehicle and let
him sleep off whatever it was. Then came the story...

      "Papa...it's the foster home guy...we have six guys placed there, and
the man of the house collects bucks for all of us. But that's not enough
cash for him because he wants to lie on the couch all day not working, but
to have enough cash to live a life of leisure. So, he wants all six of us
to sell drugs on campus for him. I refused, so he drugged my coke to try to
get me hooked, and make me sell to support a habit. I don't want to do it!
Help me! Please help me!"

As a teacher, I was also a "mandatory reporter", so I called the County
Offices regarding foster placement, and told the story to the Social
Services Department Head. I was pretty forceful with my discussion...

      "Let me put it this way, if your department doesn't get those six
kids out from under that guy, I'll sue the County for Abuse of all six
young men! Close that home, or I'll see that your Department is blown
away!"

      "Oh, Sir...we will pull those boys this afternoon, for
sure. But...there's a problem with Howie! He has been in every foster home
we have, and thrown out of every one of them. No one wants him. He's too
hard to handle."

      "Well then, I'll take him home to my place, and he can stay with my
wife and me until you find a foster home for him. At least he'll be safe
and warm until the system can get its act together."

      "Sir...you want him?...you have him! We'll issue the foster license
immediately. You and your wife are accepted. Thank you..." (click!)

I called my wife right away, and told her about the conversation, afraid
that she'd take my head off for being so dumb as to get us into this type
of situation. She didn't even stop to think about it...

      "Very well, Dear...I like Howie too! He's welcome. I'll see you for
dinner." (click!)

I looked at Howie, and told him what my wife said, and he grabbed me in a
huge hug, and then fell back to sleep until the school day was finished,
and we could go home together. His sleeping face radiated a new peace.

Howie moved into our home when he was 16, and he will be 18 in just a few
weeks, so at least progress was made as to his belonging somewhere and
being loved by his new family. In fact, he even requested that we adopt
him, and the only reason we did not do it was to allow him to carry on his
own family name as the only remaining male of his line. As far as his
position in our home, he is our son, and we feel as if he is our son as
well. This also became the feeling of the students at school. I had to be
careful not to give him special preference just because I was not just
"Papa" but now I was his Dad in the eyes of all my other kids.

Now, I suppose I ought to describe my new son...same height as am I, 5'6"
and surprisingly enough, his facial features did seem to make people think
he really could be our child. He was, however, in a lot better physical
shape than I. (Oh, I am no slouch or Mr. Tubby, but I am now beginning to
show a bit of love handles and not as much muscular bulk as I had in
college...not much time to work out with my heavy school schedule and my
own personal performance calendar. But hey...I can still play leading
heroes, so moving toward mid-30's hasn't hurt that badly!) Howie was a
black belt in Martial Arts, so his physical appearance was quite
outstanding to say the least. Half the girls on campus wanted to get him in
bed, and so did a few of the guys...and this did give Howie an attitude
that he could have done without.

One activity that helped us feel more like a real family was that we formed
a family trio which performed all over the state, We bought matching
outfits, had posters made, and were seen together acting on stage and in
vocal concerts on many a week-end. This also meant traveling together in
our VW Camper Van. Sometimes we would stop at a relative's home for a night
or two. Most of our family didn't have more than one guestroom, so my wife
would use that spot, and Howie and I would use the Camper facilities at
bedtime...which turned out to become a problem.

It was a very warm summer night in the Valley, and "Mom" had turned in for
the night in the air conditioned home of Howie's Aunt...one who still cared
that Howie even existed, and had invited us to sing at her community
theater's 50th Anniversary celebration. Howie and I decided that it was too
warm to sleep in much, so we chose to wear just our boxers and crawled
under just a top sheet. Howie had lived with us long enough by now to know
that my wife and I weren't too active sexually. He had also craved a close
relationship with "Dad", because he really never had one before that
mattered. To add to this, he had figured that I wanted the same closeness
to a son of my own. This night's sleeping arrangements would bring all this
to a head!

As we lay there trying to fall asleep in the heat, a simple conversation
began between us about our relationship. I was resting on my back, and
Howie was on his side, facing me as we chatted. Since the camper's bed was
just a double, we were in close proximity...not a problem before, as we had
done this quite often in the past. But, for some reason, something drew us
a bit closer as we discussed things...and soon, his hand was on my chest,
and my arm was pressed against his leg just a tad. The deeper we got into
just how much we cared for each other, the more fingers began to
wander. And then, Howie's face was close to mine, and his breath added to
the sensations I was already feeling...and...we...kissed.

      "Dad? You mind?...I just felt like doin' that!"

      "Son...I didn't mind at all...in fact, I have wanted to do that for a
while now!"

      "Thought so! We're a lot alike, Dad...in many ways! I have a few girl
friends on campus, and heck...I've had sex with at least five of them
already...but...but uh..."

      "SSSSSSShhhhhh, Son...I understand fully! I know where you're heading
right now, and I am OK with it. I know I shouldn't be, but I am. All I ask
is that we keep it totally between just us two. I know you're smart enough
to know that both our home life and my job would be at stake if...to say
nothing about the fact that I could be arrested, even if it is your idea
and consent that allowed us to..."

      "Oh God, Dad...How could you even think I'd ever put you in jeopardy?
I'm the one asking! I need to be really loved! I need to be yours! Besides,
I've been hiding my inner feelings long enough. I need to be freed up to be
the real me! Dad...I'm at least Bi, and maybe I'm totally Gay. I don't know
yet. But I do know that I want us to be lovers as much as I want us to be
Dad and Son. Can you understand that?"

      "Son...I have never told anyone else this in my life, but somehow, I
have to tell you. I am Gay...my marriage has been a good thing, and a great
visual help for my job and circle of friends. But it's not what I crave in
the sexual world. I was exactly like you when I was in High School, and I
still struggle with my inner secret every day. Son...I am here for you, and
I do understand your needs...maybe better than you do."

With that being said, the two of us began to become much warmer than the
weather itself. Kisses...hugs...grinds...explorations...you name it! Any
way we could demonstrate love to the other, we did. For a while, I
dominated as Dad, and then Howie began to dominate as Son. Remember the old
song: "I can do anything better than you"? For almost three hours, we
tossed "No you can't...yes I can" back and forth like a tennis ball in a
Master's match...until we were both so drained that we fell asleep tightly
entwined in each other's arms and legs in spite of the temperature of the
summer night.

For the next ten months or so, the two of us found more and more
opportunities to be close! My wife was a bit suspicious after a while, even
though I slept with her nightly, and pretended to want sex from her...but
only when I knew she wasn't in the mood or physically unable when I
asked. Then, about a month ago, things climaxed (no pun intended) to a
boiling point.

      "Dad...why the hell don't we break away from all this, and get a
place of our own. I'll be eighteen soon, and I know we both want each other
as partners."

      "Son...You know that in my heart, I want you as badly as you want
me. It's just that I somehow just can't break my wife's heart and ask her
for a divorce. She has been so great for these many years...and to tell her
that I love a man more than her could kill her. We have to consider her
too...after all, she is your Mom...right?"

For the next two weeks, Howie began a program of divide and conquer. He was
determined to split Mom and Dad apart any way he could, and then grab me
for himself. And...It succeeded! My wife is no dummy. She saw this
building, and finally made her point in one fast comment...

      "Look, Cliff...it's obvious that Howie is trying to split us
apart. The worst of it all is that I don't see you trying to stop him! I'm
done with competition for your heart. I can see you want a son more than a
wife...so I'm on my way to Mother's, and you will hear from my Lawyer by
tomorrow night! Happy life with Sonny Boy!"

      "But Dear...if I talk to him...if I get him to stop...uh...uh"

(Door slams!)

That night, I sat down with Howie and told him word for word what she had
said as she left. All he did was get a huge grin on his face, and declare
that "we" had finally won! That made me angry, because of how much it hurt
my wife, after all she had done to try to make me happy. I reacted to
Howie's comment with a bit of fury in my voice. He went to his room to cool
off, so that he wouldn't clobber me for being so "ungrateful", as he put
it!

That was two nights ago! Last night, after I opened the papers that were
served to me, I was crying as I lay in bed not able to sleep. Howie came
into my room, and crawled into bed with me to try to comfort me. And
yes...things led from comfort to seduction, and the two of us almost made
up for close to two weeks of abstinence during the mental warfare waged
against my now departed wife. I don't believe either of us got any sleep,
being so involved with lust, then love, then total unification of both body
and spirit...DAMN...the smells of delight alone would turn on any breathing
soul if he or she just inhaled the fragrances flooding the closed-up room
as they entered it.

But in the morning, I felt so much guilt and sorrow over hurting her so
badly, that I told Howie that we needed to hold off until I could at least
mend a few fences, and try to "take the dagger out" of her heart...maybe
waiting until after a reasonably humane divorce was
completed... "something! I had to try something!"...I told him.  That
didn't settle too well...Howie knew what he wanted, and he wanted it now!
He took off out of the house for a while, with no hint as to where he was
going, or for how long!

Today, I tried to call my wife and discuss options to the pending
divorce. I wanted so much to ease her hurt. I did still love her greatly,
even if it wasn't involving sexual closeness, but every time I called, she
recognized my voice and hung up before I could say a word. I even called
her Lawyer and tried to get him to tell her what I wanted...but all he told
me was to get my own Lawyer, or quit bothering him or her, for that
matter. I was so depressed that I stretched out in my recliner and sort of
allowed my mind to float into nothingness...hearing nothing, and responding
to nothing in the real world around me. I didn't even hear Howie come back
into the house, or hear him try to start a discussion...until...

      "OHHHHHHHHH GODDDDDDDDDDDDD...what the?"

      (Crying as he answered me)... "Dad...Fuck! I didn't really mean to do
that...You just didn't answer me...ignored me...like I wasn't even
here...and I lost it! Oh Shit, Dad...I'm so sorry...I didn't even realize I
had my knife in my hand...I'll call 911...CRAP! So much blood...Dad...Dad?"

      "Son...I didn't even hear you ask anything...(gasp)...I...I
still...Love you, Son...(Gasp)...call 911, yes...but then...(Gasp)...get
the fuck out'a here...protect...your butt...(gaaaaaaassssssssssssssp)...

Sirens...lights...cops...EMT'S...news persons...and an almost 18 year old
male hiding in the bushes across the street, watching in fear as the crowd
gathered, before sneaking off into the darkness as his tears flowed down
his face under the occasional street light between the house and the
waterfront pier.

 Oh God...forgive me for my wrongs...let this handwritten memoir help
someone with his struggle...(gasp)... with similar problems...and
(gaaaaaaaassssssssssp) and help... my So..."

Silence...The Real End!

Reporter's note: We all knew Cliff well...and respected him as a leader in
our community. I publish this memoir, found yesterday on the floor under
his blood-drained body as we photographed the shocking scene for the police
team. It is not this reporter's intention to defame Cliff, but to have his
last wish honored...that these words might serve to keep such a tragedy
from happening to someone else. May Cliff's call for forgiveness be honored
so that he may rest in peace.


Today's Herald Staff member.  Published under the day's headline: "DROWNED
TEEN BODY WASHED UP ON BEACH..."

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