Date: Thu, 27 Aug 2015 05:21:57 -0500
From: 1967author@gmail.com
Subject: My Married Friends Son

This is a follow up to My Married Friend, posted a few months ago. Like it,
this is a fictional story, the product of fantasy and imagination on long
runs through the park where I have nothing to do but think.

Please contribute to Nifty. If you are reading this, then you enjoy the
service it provides.

Please feel free to share feedback with me at 1967author@gmail.com.


My Married Friend's Son (Part One)


I had known "Trick" (short for Patrick) since his third day. I was with
Rob when he got the news that the water surrounding his second child, and
first son, had broken, and I visited them all in the hospital 72 hours
later.


I babysat Trick and his older sister, "Sonny" (short for Jackson),
regularly while he was a toddler. Trick was often in a Cardinal red onesie,
and I carried him around in my mouth as we crawled through their house.
Once we argued for tens of minutes over whether a green vegetable on Veggie
Tales was asparagus or broccoli. Neither of us would give in. I was pretty
sure I was right.


"Chris, I'm pretty sure it's bwoccly."


"It's asparagus."


Long pause.


"Otay . . . but I think it's bwoccly."


"Think what you want. But, it's asparagus."


He was 3 and I was 25 years older. He gave up. I would not.


Trick had a temper. He lost his bedroom door for slamming it. Shortly
after, I was babysitting and had to send Trick to his room. As he started
up the stairs, I teased him.


"Do NOT slam your door."


He stopped on a dime, turned, clenched his fists and raged "Chris . . .
you . . . know . . . I . . . don't . . . have . . . a . . . door"


Of course, I knew that, which is exactly why I reminded him. His rage
made me roar, which only enraged him more.


*****


I watched Trick grow from a chubby toddler to a lean and sinewy teen. By
the time he was in high school, he was a talented baseball player and an
equally talented opera singer, which struck me as a very rare combination.
He straddled the jock and art world with alacrity.


He was also developing into a stunningly handsome young man. He had wavy
brown hair, green eyes that were lower on the outside than on the inside (I
referred to them as droopy eyes; I was a sucker for droopy eyes), a strong
nose, and a "You know I am going to seduce you, I know I am going to seduce
you, and you know I know I am going to seduce you" smile. He moved with the
certainty and confidence of someone who knew everything was going to work
out for him, he was always going to be the star, and he was always going to
get the girl.


He also had a long, muscled body. He was not muscular, but he was
muscled, thickest in his ass and his legs. At 18, he was 6 feet 4 and one
of the most talked about baseball players in the region, a fleet-footed and
strong armed center fielder who hit for power and average for the strongest
Legion team around.


He was also an all-state vocalist, specializing in opera, but not limited
in range or in style. Whether at the plate or on a stage, he knew he had
the goods and that he would deliver them.


Trick rarely made mistakes, but he made a whopper his senior year. While
being recruited, he got two girls pregnant at the same time. One was his
long-time girlfriend. The other was her best friend, who he was banging
behind his girlfriend's back. Trick's virility challenged his parents'
nominal Catholicism (as, by the way, did his father's sexual escapades,
including with me). In the end, they worshipped at the altar of a baseball
scholarship, and the problem was solved discreetly. Trick's only penalty,
other than losing his girlfriend and her best friend, was his parents'
unwillingness to pay for Yale.


*****


Trick was an All-SEC junior center fielder for Mizzou when his father
asked me to stop in Columbia on my way back from St. Louis to ferry him to
Kansas City for Thanksgiving break.  I was more than twice his age and --
five years earlier -- had been his father's plaything.


I had seen Trick off and on since he had started at Mizzou. I went to
most of the football games with his father, and we usually saw Trick before
or after each game, whether for dinner or for a trip for supplies to
Wal-Mart. Trick was always very kind to me during those visits. Exceedingly
so.


Although it was 27 degrees, Trick sauntered toward my car in gold mesh
shorts, a black Mizzou tank top, a scarf wrapped loosely around his neck,
and flip flops. His hair was long and pinned on top of his head in a
fashinonable man bun. He had not shaved for a few days. He looked like Jon
Snow from GoT, only younger and with more hair on his chest. He was what I
would call a hipster (I am not sure what his generation called it). He
carried a six pack of Natural Light in one hand, a pillow in the other, and
had small duffel bag over his shoulder that he carelessly tossed in the
back seat.


His black tank top was tight, so it showed off every ripple a 21 year old
college athlete with nothing but time to train has. It also revealed his
round shoulders, long biceps, and hairy chest. It was the good kind of
hairy, straight and thick, but not overgrown.


His gold mesh shorts were baggy, as was the style. His hairy legs were
thick. His feet were athletic and well-maintained. But, what I noticed most
were his hands. They were big and masculine with perfect nails, trimmed
nicely and with full half moons at the base. I could imagine those hands
roaming over me. It was going to be a distracting drive.


Once he was settled in my car, he looked at me and smiled. He oozed cool.
And sex.


He popped a Natural Light and offered me one. I declined.


"I'm driving."


"So?"


He was carefree and careless. He took a long swig and reclined his chair,
tucking his pillow behind his head. It was hard not to stare at him. He
reached down, pulled his junk up, and closed his legs. His dick lolled to
the left. It was impressive. It looked free, unconstrained even by boxers.
And, I was pretty sure he caught me looking at it.


About 30 minutes outside of Columbia, Trick started shifting in his seat.
When I glanced over, it was clear he was "road hard." It was also clear he
did not care that I knew, as he did nothing to conceal it. I stared at it
out of the corner of my eye. It was impressive.


We drove on in silence. He broke it at the Marshall/Sedalia interchange.


"Can I ask you a question," he asked.


"Another one?"


"That's lame. Don't be lame. I know you're not lame, so don't be lame."


Chastened, I told him to "fire away."


"When did you switch from chicks to dicks?"


I was taken aback by his question. And by the casual way he asked it. I
answered, "When I was a little older than you."


"What made you switch?"

"I didn't really 'switch.' I always knew I preferred . . . dicks, to use
your word. Even as a little boy, I flipped right past the women's underwear
section of the Penney's and Sears' catalogs and went right to the men's
section. I was thrilled to see a man in tight white underwear. Or a tight
baseball uniform. I knew what I was. It just took me a while to accept it.
A long while. I was Catholic. It was a different time. You weren't
celebrated for being gay. You were ostracized. Or worse. So, I pretended to
be something I was not. I hurt a few girls along the way, including one
very sweet girl I dated after I started dating guys. I should't have
involved her in my turmoil, but I did. It was selfish and self-centered of
me, and I broke her heart."


"Times were different then, man. Today, no one cares. You can sleep with
whoever you want. No one cares if you're gay or straight or both or
neither. At least people my age don't. . . . Mind if I smoke?"


"Yes, I mind. I don't want my car to smell like cigarette smoke."


"I don't smoke cigarettes."


"You want to smoke pot in my car?"


"Sure. The beer's gone."


I looked at the floor. Sure enough, six empty cans were at his feet. I am
not sure how I'd missed him downing one after another.


"Aren't your parents going to be pissed if you show up reeking of beer
and pot?"


"I'm not really into whether they'll be pissed or not. It's the
off-season. I have to be an angel in the Spring. I'm a devil in the Fall."


I was ambivalent about Trick smoking pot in my car. But, I would have had
a tough time keeping anything he wanted from him at that point. So, I
relented.


He reached in his duffel, grabbed a baggie, and expertly rolled a joint.
Once he lit it, he took a deep, long hit and held it in as long as he could
before rolling down the window and politely blowing it outside the car. He
took two more before he offered the joint to me. I declined.


"I'm still driving."


"I'm still at 'So,'" he said, as he took the joint back and took another
deep, long hit. By Lexington, he had it gone. By Odessa, he had another
hard on, which his mesh shorts betrayed. I could clearly see the outline of
him, including the head. I decided to inquire.


"Why aren't you wearing underwear?"


"I don't like underwear. I prefer the freedom of freeballing. Actually, I
prefer the freedom of nudity. I'm naked whenever I can be."


"Doesn't your roommate mind?"


"No, not a bit," Trick replied, winking at me as he did. "I think he
quite enjoys it."


Trick's roommate was Mizzou's shortstop, a lean, muscular
African-American kid that everyone expected to get drafted the following
Spring. His name was Raylan, and he and Trick were far and away the best
players among the Tigers' current crop. Trick was good. Raylan was great.
And, he was built like a brick shithouse. He looked like he had been
chiseled from rock.


Trick pulled his tank top up and used it to wipe his face. When he did, I
noticed that his long, straight chest hair concentrated in a trail through
his navel and into his shorts.


"You don't trim?" I asked. Everyone did now, even straight guys, except
maybe Nev Shulman, the odd guy from that Catfish thing. Trick was not
nearly as hairy as Nev, but he was pretty hairy.


"Nah, I like my hair. Most of the team trims, but I don't. They say it
makes you look bigger, but I don't need to look bigger. I'm plenty big."


My mouth went dry. From what I had seen during the drive, it was clear he
was not exaggerating. But, it struck me as odd that he was being so forward
and open about it.


We drove on in silence. Just west of Blue Springs, I asked Trick if he
had a girlfriend.


"Nah. We don't really do that anymore. We hook up, but we don't label it
'dating' or 'boyfriend' or 'girlfriend'."


"Do you have a regular hook up?"


"I get more than my share," he said, hitting the "more" hard. "But, I
don't focus on anyone in particular."


When we got to Trick's house, he popped a big piece of cinnamon bubble
gum in his mouth, dripped Visine in each of his eyes, and thanked me for
the ride. I watched his round, athletic ass as he walked to the house. He
stopped, turned his head, and caught me watching. He returned to the car
and waited for me to roll down the window.


"You in town this weekend?" he asked.


"Yep. I am headed to my sister's tomorrow, but I'll be back Friday
morning."


"You wanna get high Friday afternoon?"


I was tempted. I had not gotten high since law school, 25 years earlier.
Trick's wink resolved my temptation.


"Sure."


"See you Friday, then," he said, sauntering back toward the house, his
bag slung casually over his shoulder. As I watched him, I felt like a
predator. Or prey. I just was not sure which.


My Married Friend's Son (Part Two)


Trick knocked on my door at 3:30 on Friday afternoon. I had been waiting
since 1, when I had finished furtively cleaning the house and myself. I
knew I was being ridiculous; I was acting like I was having a date over for
dinner for the first time.


I wanted to look casual and indifferent. No hair product. A loose
t-shirt. Gym shorts. But, no matter how hard I tried, I still looked like I
was trying. When I looked in the mirror, Anderson Cooper stared back at me.
I had been graying since I was 30; at 46, I was silver. I kept myself in
reasonable shape, but my middle showed that I drank too much wine and
didn't do enough abdominal work.


I had never been cool. I was not going to start today. I looked like I
was trying too hard when I wasn't trying at all.


Trick stunned me when I opened the door. A plastic headband held his hair
away from his face, which still was not shaved. He had that same scarf
wrapped around his neck, had on the same blank tank top, and had on loose,
ripped jeans that were tight enough to show off his body but loose enough
to look casual and old.


He looked like the lead singer of a rock band. He oozed coolness and
indifference and sex as he nodded and sauntered past me. He moved with the
complete, unfettered confidence of a big penis. My freshman year college
roommate had the same confidence. He was average looking, but he owned the
room when he walked in. He was swinging a weapon, he knew it, and his
demeanor betrayed it.


My dick was a little better than fine, 6.5 inches when hard, but nice
looking. But, I moved like it was small. I lived with the diffidence of
someone who never quite measured up, for whatever reason. I had since I
could remember. I was short (only 5'7", stretched out completely), I sat in
the front row, I was never late, and I was always harried. I was the
opposite of Trick.


Trick plopped down on the sofa, pulled a bong out of his bag, and
prepared to fire it up. I was surprised he moved right to that. I went to
the kitchen and poured us two glasses of vodka, adding a bit of Sprite to
his and a bit of ice to mine. I returned to the living room to see him take
a big hit.


I put Trick's drink in front of him, and he downed half of it. He then
unwound the scarf from around his neck and tossed it at me. "Yours to
keep," he said. "A souvenir."


"Of what?"


"Our first date."


I was stunned. I had not considered that this could be a date. Sure, the
questions about "when did you switch" during the car ride had me wondering,
but there was a chasm between wondering whether Trick was gay and thinking
he was gay and interested in me.


He then pulled the black tank top over his head, baring his hairy,
muscled chest. "I hope you don't mind," he said." "But, I packed poorly. I
have only the tank, and it's a little tight."

"I can get you a shirt."


"You can if you want, I guess. But, I'm happy without one."


I liked the view of Trick's hairy chest and path to paradise, so I
casually ignored my  offer. He offered me the bong, and I took it. We spent
the next hour drinking vodka and smoking pot. By 5, I was drunk and high.
So was Trick.


"You hungry?" I asked.


"Headed there. Pot makes me hungry . . . and horny."


"We can solve your hunger problem," I said, as I headed to the kitchen.
Trick followed. I got out my wok, got out chicken and vegetables, and
started cutting it all up for a stirfry. Trick moved in to help, and his
assistance was titillating. I may have been too attentive, but it seemed
like he touched my arms or back or shoulders every chance he could.


I poured more drinks. Trick retrieved the bong from the living room. We
drank and smoked while we cooked. I was lost by the time I served the
stirfry. And, I no longer wanted food. I wanted something else.


Halfway through dinner, Trick stood up, unbuttoned his jeans, and stepped
out of them. As opposed to our drive two days before, he was wearing
underwear, red boxer briefs that betrayed everything they were supposed to
conceal. I looked at him, and my mouth went dry.


Again, I felt both like predator and prey.


I was not the predator.


Trick sat back down. "That's better," he said as he resumed eating. When
he was finished, he got the bong again, took a huge hit, walked toward me,
and lowered his face to mine. I was not sure what was happening when he
cupped his hand around the back of my neck, placed his lips to mine, opened
his mouth, and exhaled all the smoke he had been holding into my mouth.


His lips were soft but firm. Initially taken aback, I recovered in time
to breathe the smoke in. Trick's lips did not leave mine. His tongue
entered my mouth. I masked my surprise by letting my tongue meet his. We
kissed, for the first time. When the kiss was over, I let the smoke escape
my lungs.


I was not sure what was going on, but I was sure what I wanted to be
going on. All of my self-control was being challenged and eroding.


I got up and started to clean the kitchen. Trick got up and helped. While
I was washing the wok, Trick reached around me from behind and kissed the
back of my neck. I finally got it. Somehow, someway, this hot 21 year old
all-SEC baseball player wanted me. I turned around. He lowered his face to
mine and kissed me again. I kissed him back, moving my hands up and down
his smooth, hairless back. As the kiss endured, I moved my hands to his
chest. We kept kissing.


It was an awesome kiss. I wanted it to go on and on, although I felt
shitty that it was happening. I knew his father/my best friend/my former
lover would hate that kiss with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns,
but I also knew I'd have ceded that friendship to that kiss every time. It
was that magical.


When the kiss was over, Trick pulled back and looked at me. "I've wanted
to do that for a long time," he said.


I was gobsmacked. "Really?" I asked.


"Yep. Since I was a kid, and I watched you play ball with my dad. The way
you moved. The way you smiled. The way you talked to me, like you really
cared about what I had to say. The way you treated me like an equal, not
like a kid. I wanted you. I just didn't know it."


"You were a kid."

"A kid with a hard on. I jacked off thinking of you all through high
school."


"You should have had better fantasies. I'm an old man."


"You're an older man. Which is hot. And which I like. A lot."


He lowered his mouth to mine again. We kissed for a long time. I could
not believe what was happening. Trick was 21 and as hot as he could be. I
was 46 and had gone fallow. I was living a fantasy, but it was fraught.


We kissed and kissed and kissed. I wanted to stop, but couldn't. I had
not made out with someone for at least a decade. I was 46 going on 16. I
was at a high school party, surprised to be kissing the BMOC.


As we kissed, Trick pressed his body to mine. I could feel his hard-on
against my stomach. I wanted him, but I knew I could not have him. He was
my best friend's son. He was less than half my age.


He pressed into me. My arms around him, I pulled him into me as hard as I
could.


He broke the kiss and whispered "I want to fuck you" into my forehead. I
wanted him to fuck me. So much. But, I knew he shouldn't.


"Trick, that's not going to happen."


"Why not?"

"Your dad would kill me."


"He's not going to watch."


"Still."


"And I'm not going to tell him."


"Still."


Trick kissed me again. I kissed him back. I had to, even if it was wrong.
Our tongues twirled. He tasted of pot and beer and stirfry. His whiskers
tickled my face. His hard-on tried to pierce my stomach.


"Are you sure I can't fuck you?"


"I am. I'm not sure what this is, but I need to take it slow and steady."


"I'm 21. Slow and steady really isn't my thing."


We parted again.


"Where do your parents think you are?" I asked.


"I'm 21. I don't tell them where I'm going when I go."


"You should probably go. I'm not strong enough for you to stay."


"I don't want you to be strong. I'm horny. I want you to make me come."


"I can't do that."


"Then, I'm going to make myself come."


Trick slipped back into his jeans and headed toward the door. I followed
him. At the door, he kissed me gently and whispered, "you're going to
regret letting me leave more than you'd have regretted letting me stay."


I knew he was right. But, I let him leave anyway.


My Married Friend's Son (Part Three)


My doorbell rang at 7 the next morning. I had not slept well and was
groggy as I pulled on sweatpants and an old sweatshirt and headed
downstairs. I opened the door and was unsurprised to see Trick pacing on
the porch, covered in sweat. He had been running, and he was stopping by my
house on his way back to his.


"What's up?" I asked.


"I was running by and decided to stop to see if I was right?"


"About what?"


"Your regret." He smiled as he said it.


"Short term, sure. Long term, I dunno."


"I jacked off when I got home. I thought of you as I did. You were
kissing me."


"Is that all I was doing?"


"I like kissing . . . . A lot," he said. With that, he moved toward me
and leaned down to kiss me again. I turned my head. He pulled back, and
looked hurt.


"No, it's not that. I just have not brushed my teeth yet. Morning breath."


He said, "I don't care about that" as he moved his face back toward mine
again. We kissed long and deep. Of course, I got hard, and my sweatpants
were not effective in concealing it.


Trick said, "I like the way you taste." Then, he put his hands on my
shoulders and chest and back. "And the way you feel."


"I'm old enough to be your father," I warned.


"I'm old enough to be your boyfriend," he said, hopefully.


"I doubt that."


"We'll see."

"Trick," I asked, "have you ever had a boyfriend?"


"No, not really."


"Are you even sure you're gay?"


"No, not really. But, I'm trending. My fantasies once I started jacking
off included both women and men, including you. I've fucked a lot of women,
including recently. I've only fucked one man."


I raised my eyebrows.


"My roommate, Raylan," he answered.


"Are you two together?"


"No, we're just friends . . . with benefits. We've been roommates since
we started at Mizzou. Raylan told me after our freshman year that he's gay,
which I kind of knew. I mean, he's hot as shit, he never talked about a
woman, and he never brought a woman home. Not once. And, he'd be gone
overnight, but not tell me shit about where he was or who he was with,
which was weird until I figured out why.


"Knowing Raylan is gay, I was surprised and a little disappointed he
never made a move on me. I wanted him to, if for no other reason than to
find out if I really had any interest in guys. One night last Winter, it
was cold as shit, and we were hanging out in our room, smoking pot and
talking. As usual, we were naked. I opened some mixed porn on my iPad. We
got hard watching it. We were leg to leg and shoulder to shoulder. Without
saying a word, he leaned down, took me in his mouth, and gave me the best
blow job I'd ever had. The next night, I stripped down, stood in front of
him, and asked him for another one. After that, I did not have to ask. It
was just understood that Raylan was going to blow me whenever I wanted him
to.


"After a few weeks, it seemed shitty that I was getting awesome blow jobs
and all he was getting was to jack himself off while he blow me. So, I
offered to blow him. He walked me through it. I did it. It was okay, but I
did not love it. In part, because he's so fucking big it's hard to take
and, once in, to hold.


"One night, he pulled off my dick and asked me to fuck him. I had been
thinking about asking to do it, so I jumped at the chance. I've been
fucking him on and off since."


"Has he fucked you?"


"No. Like I said, his dick is huge. It would split me in two. And, he's a
total bottom."


"Doesn't he want to be your boyfriend?"


"Like I said, we don't really label things. And, it's not there for me.
Don't get me wrong, I love Raylan, and I enjoy the hell out of sexing with
him. But, it's just not there. He's still a kid, and, if I am going to be
with a man, I want to be with a man. It may sound selfish, but I want
someone who has been through shit and can help me through shit, not someone
as clueless as I am."


"You have a daddy complex?"


"Nah, I've just always preferred the company of adults. Even in high
school, I'd much rather hang out with my dad and his friends than with
people my own age. I'm still that way."


While Trick was talking, I had made coffee and started breakfast.


"You want coffee or breakfast?"


"Nah, I'm gonna run home. But, I'll take dinner."


"Tonight?"


"Yep. 5?"


"Sure." Trick headed toward the door, stopped, came back, and said, "By
the way, tonight's a date, so be prepared."


*****


I was giddy all day. I bought steaks and flowers. I shaved and manscaped
my junk (I naturally had no chest hair and very little body hair). I
tweezed hairs out of my ears and trimmed my nose hairs and eyebrows.


When the doorbell rang right at 5, I felt like I had on my first prom
night, oh so many years ago. I was nervous and excited, anxious.


When I opened the door, Trick stood there with a bottle of wine in one
hand and flowers in the other. He had his hair pulled back in a pony tail,
and he was wearing jeans and a crisp white shirt that was too big for him.
It was clearly his father's. I held the door open for him, and he kissed me
on the forehead as he walked past me.


"These are for you," he said, offering both the wine and the flowers.


"Thank you. Would you like some wine?"


"Sure."


I went to the kitchen, put the flowers in a vase, and opened a bottle of
cabernet I had dug out of the cellar for this date. When I returned to the
living room with two glasses, Trick was on the couch, flip flops off, with
his feet on the ottoman. I have a bit of a thing for feet, and his were
awesome, strong and athletic.


But, Trick seemed uncomfortable about something. He was sitting awkwardly
and stiffly.


"Are you nervous?"


"No, not at all."


"Then what's up? You seem uncomfortable."


"I am. This shirt has starch in it, and it sucks."


I laughed. "Trick, it's a nice gesture, but you don't have to be dressed
up. Be comfortable. You want me to get you a different shirt?"


Trick was unbuttoning the white shirt and pulling it over his head before
I finished.


"Nah, I have my tank on underneath. Plus, I'm 6-4. You're what, 5-8? I
seriously doubt your shirt would fit me."


"I have some larger ones around here somewhere." I am not sure Trick knew
it, but the larger shirts I had were relics, some from former lovers who
left them when they left me, and some from strangers who forgot them as
they hurried home.


We drank our wine. Trick did not say anything. He just stared at me and
smiled. I broke eye contact first. As I did, I realized he was in charge.
He was only 21, but he was dictating the moods and rhythms of whatever this
was. The difference in our ages made me feel predatory, but the difference
in our sureness made me feel like prey.


We ate cross-legged on the living room floor. Our conversation was casual
and easy. Trick was 21, but he did not act like it. As always (except when
arguing about veggie tales), he was wise beyond his years, certainly more
insightful and mature than I had been at 21. Or at 31.


Trick had started traveling for baseball without his parents at a very
young age. And, while his teammates sat on the bus playing video games,
Trick had his nose in erudite books.


When he started singing opera in high school, that only accelerated his
maturity. He was in voice classes with adults, and he then started teaching
voice to adults. He had more in common and was more comfortable with
parents than he had or was with friends.


When dinner was over, Trick said, "I have a great idea for dessert."


"Trick, this seems so random. I mean, out of happenstance I pick you up
from school, and three days later . . . ." My voice trailed off.


"It was not so much out of happenstance. When dad said you were in St.
Louis, I grabbed at the chance. He wanted to come down and get me for some
'one on one' time, but I wanted 'one on one' time with you. So, I convinced
him it would be silly for him to drive 2 hours down and 2 hours back when I
could just grab a ride with you as you drove through."


"I'm surprised."


"Why? I flirt with you at every football game."


"I thought you were just being friendly to your dad's friend."


"I was. But, I'm not that friendly. . . . Anyway, can I stay over
tonight?"


I was tempted, in part because I was more than a little drunk. We were
almost through our second bottle of wine, and I was pretty sure I was ahead
of Trick.


The sight of Trick did not ease the temptation. He had let his pony tail
loose, and his long hair hung down to his shoulders. His tank hid little of
his muscled body. His jeans hid little of his hard on.


"I'll make you a deal," I offered. "You can stay over, but no sex. It's
too soon for sex."


"It's not."


"It is for me. I am not sure I can ever have sex with you. I know I can't
right now."


"I'll take the deal," he said as he stood, pulled his tank over his head,
and took my hand to head upstairs. Once we were upstairs, Trick slipped out
of his jeans and stood before me -- hard -- in only red boxer briefs. He
looked like he was from the Underwear Expert.


I was still fully dressed when Trick started to remove his underwear. He
read my mind.


"I sleep in the nude," he offered. "I have for a long time."


Trick's dick stood straight out in front of him. He took after his dad;
it was long and thick and very pretty. His chest and navel hair led to a
thick bush of hair above and around it. He had been right. He was plenty
big. He didn't need to trim.


As I started to undress, I was not sure I was going to live up to the
deal. I was human, after all, and not many gay humans that I knew would be
able to resist a hot 21 year old naked and yearning in their bed.


I left my boxers on and climbed into bed. Trick climbed in beside me and
immediately lowered his face to mine. I played with his chest hair as we
kissed. Trick rubbed his strong hand over my smooth chest and stomach. We
kissed for a long time. As we did, my resistance disintegrated. I reached
for Trick's dick. As soon I had it in my hand, Trick moaned into my mouth,
but then he grabbed my hand and pulled it away.


"That's not part of the deal, remember? Roll over."


I did. Trick settled behind me and put his arm around me and his face
into my hair. He inhaled deeply, kissed the back of my head, and said good
night. I had tried to give in, like a child, to my wanton desires. Trick,
who did not like the deal, held me to it.


My Married Friend's Son (Part Four)


When I awoke at 2, Trick was still behind me, and his hard-on was still
poking against my boxers. I knew what I wanted, my rationalizations
notwithstanding. I rolled into Trick, and I put my mouth to his. He awoke
to my kiss.


"What time is it?" he asked.


"Shh," I responded. I clamped my mouth onto his. I kissed him hard. I
then kissed his neck and his chest. I smelled his armpit. I licked his
side. As I did, Trick rolled onto his back. I kissed his stomach and buried
my face in his musky bush. I guided him into my mouth. His dick was
amazing, thick and pretty and delicious. I moved over him and started to
blow him. Trick spread his legs, so I moved to his balls and his taint. I
sucked one and then licked the other. I buried my tongue where his legs met
his groin. When Trick raised his legs, I moved toward his ass and started
to rim him. He was clean, but musky. Trick moaned as I ate his ass, moved
back to his taint, to his balls, and finally to his dick.


Trick was going to let me do whatever I wanted. I slowly sucked him. When
I felt his balls clench, I backed off and let his orgasm recede.
Relentlessly, I brought him close, and then let him go. As I felt Trick's
balls clench again, I heard him urge me to "let me come." I kept going.
Trick's hands were in my hair as he drove himself deeper into my mouth. He
gasped as he came, filling my mouth. I swallowed and kept at him until he
could not take anymore. When I was done, I laid my head on his stomach and
slowly teased his softening dick. Trick had his hands in my hair and
whispered, "That was awesome." I fell back asleep with my head on his
stomach.


When I awoke again, it was 7. I yawned and wiped my mouth. My head was
still on Trick's stomach, and his hard-on was right in my face.


Trick's hand moved in my hair. I raised up and looked at him. He smiled
and said, "Good morning, welcher."


"Welcher?"


"Yep, you welched on the deal."


"Oh. Yes, I did."


"Let's welch some more," Trick said as he rolled to his side. I moved
parallel to him, and he kissed me. We kissed for a long time. As we did, my
hands ran through his chest hair and his stomach hair and over his long,
sinewy muscles. Trick was so hot it made no sense to me that he was in this
bed at this moment with me.


Trick broke the kiss with another "I want to fuck you." I relented and
said, "I want you to fuck me."


Trick maneuvered me onto my back and moved over me. He pressed his dick
to me as he lowered his face to mine. "Are you sure this is okay?"


"Yes."


"Are you sure you want me to fuck you?"


"Yes."


"Insist on it."


"Fuck me," I said.


"Beg for it."


"Please please please fuck me," I begged.


"Okay, now that you've begged for it."


I grabbed a condom and lube out of my nightstand and readied us both.
Returning to my back, I raised my legs and guided him toward my opening.
When he entered me, I gasped. Trick was inexperienced, despite his efforts
with Raylan. He grabbed my hips, held me still, and pushed in past my
sphincter, not waiting for me to adjust. I gasped as he buried himself in
me. I was experienced, but I was not used to receiving it all in one fell
swoop.


Trick lowered his face to mine as he slid in and out of me. I hooked my
legs around his as I locked my tongue with his. I matched his rhythm with
my ass. There was no learning curve. We were sexing for the first time like
we had been sexing for a long time.


Before long, Trick's chest hair was wet with sweat. When he hit my
prostate, I cried out. Trick held the angle and started to work my
prostate. I came without touching myself, covering my chest and stomach.
Trick immediately let loose. He bucked as he came, staring into my eyes and
smiling as he did. When he was done, he collapsed onto me, smearing my cum
between us. He relaxed into me, spent. I put my arms around him and
squeezed as hard as I could.


Trick raised up and looked at me. "I'm so happy," he said.


"Me, too."


"Happy enough to let me be your boyfriend?"


"I don't know. Can we take it slow and wait and see?"


"I doubt it. I'm not a 'slow' guy, and I'm 21. I really have not
developed a 'wait and see' approach to life."


He kissed me.


"Plus, I am going to be in love with you soon, if I'm not already. When
you're in love, you don't want to go slow or wait and see."


"Slow down. It's a little early to talk about love."


"Not really. I've known you all my life. It's not early at all."


He kissed me again. I kissed back as hard as I could. As I did, I
silently told Trick I was going to be in love with him soon, too, that I
did not want to wait and see, either, and that I was ready for whatever
this was or was going to be. When the kiss was over, Trick signaled that he
understood all that our kiss had said.


"This is going to be awesome," he said.


He was right.


My Married Friend's Son (Part Four)



We got up and made breakfast together. I was conflicted. I felt awful for
having had sex with my friend's son. But, I also felt awesome for having
sex with my friend's son.


"Drive me back to school today."


"What?"


"Drive me back to school today. I'm having a great time with you. I don't
want it to end."


"Your parents won't like it."


"I'll take care of that. I'll tell them I'm catching a ride with a
friend."


I was fixated. "Okay. What time do you want me to get you?"


"I'm going to stay here until it's time to go. Then, we can swing by my
house, get my stuff, and head out."


"I have to live here once you're gone."


"That's right. You have to live here, and you can't live here if you let
others determine your path. Focus on us, and let the rest sort itself out."


"Who are you?" I asked, incredulous at the life lessons coming at me from
a 21 year old.


"I'm me."


"Right, but you're like 21 going on Plato or Socrates."


"Nope, I'm just a guy who sets a course and then follows it and lets the
rest work itself out."


"It's not that easy."


"Sure it is. You want it to be hard, but it's not. And, that scares you."


"Still, you should go home, spend some time with your parents, and then
have them drop you at a friend's house. Text me where, and I'll pick you
up."


"Okay. Plan on picking me up at 2. We'll drive to CoMo, you can buy me
dinner, meet Raylan, see our apartment, and get back home before you turn
into a pumpkin."


"I'll see you at 2."


Trick kissed me and then sauntered out. He walked with confidence and
coolness, neither hurried nor lazy.


I picked him up right at 2, and we headed to CoMo. We talked throughout
the two hour trip. But, it was not the talk of an adult and a 21 year old.
It was the talk I would have had with his father, my best friend.


Over dinner, I raised the subject of Raylan and what Trick was going to
tell him.


"Why do you think I need to tell him anything?"


"Well, isn't he going to wonder if you stop having sex with him."


"I guess I'm not sure why you think I'm going to stop having sex with
him."


I was stunned. Based on the morning, I had made assumptions that Trick
seemed not to share.


Trick read the look on my face and offered his explanation. "This is
probably a generational thing. To me, sex can be just that, sex. It can be
more, but it doesn't have to be. Sex with Raylan is just sex. We're
friends. When we're horny, we help each other. It's better than
masturbating, but that's really all it is. To me, it's the same emotionally
as masturbating. You wouldn't me not to jack off. So, just think of it as
me jacking off."


Again, I felt like the 21 year old receiving wisdom from an elder. I was
not sure that Trick was right or that I could embrace his view, but it
seemed like a more mature, healthy view of sex than I had. In my
generation, sex was imbued with meaning. It could not be just a physical
release. If it was, then you were a whore.


"Look," he said, "I don't expect you to be celibate when I'm down here. I
just want you not to date anyone. I'm not going to. . . . Plus, I need to
practice. You're way ahead of me on this same-sex thing. I need to get
better at it. And, practice makes perfect."


That seemed settled and simple. I had nothing to fear from Raylan. And,
now I was going to meet him.


When we got to the apartment, Raylan was wearing only white gym shorts.
The contrast with his dark skin was sharp, and he was one of the most
beautiful people I had ever seen in person. He was a little shorter than
Trick, but built way better.


"Hey, Patty," Raylan said as we walked in.


"Hey, Ray-Ray, this is Chris. Chris, this is Raylan. Ray-Ray, to me.
George to the rest of the team."


Raylan hopped up and crossed the room to shake my hand, smiling. I felt
like I was meeting Trey Songz.


Extending his hand, he said "Chris, it's a pleasure to meet you. I've
heard a lot about you from Patty over the years."


I was surprised. I was curious as to how "my father's best friend" worked
its way into the conversation of 19, 20, or 21 year olds.


"Come on," Trick said, "I'll show you the rest of the apartment."


When we got to his room, I asked "George?" wondering if it was "George"
from  The Jeffersons (there were not many minorities on the Tiger baseball
team).


Trick called out behind him. "Hey, Ray-Ray, come tell Chris why the team
calls you George."


Raylan came to the door laughing. "So, George Foster was a slugger for
the Big Red Machine in the 1970s. George intimidated pitchers with a big
black bat. I have a big black bat. It intimidates all the guys on the team."


Trick joined Raylan's laughter. I knew they were not talking about the
bats Raylan used in the batter's box.


Once we were alone, Trick pinned me to the door and started kissing me.
As he did, he unbuttoned my shirt and my jeans and started kissing and
licking down my body. I gasped when he took me in his mouth and started
blowing me. He took me to the base and held me in his throat before he used
his hands on my hips to move me in and out of his mouth. I came quickly.
Trick did not swallow, instead spitting the cum into his hand and then
going to his bathroom to rinse it down the sink. When he returned I had
buttoned my jeans and my shirt.


"Sorry," he said, "but I have not developed a taste for it yet."


I laughed. He was apologizing for not swallowing, which seemed odd.
Swallowing was the exception, not the rule. At least in my experience.


He seemed puzzled. "Isn't the proper etiquette to swallow?"


"Not if you don't want to."


"I want to. Next time, I'll swallow yours. No one else's. Just yours."
Apparently, Trick was going to differentiate between me and Raylan or
whomever by swallowing. I may have been rationalizing, but the
differentiation made sense to me at that moment.

"Raylan's going to wonder what we're doing in here."


"He knows. I texted him that you were bringing me down and would be
spending the night."


"I'm spending the night?"


"Yes."


"And, he knows what we're up to?"


"He knows I've wanted you for a long time. And, he's probably out there
jacking that big black bat of his thinking about what we're up to in here."


Trick drew a bath, and I fixated on "a long time." It was strange to
imagine myself as the object of a young man's fantasies.


While we were in the tub, I decided to explore Trick's existence a little
deeper.


"So, I need to understand where you are. At your core, do you think
you're gay?"


"On a scale of 1-10, I'm a 6 or a 7. If I had to choose right now, I'd
choose to fuck a guy over a woman. That may change. It may not. Who knows?
Right now, I prefer a man's body to a woman's. I like the firmness and the
muscles. But, I'm not at all averse to fucking women. I suspect I'll keep
doing it, if nothing else than for reputational capital."


"Do you like sucking dick?"


"It's okay. But, it's also not great. I'm not very good at it, and I
don't really want to be. I'll do it, but I'm not enthusiastic about it. I'm
not like Ray-Ray. He's an absolute  addict. I think he'd rather suck a dick
than breathe air."


"I have never known a gay guy who did not love sucking dick."


"I know, right? Maybe I'll develop a taste for it, so to speak."


"I think it's a control thing."


"What do you mean?" he asked.


"I like the power it gives me, the feeling of complete control over the
other guy's pleasure, the cause and effect of it."


"I've never thought of that way."


"Try. It may change your enjoyment level."

We relaxed, staring at each other. Trick closed his eyes and leaned his
head back against the wall. He had a slight smirk on his face, which I
realized was almost always there. It was mischievous and sexy.


I was not sure what to think. It was one thing to date a 21 year old. It
was a whole other thing to date the 21 year old son of my best friend, with
whom I used to be in love and for whom I still pined.


"I was in love with your dad."


"No shit."


"Was it that obvious?"


"Yes. The only one who didn't know was him. He's too straight to imagine
that."


I wanted to tell him his dad was more crooked than he thought, but
discretion prevailed. I stayed silent.


"Have you thought about what your dad will say if you tell him you are
60-70% gay?"


"No. One, it's none of his business. Two, I don't care. I'm me. I'm gonna
live my life for me. Not for him. He can live his life for him."


"Okay. Have you thought about what your dad will say if he finds out we
had sex?" I asked.


"No. But, that, too, is none of his business. And, I don't care what he
thinks."


I did. I wanted to get out of the tub and leave, wracked by pangs of
guilt. I was dissuaded by Trick's muscled foot in my crotch.


We climbed out of the tub. I dried Trick off, slowly soaking in every
inch of him.


My forehead hit his chin, so I kissed his neck. I lowered my face to his
nipples. When I licked his right nipple, he moaned and immediately got
hard. He noticed that I noticed.


"I like nipple play."


I sucked his nipple and started jacking him off.


"Oh my God. That feels so good."


I focused on his nipple and his dick. As I did, Trick pushed my face
toward his dick. I licked my thumbs and rubbed his nipples as I took him in
my mouth.


"Oh my God. I'm gonna come," he cried.


He did, deep into my throat. I swallowed all he gave me.


"That was awesome. I've never tried playing with my nipples during a blow
job. Now, I'm not sure I'll ever not."



We climbed into bed. We faced each other. I put my hand to his chest and
traced his muscles with my fingertip. He kissed me, and I kissed him back.
We made out, like we were in college. Which he was.


I moved my hands to his groin, and he moved his hands to mine. We fondled
each other as we kissed. I was turned on. Soon, Trick was, too, which was
one of the great things about being with someone less then half your age:
 the bounceback. I rolled Trick onto his back and moved over him. I lowered
myself onto him, using his chest as leverage. I went down as far as I
could. I felt Trick's hair against my ass.


"Don't I need a condom?" he asked.


"No," I insisted. I wanted to feel him inside me, not a late sheath.


I worked Trick to the edge and then turned him back. When he had ebbed, I
again worked him to the edge. When he was about ready, I stilled and edged
him off again. I was working him, and he was vexed by the experience.
Finally, he announced he needed to come. I obliged. I sat down on him and
milked him with my ass. I felt him come inside me. He gasped and again
stared at me as he did. When he was done, I lowered my face to his.


I buried my head in his cheek. "This is going to change who you are."


"I doubt it. But, it may confirm who I am."


Again, Trick was ahead of me. I was older and supposedly wiser, but I was
following.


My Married Friend's Son (Part Five)


When I woke up, it was Monday morning, and I was in love. I was not going
to tell Trick, but I knew I was. I had not been in a long time, and I was
thrilled. Life is more worth living when you are in love, when you are
giddy to hear someone's breath or voice, to see their face, to feel their
touch.


Trick was still asleep, and I was watching him. He even slept
beautifully, peaceful and untroubled. I put my head on his shoulder and
tried to figure out how this would work. He was 21. I was 46. We lived 200
miles apart. He was a student. I was a professional. He was just starting
out. I was peaking (if I had not already peaked). He was my best friend's
son. I was his dad's best friend. The situation was fraught. The deck was
stacked, and it was not in our favor. I was troubled.


Trick woke up and rolled toward me. He kissed my forehead and said "I'm
happy you're here."


"Really?"


"Yes. I'm glad it's not a dream."


I buried my face in his chest. He squeezed me tight.


I pulled away, looked at the clock, started out of bed, and said, "I
should probably get going."


"I want you to stay."


"I can't."


"I'll let you fuck me if you stay."


I froze and looked at Trick.


"Have you ever been fucked?"


"Nope. I want you to be my first."


There was no way I was leaving. I cared about my work, but I was no fool.
I kissed Trick.


"Do you have lube?"


"No, but I bet Ray-Ray does," he said. Before I could protest, Trick
hopped out of bed, walked naked through his door and disappeared into the
apartment. He returned shortly with lube, but no condom.


"I should wear a condom."


"No need. I trust you. Plus, I don't have any, and Ray-Ray's certainly
won't fit you. . . . How do you want to do this?"


"You should lay on your stomach."


He did. He pushed his legs apart, exposing himself. I lowered my face to
him and started to rim him. He writhed as I did.


"Jesus, that feels good."


I kept eating. I pushed my tongue in. He pushed back against me. I pushed
a finger in. He tensed.


"Shhhh. Relax."


I made small circles with my finger, trying to open him up. He was needy.


"I'm ready. Fuck me."


I poured lube in his crack and on my hard-on. I coated both. I straddled
him and pressed into him.


"I'll go slow. But, tell me if I'm hurting you. I don't want to hurt you."

"Stop talking and fuck me."


I pressed against his virgin hole. He was slow to yield.


"Trick, you have to relax."


"I can't. Just do it. I can take it."


I pressed against his virgin hole again. He started to yield, and my head
pressed forward. It slipped past the gate, and Trick inhaled. I waited,
then used my hands to massage his back and ass. He relaxed, and I pushed in
some more. When he tensed, I stopped and massaged him some more. When I
relaxed, I pushed the rest of the way in. I was buried in him. I wanted to
buck like mad, but I knew it would hurt him. I would not hurt him. So, I
resisted and again massaged him. I lowered myself onto him so our bodies
were touching head to toe. My face was next to his.


"You okay?" I asked.


"Yes. . . . Actually, I'm more than okay. I'm awesome."


"You ready?"


"Absolutely."


I hooked my arms under his and started to move in and out of him, as slow
as I could. He was so tight, I was not going to last long. I suspected he
did not want me to.


I was trying to control myself, but I was struggling. I wanted to pound
him. I raised up, changing the angle. When I did, I hit his prostate, or
assumed I did, because he responded with an "oh" and a "holy shit" and then
spread his legs wider.


"Trick, I'm gonna come."


"Okay."


I did, arching my back as I unloaded into him. When I was finished, I
lowered myself to him, again ensuring that our bodies touched head to toe.
He turned his face to mine, and I kissed him as best I could. We were both
sweaty.


I pulled out of him and flopped to my side.


"What do I do now?" he asked.


"What do you mean?"


"Well, what happens to what's inside me?"


I forgot I was dealing with a neophyte. "Oh, go sit on the toilet."

He got up to to head to the bathroom. "Come with me," he said.


It was an odd request, but I'd have done anything he asked at that point.
I followed him to the bathroom. While he cleansed, I ran a shower. I was
halfway done when he joined me. We washed each other.


When we were finished, we dried separately. I do not know what he was
thinking, but I was thinking about our impending separation and wondering
how, in a mere 5 days, something unexpected had become something essential.
He was the first to speak.


"I think I'm falling in love with you," he said.


I was surprised and happy. I decided to one up him.


"I know I'm falling in love with you," I responded.


"Will you come see me next weekend?"


"Sure."


As I drove home, I smiled. I could not stop smiling.


As I exited 70 at Van Brunt, I received a text. "Turn around."


I generally did not text and drive. But, I did.


"Can't."


"Come down after work today."


"OK."


I finished my two hour drive back to Kansas City and went to my office. I
worked until six and then headed back to CoMo. I would arrive at 8, about
13 hours after I had left. I would be there only 10 hours. But, I was sure
it would be worth it. I was right.

My Married Friend's Son (Part Six)


When I arrived, Trick was lounging on the couch with Raylan, smoking pot
and watching re-runs of Breaking Bad. Trick was wearing only boxer briefs
(red, of course; as a Cardinals fan, it was all he owned), and Raylan was
wearing only bright yellow bikinis that did nothing to hide his big bat.
His briefs were straining, and he was obviously hard. If I had taken a
picture, I could have sold it to Queerty or Towerload. It was a stunning
display of interracial sex appeal.


Trick hopped up when I walked in, walked over to me, and kissed me hard
on the mouth. "I'm glad you came back," he said, moving my hand to his
hardening dick. "See?" he asked.


I was self-conscious with Raylan watching us. I pulled back from Trick to
find Raylan rubbing his hard-on through his briefs.


Trick took my hand and led me to his room. "G'night, Ray-Ray."


"G'night, boys."


Trick closed the door behind us and started to undress me. He kissed and
licked my body as he did. When I was freed, he took me in his mouth. I
watched as he sucked me. The visual of his firm, full lips working me was
too much. I was not going to last long.


Trick used his strong hands to move my hips in rhythm with his mouth. I
was soon fucking his face, and my orgasm started to build in my balls. "I'm
about to come," I warned, so Trick could pull off. He did not. He matched
my quickening pace with his mouth. I started to gasp as I hit the back of
his throat and my orgasm moved through my abdomen and into Trick's mouth,
filling it.


Trick kept going, milking every drop out of me until my I was so
sensitive I had to force him to stop. Trick kissed and licked his way up my
body until we were again mouth to mouth. I could taste the hint of me on
his tongue as we made out, but only a hint. Trick had swallowed.


We sidled to the bed as we continued to kiss. I was quickly on my back,
with my legs wide. Trick kissed and licked his way back down my body,
through my groin, and to my opening. He started to rim me. I flinched when
his tongue connected with me. I loved being eaten, almost more than
anything else. I was quickly hard again. And dilated. I needed Trick to
fill me.


"Fuck me."


"Say please."


"Now!" I demanded.


"Say please."


"Please!"


Trick moved over me, his thick dick pressing to my needy hole. I grabbed
the lube I had seen on the nightstand and coated his dick with it. He slid
in and started slowly fucking me. I was tingling from head to toe.


Trick was methodical. He would not speed up. He was not fucking me. He
was making love to me, making it last for as long as he could.


Trick read my mind. "Ray-Ray and I jacked each other twice tonight. I
wanted to make this last as long as I could."


I started stroking myself, the mental image of their jack-off session
filling my mind as Trick filled my ass and started stroking my prostate. I
came hard, covering my sweaty chest and stomach. Seeing and feeling me come
pushed Trick over the edge. He grunted and filled me with his third orgasm
of the day. When he finished, he collapsed onto me, covering my sweaty and
soiled body with his. He buried his face in my neck and exhaled deeply. I
wrapped my arms around him.


"I'm spent," he said.


I was, too. I was also sore, my ass aching from the pounding it had just
taken, and my legs cramping from being spread for so long. Trick's
breathing changed, and I realized he had dozed off.


It had been a long time since I had been laid so deliberately.


Trick was heavy on me, so I started to tickle his back. It worked, and he
woke up. He kissed me when he did.


"We need to clean up."


Trick rolled off me and headed to the shower. I followed. Trick kneeled
in front of me, and I washed his hair. He washed my chest and stomach and
crotch as I did. When he stood, I returned the favor. To my surprise, Trick
got hard while I washed his groin. An opportunist, I took him in my mouth .


"I don't think I can come again," he said. That was fine with me. I
didn't need him to come. I just wanted to taste him. I deep throated him,
and he moaned as I did. When he started to match my rhythm and breathe
raggedly, I knew he had been wrong and that I was going to get more than
just to taste him. I slipped a soapy finger inside of him. His ass clenched
around my finger just before he exploded into my throat.


Trick slid down the wall and pulled me into him. We stayed like that,
slumped together on the shower floor, spent.


"I'm not sure I can move," he said.


"We have to. We can't sleep in the shower."


I stood, exited the shower, and dried off. Trick stayed slumped on the
floor, watching me. I turned the shower off and pulled him up. I dried him
from head to toe, soaking in every inch of him as I did. I could not
believe he was mine, but it was pretty clear he was.


Trick was still asleep when I dressed for my drive back. I kissed his
forehead as I left. As I turned the handle on his bedroom door, he asked,
"Are you coming back tonight?"


"I can't."


"Tomorrow night?"


"I can't. But, I can come down this weekend."


"For the whole weekend?"


"Sure."


"Great. I'll see you Friday. And, I'll call you when I get up."


"Okay."


As I pulled the door shut, Trick said, "Hey Chris?"

I stuck my head back in.


"I love you."


My eyes misted over. I walked over to him, sat on the edge of his bed,
put my mouth to his, and whispered "I love you, too."


I took my clothes back off. I decided work could and would wait as I
slipped back into bed, buried my face in Trick's chest, and fell back
asleep.


My Married Friend's Son (Part 6)


Over coffee, we decided Trick would spend Christmas break with me. But,
he would not tell his parents that; instead, he'd tell them he was staying
at school to get in extra work and prepare for the season. He'd spend
Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with them.


I returned to Kansas City to wait out Trick's finals. I was woefully
lonesome for him. It was only two weeks, but it seemed like much more.


Raylan dropped Trick at my house as he headed to Wichita, his hometown,
for the break. I wanted to know if anything had happened between the two of
them the prior two weeks, but I also didn't. Ultimately, I decided not to
ask, just assuming I wouldn't like the answer.


We went immediately to bed. Trick was needy, and so was I. As fast as we
could be, we were naked, and Trick was over me and pressing at me. I
eagerly took him in. We were quickly in rhythm, Trick meeting me as I met
him. It did not take long for Trick to rasp and come.


Feeling him come inside me was all I needed. I quickly came, too, soaking
my stomach and chest. To my surprise, Trick lowered himself to me when I
was finished, covering me with his hard, rippled body.


We headed to the shower. Once there, I noticed that Trick had manscaped.
His chest and stomach hair was tamer. His bush was shaped and tighter. His
balls were smooth.


"You clippered?"


"Nope. Ray-Ray did it. We were bored studying, and one thing led to
another. We thought you might like it."


I was disappointed, knowing Raylan had had access to Trick's naked chest
and junk. I tried to hide my disappointment. "You look good. But, you
looked good the other way, too."


"I don't think I'll keep it. I prefer the more natural look. And, I like
being different from the rest of the team. But, I'll keep shaving my balls.
I like them smooth."


"You shaved them yourself?"


"Sure. I'm not crazy. I'm not letting someone else near my balls with a
razor."


I was a little relieved at that. I think.


In the shower, we slowly washed each other with our bare hands, exploring
every crack and crevice. As Trick washed my legs and feet, he took my into
his mouth and slowly, methodically sucked me. He took more of me into his
throat than I remembered, and I wondered if he had been practicing on
Raylan. The thought of Raylan in Trick's face was so hot my balls
immediately started to clench and my orgasm raced from my abdomen into
Trick's throat. He seemed not to notice and kept sucking me until I was dry
and had to lean against the shower wall to catch my breath.


Trick stood, lowered his face to mine, and kissed me. He shared my cum
with me as he did. I swallowed some, and so did he.


As we stood under the water wrapped in each other, I broached the subject
that was troubling me. "That was awesome. You been practicing?"


"No. Just doing some light online reading. Getting some hints on how to
be better for you."


I didn't believe him. He was smart and (I was sure) a quick study, but it
seemed impossible that he could have read about giving head and then put it
into practice expertly the very first try.


I dropped the subject and tried to look forward to the three weeks we
were going to live together in my house. And, I returned to the internal
debate I had been having with myself, namely whether to tell Trick about me
and his dad. I didn't want to, but I figured he'd find out eventually, and
I feared that waiting would make it a bigger thing than it would otherwise
be.


After we were clean, we made dinner together.


"How'd your parents take your absence?"


"They were pretty cool. They knew it was coming at some point. With all
my travel for baseball, they're used to getting me in small spurts. But,
dad is insisting on driving me back to CoMo the day after Christmas, no
matter how many times I tell him I can have Raylan swing back through for
me. So, I'll have to take the bus back."


"No way. I'll come get you."


"Really?"


"Of course."


"Awesome. I'll make it worth your while."


We celebrated Christmas together the morning of Christmas Eve. For
Christmas, Trick gave me season tickets to his MU baseball games, which was
thoughtful. I gave him New Year's weekend in Austin, TX, my favorite place
to visit.


I spent Christmas Day alone, trying to figure whether to tell Trick about
his dad and, if so, then when. After a bottle of Malbec, I decided I needed
to tell him. I also decided to do it before New Year's Eve. I was in love
with Trick and, while I doubted we could actually survive long-term, I did
not want to start the new year with a big secret threatening us.


My doubt about our long-term viability was not based on any weakness of
feeling for him or any concerns about the strength of his feelings for me.
I thought we were on strong footing on both fronts.


But, I was a realist. If Trick was gay, then he was a new gay. And, new
gays, once they settle in and get comfortable with their new reality, often
feel the need to break free, live fast and loose, and see what all there is
out there for them. I had already done the math. I would be 50 when Trick
was 25. I would be getting more settled as he got more unsettled. It was
not a recipe for success.


But, I wanted to ride the wave until it crashed. And, I wanted the wave
to be fueled by honesty. If I expected Trick to be honest with me, I could
not be dishonest with him. Even by omission.


*****

Rob dropped Trick off in Columbia at 5 p.m. the day after Christmas (a
Sunday). I trailed them by about an hour, so I showed up at the apartment
at 6. I had a key, so there was no need for me to knock. When I went in to
Trick's room, he was naked, on the bed, and covered in chocolate syrup and
whipped cream. He was so pleased with himself, he could not help but laugh.


I quickly stripped and started licking the chocolate and whipped cream
off of him, beginning at his feet. While I was licking his thighs, he
slathered chocolate all over his dick and balls and then put a dollop of
whipped cream on the tip of his dick. I swallowed the length of his shaft,
sucking the chocolate and whipped cream off of him as I did. It was a
sweet, sensual experience, and I decided I wanted Trick's cum to mix with
the chocolate and whipped cream in my mouth. So, I set to serious work,
playing with his balls, and then burying my finger in him. When I found his
prostrate, Trick tensed, his balls clenched, and he gave me what he had. I
kept sucking, getting as much chocolate and whipped cream as I could.


When I had drained him, he pulled me by my shoulders onto him, covering
my chest and stomach with the chocolate and whipped cream that was still on
his. He flipped me off of him and started cleaning me of the sweetness.


When he was done, he flipped me back over, grabbed the syrup, and covered
my dick with it. Then, he pulled my chocolate dick toward his face and
started to blow me. He grabbed my ass and drove me deeper with each thrust.
There was chocolate all over his face. Watching myself disappear into
Trick's mouth was unbelievably hot. I tried to force myself in as deep as I
could. As I did, Trick's eyes were locked on mine. When I was ready, he
grabbed my ass and drove me as deep as he could into his mouth. I erupted,
mixing with the chocolate that had to be trickling down his throat.


Trick would not let go. I was buried in his mouth, but he was trying to
force me deeper.

I collapsed around his head, but he would not let me pull out. He swirled
his tongue around me. Before I knew it, I was hard and coming again. When I
was finished, I pulled out and fell backward, spent.


We laid there motionless, overwhelmed by the sexing and the raw emotion
that accompanied it. I unbent my legs and moved them toward his shoulder. I
turned my head, saw his athletic foot, and started to lick it. I loved his
feet.


Trick hooked his feet under my shoulders and raised me up. I followed,
moving toward him. He turned his back to me, and I hooked my right arm
under him and my left arm around him. He pushed his ass back against me,
and I buried my face in his mane.


I was just about asleep when Trick asked "Do you have any idea how much I
love you?"


"I suspect a fraction of how much I love you."


"If so, then I am really loved."


"You are."


"So are you."

*****


As we drove back toward Kansas City the next morning, I decided it was
time to bring Trick up to speed.


"I have something I need to tell you."


"Uh oh."


"Why uh oh?"


"No good conversation has ever started with 'I have something I need to
tell you.'"


I paused. "You're probably right."


"It's probably time we hit a bump anyway. What is it?


"It's about your dad. I'm not sure how to say it. So, I'm just gonna say
it. He and I used to fool around. A lot."


"Really?" Trick asked, drawing the word out to show both intrigue and
surprise.


"Yep."


"I'm shocked. I thought my dad was the straightest person in the world.
When?"


"A few years ago. It lasted a few years."


"A few years?" He asked, again drawing out the word years.


"Yep."


"Did he reciprocate?"


"He did."


"So, he like, sucked your dick?"

"He didn't 'like' suck it. He actually sucked it."


"And fucked you?"


"He did."


"Did he let you fuck him?"


"He did."


"Why did you stop?"


"I fell in love with him. I wanted more than he could give. He shut it
down. He was right to do it."


"Is he gay?"


"No. I think he was in a tough spot. Your mom . . . . "


"What about her?"


"I don't want to talk about her."


"You have to. I need to understand how this happened. And what it means."


"Your mom is, well. . . . I am not sure their relationship is physical.
In fact, I'm pretty sure it's not. It hasn't been for awhile. I was -- am
-- your dad's best friend. We had a very strong emotional connection. Like
all best friends, we loved each other. And, I was relentless. He got drunk
one night, and I kind of took advantage of an opportunity. Once we crossed
the line, it was easy to keep crossing it. But, I pressed too hard, your
dad pulled back, and it was all done."


We drove in silence for about 30 miles. The silence concerned me, but I
thought Trick may need it to digest what I had told him.


Trick broke the silence. "I can't believe I'm in love with my dad's old
lover. I can't believe my dad had a male lover. Why'd you tell me?"


"Secrets have a way of coming out. And, I did not want you to hear from
anyone other than me. . . . You okay?"


"I'm not sure. It's a lot to chew on. I mean, I would never in a million
years have imagined my dad having sex with another man. And, for it to be a
man I'm having sex with seems, well, just incredibly fucking weird. I know
I'm not a runner-up, but I kind of feel that way. I mean, I'm pretty sure
you'd be with my dad today if you could. You couldn't, so you're with me.
I'm kinda conflicted by that. It's fucked up."


"I don't think it's a runner-up thing at all. If it is, then we're all
runners-up. Look, I'm 46. There have been a lot of you's before you, and
I'd be with any of them today, and not with you, if things had worked out.
But, they didn't work out, so here I am. With you. Where I want to be.
Today."


"I need some more details."


"I'll tell you anything you want to know."


For the rest of the ride, Trick asked me questions about his dad, what we
did together, what I would do if he knocked on my door late one night and
pledged love for me, and what I'd do if he tried to have sex with me again
down the line. It was an awkward conversation, but a good one.


"Do you think he'd ever had sex with another man?"


"No."


"Really?"


"I honestly don't."


"You think you're that special?"


"No. But, I think the planets lined up for me and your dad. I don't think
there's any way he'd have sex with another man. None."


When we got back to Kansas City, Trick kept all of his clothes on. When
we went to bed, there was no intimacy, much less sex.


I could feel Trick tossing and turning next to me. Finally, he sat up. "I
need to tell you something."


"Uh oh."


"Yeah, uh oh. Maybe."


"What is it?"


"I lied to you. I have been practicing. With Ray-Ray."


Deep down, I had known it. Same-sex sex was an acquired skill, and you
generally could not acquire it online. Plus, they had jacked each other off
as I was driving to CoMo.


He continued on. "I didn't plan to. But, we live together, we're naked a
lot, and he's hot as shit. Plus, I wanted to get better at it."


"'It' being 'all of it'?"


"Pretty much."


"Did you let him fuck you?"


"I did."


I winced. His answered stabbed me in the gut. I had been happy to be his
first and only, and now that was gone.


"Are you in love with him?"


"I'm not. I love him. He's my best friend. But, I'm not in love with him.
I'm in love with you."


"How do you know?"


"Sex with him is great. It really is. But, that's all it is. We get our
rocks off. There's nothing more. It's like beating off, only it's a better
nut. When it's over, he goes to his room, or I go to mine, and we
separately go to sleep. I don't want to kiss him, fall asleep with him, or
make love with him. It's just sex. It's good. But, sex with you is better.
There's physical pleasure. But, there's also emotional pleasure. And
psychological pleasure. I've got none of that with Ray-Ray. It's just
physical."


"You have a very casual attitude toward sex."


"We all do. When my parents were growing up, their parents and teachers
put a cloak of bullshit around sex that made it such a big deal mentally.
We reject that bullshit. Sex can be just sex. There's no shame in a booty
call. Just pleasure. And, it doesn't mean anything other than 'let's fuck.'"


"I just don't have that attitude. I wish I did, but I didn't grow up with
it."


"I thought gay guys would be closer to that attitude."


"Some are. I grew up Catholic, so . . . ." I trailed off. To me, "I grew
up Catholic" said all I needed to say. The Church taught us from an early
age that sex was dirty, that our sexual organs were dirty, that anything
related to sex was dirty, that thinking about sex was dirty, that talking
about sex was dirty, that even using the word sex was dirty. I was 46. I
still felt enormous guilt if I had a casual sexual encounter. I felt
whorish.


I took the conversation a different direction. "Do you think Raylan's in
love with you?"


"Nah. He's just a horndog livin' with a hot guy with a nice dick. We're
friends who use each other for pleasure . . . and practice."


We sat in silence. Trick took my hand in his.


"Thank you for telling me," I said.


"Well, it seemed like a 'no secrets' kind of day."


"Please don't lie to me again."


"Well . . . . I'm not a full disclosure kind of guy. I think some things
are best left unsaid. I'll answer if you ask. But, I'm not gonna become
some 'diarrhea of the mouth' guy babbling here and there about everything I
do and think. I'm going to do a lot of shit you don't want to know about,
and I'm never going to volunteer that shit to you."


After I responded "seems reasonable," Trick and I settled back into our
pillows. I felt him pull his shirt off and then his boxer briefs. He pulled
me into him.


"I love you, Christopher."


"I love you, too, Patrick."


My Married Friend's Son (Part Seven)


At breakfast the next morning, Trick announced that he could not get out
of his head the image of me fucking his dad. I responded, "Well, I can't
get out of my head the image of Raylan fucking you, so we're even."


"It hurt like hell," he said. As he did, he made an "Oh my God that hurts
so bad I may split in two" face. "I mean, he's huge. It was like sitting on
a traffic cone."


"I can't listen to this."


"He wants you to fuck him," he answered.


"What?"


"He wants you to fuck him."


"How do you know?"


"He told me. Actually, he told me he'd like to have a 3 way with the both
of us."


"I've never had a 3 way."


"I have, but it was with two chicks who did not know each other. I
watched them eat each other out, which was hot as shit. Then, I sexed them
both."


As we cleaned up after breakfast, Trick offered "I'd be into it, by the
way."


"Into what?"


"A 3 way. With Ray-Ray and you."


"Really?"


"Sure. I'm pretty much into anything, sexually."


I smiled at him, and he read my thoughts.


"Except that. I'm not having a 3 way with my dad."


We both burst out laughing.


"I'm not sure I would be. It's one thing to have the image of someone
else fucking you in my head. It's another to watch it."


"He's not fucking me again. I'm not a sadist. I only let him that once
because we were on E, and I thought it wouldn't hurt if I was riding a
wave. It did. But, it'd be hot as shit to watch you fuck him. Or, better
yet, to fuck you while you fuck him."


I got hard thinking about the possibility. I wasn't sure I'd be into it.
But, I also wasn't sure I wouldn't be.


I also wondered what I had gotten myself into. Trick was mature beyond
his years, but he also seemed wilder sexually than I had ever been. I
decided to address it.


"You seem like you might be a sexual beast."


"I like sex. A lot. There is little I don't enjoy and little I wouldn't
try. At least once. Like I said, to me, sex is sex. It can be more, but it
doesn't have to be. It can also be like shaking hands."


I headed to work. When I got home, Trick was gone. He had written
"running" on the chalkboard where I kept my grocery list.


I poured myself a glass of wine and headed to the screened in porch with
a book. I drank and read and wondered about the kind of person I was; I had
shared my day with Trick's dad and never once let on that I was involved
with his son.


When Trick got home, he looked hot, both literally and figuratively. It
was Winter, but he was soaked with sweat. And, his body glistened as he
talked to me and stripped off his sweaty clothes.


I pigged out. I led him inside and, once we were concealed from prying
eyes, I started licking the sweat off of him. I buried my face in his
underarms and in his sweaty crotch.


"Let me get cleaned up," he said.


"I want you just like this" I said. I did. I tongued every part of him
that my tongue would reach. He settled into the floor as I did. I saved the
best for last, raising his ankles in my hands and burying my face in his
ass. I devoured him. As I did, Trick said, "if you don't fuck me soon, I'm
going to finger fuck myself."


I gave him what he craved. We were both covered in sweat when I finally
came, driving myself into Trick as hard as I could. While I worked all I
could into him, Trick grabbed himself, gave it a couple of jerks, and blew
all over his chest and stomach hair. When I recovered, I leaned over and
licked as much as I could out of his mat.


After dinner, I told Trick I thought we should invite Raylan to Kansas
City after we returned from Austin. I was not yet sure we should invite him
into our bed, but Raylan lived on the edge of poverty in Wichita, and I was
feeling generous.


"Really?"


"Yes, really. But, don't suggest this is anything other than what it is .
. . a chance to spend a few days in a nice home eating great food and
drinking better wine."


"He'll love it."


We had an amazing time in Austin. At midnight on New Year's Eve, Trick
kissed me in a bar, and toasted to "The start of our first full year
together." He had far more confidence than I that all would work out. I saw
different generations at different stages in different cities on different
paths. He saw all the reasons we'd work. I saw all the reasons we wouldn't.


My Married Friend's Son (Part Eight)


Raylan pulled in minutes behind us as we returned from Austin. He seemed
both eager and anxious. I tried to put him at ease, showing him to his room
and telling him to treat the house as his own. The boys would not return to
Columbia for two weeks, so he was going to be with us a long time.


After dinner, we all moved to the screened porch (it was heated) with
drinks. I asked Raylan to tell me a little about himself, and he talked for
what seemed like hours, telling us what it was like growing up black and
gay in rural Kansas, explaining baseball was his escape and refuge from
bigotry and poverty, and his body -- building it, especially -- was his
shield.


It was a fascinating to listen to him. His experience was so alien to me.
He had to be the most mentally strong young man I'd ever come across.


As he talked, his face betrayed every emotion he felt. His eyebrows
arched, his brow furrowed, his eyes danced.


Watching and listening, I realized he really was both extraordinary and
stunning. If you were going to design a man, you'd base him on Raylan.


I also realized I was on the verge of a gay man's dream. I was 46 and in
love and lust with a delicious athlete half my age who seemed to want me
more than I wanted him. And, who seemed more than willing to share me with
his stunning friend. As I finished my wine, I could not imagine passing up
that opportunity.


Trick and I were sitting on the sofa, and Raylan was sitting across from
us on a chair. He had gotten emotional as he talked, and Trick signaled him
over. He settled between us on the sofa. Trick leaned into him, put his
right hand to Raylans' left cheek, and kissed his right temple. Raylan
folded his face into Trick's chin, closed his eyes, and tried to let peace
settle over him.


"We should all go to bed," Trick suggested.


I blew out the candles, scooped up the glasses, and headed to the
kitchen. Trick helped Raylan to his feet and headed up the stairs.


When I got upstairs, Raylan and Trick had stripped to their underwear and
were spooning on our bed. I undressed and slid in behind Trick. I reached
around him and put my hands on Raylan's side. His skin was smooth and soft.


Trick entwined his hand in mine. We all fell asleep.


When I woke up the next morning, Raylan was on his back. His hands were
behind his head, and his body was in full view. He was like The David. As
he took deep, slow breaths, his muscled chest rose and fell. His dick was
hard and to the right, and his white bikini briefs barely held it.


Trick's back was still to me. His head was in Raylan's left armpit, his
hand was on Raylan's stomach, and his twitching showed he was having a
dream. I kissed the back of Trick's head, slid my hand down the front of
his underwear, and took hold of him. Trick responded by pressing his ass
back into me, turning into me, and kissing me.


Raylan got up, circled the bed, and slid in behind me. I was on my back.
While Trick and I kissed, Raylan licked my clavicle, under my arm, and down
my side. He freed my dick and swallowed it whole, expertly and quickly
working me to a frenzy. I had never gotten head while making out before,
and I was on sensory overload. I came quickly and felt Raylan swallow it as
he continued to work me.


As Raylan licked and kissed his way up my body, Trick moved the opposite
direction. I spread my legs as Raylan lowered himself onto me and his groin
to mine. I could feel his big, black bat through his briefs.


Raylan kissed me with his full, supple lips. As we made out, he started
grinding his groin into mine, moaning and panting. Trick lowered his briefs
and started fucking him from behind.


I grabbed Raylan's head and kissed him as deeply as I could. His dick
rubbing against mine got me hard again, and I started grinding back against
him in the same rhythm. I could feel Trick speeding up as Raylan pushed
himself back and into him.


Raylan came first. I felt his body clench, spasm, and then collapse fully
onto me. Trick came next, arching his back, crying "oh, fuck, oh fuck," and
collapsing onto Raylan's back.


We moved to the shower. I loved the softness of Raylan's skin, so I
washed him barehanded from head to toe. His dick was beautiful. Often, the
big ones curve this way or that, shaped by the direction the bearer has to
wear it to keep it contained and constrained. Raylan's did not. It hung
straight down, was proportional, and had a nice, mushroom head.


As I washed Raylan's legs, I took George into my mouth. I loved the
feeling of a guy hardening in my mouth. It was quickly more than I could
hold. I stood up and stepped back to find Raylan and Trick locked in a deep
kiss. When I was out of the way, they were chest to chest and I realized I
had a live porn feed right in my shower. I leaned against the wall and
watched the two college guys make out until Raylan lowered himself, took
Trick in his mouth, and gave him a deep, intense blowjob. Trick maneuvered
around so he was staring right at me while Raylan blew him. The muscles on
Raylan's back rippled. I started stroking my dick as I watched. I came all
over Raylan's back. I leaned in and kissed Trick as he came in Raylan's
mouth.


After we had finishing cleaning each other up, dried, and dressed, we sat
at the breakfast table having coffee. It seemed like the most natural
thing. It was going to be an interesting two weeks.


*****


I was distracted all day at work. One, I could not wait to get home. Two,
I wondered what the boys were up to while I was not home.


At about 11:30, Rob stuck his head in my office and asked me to lunch. I
immediately bristled, wondering if he knew what was going on at my house.


He did not. Or, if he did, he was not letting on. Lunch was uneventful,
although I was anxious the whole time.


As we ate, I realized I was in a quandary. I now had season tickets to
Trick's home games, and Rob went to all of them. How was I going to explain
my sudden interest in Mizzou baseball and my insistence on driving down
separately?


*****

When I arrived home from work, Trick and Raylan were in the living room
high and, of course, naked. I did not know whether to be peeved or pleased.
On the one hand, I had missed out on whatever they had done all day. On the
other hand, I was a 46 year old man coming home to two hot, nude college
boys. Upon my realization of the other hand, I quickly decided to go with
pleased.


I kissed Trick hello and then paused. Was I also to kiss Raylan hello?
Would doing so signal he was on equal footing with Trick? Raylan solved my
dilemma by getting up and heading into the kitchen. Trick raised one
eyebrow at me, so I followed him. He was at the sink, so I slid my around
him and kissed the back of his neck. He put his hand on mine. Trick had
followed me, and he slid his arms around us both and asked "did you have a
good day?"


"It was okay, almost certainly not as good as yours."


"Well, then we need to make sure you have a good night. I'm gonna handle
dinner, and Ray-Ray is gonna handle dessert."


"What's for dinner?"


"My skills are limited, but I can definitely handle burgers."


"What's for dessert?"


"I told you before. Ray-Ray wants you to fuck him."


I was horny sandwiched between the two boys. "I'd like my dessert right
now," I said as I undid my belt and the button and zipper on my trousers.
Trick spit in his hand and reached around me, while Raylan smeared spit in
his crack. I entered Raylan as he braced himself against the counter. Trick
stepped back and watched me slowly fuck Raylan, my dress shirt and tie
still up round my neck and my suit pants down around my ankles.

"This is so fucking hot," said Trick. "It's like live porn."


That is exactly what I had thought this morning.


Raylan gave great head, but it was nothing compared to the way he could
work a dick with his ass.


Trick worked his own dick while I went at Raylan. As I started to crest,
Raylan told me his legs were getting weak and he needed to lay down. I
pulled out of him, and he laid on his back on the kitchen rug. I darted
between his legs, re-entered him, and started pounding him again. As I
started to move back toward orgasm, I felt Trick behind me, trying to work
himself into me. When he did, I came, hard.


Quickly, I was on my back where Raylan had been, Trick was in me, and we
were moving together in rhythm. Raylan moved behind Trick and tried to
drive George home. Trick laid flat on me and stopped fucking me, yielding
to Raylan's desire and opening to him. When Raylan was in as far as he
could get, Trick resumed his work. I could see the pain and pleasure on
Trick's face as he came.


Trick was now on his back where I had been, and Raylan was pushing his
big, beautiful dick back into Trick. Trick arched his back and took deep
breaths. Just as Trick offered that he didn't think he could take anymore,
Raylan pushed all the way in. Trick gasped over and over as Raylan started
to slide.


Just as Raylan was set to come, he pulled out of Trick, kneeled between
his legs, and jacked George until he sprayed all over Trick's chest and
stomach. He laid down a stunning amount, exhaled deeply, and then started
licking himself out of Trick's chest and stomach hair. Apparently, Raylan
loved to watch his slit open and spill and also loved the taste of himself.


Dessert was over. We were all spent. The kitchen shades were up, and I
wondered if my neighbors to the west had seen the debaucherous,
inter-racial train that had soiled my kitchen rug.


We ate nude and in silence. After dinner, we took a bottle of wine to the
hot tub on the deck. Six months earlier, I'd have fretted over what the
neighbors thought. Tonight, I didn't care.


Trick offered that Raylan and I should get to know each other better and
headed into the house to "smoke a little weed and watch TV." As soon as the
door closed, Raylan moved in front of me and started kissing me, gently at
first and then more forcefully. Raylan knew how to kiss. His lips were
thick but firm. His tongue was most but not wet. We made out like teenagers.


I moved my hands over his dark, muscled body and found his dick. Raylan
pulled his mouth from mine, stood up, and gave me access to the length of
his meat. I took what I could in my mouth and gripped Raylan's rippled ass,
forcing him in and out of my throat as best I could. Raylan added his hand
and jacked himself in rhythm with my aching mouth.


I felt Raylan's balls clench, dick open, and cum fill my mouth. I drank
what I could while the rest ran out. It had the hint of sweetness to it,
and I realized why Raylan liked it so much.


Raylan settled back into the water, returned his mouth to mine, and
started jacking me. I came quickly, with Raylan's sweet tongue buried in my
throat.


We slept that night (and for the rest of Raylan's stay) entangled in my
bed. Sometimes, Raylan was in the middle. Sometimes, I was.


It took me a while to build up my courage, but I finally let Raylan take
me. I have never felt so full in my life, but I opened until George was all
the way in (Trick and I had pivoted a bit, and we started calling Raylan's
monster "George"). Raylan fucked as good as he sucked. He delivered long,
slow strokes that had me tingling from head to toe. He never sped up. When
I felt George swell inside me, Raylan pulled out, jerked himself a few
times, and coated my groin. When he had spent all he had, he lowered his
mouth to my dick, sucking his cum off of it and then my cum out of it.


I had more sex in those two weeks than I could track. Still, I always ran
out of gas before the boys did, and spent half the time watching their
beautiful bodies spar and convulse with pleasure. As I did, I realized
Trick had been wrong about their relationship. Raylan was in love with him,
it seemed a lot like Trick loved him back as more than friends, and their
sex appeared to be more than "just sex." It appeared as if they were making
love.


I also realized I could easily fall in love with Raylan. He was hot, but
he was also sweet. He was open and utterly without guile, which was
extraordinary considering the road he had travelled to be where and who he
was. If you turned back the clock of his life to his tenth birthday, you'd
never have believed he was about to be a millionaire. Or, that he'd be the
man he was.


I wondered if he would be MLB's first openly gay player. His fellow
Tigers all knew, and none of them seemed to care. It reminded me of the
shrugged shoulders the Tigers had when Michael Sam came out. They all knew,
but not one of them cared, at least not publicly.


My Married Friend's Son (Part Nine)


I was despondent when Trick (and Raylan) headed back to school. The house
seemed empty without the boys, their banter, and the constant sex.


But, the silence allowed me to refocus on who I was and what I wanted.
You can have guiding principles and values, but they evanesce when a kid
with a chiseled body and a beautiful dick is in front of you suggesting you
do other than what you would normally do. They disappear when there are two
of them making those suggestions.


Before Trick left, he and I spent a day together, just the two of us. It
was January, but the day was unseasonably mild, so we walked around Loose
Park, talking.


I wanted to know who he was and what he wanted. He assured me he was a 21
year old man and he wanted to be in love. But, he also did not want to be
constrained by the atavistic notions "adults" had about love and sex and
what was or was not acceptable or moral or right. He was a drop of water on
the sidewalk, meandering here and there and wherever the cracks and
indentations of life took him.


I asked him if he wanted to be in a throuple with Raylan, and he said he
wasn't sure, but he didn't think so. He knew Raylan would be leaving soon
through the draft, and he wasn't sure he wanted either of us to get any
more emotionally invested in him than we already were. But, he also knew
that he wanted us to spend as much time with Raylan as we could before he
headed off. He admitted he loved Raylan, and he insisted that Raylan
deserved to be loved, to feel like he was part of an accepting and loving
family.


I had planned to tell him I was not interested in sharing him with Raylan
any more, and that I was too old and too hidebound to be in a 3-way
relationship (especially when the other two would soon be headed back to
the apartment they shared, 200+ miles from me). Trick's "confession,"
however, deterred me. I would not risk him. I would lose myself first.


I bought a car for Trick to take back to school. It wasn't much (a 3 year
old Accord), but I wanted him to be able to return to me. And, selfishly, I
did not want to be the only fish in the stream, always swimming toward him.


Once Raylan and Trick were gone, my mind immediately raced to what would
happen between the two of them once they got back to CoMo. I was pretty
sure I knew. They'd share the same bed. They'd fuck and suck and provide
each other with extraordinary pleasure. Trick might be thinking of me as
they did. Raylan would certainly be thinking of Trick.


*****


A week after Trick left, his father and I had to travel together to Omaha
for work. Rob's assistant had made the arrangements, and I was surprised to
see she had us sharing a room. After a long day of travel and work, Rob
suggested we have a "final final" in our hotel bar. Three drinks later, I
was vexed. Rob rarely drank, and my experience with him suggested he used
alcohol as a sexual lubricant.


When we were back in the room for the night, Rob stripped naked and
settled back on his bed. In and of itself, this meant little; Rob slept
naked, which I had long known.


When he surfed to porn, I knew he had an agenda. After all, that was the
setup for our first sexual encounter. I didn't know what to do, so I turned
my back to him and pretended I wanted to go to sleep.


"Are you asleep?" he asked.


"Not yet."


"You want to blow me?"


"No," I lied. I did. No matter what else was before me, Rob was my best
friend, I had invested years in seducing him, and I still pined for him.


"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Rob, I just don't think it's a good idea. We sealed that can. Selfishly,
I am not sure we should open it again."


I could have said, "You fucked up. You let me go. You stayed with a woman
who barely tolerates you. So be it, I'm with your son now, and it's awesome
to be with someone who is not constrained by their small town, closed
minded rearing."  But, I decided to be passive. I fell asleep.


When I woke up, Rob was behind me, his hard-on pressing against me, and
his right arm wrapped around me. It was almost 5, and Rob had apparently
moved to my bed in the night.


Rob must have known I was awake. "I want you," he said.


I was angry that he took advantage of me being asleep, so I shot back,
"You should want the wife you chose."


"I do, but she doesn't want me."

Rob moved his hand to my crotch. "Let me fuck you. For old time's sake."


"No!" I insisted.


Rob was undeterred and started to jerk my hardening dick.


"I said, 'No!'" I insisted.


Rob responded "I want so much" and pinned me to the bed, face down, his
erection pressing into me. I feared he would not going to accept my "no"
and was going to force himself on me. My entire body tensed, and I raged,
"Rob, you need to get off of me, right now."


He relented. "Okay, okay," he said, rolling off me.


We got dressed and headed back to KC.


As we drove, Rob raised the elephant in the room. "I'm sorry about this
morning. I wasn't going to force myself on you. But, I surprised you said
'no'."


"I thought we were done with that," I said.


"I did, too."


"So, what changed?"


"l'm not ready to be celibate, and I'm just not cut out for meaningless
sex with someone I don't love."


"Why don't you get divorced?"


"I can't do that. Not with the kids still at home."


"Why don't you get her into therapy?"


"She won't go."


"Have you told her how important this aspect of your marriage is to you?"


"Repeatedly."


"And she doesn't care?" I asked.


"No. . . . I think we should go back to where we were."


"I can't do that," I insisted.


"Why not?"


"I'm in love with someone else."


"Who?"


I froze. If I said "your son," then it would definitely mean the end of
the sexual temptation Rob still posed to me. But, it would also mean the
end of our friendship.


"You don't know him," I said.


"I'd like to."


"You wouldn't."


"You're probably right. And, I know you deserve more than I can give, but
I can give only what I can give. If you're open to it, I'd like to go back
to where we were. I don't care if there's someone else."


"I do. And, I love the someone else. A lot."


"Okay, but I think you love me more than you love him," he said,
hopefully.


"You think you know more than you do," I answered, directly.


We drove on in silence. Rob was wrong. I loved Trick more than I loved
him. It was odd to admit that to myself, as it is odd to admit you love
someone after six weeks more than you love someone after sixteen years.
But, that's the way it was.


When we got to Rob's house, I met him at the trunk. He hugged me, and I
hugged him back.


"Think about it," he said.


"Thank you," I said. "But, I'm going to try to be the person I should be,
not the person I am." I didn't mean to, but I was obviously subtly judging
him as I did.


Rob raised my face to his. I had no idea if anyone was looking at us
through the window. He kissed my forehead, said "I love you," and turned
toward his house. And his family.


I was torn as I drove to my house. I loved Trick, but there was so many
obstacles, including the 200 miles between where he was and I was, the 25
years between his age and mine, Raylan, and his very open attitude toward
sex. He neither expected nor wanted monogamy (although I doubted his
openness extended to his father).


I also loved Rob, and he was only six blocks away. He was married, but
only nominally. I could probably have him any time I wanted.


As I pulled into my garage, I received a text from Rob. "I'd like to come
over later and talk some more."


It took me two hours to text him back. In those two hours, I typed every
available response, but sent none of them. I invited him over. I slammed
the door. I left wiggle room. Nothing seemed right.


Finally, I answered. "Be my friend. Leave me be." I got a quick "OK" in
reply.


My Married Friend's Son (Part Ten)


I went to see Trick and Raylan the following weekend. Immediately, I
noticed that they seemed to be sharing the same room. Raylan's room was
perfect, bed made and all clothes tucked away. Trick's room was a mess. It
was late on Friday night, but I asked Trick to take a walk with me. He took
my hand and held it as walked the Katy Trail.


"What would happen if I told you I wanted us to be exclusive and
monogamous?" I asked.


"Why would you do that?"


"Because, that's who I am; I'm not imbued with the ethos of your
generation."


"Honestly, I would say okay, and then I'd fuck around behind your back. I
don't think monogamy is my thing. I'm just not a 'sex is a big deal' guy.
I'm a 'sex is just sex' guy. I can share my body without sharing my heart."


"Would you even try?"


"Sure, but I know I wouldn't succeed. I think monogamy is an antiquated
idea. It was started to control people and to prevent unwanted pregnancy.
With birth control, there's no need for that control or that prevention."


"So, you don't care if I have sex with other people?"


"Not really, so long as it's just sex. You can share your body. Just not
your heart. Your heart is mine."


"What about Raylan? Aren't you sharing your heart with him?"


"Yes, but not in the way I mean. Raylan's my bro, and he always will be.
I love him, but I'm not in love with him. And, I never will be. I'd cut him
out first."


"So, what about your dad?" I asked. "I love him, but I'm not in love with
him. So, is he fair game?"


Trick did not respond at first. We walked on in silence, still holding
hands. I could not tell if he was thinking or calming himself. Finally, he
said, "Here's what I think about that. You may not be in love with him now,
but you were once. If you can have sex with him without without falling
back in love with him, then I guess I have no say in the matter. I'm not a
hypocrite. I loathe hypocrisy. It's one of the world's ugliest traits. It
seems like it would be weird to be fucking a father and his son, but I've
never done it. If you can protect your heart and lure Russell into your
bed, have at it. But, I don't want to hear about it. I don't even want to
know about it."


"You know your dad calls his dick Russell?"


"Sure. He refers to it in the third person all the time."

"What do you call yours?" It seemed odd I didn't know.


"I usually call it Russ. You know, like 'little Russell.' But, with you,
I haven't. It seemed weird, what with you knowing Russell and all."


We turned and headed back to the apartment. We meandered hand in hand. I
wanted to tell Trick I did not want Raylan in our bed that night, but I did
not want to come across as an older man than I already had.


I went to bed first. I was surprised when Trick came in and closed the
door behind him. "Where's Raylan?" I asked.


"If it's all the same to you, I told him I wanted you to myself this
weekend. He understands."


"I'd like that. A lot."


"Me, too," he said, settling into bed, and kissing me.


"And," he added, "I've thought about it some more. If you want to be
monogamous, I'll try as hard as I can. I'll even cut Ray-Ray off.
Especially if it means you won't be fucking my dad."


When he said it, the preposterousness of it all overwhelmed me. "I don't
care about Raylan," I said. "And, I don't want your dad. I was just
lawyering it, pressing the hypothetical."


*****


At my age, I never make it through the night without going to the
bathroom. When I returned to bed that night, Trick was on his back, his
arms were behind his head, and he was hard and flat against his stomach.


"Are you awake?" I asked.


"I am."


"Do you want to fool around?"


"I do."


I lowered my mouth to his and kissed him. I buried my face in his armpits
and licked them. There was a hint of body odor, the kind that develops
during the day, no matter what you try to avoid it. I loved that odor.


I sucked his nipples through the hair that was growing back out. I had
told Trick I never wanted him to trim again. I liked his hairy look.


I laid my head on his stomach, and took him into my mouth from the side.
I swirled my tongue around the head, trying to make it as sensitive as
possible. As I did, Trick started jacking hinself and moaning. I was
surprised when he came, not expecting it so fast.


"That was awesome," he said. "Now, will you make love to me?"


"Sure. I thought you'd never ask."


I lubed us both and moved between his legs. I raised his ass and, sitting
on my haunches, entered him. Using his hip bones for leverage, I slid in
and out of him. He flipped on the bedside light and fluffed his pillow
behind his head so he could watch, and we locked eyes. It was so intimate,
I had to kiss him. I pulled out, crawled up his body, and kissed him gently
on the mouth. He locked his legs around me and pulled me back in.


"I want you to come inside me," he said.


"I'm so close."


"Kiss me while you come."


I lowered my face to his, and when our tongues touched, my balls
clenched, and I came. Trick sucked and bit my tongue. I stayed hard and
kept at him until I came again. I collapsed onto him, and he wrapped his
athletic, muscular arms and legs around me, clamping me to him.


"I love you, Trophy."


"Trophy?"


"Yeah, I don't like 'Chris.' I like that you call me 'Trick,' not Pat or
Patty. So, I looked at 'Chistropher,' noticed 't-r-o-p-h' in middle, added
a y, and, wa la, came up with 'Trophy.'"


"I don't like it. And, you're the trophy, not me."


"I'll come up with something else."


"Like 'Chris'?"


"Nah, that's too boring. You're not boring."


"Well, I'm going to sleep while you think about it," I said, rolling off
of him and settling my head on his shoulder.


"Good night, Trophy," he teased.


*****


We spent the weekend in Trick's room, leaving only for provisions. We
were not sure when, but Raylan at some point left. Either he wanted us to
have privacy or he was hurt at being excluded. We assumed Trick would find
out soon enough.


We slept a lot. Trick was young enough that he could sleep a day away. I
was old enough that I needed sleep, especially since we were having sex
almost every moment we were awake. The chocolate sauce even made its way
back in.


Raylan's door was closed when I tip-toed out Monday morning. In the 60 or
so hours I was there, I had seen him only to say hello upon my arrival.


*****


Trick visited me the following weekend. Raylan dropped him off and then
took Trick's car on to Wichita. Amy and Rob had no idea Trick was in town,
so I had him all to myself. Like the weekend before, we spent the weekend
eating, sleeping, and having sex. Trick got way more than he gave, as he
had incredibly bounce back abilities. I, on the other hand, was oversexed,
and barely able to get hard as Saturday moved to Sunday. Trick thought it
was funny. I thought it was sad.


My Married Friend's Son (Part Eleven)


Trick and I saw each other every weekend for the next 6. Raylan stayed in
his own room when I visited Trick, and he never came along when Trick
visited me.


Trick had the lead in the music school's opera, so I took a February day
off work and headed down to surprise him at a performance. I was stunned to
run into Rob in the lobby of the theater.


"Chris, what're you doing here?"


Just as I was about to black out from panic, I remembered Thom, my law
school friend who now taught at Mizzou's law school.


"Thom invited me. So, I drove down for dinner with him, and now we are
going to see this opera. What're you doing here?"


"Patty's got the lead, so I came down to see him. Where are your seats?"


"I don't know," I lied. "Thom got the tickets. Speaking of whom, I should
track him down. Have fun tonight. I'm sure you'll be a proud papa."


I left, pretending to look for Thom, and praying my single seat was
nowhere near Rob's. As soon as I could, I ruined the surprise for Trick by
texting him. "Here to surprise u. So's Rob. Ran into him. Oops."


Trick quickly texted back. "O what a tangled web we weave, when first we
practice to deceive."


"Very funny," I texted back. "Panicked, but came up with a plausible
story."


"Can't wait to hear it."


Then, I got a text from Rob. "U staying with ur friend or in hotel? U can
stay with me if u want."


"Staying with friend," I texted back, honestly.


I did not see Rob in the theater. Trick was awesome, his voice almost
ethereal and certainly inconsonant with the muscled chest from which it
rose.


When it was over, I beelined out of the theater to avoid running into
Rob. I was not sure where to go, as Rob might not just drop Trick off. I
texted Trick. "U drive yourself?"


I got an immediately reply. "Yep. See u at the apt assuming u r staying."


I unlocked and opened the apartment door to find Raylan's gorgeous body
stretched out on the couch. He was watching his iPad and playing with
himself. He had ear buds in, so he didn't hear me. When I called his name,
he almost shot through the roof. He ripped his buds out and claimed "you
almost scared me white." We both started laughing and then couldn't stop.


Trick walked in moments later. "I can only imagine what's going on here,"
he said.


"Nothing . . . yet," offered Raylan. When neither of us bit, he said,
"I'll leave you two alone" and headed to his room.


Trick and I got drinks and sat on the couch, and I told him about my
encounter with Rob and my lie about Thom. I did not tell him about Rob's
invitation to stay with him.


As we were finishing our drinks, I asked about Raylan. Trick said he was
feeling a little disappointed and left out. "He can join us tonight," if he
wants. "It's late, and we're just gonna sleep."


"You sure?"


"About what, the joining or the sleeping?"


"Both."


"Yes to the former, open to the latter."


"I'll go get him."


There was no sleeping. Our hands and mouths were all over each other. I
entered Raylan, and Trick entered me. The pleasures and the sensations were
overwhelming, and I came first. As Trick continued to deliver himself to
me, I jacked Raylan thick tool. He blasted his load onto the wall above
Trick's bed, his own face, and his chest. As I licked the cum off Raylan's
face, Trick unloaded inside me.


I fell to one side of Raylan, and Trick fell to the other. We were all
facing the door. Just as I was about asleep, Raylan said, "We should snap a
selfie. We could call it 'reverse oreo.'" As we laughed, Raylan pulled me
back against him, and kissed the back of my head.


"Good night, boys," I said.


"Who you callin' boy," Raylan asked in mock indignation. "Does this feel
like a boy to you?" he continued, pressing his soft, thick tool against my
ass.


"No. It feels like a big black bat, George," I said, laughing.


"It is, and it's getting hard as we talk about it. Do either of you think
you can take it?"


"I can," said Trick. I rolled over on my left side as Raylan and Trick
started making out. Raylan worked his way down Trick's body, swallowing his
dick before moving to his ass and readying Trick for the invasion that was
about to land. Trick took Raylan more easily than I remembered, and Raylan
was soon sliding in and out of him with abandon. Trick got very vocal,
urging Raylan on, begging him to speed up. It was, I have to admit, the
hottest thing I had ever seen: two young studs, careless except for their
carnal wants, intent on nothing other than the pleasure each was bringing
the other. I had never been so cavalier, and I was jealous.


I was also turned on, and I wanted in. I moved my mouth to Trick's dick,
and I sucked a load out of him as Raylan deposited one in him. When we
finished with him, Trick was soaked with sweat, and announced he needed a
shower. While he was in the shower, Raylan sucked me dry, taking me deeper
than anyone else ever had. He was a walking, talking inferno.


When Trick returned to the room, he asked if everyone was happy. We were.
"Good," he said. "We need to get some sleep. The Trophy has a long drive
tomorrow."


"The Trophy?" Raylan asked.


"It's a long story," Trick answered. "I'll tell you tomorrow."


"I'm going to sleep in my own room," Raylan said.


"You don't have to," Trick assured him.


"Yeah, I do," Raylan said, recognizing that there was a difference
between being welcomed into our bed and being welcomed into our love.


My Married Friend (Part Twelve)


Baseball season was about to start, and we needed to deal with the Rob
problem. I couldn't take advantage of my Christmas gift without Rob knowing
I was going to Mizzou's home baseball games. And, I couldn't come up with a
plausible explanation for why I was going to be there, much less why I was
going to be there but unwilling to travel to and fro with him.


Trick laughed at my diffidence. "Tell him you're fucking me," he said.


"You have to be out of your mind."


"I'm not. I'm ready to tell them. We're together. We're going to stay
together. They're going to know. So, why not let them know right now?"


He was cocksure. I was realistic.


"I'm not ready for that. You won't feel the heat of the fire. You'll be
in CoMo. I'll be here, sharing an office wall with your dad, where the fire
will be intense."


"Then tell them you're fucking Ray-Ray. At least there's some truth to
that."


There was. I had tried to embrace Trick's laissez faire approach to life,
and Raylan was now a routine participant in our sex. Sometimes, Trick would
have voice practice, and just Raylan and I would fool around. He was
insatiable. And, I justified it by knowing that I wasn't doing anything
Trick wasn't doing. When I was in Kansas City, they almost certainly shared
a bed.


When we started, I regularly topped Raylan. Now, I regularly bottomed for
him. I loved watching his abdominal and chest muscles flex as he drove into
and pulled out of me. I also loved how full having George buried to the
hilt made me feel. I loved Trick a lot, but the sex with Raylan was
insanely good. Every time I thought it could not get better and I could not
have a stronger orgasm, it got better and I shot farther.


But, no connection ever developed. As Trick and I got emotionally closer
and closer, Raylan orbited around us, but could not penetrate our circle.
It had to be painful for him to know he was welcome to sex us, but not to
love us, and we were never going to love him, at least not in the same way
we loved each other.


Trick and I could sit on the bed, hold hands, and stare into each other's
eyes for minutes. Without saying a word, we knew each other better when the
staring ended.


We also figured out we liked to lay in opposite directions, but cheek to
cheek. We had to do it on the floor, because we stretched out too long end
to end to do it in a bed. Usually, I pointed my feet one way and placed my
right cheek to his left, and he pointed his feet the other way. I'd reach
my right arm around his head and play with his chest hair. He'd reach his
right hand up and scratch the hair on my head. We'd talk like that for
hours. Sometimes, we fell asleep and spent the night like that.


*****

I was in Kansas City, wondering how I would explain to Rob why I was at
Mizzou's home opener when I received a text from Trick. "Sometimes, u have
to rip the band aid off. I told them."


I immediately called him.


"That is not something you can tell me by text," I said.


"I'm young," he said. "I didn't know any better."


"You're lying."


"I know, but it's cute, isn't it?"


"A little. . . . But, seriously, why'd you tell them."


"It's all just ridiculous. I lie to them about why I'm not coming home.
You lie to them about everything. We're trying to figure out a lie to tell
them why you come watch me play and why you won't ride with them. Isn't the
truth simpler?"


"Yes, but it's harder."


"Maybe in the short term. But, not in the long term."


"How'd they take it?"


"Mom hung up. Dad said, 'you've got to be fucking kidding me.' I almost
said, 'you fucked him, too,' but wisdom prevailed. So, I said, 'I told you
as a courtesy. It's really not your business at all. You don't tell me who
you're fucking, and I shouldn't have to tell you who I'm fucking.'"


"Jesus Christ, Trick. What did he say?"


"He said, 'I'm married to your mother.' So, I said, 'she's not the only
person you've fucked since you got married, and you never once came to me
and said, ' son, I'm fucking around, I thought you should know.' I'm
telling you as a courtesy. Handle it right, or I won't tell you anything
ever again."


"Who are you?"


"I'm Trick, and I'm proud of my Trophy."


"Goddammit, be serious."


"I am serious. I am proud of you. You are the most important person in
the world to me. If you cost me them, then that's a deal I'll take. All
day. Every day."


I almost burst into tears. I was in a dream. I was shocked back into
reality by the banging on my door.


"It's 9:30. Someone's banging on the door."


"I'm sure it's my dad. . . . Call me when he leaves," Trick said, hanging
up.


*****


I opened the door to Rob. He looked inflamed and wrought. He didn't mince
words.


"My son? You're fucking my son? The 'other person' you can't betray for
me is my own son?"


I backed away from him as he approached, putting a sofa between the two
of us. I couldn't think of anything to say other than "yes," so I said
"yes" and then offered the "please let me explain."


"Let you explain?" he thundered. "Let you explain? That's ripe. I offer
myself to you, and you turn me down for my own son. It's all so . . . so .
. . ridiculous."


"Wait a minute. You didn't offer yourself to me. You offered a very small
part of yourself to me. You wanted it both ways. You wanted your house and
your white picket fence and your family and your community standing and me
on the side, waiting for whatever crumb you dropped. Well, I'm not a
goddamned dog, Rob. I'm a human being. So, fuck you, and fuck your
righteous indignation. You're not here about Trick, you're here about you.
Well, I've got some news for you, your son is very happy. Ecstatic, even.
As a father, you should be happy, not making a play for the guy making your
son happy."


I was pleased with my eloquence. It was almost like I had practiced that
speech in my head, but I hadn't.


Rob gave in, slumping against the wall and offering only "It's all so
fucked up. By the time I decided I wanted to be with you, you decided you
wanted to be with my son."


He was right. I didn't have anything to say in response.


Rob righted himself and looked at me. "I can't be your friend anymore,"
he declared.


"I know."


"I'm going to miss being your friend," he said.


"I'm going to miss your friendship," I responded.


"If you hurt my son, I'll beat you to a pulp," he threatened.

"I know," I said, walking over to him, and wrapping my arms around him.
His body shook with sobs. So did mine. All of the possibility of all of our
years of friendship dried up as we cried. It was all over.


Rob pulled his head back, and looked straight into my eyes. He said
nothing, but I knew what he was saying. I felt the same way. Time moves
forward, not backward. Decisions are made, and they have consequences.


As we stood on my porch, Rob was slow to leave. The possibility of us
would leave with him, and it was hard to close that door. When it was time,
I said, "You should go."


"I know," he said. "Amy's waiting. Speaking of whom, you're not coming
for the holidays. Amy never liked you. Now, I'm sure she's sticking needles
in a doll that looks like you."


"I've never liked here, either. She's a bitch."


"That's my wife."


"Lucky you," I said.


"Yeah, lucky me," he said, walking slump-shouldered to his car.


My Married Friend's Son (Part Thirteen)


The baseball season was glitchless. I sat on the visitor's side, and Rob
(and sometimes Amy) sat on the alumni side (when they were there). I always
stayed over. I never saw Rob and Amy. Trick had declared his loyalty, and I
had won.


Mizzou was not yet adjusted to SEC baseball, and it had a very mediocre
season. Raylan and Trick, however, did not. Raylan was SEC player of the
year and a first team All-American. Trick was first-team all SEC and an
honorable mention All-American.


Expectedly, Raylan got drafted in the first round. Unexpectedly, he got
drafted first overall, by the New York Mets. He left for stardom in New
York, a trailblazer as the first openly gay first round draft choice ever.
He was the Jackie Robinson of his day, and he soaked up the sun. He was
beautiful and confident and strong and, to no one's surprise, the media
cared more about who he slept with than either his teammates or the fans
did.


The media also made Mizzou into a sensation, marvelling at the team that
protected Raylan as it had protected Michael Sam. The situations weren't
similar, as there was far less attention to college baseball than to
college football. But, Raylan's teammates had his back; Raylan's story was
his to tell, if it was to be told at all. Trick got caught up in the story
a little as Raylan's roommate, but there was no hint of a relationship
between them in the coverage.


Trick also got drafted, in the 5th round. He obviously would turn it down
and return for his Senior season, hoping a good year would turn him into a
"million dollar baby."


He'd spend his senior year in that apartment. We had good memories there,
and I could make up the difference that Raylan's departure created.


Trick rejected my offer. He wanted a roommate, and he lured in a
returning junior who pitched and played right field. His future was as a
pitcher. He threw 90+, commanded the zone, and couldn't hit enough to play
outfield at the next level. He was also good looking. He looked like Raul
Castillo, formerly of Looking. I thought I knew why Trick had lured him in.
I had no doubt Trick would be successful, if that's what he was after.

I was okay with it. I knew Trick loved me. He'd have been fine with me
taking the same approach, but that's not how I was wired. Still, we worked.
It was he and I and the rest was just noise.


*****


Rob and Amy did not come around. In fact, they basically gave up Trick to
avoid me. With which, we were fine. When faced with holidays with one
person who loves you no matter what and a group of people who love you if
you fit within a certain mold, it made no sense to choose the conditionals.


With Raylan gone, we became monogamous. The pitcher Trick lured in was
unpersuadable, and we fixated on each other. We continued to lay parallel,
cheek to cheek. We rarely fought. When we did, it was over stupid stuff
that evanesced under the light of day and reason. Trick grew older, and I
grew younger. We were not growing apart, we were growing together.


Trick's senior season was a wonder. He was happy, and it showed in his
play. He was all-SEC and second-team All-American. The Rockies took him in
the second round, and I quit my job as we headed off to Grand Junction
together. My job no longer worked anyway, as Rob and I shared a wall but
nothing else. The tension between us ruined the environment, and it was
better if one of us left. I was happy to be the one.


Trick rocketed through the Rockies' farm system (although not as fast as
Raylan, who spent one season in the minors before debuting as the Mets
starting shortstop). The Rockies were terrible, and he was not. With Raylan
shining, there was little attention to Trick's sexuality, at least from the
media.


And, boy did Raylan shine. He played out his options with the Mets,
improving every year. When he was eligible, he signed a monster contract
with the Giants, who were happy to have MLB's first openly gay player as
its starting shortstop and leadoff hitter. Raylan was a sensation in San
Francisco, and he earned every dime the Giants threw at him.


We saw him all the time. We went to his wedding (although we were not
fans of his husband, a banker from New York who rubbed almost everyone but
Raylan the wrong way). We went to his son's baptism. And to his daughter's.


Raylan retired from baseball at 35, ultimately the victim of a ruptured
disk in his neck that limited him physically and placed him at risk if he
continued to try to play. He moved immediately into broadcasting, and he is
now the beautiful face of Sunday Night Baseball. Much as he was for the
Mets, he's a sensation, gliding into the booth as if he had been born
there.


*****


Trick is now 37. I am now 62. His career (mostly as a fourth outfielder)
is winding down. It's been remarkably average. But, it's been fun. He has
made more money than we'll ever need.


It has not always worked between us. I had a hard time keeping my mind
open, and Trick was not one to be fenced in. He was discreet, but his
discretion was for baseball's sake, not mine.


We took breaks from each other, usually at my request. We returned to
each other, also usually at my request.


Trick's parents reached out to him after awhile. When he told them they
had to have a relationship with me if they were to have one with him, they
balked. It was obviously their loss, as Trick was a wonder as a human
being. Except for the one area that kept recurring, he was the most
selfless, other-centered person I had ever met. It had kept him in the
major leagues, as he was always referred to as a "perfect teammate." He was
a locker room All-Star.


We don't know where we will write our next chapter. Trick wants a family
and to go to New York to be near Raylan. I think I am too old for a family
and too tame for New York. I want to go someplace warm and go gently into
that good night, whenever that may be.


Trick will probably win. He almost always does with me.