An Uncommonly Good Man 21

The Journal of Julian Corsair,

An Uncommonly Good Man

Julian Corsair – Chapter Twenty-one - "In the half-darkness we look at each other and smile and touch our arms across his little startlingly muscled body – this one whom habit of memory propels to the ground his making, sleeper only the mortal sounds can awake, this blessing of love gives again into our arms." – (Galway Kinnell)

As much as Ben and I desired Pauley to continue reading, he closed the journal and with nary a word, rose and departed to our bedroom. We didn't make love that night or the next; Pauley seemed distant, almost unreachable. I couldn't fathom, for the life of me, what I'd said or done that would've caused this rift that seemed to be growing between us! I loved the man with all of my heart, but I was starting to wonder if what we had was not a permanent relationship, as I'd envisioned, but viewed by Pauley as more of one-off "fuck-buddy" type. That was certainly not what I desired.

The first day of the new school year, he received a call to substitute, in the grade school, for one week, perhaps longer depending on how soon the regular teacher could return from an illness. This was also the busy season for his lawn care and property services business; closing cabins and helping resorts close down by September's end. I wasn't certain how he'd manage, but said nothing. He decided, if need be, Ben and he'd put in as many hours as possible on the weekends if the substitute job went longer than one week.

Evening of that first day came and, instead of coming home for supper, Pauley called and said he was eating and then staying at his folks, claiming "it was more convenient since the school wasn't far." Ben looked for him when he came home from school, but said nothing when his Uncle Paul wasn't there. He wanted to visit with his folks so I let him take my truck since he usually used Pauley's.

Pauley's absence continued for the entire week and not once, did he call! I was so upset, I was physically sick to my stomach. I missed him so much, my heart felt as though it'd been ripped from my body. At night, when I reached across the bed to lay my hand on his lithe, firm chest and stomach, I encountered nothing but emptiness and a cold spot on the bed. The familiarity of his body and love existing prior to this week was gone! How I missed his touching me and my hands on him. I racked my brain trying to determine what I'd done to have offended him so that he'd so handily reject my love!

Ben rode the bus after school on Friday to his parent's so he could work with Pauley Saturday and Sunday. He called Sunday night saying he'd be home, at the "Rabbit Patch" Monday after school. At least, he didn't abandon me like his uncle did. Here I'd thought I found a real family to love and to love me in return; evidently, I was mistaken!

Shortly after Ben arrived home after school Monday, while still rummaging through the refrigerator for something to snack on, I heard a vehicle tear down the lane, stop in front of the house, a car door slam (and I mean SLAM!), and, much to my surprise, stomping up the steps to the house was a very ferocious appearing Momma Rosa, ready to do battle with the invading Visigoths, by the very looks on her face. For such a small woman, she could certainly scare the pee-wading out of the Pope: at least, I was convinced she could!

Without so much as a "hello," "by-your-leave," or "kiss my ass" she stormed up to me and demanded to know, "What's going on between you and that pig-headed youngest boy of mine?"

Before I could respond, she pointed at the kitchen table and ordered me to sit; crooked her finger at Ben, standing gap-mouthed in front of the open refrigerator, and ordered, "You too; shut the fridge door first."

We both complied as quickly as we could. I mean, folks, who wouldn't, fearing we'd be emasculated if we didn't. With both of our asses plopped in chairs, we faced Momma Rosa as she continued, "My boy, Paolo, he does nothing but mope about the house after he comes home; growls and snaps at me, his Momma, and at night when he thinks we're all asleep, I hear him crying in his room. Now, why should he cry unless something terrible should happen in his life? The last time he cried so, was when that terrible girl claimed she was alive with his baby; such foolishness that was. Now, Matthew Burroughs, why should my Paolo cry so much?"

Stepping into the one-sided fray before I could respond or defend myself against who knows what, Ben answered tearfully, "It's all my fault, Grandma!"

She looked at him with astonishment, disbelief, and raised her eyebrows snorting, "Hah! Should a high school boy reduce his uncle, a grown man, to tears? I don't think so!"

"I said it'd be great if they got married," Ben sobbed. "They seemed so much in love and happy, but Uncle Paul got all- goofy acting, kind of, not saying anything, and then after a while he moved back home."

Momma Rosa looked at me expectantly!

"What?"

"Well?" she questioned, "Do you really love him?"

"Yes, Momma Rosa, with all my heart!"

"Then, why should you not get married?"

"He never asked me! When he didn't and left, I figured he didn't want to spend the rest of his life with me for some reason or other."

"Oh, my God!" she moaned, "That's what he said!" Her hand reached into a pocket on her slacks, pulled out a cell phone, punched in some numbers, and when her call was answered, said simply, "Bring him to the house."

Another vehicle roared down the lane and skidded to a stop in front of the house; doors slammed, and steady, measured foot-steps sounded as someone came up the steps. When the door opened, Tom entered with Pauley in tow, head down, face streaked with tears.

Momma Rosa approached him, enveloped his shaking, sobbing form in her arms, and asked her son softly, "Paolo, do you love Matthew?"

"Oh, God, yes, Momma," he sputtered, nearly breaking my heart.

"Then why don't you ask him to marry you?"

"Momma," he gasped, "what would he want with me? I have nothing to bring into a marriage; he has this place, investments, more property in La Crosse and Iowa, and who know what else? What do I have?"

"You have me," I answered, stepping forward, gently moving Momma aside and wrapped my arms around him, "and you have Ben, Momma Rosa and your dad, and all of the rest of your family. I have none of that without you. I had nothing until I met Dr. Corsair and more material wealth, unfortunately, after his death. I'd forego it all if having it meant losing you. I never had a family except for him and now you. What do you mean – you have nothing to bring into a marriage? You bring wealth of family, friends, talent, and love. What more could I ask?"

Pauley melted into my arms, hugging me tightly, letting my head rest on his shoulder as we both wept, realizing our mistakes and almost losing one another. I felt another set of arms encircle us and opening my eyes, I saw Ben, grinning but with tears streaking down his face as well, hearing him say, "I'm so sorry Uncle Paul!"

There was nothing to forgive; the fault was ours, Paul's and mine. Ben was just the instrument coalescing our lack of understanding and communication with each other.

"Well," Momma Rosa interrupted, "what do you say Paolo?"

Pauley took a deep breath, lifted my chin, looked me in the eyes, and asked softly, "Matt, will you marry me?"

"Yes!"

I invited Tom and Momma Rosa to stay for dinner, but they declined, insisting they had other things to take care of. After supper, Ben begged his Uncle Paul to continue reading, since he was curious as I to see if "Captain" was who we thought it might be – one of the two people Julian truly loved.

Pauley and I both stripped to our shorts, readying ourselves for bed once he finished reading, and sat on the floor, with Pauley between my legs, his back and butt snugged up to my crotch and stomach, head resting on my chest, but Ben, deciding he didn't want to be different, stripped to his boxer briefs, grabbed a light blanket, tossed it over the three of us as he cuddled up to my side, his one arm behind my back. He was so happy all was forgiven and we were all together in body and mind. I was happy because Pauley asked me to marry him and I accepted and Pauley was happy, leaning up against me, with my hard cock massaging his backbone (unseen by Ben, by the way, I hope)!

The man across the table gazed at me curiously, smiling politely, but not yet recognizing who it was addressing him with a military rank of "captain." As I looked at him, I remembered how I'd fallen in love with him at first sight many years before and then fell in love all over again when I saw him sitting here at the table. He looked the same, perhaps a little older, but not much; his smile still spread warmly across his face and radiated out to those he bestowed it on; steel blue eyes twinkled like stars in heaven, even in the dim light of the pub; and his strong, wiry frame bespoke of a man who took care of himself.

He was exactly as I remembered him; strong, handsome, and gentle, except I couldn't see, only remember, his most remarkable body part; it was concealed under the table and covered by his pants, I assumed. As I remember, it took a bit of wiggling, twisting, some effort, and biting on my lip to slowly, and I mean slowly, get his massive missile seated deeply and securely in my silo, ready to launch. However, that was many years ago, in different circumstances and for different reasons, and I've grown, matured, no longer a boy fucking servicemen for money, but a man – a man still in love!

He continued looking at me, scrutinizing my face, my body, seeking some hint as to my identity. Of course, how silly of me; I've changed – why would he recognize me or for that matter, even care who I was? After all, life goes on; mine did and his certainly did also. Captain probably only saw me, at the time, as a pleasant distraction; a dalliance, a release from the pressures of war, and a way to get his rocks off!

My hopes of reunion with him started to sink, my strength began to fail me and, as I half-turned to make my leave, he suddenly leaped up, grabbed me by the arm, and shouted joyfully, "Julian!" spinning me around and kissing me solidly and passionately on my lips. Yep, he remembered me!

Our passionate and loud greeting and reunion was largely ignored by the crowd in the noisy, over packed pub, as he said softly and sadly, placing his ears close to my ear so I might hear better (causing me to become instantly erect as his soft breath tickled and tantalized the inner skin of my ear), "I never thought I'd see you again my sweet boy. What are you doing here?" As an afterthought, releasing me from his embrace but still holding on to my arm, continued, "Let's get out of here; I need to see you, talk to you, love you again!"

Captain pulled me to the door and, once outside, before he could say anything more, I quickly asked, "What is your name?"

He looked at me like I was a complete idiot! "I never knew it," I ventured, "you never told me."

"John Robert Andrews," he answered with a voice soft and seductive, "what's your last name, Julian? I didn't know it and as hard as I tried after the war ended, I couldn't find you. I only knew you lived in Prairie du Sac, but not the address."

"Corsair; Julian Corsair."

John grabbed me in a hug again and kissed me deeply. Leaving my lips wanting more, he said, "Let's go somewhere" and before I could sputter a suggestion, he announced, "Grandad's Bluff; there's a nice park there and it's a beautiful, clear night. Do you have transportation – I don't? I took a cab to the pub; I didn't want to drink and drive!"

John was so excited, he was like a young boy on a pony ride, bouncing up and down and chattering a mile a minute. I waved toward the municipal parking lot and we walked to my truck.

"I'll drive," he announced. I raised a questioning eyebrow, but he quickly responded, "Don't worry, that was my first brandy of the evening, so I'm good; besides how do I know you know where to go?"

I didn't and besides, I was happy to have him take charge. We said very little as we drove across town to the winding, steep road leading to the top of Grandad's Bluff. Traversing the twisting, narrow blacktop to the top of the mesa named "Grandad's Bluff" overlooking La Crosse, the Mississippi River and Black River valleys, and coulees fingering out into the surrounding hills, upon reaching the top, I was treated to a view that could only be described as "awesome," especially at night with the lights of the city spread out like a quilt decorated with twinkling, star-like flashes of light emanating from patiently placed blubs of varying size and intensity. The almost full moon cast faint patterns on the mighty river in the distance and created dark and grey shadows on the city and surrounding area, adding an ambiance that bespoke of romance!

John parked my truck in the small parking lot near the restrooms and I clambered out of the passenger seat to join him as he quickly dismounted from our chariot and walked toward an empty park bench overlooking the valley below. Encasing my hand in his, he led me to the bench, bade me to sit, and once he joined me, gently held my face in both of his warm hands, leaned forward, and began a deep, sensual, passionate, tongue-probing kiss. I returned his amorous, mouth-stimulating action by opening my mouth and allowing his tongue to bathe the inside with the sweet taste of him, while wrapping my arms tight about his body, pressing my lips and entire body up to him, wishing to savor, relish, and absorb each and every part of his face and body. My actions, however interpreted by him, signified my desire to stay connected to him for eternity!

He finally pulled back, moaning, "I've missed you so Julian! The thought of returning to you someday when the war was over often kept me going and focused on seeking an end to that damnable conflict."

John breathed deeply, satisfyingly, finally seeking comfort and rest he desired with my head resting on his chest. "Julian," he asked again, "what in the world are you doing here?"

I explained, after I received my PhD at the University in Madison, I'd just started at Wisconsin State College this fall, teaching undergraduate classes in economics and money and banking. It was my first position and I hoped it'd work out since I did enjoy the city. Now that I'd found him, I knew all would be fine.

"Oh my God," he sighed in return, "that's where I teach, only in Political Science. I didn't know you were hired here. I did know there were to be some new staff members added since the college was growing, but during this past summer I was in Canada visiting my old friend, Lester La Pont. Even if I would've seen your name on the roster of new staff, I doubt very much if I would've recognized it since I didn't know your last name and certainly not with a PhD."

"Nor did I know yours or what you did," I murmured happily. "I thought you were a career officer in the army."

Ben interrupted Pauley's reading; "Uncle Paul, wasn't that Great-grandfather La Pont's name?"

Suddenly red-faced, knowing he had to answer the question, but also aware I'd be listening closely as well, he nodded his head affirmatively.

"Do you suppose it could be the same person, Uncle Paul?" Ben queried.

Again, Pauley nodded his head "yes."

"Well, I'll be," muttered Ben. "I never knew Dr. Andrews knew Great-grandfather La Pont; hell, he was dead before I was born! Were they good friends?"

"Yeah," acknowledged Pauley, adding, "Dr. Andrews was my god-father and your Grandfather Tom's also."

Before Pauley could resume reading, Ben pressed the issue. "If you knew all of this why didn't you say something earlier? I'll bet Matt would've been interested."

Paul sighed, deeply, but with some resignation or trepidation, I'm not certain. I certainly was interested in what his reply would be.

"Ben, first of all I didn't know this journal of Dr. Corsair's even existed; secondly, I began reading it by accident and; third, I was afraid Matt would think I knew about it all along and was getting ready to scam him by moving in and all."

I was about to raise and objection, but it was stayed by Pauley.

"I'd heard about Matt from Dr. Corsair over the years and once in a while I'd see him here at the `Rabbit Patch.' He was and is the most beautiful creature God ever put on this earth and I just knew there was no way he'd ever fall for a guy younger than him and without all of the material things he had. I thought he had such a perfect life, there was no way I'd ever fit into it, so when you pushed the issue last week, I got scared and ran. That was my mistake and one I won't make again."

As much as I wanted to step into the conversation, I was again thwarted by Pauley twisting in my crotch, turning his head, kissing me, and announcing he was going to read again.

I looked around the park and remarked it was empty except for us. "It's early evening, Julian," John answered softly. "By midnight, the lot will be full and so much spunk will have been spilled in and out of various orifices, the place will smell like the breeding barn at a College of Animal Science."

The quiet, our protracted absence from each other, and our lack of knowledge concerning each other over the intervening years, led to discussions concerning our separate lives. John sat with his arm around me, my head resting on his shoulder as he spoke of his own life. He was the only child of parents who came from old east coast money. Evidently railroading, banking, and land speculation provided the basis for their wealth. John's parents moved to Milwaukee when his father took over the operation of a large bank he'd acquired interest in and while alive, made some wise investments in breweries and the paper industry, specifically mills purchasing or holding leases on large tracts of Northern Wisconsin forest property. He wasn't a bit adverse at purchasing tracts of it himself and then leasing it back or selling the timber to the mills. John still held title to some nice pieces of forest and lake property in the northern part of the state.

John attended St. John's Military Academy in Delafield, did well, and ended up attending the University of Wisconsin, majoring in political science, eventually obtaining a PhD in the field. He was also blessed with a natural gift for languages and because of his childhood tutors and the social circles his family associated with, the social graces imbued by his mother, and the countries the family traveled to, he spoke several languages very well. When he graduated from the University, his parents wanted him to enter into the family businesses, but he chose teaching at the college level instead. His visit to La Crosse convinced him it was where he wished to live and work. John obtained a position at La Crosse State Teachers College teaching courses in political science and some other humanities classes. He was quite happy and, much to his surprise, so were his parents.

When World War II broke out, he volunteered his services and through his family connections, his college degrees, and fluency in languages, he was commissioned and was assigned to intelligence work through the OSS. His military assignments placed him in many places, including Prairie du Sac, where he met me but had to suddenly leave for England. That explained his quick departure. I didn't ask what it was that was so essential because I thought it none of my business and, besides, it was probably classified information anyway. While traveling in England, he met and became good friends of Lester La Pont, an officer with the Canadian Forces, who also worked in intelligence. Their friendship would endure many years.

John owned his own home in La Crosse, various pieces of property in surrounding states and Wisconsin (including the old resort we later renamed the "Rabbit Patch"), plus the investments and estate of his parents when they both passed away. He was independently wealthy and really had no reason to work. I suspected he enjoyed the intellectual stimulation, as well as stimulation of another large piece of his body that found welcome relief and gratification when thrusting back and forth in some young male student's orifices, and the cultural atmosphere of La Crosse.

Glancing at his watch, after we'd visited for quite some time, he said, "Let's continue our conversation at my house."

We drove to his nicely maintained, but older, three bedroom home located in a quiet neighborhood not far from the college. I fell in love with the place immediately and well I did, since it was to become my home. He led me upstairs to his bedroom, sat on the edge of his bed, and motioned me forward. Standing in front of him, he carefully, gently, and lovingly undressed me. When my boxers slipped to my ankles, my hard cock bobbed up and down, tantalizing him, inviting him, as he leaned forward and kissed the slightly oozing, half-shrouded head, then swiping his lips back and forth across the slit, slipped his tongue under that part of my foreskin not retracted, and murmured softly, "Just as lovely as I remember."

Slipping his own clothes from his body, John guided me to his bed, covered me with his body as he turned me on my back, raised my legs to his shoulders, allowing his stiff, dripping largeness to poke expectantly at my anal ring, begging for entrance, and whispered, "Julian, let me make love to you in a way we never had time to before, but now have all the time we need to do it as often as we wish," and began pushing forward, widening me, before fully seating that deliciously massive love pole deep in my bowels before he began his rhythmic rocking, stimulating me with each thrust.

Later, resting on my side, his stiff cock just finishing another trip up my love tunnel, still spitting his warm seed into my inner body, I felt him make another push forward, as if to permanent embed his tool in my shed, and whispered, "I've missed you so much, my Sweet Boy and want you with me always."

I missed him also, but didn't realize how much until now, bringing a single sob and tears to my eyes. John quickly withdrew, turned me over to face him, embraced me, and asked, "What's the problem? Have I done or said something to make you hurt or sad?"

I shook my head "no" and swallowing hard, I finally said, "You may not want me once you know the life I've led and what all I did."

John just smiled, responding, "Julian, let me be the judge of that. I know you spent your life trying to survive, using the only asset you knew others would buy, so you could live. You went on to receive a doctor's degree and a position with a college. Do I care who you fucked or how many- not one whit! What I do know and care, is you're with me, and that's all I need and I'm not about to let you go."

Pauley shut the journal, sat quietly, while I struggled with what I wanted to say, to him, and because he was still snugged up against me, Ben. Finally, taking a deep breath, I said, "Pauley, you may not want me either once you hear my story and what I did to live also."

To be continued:

***

Thank you for reading Julian Corsair– Chapter Twenty-one–"In the half-darkness we look at each other and smile and touch our arms across his little startlingly muscled body – this one whom habit of memory propels to the ground his making, sleeper only the mortal sounds can awake, this blessing of love gives again into our arms." – (Galway Kinnell)

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