Date: Wed, 02 Jun 2004 08:27:52 +0000
From: David Lundquist <davidi50@hotmail.com>
Subject: Are you Gay, part 8  (Adult - youth)

Hi everyone. I'm back in one peace. I've spent my time wisely, and have
written the eight and last part of my story.

I'm only afraid that all the praise I've received for the story so far has
made my ambition overwhelm my abilities. Please bear over with me.

And, I'm also afraid that I've let my trip to the Middle East color my story
too much. It's sex you come for here, isn't it? Not some moron's trying to
be serious.

And last, I'm afraid I've written too much of myself into the story. But I
guess if any of my friends or relatives should read this and recognize me,
they would never tell!

Enjoy!

David Lundquist


Part 8

I woke early next morning.

For a few seconds I thought I was back in Peter's parent's cabin. It was
like he was still in my bed. The image of his head was very alive in my
mind. I could see his big eyes with the long black eyelashes, closed in
sleep. His thick eyebrows curving perfectly over the eyes. Hi short mouth
with the full richly curved lips, partly open showing the tip of a
glistening white tooth. His rosy chin and his straight nose with a tiny
upturn at the end. And of course, to top it all, his glossy black hair
spread wildly over my pillow.

I could feel his body. His warm and dry skin, silky to the touch. He was
breathing ever so soundless, his warm breath carefully caressing my
shoulder.

He was a dream, and of course a dream it was. He was not with me this
morning. But his sweet smell was in my nose. His image was so strong on my
mind that I was instant aroused when waking up. I rose with a rock hard dick
with the image of Peter hard, Peter masturbating Peter sucking me floating
fresh in my mind.

I hurried to the bathroom and brought forward a quick and powerful orgasm
before showering and getting dressed.

Just after breakfast came the phone call that changed everything, for ever.
It was the military attaché at the Israeli Embassy, telling me that I had
been called up for reserve duty.

The same year I finished high school I went back to Israel were I was born
and lived for my first 10 years until I moved with my mother to Norway.

I ended up in the army after a couple of months on a kibbutz north in the
country. I joined the three-year long army service partly because I had more
or less decided to do Aliyah (immigrate to Israel), but maybe mostly because
I had fallen madly in love with an Israeli girl that started her army
service at the same time. She ended up in the officer's school, and was a
lieutenant when I finished the service after three long years. We were still
very much in love, and were to be married the same month she was killed in
action somewhere near Hebron on the west bank.

I fled stunned back to Norway, where Peter's parents took me under their
wings and helped me through the first difficult months. His father even got
me a job inn his law firm where I worked part time while studying law.

I had agreed to do reserve duty with the Israeli army even though living in
Norway. I had the hope that I would manage to return to Israel sometime. I
had already done one stint in the reserve, but now with all the heavy
fighting in Gaza, it seemed as not such a good idea.

IDF - the Israeli Defense Force  -  had acted with an unusual efficiency and
speed, and had already arranged for me to leave for Israel the next day. The
tickets were waiting for me at the airport.

I called Peter's parents at their summerhouse and told them the news. They
did not like it at all, and sounded more that unusual worried, especially
Peter's father.  I asked them to tell Peter, I could not bear to tell it to
him myself.

Peter's father called me one hour later. Peter had taken the news very bad.
He was totally heartbroken and had locked himself in his room, not wanting
to speak with anybody. He had been crying most of the time. At last he had
opened the door, demanding to go to the city and see me before I left. His
parents had tried to talk him out of it, but then Peter had become
hysterical. His parents had discussed it, and they had decided to ask me a
very big favor.

"I know it's a bit unusual," he continued, "but please help us and help
Peter." He did not say anything for a few seconds. "What we want is that
Peter can be with you from this evening till you leave tomorrow."

"But........." was all I managed to get out.

"Listen David," his father went on. "We cannot stand Peter being so unhappy.
If him staying with you this night will help him to get over it  -  then be
it."

"But ......" I tried again.

"No buts David. This is what we want for our son, me and his mother."

"I ..........." I went on being eloquent as always.

"Please David. Do this for us and for Peter. We will never think badly of
you because of what you are or what you do, as long as you love Peter and
treat him well! Have I made myself clear enough?"

Of course I caved in and agreed.

We went over the details. They would drive Peter in to the city later that
day, deliver him to my apartment at 3 o'clock and pick him up the next
morning and drive me to the airport.


I spent the next hours in a very strange mood. I was very excited looking
forward to see Peter again and be together with him. At the same time I was
very worried and frightened by what the next days would bring. I spent the
time, alternatively packing and looking out of the window after their big
Volvo.

They arrived a quarter to three. Peter jumped out of the car almost before
it had stopped, and raced up the stairs to my apartment. I opened the door
and he threw himself in my arms.

He hugged me closely for a long time without saying a word. He did not let
go of me before his parents came up the stairs after him.

He had put on his usual minimal white shorts leaving very little to the
imagination, and topped it with a white polo shirt, beautiful matching his
golden skin. He was just stunningly beautiful, more than ever. My breath
quickened when looking at him knowing we were to spend the night together.

What followed was a bittersweet scene. I was very touched by his parent's
concern for me. It was very warming, especially when they was the closest
thing to a real family I had. But Peter's very sad and frightened looks and
big tearful eyes did not help my mood.

Peter's parents left us at last, and we were alone in the apartment.

He hugged me again and rested his head on my shoulder. His unruly hair
tickled my nose.

"Why do you have to go?" he asked. "You have to go, right?" he added.

"I have to go because I'm a soldier." I answered. It sounded lame.

"No, you're not! You're a student and you work in my dad's office!"

"It's not as easy as that." I tried. "I'm also Israeli, and when my country
calls for me, I have to go."

"But why?" he demanded.

"Do you love me?" I asked him.

"Yes!"

Would you help me if I need help"

"Yes of course!" He answered, hugging me hard.

"That's why I will leave for Israel when they ask for me. It's the same
reason."

He did not answer that one, but crept closer to me and nuzzled his head
under my jaw. His sweet smell filled my nostrils.

"But it is dangerous?" he asked.

"Yes, it is." I could not answer anything else.

He started to cry softly, His tears rolled down on my chest.

"Don't go!" he whispered between deep sobs.

He hugged me closer. I could feel the urgency in his body.

"Fuck me!" He bit my earlobe. "Show me how big boys make love!"

"Peter, I cannot ......" I tried.

"Do it!" he hissed to me between his teeth. "I don't know if you will come
back to me again. This might be the last chance to feel you inside me! Do
it! Now!" He pressed his groin into my hip. His dick was very hard.

"Come! Come with me!" He tugged at my arm and started towards the bedroom.
"Can you help me with something?" He was blushing hard.

"Sure." I went after him into the bedroom. "Just tell me what to do."

"I want to be clean inside for you." He whispered with downcast eyes.
"Please give me a .... a ..... you know!"

No, I did not, and told him so.

"An enema!" he spit it out, while opening his bag and taking a big red
balloon out with a thick black nozzle. "Use this. I nipped it from mom!"

I had seen a thing like this before. My mom had one, and when I asked her
what it was she answered me vaguely that women used it to get clean a
certain place. I understood on her tone of voice that I better not ask any
more about it.

I took the strange contraption out of his hand. "But undress me first." He
whispered and lay down on his back on the bed. I could clearly see growing
mound in his groin.

Gently I took hold of his feet and pulled off his shoes and socks. Then he
half rose from the bed while I tugged the polo shirt over his head. Ha laid
back on the bed again, now only clad in his tiny shorts. They were tented
out in front.

"Are you horny?" I asked him while unbuttoning his shorts and pulling the
zipper down.

"Yes, very!" he whispered.

I pulled the shorts down on his legs and then completely off him. I
carefully caressed his hard dick through the white cotton of his Fruit of
the Looms briefs. He moaned.

"Come on, take it off!" he demanded.

He lifted his bum while I pulled his brief down his legs. His hard dick
slapped against his stomach when it was free of the briefs. His ball sack
was very tight and wrinkled, hugging his groin closely.

I could not help it, I had to feel him. Lovingly I took hold of him. He was
hard and warm to the touch. I pulled down his foreskin, the head of the dick
was swollen and read. A clear precum drop glided down its silky thread down
to his stomach. God, was he ever so wonderful! I bent down and took him in
my mouth. The feeling of the broad spongy head of his dick gliding inside my
mouth was almost too much. I nearly cum in my trousers there and then. His
took hold of my head and pushed me down on him while at the same time
pushing hard up into my mouth. He was a hot little boy! But then he pushed
me off him.

"Come on, clean me out!"

I reluctant let his dick slide out of my moth. I wanted him so much! How it
is possible to be so lusting for a young boy? I understood nothing, but just
followed my desire.

"Go fill the balloon with lukewarm water." He said, the lust in his voiced
very clear.

I took the balloon to the bathroom. Filled it with water, and went back to
the bedroom, bringing a tube of KY and a big towel with me.

He had turned over on his stomach, his bubble butt smiling to me. I put the
balloon heavy with water on the bedside table. He lay there with closed
eyes, his breathing shallow and quick. I draped a pillow with the towel, and
made him lift his hips from the bed so I could place it under him. His was
high on the pillow now, his bum shining in the soft light from the
Scandinavian afternoon outside. He had two cute dimples on his lower back
just where the spine started up towards his neck.

He took hold of his butt cheeks, and held them apart. I could see the brown
wrinkled little hole in the bottom of the crack. It was glistening with
something shiny, and I realized he had applied some kind of lubricant in
himself. The anus itself looked a bit swollen, so I asked him if he had been
practicing. He nodded yes, blushing again. Between his legs I could see his
wrinkled bag, pressed against the towel.

"Come on, you moron!" he snickered to me

I took a hefty glob of KY on my finger and applied it on his small pucker. I
pushed careful on my finger, and it glided easily inside him, up to the
first joint. I twisted my finger slowly round inside him. He moaned, "It's
so good!" He was as ready as you could be!

I could feel his sphincter muscles nipping at my finger when I slowly
withdrew it.

"Come on. Stick it in me!" he growled.

I took some KY on the nozzle, and while steadying myself with one hand on
his butt, I slowly pushed the end of the nozzle against his anus. Almost
without resistance the nozzle glided inside him. I pushed a bit more on the
balloon, and the nozzle glided halfway inside him. He grunted and asked me
to push harder while at the same time twisting the nozzle a bit from side to
side. The rest of the nozzle disappeared inside him. Soon only the read
rubber seal at the base of the nozzle were outside him.

"Now empty the balloon!" he hissed with his face pressed down in the
mattress.

I careful squeezed the big balloon, and it slowly collapsed as the water
seeped inside him. He grunted and pushed his butt up against me.

I squeezed more and more of the rubber balloon between my hands as it slowly
emptied itself inside him.

"Enough!" he suddenly said. I slowly withdrew the nozzle from him. As soon
as it was out he stood careful up from the bed. His dick stood vertical up
against his stomach. He went over to the bathroom, and soon I could hear the
water splattering out of him down in the closet.

At last he came back. His dick was still hard, now pointing 90 degrees out
in the air from his groin. The foreskin was peeled back from the swollen
head.

"Undress!" he told me.

My clothes came off me fast. Soon I was on my back only clad in my white
boxer. He pulled them down and took hold of my stone hard dick.

"Wow! It's big!" He saw my worried look. "No! It's going in me!"

"Why don't you have your foreskin?" he asked while tenderly fondling my hard
dick.

"Because I'm Jewish." I answered.

"Yeah, I know that, but why?" he did not let the topic go.

"All Jews are circumcised. It's part of our pact with God."

He thought about that for a while, bending over me and licking the head of
my dick. Oh my of my, it was soo hot!

"But why are you Jewish?" he sat up in the bed again, but did not let go of
my dick.

"Because my mom is Jewish." I caressed his chest, feeling his hard nipples
under my fingers. He sighed.

"Is that all it takes, being born by a Jewish mother?" he went on asking me.

"Yes, or if you convert." I let my hand glide down over the ripples of his
stomach.

"But what of your father, was he Jewish too?" I slowed down his hand going
up and down on my dick. I did not want to cum yet.

"I don't know, my mother never told me before she died." His hard warm dick
was in my hand now. It was wet on the tip. "She just told me that she met
him the summer before I was born, and that she never saw him again." I
fondled his dick. Peter moaned softly.

"Are you sad because you do not have a family?" he asked me.

"But I have a family! I have you! I have your mother and father!" But of
course I had always missed a real family. A tear rolled slowly down my chin.

"Enough of that. Let's have fun!" he said through a big grin. "Give me that
tube you used on me."

I gave him the tube with KY. He applied it to my dick, coating it richly.

"Peter, I don't think we should do this, I might hurt you."

"Shh!" He quieted me and showed me down on the bed, before straddling me. He
took a hefty glob of KY on his finger and put his hand around his back. I
guessed he was applying it to his butt crack. I took hold of his hard dick,
playing with his foreskin. I would never get tired of playing with that
wonderful piece of his body.

He reached back and took hold of my dick. He guided it in between his butt
cheeks, then ever so carefully sitting down on me. I could feel my dick
being surrounded of his warm flesh, butting in his crack. He sat down a bit
harder on me, and suddenly I could feel something giving way, and the tip of
my dick entered something very warm and very tight.

He drew in his breath sharply. "Oh, that hurts!" He eased the down pressure
on me.

"Peter, let's skip this...." I tried.

"Shut up!" he hissed back to me, sitting down on me again.

He was very, very tight. But ever so slowly the tissues surrounding my dick
gave way, and I slowly entered him. His face contorted, his eyes were
tightly shut.

He stopped for a few second, and then went down on me again. My dick glided
a tiny bit longer up inside him, but then it got stuck. He groaned in pain.
After sitting still a long time, he suddenly sat hard down on me. Something
gave way inside him. He glided down on me till I felt his butt down on my
groin.

"Oh shit! It's so painful!" He hissed through clenched teeth.

I tried to say something and began easing out of him.

"Stop! Don't move!" He sat down on me again. "Just stay still! The pain is
going away now!"

He sat still on me for a few minutes. His dick was still rock hard. I slowly
masturbated him.

Suddenly he opened his eyes and smiled to me. "It does not hurt anymore!"

He lifted himself up from me till my dick was halfway out of him, and then
sat down on me again.

"Ouch! It still hurts a bit!" But he lifted himself again, and my dick crept
out, this time almost all the way, and he sat down again. I could feel my
dick gliding inside the hot very tight envelope of his body. "It does not
hurt anymore!" he exclaimed.

He sat down heavily on my. All of my dick was deep inside him. He rugged
forward and backward a bit. I could feel the head of my dick rubbing against
something inside him.

"Mmmmm, it's nice. He had opened his eyes and grinned to me.

He put his hands on my chest, and started to lift himself up and sitting
down on me, over and over again. My dick was gliding in and out of his tight
behind. The feelings were overpowering.

" Oh! God! I understand why you like to fuck boys!" he grinned to me. "It's
soo good!"

His hard dick got even harder in my hand.

He speeded up. The room was filled with the soft smack of his buttock
hitting my hips on every down stroke, and by his grunting and moaning.

Suddenly I could not take it anymore. The orgasm raced from all parts of my
body to my dick, and I exploded in a very powerful orgasm, emptying myself
deep inside him.

"Oh, I can feel you cumming inside me!" Peter exclaimed to me. But he went
on fucking. "Don't forget my dick!" he hissed to me when I overpowered by
the strong feelings in me had let his dick go. I went back on it,
masturbating him hard while he went up and down on my slowly softening dick.

"OH GOD!!" he suddenly cried, his eyes very open and his mouth widening. A
loud groan, and his dick erupted, spraying his thin cum all over my chest
and stomach.

Peter sank down on me. He put his head on my shoulder. His heart was
thundering along in his chest, his breathing fast and shallow. I felt how
his sphincter squeezed my softening dick, his body convulsing when my dick
glided out of him.

"Ouch! I'm sore!" he growled. "But boy, that was good!"

He careful tried to sit up on the bed. "I'm leaking!" he said alarmed. "You
have filled me up with your goo!"

He rose and grinned. He went careful to the bathroom, holding his hand under
his bum. He shut the door, and I could hear the water running. He came out,
walking bowlegged and grimacing.

I went to the bathroom and washed myself. We dressed and decided to go out
eating, although Peter said he did not want to walk far!

Arriving in the restaurant he sat down very careful. Every move he did on
the chair brought forward a grimace, which soon went over to grins.

"It does not hurt anymore." He suddenly said. Now it's nice!" He rugged back
and forth on the chair a bit. "Feel how good it is!" He took hold of my hand
under the table and laid it in his groin. He was hard. I pinched his dick,
and he moaned.

"Stop it!" he said, "or I will take it out here!"
I wouldn't think he would dare, but I   was not sure, so I let go of him. He
grinned.

We sat in silence for while our meal was served.

"When did you come to Norway the first time?" he suddenly asked.

"When I was 10."

"Why?"

"Mom was offered a job here."

"Why was that? How?"

"Your dad helped her." I offered.

He thought about that for a while. Then: "Did my dad know your mother?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"From Israel?" his eyes had become very big, and his voice very low.

"Yea, he lived there some time in his youth." I answered.

"And your father? Where was he from?"

I became uneasy. Mom never wanted to talk about that, but I had gathered so
much that he was from one of the Scandinavian countries, and I told Peter
that.

"Maybe he was from Norway!" he exclaimed, and then suddenly clammed up when
the implication of what he had just said struck him.

"Maybe from Norway." He whispered.

We sat in silence and looked at each other. Come to think about it, I felt
very much alike Peter. I got goose bumps all over my body.

Peter rose fast, tipping his chair over in the process. "Come with me!"

He took hold of my hand and dragged me with him out to the bathroom. I had
started to get second thoughts about this. Did I really want to know?

Peter made us both stand in front of the big mirror in the bathroom. We were
different all right, I was a lot taller, I had fair skin, he had olive skin.
My hair was dark blond, and his was black. But we were very similar too. Our
eyes had the same shape and the same color. The noses were the same, the ear
both the same funny earlobe.

"Wait!" Peter said. I have a birthmark. Dad says every man in his family has
it. He pulled his polo shirt over his head and held up his right arm. Deep
inside in his armpit he had a funny red birthmark. It's shaped just like
half-moon. I know, because I have the almost identical birthmark at the same
place.

"Show me!" he demanded.

I stalled, this was too much for me to take in one taking.

"Show me!" he yelled at me. "SHOW ME!!"

I slowly pulled my shirt over my head and lifted up my arm. Tears were
running freely down my face now. Peter held the hair in my armpit away so he
could see my birthmark. He went white as a sheet in his face when he saw it.
He let go of me as he had burned his hands and ran out of the bathroom,
struggling to get on the polo shirt. I ran out after him with my shirt in my
hand. God knows what the other people in the restaurant thought was going
on!

Peter sat at his chair, now very small and vulnerable. All his though air
was blown away.

"Let's go back." He said quietly.

I paid my bill and we went slowly back to my apartment. We did not say
anything, but he never let go of my hand.

Back in the apartment Peter said he did not feel all right, and that he
wanted to go to bed. It was 10 already and I had to be early up next
morning, so it was ok for me. But when I started talking about him sleeping
in the guestroom, he rejected it flat. He was to sleep in my bed.

And that's how we slept that very very special night. We undressed and crept
together in the middle of the bed, cuddling close. His pressed his wet face
in my shoulder, crying softly the first hour. I could not do anything more
than hold him tight. His sobs got softer and softer, and at last they died
out.

He looked up at me. "You know what that means?" he asked me.

"Yes, I know, we're brothers, half brothers."

"Did you not know?" He asked me.

"No, not for sure, but I had kind of a feeling." I answered him.

"Is it right for us to....... to do this, I mean, to have sex when we're
brothers?" he wanted to know.

"I don't know." I answered him honestly.

"But I want to anyhow!" he said a little more forceful, taking hold of my
stiffening dick.

He turned around so he spooned me, his back pressed into my front. I showed
my now hard dick in between his thighs. My hand glided down his silky
stomach and took hold of his hard dick.

That's the way we lay the rest of the night, tightly spooned together,
caressing each other's sometimes hard, sometimes soft dick. I don't think
any of us really cum that night, but he was very close a couple of times.

At last I fell asleep, holding around my brother, my own very own brother
that I loved more than it's possible to love anybody.


I woke early the next morning. Peter was sleeping beside me. His back
pressed against my front. I had a morning hard on, and it had become nuzzled
between his tights. I blew slowly on his rosy skin, parting the black hair
that partly cowered, it. The long lashed started to quiver, and then he
opened his big dark eyes. He had a very far away look, before turning over
and hugging me. He whispered in my ear that he loved me, before gliding down
on my body till his wet mouth met my dick.

We made a slow but hard love. He sucked me till I cum in his mouth, then I
helped him cum in my face, licking his hard dick while masturbating him.

We crept together after the passion had died down. We lay there together for
an hour, not saying anything, before getting up and getting dressed.

Peter's parents came for us after breakfast. Nobody spoke in the car to the
airport, everybody had enough with his own thoughts. The farewell at the
airport was very painful. I had to tear myself loose and leave Peter
standing outside the security crying after me. His parents lost their
usually stoic Nordic composure, and both of them cried. I gave his father  -
  my father  -  a long hug, whispering that I loved him before I went
through the security. He looked confused after me.

The flight was painful.

-------

He landed at the Ben Gurion airport outside Tel Aviv early evening. His
girlfriend's parents met him, and drove him to Tel Aviv. He spent the night
with them, after talking with old friends from the army at the London Café
at the beach promenade.

The next morning her parents drove him to an army base outside Ashkelon near
Gaza. He picked up his kitbag with the helmet and the b-uniform, weapons and
all other stuff. He put it on before going over to his APC (Armed Personal
Carrier) where it stood ready for him on a transporter.

He was driven to the entry gate to Gaza with his crews. A group of heavily
armed engineers waited for him there crammed into the APC, and soon they
were on their way into Gaza together with two other APC. A Merkavah III tank
was supposed to cover them, but had not arrived in time.

As usual he stood in the open hatch, cowered by a ring of sandbags that did
not give him much confidence. He felt blind down inside with the hatch
closed, steering by the periscopes, and preferred the open hatch as often as
he could.

The streets they drove through looked deserted, except for a few teenage
boys throwing stones at them. Coming round a corner he thought he saw some
movement in an alleyway, and he was swinging his big gun over towards the
alleyway when he was hit the first time.

He saw a flash in the alleyway. In the same instant it was like a big hammer
stuck him in the arm. He was thrown back, but managed to open fire. He saw
his big bullets tearing pieces off the walls in the alleyway.

He did not feel any pain, but felt dizzy, and stopped firing to look at his
arm. Blood were running down his arm, leaving a red ring of dark spots on
the hot deck of the APC.

More shots came tearing out of the alleyway, one hitting his bulletproof
west. He could not feel it penetrate, but this time it hurt. Hurt like hell.
When he saw his uniform under the west slowly changing from the IDF green to
red, he understood that he was seriously wounded.

He suddenly felt very bad, and for the first time in his army time he became
really frightened. Very frightened. His vision suddenly filled with Peter's
face. His smell filled his nose, and he felt his soft warm hand on his skin
when a sudden flash of light filled his brain.

Then there was nothing more.

--------

Peter's father received the call the same evening. Somebody spoke English
with a heavy accent. He got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Do I speak with John Rein?" The voice asked. Peter's father said yes.

"You are the next of kin to David Rothman, yes?"

"Well, yes, I guess I can say so." His heart filled with dread. "Why do you
ask?"

"You're given as his next of kin, I had to check that I speak to the right
person. Sorry." The voice was not so gruff anymore.

"Who are you?" Peter's father asked.

"Sorry, I should have introduced me. I'm the Rabbi at David Rothman's
division."

"Rabbi" was almost all Peter's father heard. Tears had started to roll down
his cheeks. "Why do you call?" ha managed to ask.

"I'm very sorry to inform you that David Rothman was killed in action
earlier today while on duty in Gaza."

"Oh no!" Peter's father sobbed. His legs buckled under him and his legs gave
way till he suddenly stood on his knees. Only by holding fast in the table
he managed not to fall. Standing on his knees with white knuckles, he
listened to the voice in the telephone.

"His armored carrier was hit by enemy fire before a landmine exploded under
it. As far as I can tell David was killed instantly."

Peter's father sobbed loud. Peter's mother and Peter came running out in the
hall. They understood at once what had happened and went down on their knees
hugging each other.

"David is killed." he managed to say between deep sobs.

The sight of Peter's white face with the uncomprehending, but so
comprehending eyes, would be etched fast in his mind for the rest of his
life.

"Mr. Rein, are you there?" he heard from the telephone. He took hold of
himself and answered the Rabbi.

David was to be buried in two days, and arrangements were made for the
family to travel to Israel to be present at the funeral.

He did not remember much more from the following day, apart from Peter's
sobbing from his room.

There is not much more to tell. At noon the next day Peter and his parents
flew to Israel, and the next day again they stood beside David's open grave
at the military cemetery at Mount Hertzl in Jerusalem. Together with them
were many of his friends, and some big shots from the government and the
defense department. Peter and his parents were the only family present.

The service was short and painful. The only thing he clearly remembered was
how the sunlight filtered down through the big pines and other trees he did
not know the name of. They threw earth down at David's crude coffin draped
in the Israeli flag. Peter broke completely down, and he had to be supported
down to the car, his body racked with sobs. His father understood now that
Peter's feeling for David had been a lot stronger and deeper than he had
dreamt of.

-----------

So what became of Peter?

Well, what do you think? A healthy, strong, happy boy, he easily came over a
shock like this, even though it left deep scars that now and then surface
strong and fearful. I admit he had us worried a while the first months, his
depressions were sometimes frightingly severe. But with the help from a very
understanding doctor, he came through it without too much lasting damage.

I'm sitting here in my hotel room at the King David in Jerusalem. A happy
Peter  -  one year older  -  sits beside me. He is waiting for me to finish
my writing before we go together to the military cemetery for David's
Yahrzeith (yearly remembrance day for his death).

Peter has been spending the last 3 months at the Hanita kibbutz in northern
Israel. Mutual friends helped us bend the rules so he could spend some time
there, even though he is too young. He's been going to school in Nahariah
together with the other kids his age from the kibbutz. He speaks and read
fluent Hebrew now, and earlier today he introduced me to his boyfriend from
the kibbutz, a very cute 14-year-old boy. Meeting him gave me a shock, as he
was so much like David in all respects. Maybe I should spend some time
looking up his family and background.... You never know.

So you might ask, what do I feel about my son having a boyfriend? Well, I
tell you, taking into consideration what Peter has been through  -  I don't
mind a second if my son is gay or not. As long as he's happy he can be what
he wants. The only thing that worries me is that he will grow so fond of
Israel and his boyfriend that he will stay.

30 minutes later we walk up the path in the military cemetery. The place's
beauty fills me as always with tranquility, soothing my nerves for what's
coming. Doves flies silently between the high trees, their crooing always
remembering me of my own youth in that country. The light filtered down
between the trees flicker over the path in front of us and the gravestones
on each side, giving the place a soft and forgiving air. David's grave is up
to the left where all the new graves are situated. His is not the newest
anymore, 20 or so new being added the year that has gone by since he was
buried here.

My story ends here, with me and my son holding hands in front of David's
grave. Tears quietly running down our checks  -  Peter silently crying for
the loss of his first really love in life, and for the brother that he never
really got to know as a brother. I'm crying for my friend, my best friend
ever, and for the son I never had the courage to tell who he really was.

It's so very painful.


I would like comments, send them to davidi50@hotmail.com