Date: Sun, 13 Apr 2008 07:23:56 -0700 (PDT) From: adm2780 Subject: Second Time Around Chapter Five All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. As in real life, the sexual themes unfold gradually and are kept to a realistic level. If you are looking for sex on every page, then this is not the story for you. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author, Dwight Wilson, at adm2780@yahoo.com This story contains descriptions of consensual sexual contact between males, adult and minor. As such it is homoerotic, designed for the entertainment of mature adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, or if the subject matter would create irresolvable personal moral dilemmas, please exit now. NOTE: Special thanks to Matthew for his time and efforts proof reading and editing the chapters. I really made him work on this one. Want to read a couple of good stories? Try "Never Take Love For Granted" or "One Gift To Give". They are both excellent. Chapter Five: Second Time Around The boys were supposed to pack their bags Saturday night. Knowing my boys, I decided Sunday morning, to check on their progress. When I asked about their bags, both of them looked at me like a deer caught in the headlights. Trying to get them to slow down long enough to pack the right things turned out to be a major challenge. Mike thought all he needed was the clothes he would travel in and a swimsuit; after all, we were going to Florida. Frank was the opposite; he packed enough for three people. There's always something about going on vacation that gets everyone excited. My problem was that I was supposed to be the adult that kept everything organized and under control. The boys were the kids who acted goofy; goofier than normal. When we left for the airport, I felt bad for Sean. It was obvious from his expressions that he would have liked to go with us, and the boys wanted him with us. The boys didn't know at that point that someone would be with us; I hadn't told them. I thought I could tell them on the drive to the airport but they wouldn't stop asking questions long enough. "Dad," Michael complained, "you have'n told us where we're going, except to Florida. And, we're takin' a lot more than for the usual mini-vacation. You kept us out of school for the whole week. Wha'sup, big daddy?" My number one son was bouncing around like a goof-ball; and, where did he get 'big daddy' from? "Wha'sup, little number one son of mine, is that we are flying into Tampa. We'll pick up a rental car at the airport and drive to Longboat Key, which is just south of Tampa, and outside Bradenton. Both of you know exactly where I'm talking about, right?" Of course I knew better. "Noooo," they answered in unison. "And whaddaya mean 'little number one son', I got a big package ta swing." And he started rotating his butt. I just looked up, praying silently 'why me?'. "If you're talkin' bout goin' to the Keys, like Key West, that's a long way south of Tampa," Frank added. "It's not part of the island chain south of Miami. We'll be about thirty minutes south of Tampa. We're staying at the Key Club & Resort, beach front. They have a private beach, heated swimming pool, health club, and several other things that should keep you guys entertained. Tomorrow we'll see the Ringling Bros. museum and other tourist sites. Tuesday, weather permitting, we'll be deep sea fishing, and Wednesday is open. I'll tell you now that I may have a business appointment on Wednesday, but you guys will be free to have fun." "That sucks, Dad," Frank commented with his usual degree of diplomacy. "We're supposed to be on vacation." "Well, what would you guys say if I were to tell you that Eric might join us Monday night?" "Hey, that's cool," Mike responded. "I'll show the dude how to do some simple exercises to build himself up. Last time we saw him he looked pretty skinny." "Mike, not everybody cares about being Mr. Muscle." Frank was starting in on his brother. "Dad, how come he can't join us till Monday night?" "He has to take a test in school on Monday. We'll meet him and his mom for supper Monday night and you guys will have six days to get reacquainted. Fair enough? In the meantime, look in the console and find some papers I printed off the internet about where we'll be staying." The boys stayed hyper during the entire trip to Tampa. The flight was an easy puddle jumper to Philly and then a direct flight to Tampa. Once on the ground, the next major consideration for the boys was a toss up between food and the kind of car we'd rent. I always loved the 'we' part of those questions, particularly since it was 'my' credit card they enjoyed using. Florida, in the fall, low humidity, lots of sunshine, the only way to travel was the GT convertible, and we did. Both boys decided to sit in the back seat and somewhere, not long after leaving the airport, lost their shirts. Michael managed to literally lose his shirt; why was I not surprised? When we checked in, I made sure the boys had the ability to charge whatever they needed to the room. I wasn't worried about them going crazy because they knew I just might go crazy on their young butts if they did. The only thing I insisted on was that they go explore and burn off some energy. They were on their way out the door before I could finish telling them to go. While they did that, I called my sister. I didn't tell the boys that my sister had actually asked if Eric could join us. She was a considerate person that wouldn't impose unless there was a real good reason. She told me that she would like for me to have a talk with Eric. She didn't want to tell Eric's father what was going on; she was afraid of his reaction, plus the fact that she may be wrong. It seems she found some magazines hidden in Eric's room. I tried to convince her that wasn't unusual for a teenage boy to hide a Playboy or porn magazine. I'm glad I was sitting down when she told me they were porn magazines, all male porn magazines! Eric didn't know that his mother had found them and she didn't want to put him on the spot. She knew he would be embarrassed and might even choose to totally clam up. Besides, there was the issue with how his dad might react. Bonnie hoped that because of my experience dealing with my own boys, Eric might be more willing to talk with me. * * * * Sarasota was one of those places that you always want to visit but for some reason never quite make it. This time around, I was determined to make it. There were two things I really wanted to see. One was the Ringling Museum and the other was the Sarasota Classic Car Museum. What kid doesn't like the circus and what kid hasn't heard of Ringling Brothers? True to form, one of my boys had to be an ass to start my fun-filled holiday. It's strange how kids can object to things up front, and, when they see what they're getting into, have fun. Michael decided he wanted to stay at the resort and lay on the beach. I had decided before we left home that I would have no patience with his attitudes of being a loner. It took about two minutes to get my message through; he pouted, but we went. We weren't in the museum five minutes before he found the strong man exhibit. Guess which souvenir poster he wanted to hang on his bedroom wall. After the Ringling Museum we headed to the car museum. Frank followed my taste in old cars and loved them. Michael declared he hated them, they were too much work. The third car he saw was a 1952 MG-TD. Suddenly, Mikey loved old cars; he didn't know there was such a thing as old sports cars. Another souvenir poster was acquired to decorate a bedroom wall. Bonnie had given me directions to a seafood restaurant they enjoyed. It was located on the west end of the Campbell Causeway. Eric was out of school at three and usually home by three-thirty. Allowing for a few minutes for him to pack a bag, we aimed for an early dinner around five. Out of mostly luck, it turned out to be good planning. After dinner, the boys headed outside to an area the restaurant had setup to feed fish. The boys grabbed hushpuppies and headed out. That gave Bonnie and me time to talk. "He's a good boy, Rick, but he's in that stage where he needs a man to help guide him. I don't understand why Bob won't take more time with him and help him; the boy needs to know his father is there to support him." "I know, but look at it this way. You have to remember that some men just aren't comfortable talking about sex or other guy things a growing boy needs to know, even if the other guy is their son. I couldn't talk to Dad. The one time I did he just humiliated me. It's because of the way Dad treated me that I made it a point to be sure I was there for Frank and Mike. Just because he can't do it doesn't mean that Bob doesn't love him." "I know. Did I ever tell you that Mama never had a talk with me? I don't think she was comfortable either; maybe it was their generation." "Bonnie, you do understand that whatever he tells me I have to respect his privacy. I'll tell him up front that whatever he says stays between us unless he says otherwise. Any other way and he'll just clam up on me." "I guessed that's how it would have to be. I can't say that I like it a whole lot, but I understand. Rick, Eric practically worships you; he's also a more than a little jealous of the relationship you and your boys have. Just get him to understand that if he is gay, we won't turn on him." "Understand that teenage boys get curious. They are curious about sex with girls, and about sex with other guys. They're just plain curious about sex and want to explore. Guys get together and talk about things like that; it's easier. Right now he may be a bit young to know what his real feelings are. That's what we will most likely talk about; assuming he'll talk to me." "I trust you, Remember, I'm a mother, one of my privileges is to worry more than I should. Hey, I have an idea. Can I pull a 'Mama' on you and say I won't embarrass you by offering you money for our dinner in public. You take care of the ticket and when we get outside I'll settle with you." Bonnie grinned from ear to ear. We both knew mother's tricks. "If you really want to pull a 'Mama' on me, then when we get outside, you'll have to forget to settle up," I told her, smiling. "Sounds good to me." And she got up and walked off, leaving me with the bill and the tip. Back at the hotel the boys went exploring again. They had to show their cousin all the great things they had discovered the night before. I decided I was relegated to chauffeur, cashier, and cook as I put away the things we picked up at the grocery. Knowing what it took to feed two teenage garbage disposals, and now having three, I had gotten us a two- bedroom suite with a full kitchen. It was that or go bankrupt at the restaurant. * * * * The charter boat wasn't the biggest I had seen, but it was big enough, considering we didn't plan on going too far out. There were two chairs for the anglers to strap themselves in and hooks for a third person to anchor himself to if he wanted to stand and fight his catch. The boys would have liked to have hooked a big Tarpon, but they weren't running. However, redfish were and they gave the boys all the fight they needed to have a good time. I didn't fish much. I had told the captain to concentrate on the boys and be sure they caught something, even if we had to bottom fish. We did make an agreement that, whatever we caught, we would take a quick picture and then release the catch. According to the pictures we caught ten nice ones in a six-hour period. I would swear that a few of the pictures were duplicates, but the boys argued otherwise. They had fun fishing and I had my fun watching them. By the end of the trip there was something all of us had, a bad case of being worn out; for the boys it was worn out and hungry. I was tired enough that on the way to the hotel, I pulled up to the drive-thru window, ordered burgers and drinks and kept rolling. While I drove, the boys kept going at one another about who caught the most and who caught the biggest and who had the hardest fight landing one. Of course, we had to have the debate over the one that got away. Michael lost the fish, with tackle and, according to him, it had to be Moby Dick; according to Frank, the fish was a minnow and Mike was the dick. Eric claimed they were both wrong and that he had caught the biggest fish. Michael countered he didn't really care because he had the biggest thing that counted. I tuned them out after that. The shower felt like the biggest luxury or treat anyone could ask for. Even though we'd bathed ourselves in sun-block, the warm water let me know that I had soaked up some sun and had a slight burn. I laughed when I thought about the boys. Michael, Mr. Macho, didn't think he needed sun-block and put it on only after I threatened to confine him below deck. All three boys had spent a good part of the day shirtless. Eric had a good tan and could take some sun; my boys were closer to looking like northern tourists. No matter where you are from or the base tan you have, the sun reflecting off the water can do a job and you can easily end up looking like baked lobster. After standing under the water and soaping myself three or four times so I began to resemble a prune, I got out and used one of the towels as a wrap. Mike and Eric were sitting in the main room and I could hear the shower running in their bath. I told the boys that one of them could use my shower and that I planned on taking a short nap to be rested for the evening. They seemed to think that was a good idea. Michael was known for taking long showers. Kathy used to make comments about how she didn't understand what he could be doing that required him to stay in the shower so long. Finally, one day I had to have a talk with her about boys reaching a certain age and being able to please themselves. She never made another comment. Michael used my shower while Eric waited on Frank. When I lay on the bed, I think I went out just about the time, if not before, my head hit the pillow. I didn't bother putting anything on and lost the towel next to the bed. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I didn't hear the shower and was aware that it stopped at some point. A hand touched my shoulder and then it was gone. I was gone until I felt the bed shake. I opened my eyes to find Mike lying next to me. I wrapped an arm over him and he spooned into me; he was naked and still damp. He was also generating heat which told me he was burned. I went back to sleep. Short naps have a way of re-invigorating both the mind and the body. I looked at the clock and realized this short nap had lasted almost ninety minutes. No complaints; I needed it. When I awoke I also realized that Mike was no longer with me. I had no idea when he got up, but I didn't worry about it either. After rolling around and stretching in every direction my body would bend in, I decided to get up. Slipping into a pair of jeans, I decided to walk quietly to the kitchen and find something to drink. I walked softly, trying to be as quiet as possible so I didn't wake the boys. Our bedrooms were separated by the great room and kitchen. All three rooms opened onto a balcony overlooking the beach. As I stepped into the great room I could see the door to the boys' room was partially closed. No boys were in sight so I assumed all three were passed out in the bedroom. It was quiet time for me. Time to be alone, and enjoy an ice cold beer while sitting on the balcony. I'd only taken a few steps when I heard the sounds coming from the boys' room. It wasn't snoring, it was more like moaning. When I stepped closer to the door, the sounds were confirmed. I couldn't see directly into the room, but I could see reflections in the mirror. I don't know if I was stunned, shocked, dumbfounded or hypnotized; maybe all of the above. Michael lay on the bed, on his back. One of his hands was on his forehead, rubbing back and forth, while he took deep breaths and threw his head back and forth. In between breaths, I heard little expletives that sounded like "Ohhh gaaahhhdd" or "yeah. . .suck it". His other hand was on Eric's head. Eric was also on the bed, naked and on his knees between Michael's legs. He had one hand wrapped around the base of Mike's boyhood. The other part of Mike's boyhood, fully engorged, was sliding in and out of Eric's mouth. My nephew was giving my older son a blow job! From the looks of things, both boys appeared to really be enjoying themselves. Eric seemed to know, at least from my limited knowledge, what he was doing because it was driving Michael wild. I had to shake my head to break the concentration and staring I was doing at the two boys. That's when I realized that Eric had his other hand wrapped around Frank's boyhood. Every once in a while he would come off Mike and go down on Frank. Bonnie thought her son might be gay? How about experienced! "Yeah, lick that piece of candy." Where did Frank learn to talk like that? "Yeah, suck it up. . .lick around it . . .yeeeaah. . .man, you are good." What basis did Frank have for that judgment? "Mmmmmppphhh. . .yyeeaahh. . .swallow it. . .oh fuck yeah. ." Michael? Where did these boys learn all this? There was no doubt in my mind that I needed to check the history in our home computer; and I swallowed the book report line. Frank had one hand on Eric's back and his other hand reached under Eric. I could only guess that he was working on Eric's boyhood. I knew my boys weren't completely innocent, but they were working Eric like pros. Or was Eric working my boys like a pro? I stood there, without even thinking of moving, and watched Eric go down on my sons, my sons play with Eric, and the three of them moan out the pleasures only a boy can know. Suddenly, I realized that I was perving my own kids. I kept watching. Damn thing; I was getting a boner just from watching. When the moans became tense and I saw Mike arching his back, I guessed they were about to blow. I don't know who was first, but I do know that at one point all three of them were shooting everything they had. At that point I realized I hadn't remembered to breathe either. I moved to the kitchen, grabbed two beers and sat on the balcony. "Hey, Dad," Frank startled me, but I made a quick recovery. "Hey, kiddo. You have a good nap?" "Yes, sir." The tone told me something was on his mind. "Are we in trouble?" "Trouble?" His question caught me a little off guard. "Why do ask that?" "Funny thing about mirrors. You can stand at an angle and see all kinds of things. If someone is standing in the line of vision, they can look up and see back." He hesitated. "I saw you watching us in the mirror. I know you saw what we were doin'. Are we in trouble?" "Come sit next to me." He moved over and sat in the chair next to me; I gave him the partially empty bottle of beer I'd been working on and pulled the second bottle out for myself. "I've always prided myself on being open and honest with you boys. I've always acknowledged that there would come a day you would be curious. I knew you would play with yourselves. I knew you would look at Playboy or maybe some sites on the internet. I knew that you might want to experiment a little, even with other boys. I told myself I could handle that and I wanted you to grow up with healthy attitudes. Today, I learned there is a difference between telling yourself these things and actually witnessing it happening. I should have walked off when I heard the sounds and realized what was happening. You boys should be able to grow naturally without worrying about being in trouble. Actually, son, I don't like the idea that you may fear being in trouble whenever you do something that's normal for boys. I want you to be able to sit down and feel comfortable talking with me." "We didn't mean for it ta happen; it just kinda did." Frank's eyes told me he was seriously concerned. He wasn't afraid he was in trouble. He was afraid he had let me down. "Sometimes, me and Mike do what you said. We jerk one another off sometimes, and. . .well . . .we tasted each other's cum too. We just get real horny, that's all. Somehow, this afternoon we got ta talkin' about it and then Eric joined in and, the next thing we know, all three of us are at full mast and in heat. Well, it just worked out like it did." I couldn't remember the last time I had seen my younger son look so concerned or worried. This wasn't like him when he and Mike did something. If it was just the two of them and he knew he was going to be punished, he just took it like a man, as he liked to say, and we moved on. My guess was he was more concerned because Eric was involved and he knew if Eric's parents found out, it might be trouble. I stood and stepped in front of him. He stood and I pulled him into my arms. "None of you is in trouble. There's just one thing I want you to tell me. Did Eric join in freely or was he pushed?" "Dad, he's the one that lead the way. You see how he went down on Mike's pole? He couldn't take it all but he. . . ." I looked at him. "Uhhhh, maybe I should just stop while I'm not behind?" We stood there in silence. I guess over the years you learn how to read your kids without anyone saying anything. His looks said he was concerned and I could feel the tension in his body. This was very unusual for Frank. He was the one that was self-assured to the point of being a little too cocky sometimes. I told him there was no rule that said we had to tell the family about all the fun things that happened on our vacation. As I held him, I could feel the tension easing from his body; he relaxed. When he relaxed, that let me know he was comfortable that everything was alright. Sometimes, I wished that someone could just hold me in their arms and my worries could disappear so easily. * * * * After dinner, Eric and I took a walk along the beach. When I asked him to walk with me, the look on his face registered somewhere between pure panic and fear. That made me feel bad. My boys looked at me as though they expected me to say something to them or invite them along. A light movement of my head let them know they weren't coming with us. I waited till we were on the beach and had some privacy before I approached him. "Eric, did your mother have a talk with you before we met Monday evening?" "Kinda." I could hear the nerves in his voice. "Uncle Rick, are you gonna take me home?" I gave him a questioning look. "You know, 'cause of this afternoon." "No, son, taking you home has not even entered my mind. Rather than play a game of twenty questions with you, I think you are old enough for the two of us to talk things straight out. Responsible person to responsible person; right?" You could read the pleasure in his eyes at the very idea that someone would want to talk to him as a responsible person. "Your mother and I talked before the boys and I flew down here. She's very worried about you." He started to say something. "No, wait. Let me finish. That's part of being responsible; don't try to second guess what I'm going to say." "Yes, sir." "Your mother knows you've reached an age where sometimes you can't talk to her. It would be difficult enough for you to talk to another man about some things that teenage boys have to deal with. Your mom doesn't want to embarrass you. She knows, and I think I understand, that there are some things it would be very difficult to talk to your dad about. We're hoping that you may be willing to talk to me." "Uncle Rick, that's fine, but I don't know what you're talkin' about. What is it that I'm supposed to talk about with you?" The kid had a point. I didn't want to play the question game, but I wasn't being very direct. "Okay, here goes. Your mother acknowledges that you are no longer a little boy; you are a teenager going through puberty. She also knows what goes with that and how boys quite often like to find some personal pleasure; in other words, masturbate." "Oh, shit! How's she know that stuff?" I had to laugh. "Believe it or not, kid, she once was a teenager and sometimes girls can feel the same needs. She's also very comfortable talking to her brother about her son, his nephew. She knows that her brother has a couple of boys of his own and was once a teenage boy going through puberty. Understand?" He smiled and the blush was worth a million bucks. "She's not complainin' 'bout the extra towels I use is she?" I looked at him. "Yes, sir. I'll shut-up and listen." I had to put an arm around him and give him a hug. "Eric, your mother was cleaning your room. She probably picked up some of those extra towels." He smiled; good. "Your mother found your magazine collection." All the blood must have drained from his head. I thought he was going to pass out. He fell to his knees and when he looked up at me, tears had formed. I fell to my knees, reached out and pulled him in to me. I held him while he cried it out. "Does she hate me? Please tell me she doesn't hate me." Fear and loss permeated his voice. "No, Eric; she's your mother. A mother's love is unconditional; she will always love you and always try to be there for you. She asked me to talk with you because she didn't want to embarrass you and she wasn't sure what to say. She wanted me to let you know that she will always love you and she's just worried right now. Remember, she's a parent and parents reserve the right to worry about their kids no matter how old they are." "Why is she worried? I'm alright." "She's worried because she doesn't know what you've been doing. When a parent finds out about these things in some way, other than directly from you, their imaginations can run wild. Questions come up from everywhere. How long have you known? How long have you been having sex? With whom? Are they safe? Would they hurt you? Are you protecting yourself?' Many other scary thoughts came into her mind; think about Aids. By not being honest with her, you've got her worried to death and you're not being fair to her or yourself." I continued to hold him and we sat on the beach before I added, "Do you think you can talk with me?" "I'd like to, Uncle Rick. You know, I'm scared. What's my dad gonna do to me?" "What makes you think he'll do anything to you? Has he given any indication that he doesn't love you, too?" "Not really, but I don't know if he knows. I didn't know that Mom knows. You know how Dad can be, he talks about 'them'." "Yeah, parents can be strange like that, can't they? My boys would probably be shocked at what I know they've done and never said anything to them. They know that I know some things; I just haven't told them how much I know." Eric laughed. "Eric, there's something I need to ask you. Have you had anal sex with anyone?" "No sir. The stories I read, most of 'em say that your butt is a treasure and you give that only to someone real special like a lover. They also said it hurts like hell." I laughed while I thought about which of the two was the real reason for protecting his butt. "Do you think you'd like to tell me what-ever it is you're afraid to tell your parents? I give you my word, unless you say it's okay to share anything we say out here, this talk is just between you and me. If you want to ask me anything, I also promise to be honest and respectful of you." He leaned into me, placing his head against my chest. He was a boy, just like my own, trying to make it through the hell called puberty and learning who and what we are. We talked and he let me know he had been aware that he liked looking at guys from the time he was about ten. He also admitted to playing with himself from about age eight. Eric had been involved in the usual games of doctor with other boys. He admitted that he liked to sleep naked and even run around the house naked when his parent's weren't home. He laughed, telling me about a couple of times they almost caught him. Eric had heard the usual crap at school from other boys about gay boys, fags, cocksuckers, bitch boys, boys who ran the streets sucking whatever they could for money because their parents threw them out. No parent wanted a boy that sucked dick or took dick up the ass. Boys like that were disowned, became street whores and died of Aids. He also heard boys at school talk about how they'd kick a queer's ass everyday just for the sport of it. The boys who boasted of such things, some of them were supposed to be his friends. Eric was just like any other boy his age. He wanted to be accepted and be part of the group, not an outcast. We talked for a long time; well after the sun had set and the burning sky turned to stars, twinkling in the night. Eric let me know that he hadn't been with another boy. It wasn't because there weren't other gay boys at school; there was and he knew some of them. He was afraid. He wasn't sure what to do and he was afraid of getting caught and becoming an outcast. Most of all, he was afraid of losing his family. Eric did tell me that his session with Frank and Mike that afternoon was his first time. We laughed when he told me how he gagged and almost choked on what he called Mike's 'log'. When I told him it looked like he knew what he was doing, he told me he'd read a lot about it and watched some videos on the computer. We agreed that part should stay a secret. I let him talk until he seemed satisfied and had nothing more to say. I did ask him a couple of direct questions. "You know, Eric, it's very normal for guys your age to kind of check out the competition. All guys want to know if their equipment is up to standards or maybe better. Do you think that's what might really be on your mind?" "No, I don't think so. When I look at the other guys, if I'm not careful, I'll get a hardon. I've caught myself looking at a couple of the guys and then daydreaming about what it would be like to be with 'em. At night, well, I sometimes have a wet dream and when I wake up I know, I can remember, that I was dreamin' 'bout some hot dude. Uncle Rick, don't get mad at me, but I even dreamed 'bout Frank and Mike a couple times. Usually it was right after we'd been sendin' each other emails and stuff." "Have the three of you been having cyber-sex?" "Huh? I never heard of that. We send each other dirty jokes sometimes and we measured ourselves a couple times and sent it. That's all. Other than that, it's just regular stuff boys send back and forth. It wouldn't bother me none if you saw it, but my dad would go into orbit. If he thought I was measurin' my dick, he'd swear I was queer and I know he'd throw me out." "What makes you think he'd throw you out?" "You gotta be around 'im for a while. Remember that show on television where five gay guys would find a straight guy and show him how to dress and all? Well, he'd turn that on and through the whole show he was makin' remarks how they shouldn't be allowed on television. He always referred to those guys as 'them kind'. Dad's kind of prejudiced; you might say he sets the standard sometimes." I had to laugh, not because it was funny, it wasn't, but because of the matter-of-fact way Eric made the statement. "Eric, I want you to remember something for me. Understand that your mother already suspects, in fact, I'd say she knows. Realize that she will always love you and you need to let her know that you trust her. Also, remember that the boys and I will always be there if you need us. We can talk some more later, but right now maybe we need to get back; okay?" I stood, but Eric remained sitting with his head down. I offered my hand and he looked up at me with tears in his eyes. "Uncle Rick, there's somethin' else I gotta tell ya. I said sometimes I dream 'bout Frank and Mike? Well, that's only a little bit of the time. Most of the time . . ." he stopped and took a deep breath, trying to control his composure, "most of the time I dream 'bout you," and he began to cry again. He looked up at me. "I dream that you're holdin' me and have your arms around me. Sometimes we're like that and I fall asleep and sometimes you're makin' love to me and then hold me while I fall asleep." I knew his dreams were just Eric wanting to be loved. Bonnie had mentioned that Eric was jealous of the relationship my boys and I shared and had an idol worship thing going with me. I kneeled down in front of him and put a finger under his chin. After a light kiss on his forehead, I told him, "That's just about the nicest compliment I've had in a long, long time." * * * * Frank and Mike were sitting on the sofa, watching a movie. I wasn't surprised to find Frank wearing a pair of his jogging shorts and Mike wearing absolutely nothing. At home or on vacation, alone or with company, some things don't change, like Mike not wearing clothes whenever he thought he could get away with it. Eric and I stopped in the little convenience store in the hotel lobby and picked up a pint of ice cream for each of us. When I mentioned the ice cream, my boys decided to acknowledge our presence. "Dad! Do you know how many calories and how much fat is in that pint of ice cream?" "No and don't care either." Frank was kind enough to answer for me. "Mikey, some of us figure you should be able to let go once in a while. You should try it sometime." "Dad, there he goes. . ." "Hold it, Mike," I interrupted his complaint, "I'm on Frank's side. I plan on enjoying my ice cream. If you don't want yours, that's your choice; just don't mess it up for the rest of us." Then I turned to the other boys. "You guys want to split Mike's pint?" "No Way! That's mine!" Michael had a sudden change of heart regarding calories and fat. While the boys enjoyed their ice cream I decided I needed a long, hot shower to unwind; then I would enjoy my pint. I knew the boys would be asking Eric a lot of questions and decided to let them have their privacy. Eric would have to decide what he wanted to tell them. Coming out of the shower I picked up a wrap for modesty and headed to the great room. The boys sat there as though nothing had happened that afternoon and gave no hint of anything being unusual. As the boys got their showers, again, they managed to congregate in their room. I decided it was time for me to get some rest and headed for bed. The lights were out and everything was quiet when I spotted the silhouette of one of the boys approaching my bed. I lay there and waited. "Frank and Mike said that sometimes when they're upset or don't want to be alone that they come in here to you and that you let them stay with you. I was just wonderin', like, if maybe . . . .sorry . .I'll go back ta. . ." I had to take a deep breath while I smiled to myself and lifted the covers. I wondered how he would have reacted if I'd said no. "I'm naked, but I can. . ." I lifted the covers higher for him. "Frank and Mike don't bother with clothes, why should you?" Eric couldn't get in the bed fast enough. I tossed the covers over him and pulled him in close so he was spooned into the front of me. He wiggled his butt and I popped him on his butt. "That's what they get when they wiggle their butts into me." "Yes, sir." He giggled, happy to be treated just like my boys. Happy to know that someone cared. End Ch Five. To Be continued Comments welcome: contact Dwight Wilson at adm2780@yahoo.com