Alan Stroup











All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.





Chapter One


There are certain players in different sports who just create a buzz. Such was the case with seventeen-year old Shane Colter. The fact that the youngster was gay seemed old news. One can overlook minor discrepancies in youth, especially a youth who could turn men's heads as well as women's. Put that same youth in a celebrity role and those "discrepancies" become magnified ten-fold.

Caught between an adorable innocence of a boy and the rough exterior of manhood, Shane was still too quiet, reserve, and an easy victim of big boys' distorted versions of testosterone and what masculinity means. In the locker room of his triple A, minor league team, his locker had been sprayed "Jailbait". Shane was near tears when he called Ben for an explanation.

"Relax, take a deep breath. You have to learn to roll with the punches here. Smile, my boy. Tell them to remind their girlfriends and wives that you are jailbait and that you won't be easily changed despite of their attempts to get you in bed."

Shane did just that and got laughs and a pat on the back. One older veteran wanted to take the teen under his belt but knew any close association might have a negative reaction. The man ruffled the boy's hair and said what most of the men were thinking anyway: "My wife already thinks you're hotter than that Bieber kid was. He turned into a real loser. Don't follow his example. Personally, I'm glad you're gay. My marriage is safe for the time being."

The other members of the team had their laughs and smiles with the truth. Shane proved that not only was he untouchable as jailbait, but he was unhittable, as well. While those who mocked this seventeen-year old languished in the minor leagues, Shane was invited to join the show.

Under boundless blue skies Houston's stadium was filling with capacity not seen for several years. Last in their division, the team's home run and RBI totals were also last in the Majors. Long-suffering Astro fans could be excused for feeling less certain about their beloved team's chances after their first-half start.

But here in the warm evening with the sun barely setting behind the right field wall, hope sprung eternal. These fans had come to witness a seventeen-year old teenager's, Major League debut. Being gay and young wouldn't be enough to incite interest, but Shane had a hundred-mile per hour fastball and a curve that dropped off the table. To many a fan the boy was an anomaly, a freak show who wouldn't last but a few weeks. Like a circus, he was there to draw fans for a special occasion that likely wouldn't be repeated for another decade. No Astro player wanted the attention from the press that went with someone who stood out. They were used to being out of the limelight.

Houston was never a franchise that tried to buy a pennant. Actually they took pride in being last in team payroll. Shane Colter might be the exception. His statuesque frame lacked impressive musculature; his lack of any manly features and presence belonged more in a Little League game.

Shane would admit later that he was unconscious as he walked to the mound in the top of the first. His feet barely touched the grass as thick and luscious as an Augusta fringe. Just like Ben suggested, the boy took a deep breath and glanced up to a luxury box in the second level. Shane tipped his cap to Ben and Chip, though his parents might have well thought it was to them.

All eyes were on a youngster whose face resembled a boy fresh out of junior high. The young man moved a rosin bag threw his fingers and then adjusted his groin. For some reason his mind only thought of one person. Memories of a dance two years ago in pouring down rain invaded his mind. Ben Barkley had said he would be the first gay player to come out in the Majors, and he was.

Fifty thousand fans! Shane raised his blue eyes and scanned the stadium to absorb the color and breathless excitement. If he threw this first pitch he would be part of their fraternity, a game of tribes and labels, and a very lonely business that Shane had already discovered. What if they knew he wasn't just this bright-eyed, naïve boy who just played a kids' game? He played with himself no less than three times a day and saved one more for when Ben could keep up with him. He loved to suck cock, swallow cum, put his tongue in anuses, and relished being fucked in various positions before he even considered ejaculating. A senior citizen could love him once with passion and obsession; yet, Shane dreamed of someone equal who lived 24/7 with a hard-on. He knew of one boy he desired, but that young man had married an English boy. Whatever his libido relished his All-American boyish face did not emote a highly eroticized mind and body.

A fourteen-year old, sitting with an adult by the dugout, gleamed with excitement in getting this rookie's autograph. Barely able to even speak, the youngster held out his program and prayed that Shane Colter would give him five seconds of his time. Not only did Shane sign the program and the teenager even winked at him. Nate Newcomb's heart melted at that very second.

The boy was eye candy to Shane. What he could do to bring that same boy to a happiness that went well beyond a mere signature of a sports hero. Sex was to a seventeen year old on equal status to baseball.

All the press. The adoring fans. The sponsors. Would he be their boy-god forever? The thought almost made Shane laugh as he rubbed the baseball to eradicate the slickness from the ball. He was no god, but a sexual dynamo in bed who wanted that same fourteen-year old autograph seeker to come to his hotel room. He would simply tell this bright-eyed youngster that he was going to take a shower. If he would like to join him there would be no objection. The approach was logical—no pressure, no games, no labeling. There was already no mystery that one of them was gay. Either the boy wanted to be loved or he didn't. It would break the hours of boredom that a traveling athlete has to endure. Anything but solitaire would be welcomed.

He could have sex with a fourteen-year old, Shane knew; after all, he wasn't eighteen yet and these youth were part of his clique of "innocent" children. Of course he would be gentle, a boy teaching another boy these abundance of pleasures that opened a world only imagined until now. To make a boy moan, beg for more, and desire to return the pleasure, this was a role he'd like to play. This mere thought sent blood to his penis. His Major League career would start with a boner.

Shane began to chuckle to the puzzlement of their opponent's first hitter. The batter had this aura of putting a rookie in his place; the guy might even think Shane was mocking him.

Another adjustment to his groin sent a slight point of this near erection to the side of his baseball pants. Chances are a television camera was on him at that moment. This would be a secret left for memoirs, a boner for all gay boys whomever played this game, but especially to that blond fourteen-year old whose eyes were glued to Shane's every move. Yes, he probably should have worn a jock to suppress this arousal, but maybe it was a gesture for all those spectators wishing him ill or their homophobic remarks.

Most adults were hypocrites, Shane knew. He'd spent his adolescence amidst sexually open and loving men and boys. His knowledge and views of sexuality exceeded most teenagers his age. While that young spectator was just learning how an orgasm made him feel, Shane, at his age, had already experienced a full course meal. His body thanked him over and over for allowing the opportunity. A gay crusade had been the turning point in his young life. It was the best decision of his boyhood.

Shane watched this batter tap home plate with his bat and establish a balanced position he desired in the batter's box. The batter was confident, but inside that confidence was something Shane had witnessed since he was that twelve-year old Little League pitcher who saw how nervous prepubescent boys were to face his fastball.

Only last week he'd had a dream that his father's all-star Little League team had sought him out in their locker room for autographs, but had contrived a plan much more fun than a fan's collectible. The boys had stormed over him, stripped his clothes off and forced him to suck each of their dicks while they took turns fucking their idol.

Shane had woken up with his first wet dream in years. The next day he confessed to Scooter his dream from the night before. Scooter giggled and said he would see what he could do. He was, after all, the captain of his all-star team.

With a spray upward of his arms Shane rotated his right knee in a torque that accelerated his waist into delivery. He felt his boner slide to the opposite angle inside his baseball pants. A feeling of pre-cum wetness had already seeped down the inside of his thigh. The baseball was violently whipped forward with a mild grunt and then smacked the catcher's glove with a much louder pop. The pitch painted the outside corner at 101 mph.

"Sttttrike!" the umpire screamed and a whole new world of a seventeen-year old was about to begin.

Like he'd thrown that pitch for this adoring fan, Shane searched by the dugout for an approving smile. He got it. His erection had gone south, but still flush with blood. He moved the baseball downward and rubbed the orb against the head of his penis. A wet spot had already formed and Shane smiled again when he realized he was contriving a spitball of a different variety. A look for the sign, and then a glance to the teenager. The boy had stood up with his fingers squeezing his own crotch. Shane hoped it was an erection. Maybe the boy had noticed.

Shane stepped off the mound and coughed. This was now the most amusing baseball moment of his career. Why he couldn't focus on pitching was beyond him.

A groundout helped distract this bizarre interaction. Shane tried to collect his thoughts. What was the second thing he was support to do? Oh, yeah, always wear shower shoes in the locker room, Ben had said. That made Shane chuckle and relax. He was near flaccid. His big leg kick was like a pendulum to sling his leg up by his face. No tension, it fell down toward the plate, his torso torqued and the ball hit the catcher's glove a fraction later with a resounding crack for another first strike. Fans knew they were in for a show.

Not used to this boy's delivery or location of pitches, the Angels' first three hitters went down in order which had this stadium erupt in a standing ovation—and it was only inning one.

On his way to the dugout the young teenager reached out with his hand to be slapped. "Way to go, Shane! You're wonderful," Nate shouted. The boy's guardian was too busy drinking a beer to capture the moment.

Shane tried not to make a beeline, but slightly deviated his approach to slap the boy's hand. A glance at the boy's groin was not mistaken. It was pointed. He leaned into the boy's ear.

"The Ritz. Room one-two-two." A quick trot down the steps and Shane prayed no one heard or questioned the message.

Though Shane had only given up one hit in three innings, striking out five, the manager was quoted in the paper as likely to pull this rookie if he made three innings. Manager Hicks didn't even walk to the mound. Shane was too young to rationalize professional anecdotes that you can't make a senior out of a freshman. By the eighth inning Shane was still throwing 100 mph.

The Astros scored two in the fifth and one in the seventh. It was all they needed. A final strikeout in the ninth gave Shane a complete game shutout and eleven strikeouts. He was patted on the butt by his catcher and the beginnings of a Major League career were underway for the league's first openly gay baseball player.

Without reservations finding a room for 60 people at a steak restaurant wasn't easy; that is, until Ben mentioned that Shane Colter was involved in the party. The manager quickly assembled a banquet room for his honored guest who may well be Houston's baseball future.

There they sat, not a lot different than three days earlier in Ben's dining room. Thankfully Shane was the center of attention, but he wasn't seen as this procreative young man destined to produce grandchildren or being questioned incessantly on who the lucky girl was.

Rarely did Shane's parents see him hug and kiss Ben Barkley. The affection was accepted because their son had made them famous as well. Parents rarely achieve recognition or fame through their kids. Professional sports and acting were often the exception. Now both Ted and Irene were getting calls from magazines and news agencies for interviews. Not having season tickets they were wondering how they would find seats for Shane's next start against Boston on Saturday night. They would quickly learn that having Ben Barkley as a friend and their son's mentor had many perks.

All things aside, what had just transpired that evening felt surreal to Shane. He glanced around the table and saw the many smiling faces of those he loved and had spent most of his life with. The hearts and minds of every boy there Shane knew as if they were brothers. It didn't surprise him that Bo and Scooter were practically shoulder to shoulder with Troy in between. Either his father knew or avoided the obvious boy on boy chemistry. Sure, Bo and Scooter were probably straight, but confident straight boys didn't mind sharing their sexual software with boys who specifically liked boys. It was, after all, an orgasm, and at this age boys shared far more in common than silly, possessive girls who just wanted to brag about having a boyfriend. Boys just looked forward to their next ejaculation.

Gay boys are different, at least their bodies, if one believes what Austin tells them from his studies at Texas. The average length of the gay penis is 6.32 inches. The average length of the straight penis is 5.99. Shane could grin at this thought. He was slightly above average at almost seven inches, while Chip was off the scale at 9.12. Shane had been part of this measurement event in St. Louis. Ronin was barely over five, but uncut. It seemed kind of cool to have that flap rub up and over the head, but Shane wondered if Ronin wouldn't had rather had a vagina. In all honesty Shane sort of wished Ronin had a vagina, then he could have Chip to himself.

His eyes focused on his father, the man was doting over Bo, his youngest son and one of the stars on last year's Little League team. The man had to be hoping that this son would forever be the dutiful straight boy who would produce a nest of children. What his father didn't know, and Shane had no reason to inform him, Scooter and Bo were two straight boys who accepted a blow job from anyone in the dorm and loved strip poker games. They were both pretty good at giving, as well. Their father would never lose his disgust and outrage over homosexual acts because maybe he had never had a close boyhood friend who shared the discovery of sex with him. His sons have had better luck.

Shane had grown up around straight boys on his baseball teams and at school. There was just something about adolescents, about their male brain that labels everything different in them from being tagged as deviant, dangerous, or disgusting. While parents appear to teach that falling in love with someone is about following our heart, not our mind, the exception seemed to be for gay boys. Boys love boys for the same reasons—that love, by definition, is inexplicable, mystical, beyond reason, but it's real.

There was no question that his father's pride came from his son's success now as a Major Leaguer. Shane could dismiss his father's bragging rights, but he sure wished that just once his sexuality could be recognized in the same breath as his athletic prowess. Some things would never change.

Shane's vision went to Ben, whose happiness contrasted a frown to a momentary flow of pure admiration. A few years earlier when Shane had learned about a gay crusade, it became a moment of desperation to stand his ground, if not stand up to his father. Shane had chosen to give up being on his league's all-star team to pursue meeting another gay boy. He remembered the day his father dug in his heels, called him every name that is hurtful to a gay boy, and then when he saw that his son wasn't weakening to the intimidation, Ted Colter was determined to show him that gay boys are all pansies. The man actually became a chaperone with his son to make sure that Shane was a pariah. It was an effort that his son better change his stripes if he was going to live under his roof.

Ben had been there as the anointed one, a savior of lost gay souls. Shane grinned at this conjecture and saw that P.J. saw the smile and questioned it with his eyes. Shane only winked back. Yes, Shane's mind drifted, just like the song, he loved Ben before he even met him. How could a fifteen-year old fall in love with a sixty-year old? Age was only numbers. Shane had always been in love with another, but that boy had already fallen in love. His love for Ben Barkley hadn't diminished what he kept secret—his first love had always been for Chip Carver.

Ben had validated his longings, his curiosities, and the thousand questions on how a gay boy should act and feel. Being in Ben's arms was the essence of love, of being secure in everything that was right about falling in head-over-heels with someone you felt safe with. He didn't want Ben to replace his father; he wanted Ben to be loyal, to teach, to possess him as any man would love another.

A quick glance at Chip, and the handsome young congressman appeared like an older brother. Shane felt in reverence of this former First Boy, the epitome of what every gay boy should model, though Chip would definitely question this belief. Chip had whispered to him before he traveled to his minor league assignment that his departure would hit Ben hard. Like a parent losing their child to college, his void could never be replaced by merely a heart transplant. That was nice of Chip to say, though he had him crying.

The two young men sat staring at each other for those few precious seconds. Around them everyone was in conversation. For Shane the moment was in reverence for all that had happened in his young life. He had made the most important decision of his adolescence, only fourteen, to stand up to his father so he could participate in a gay crusade. Part of this decision was out of respect for himself; the other aspect went much deeper, he knew he was gay and desperately wanted to meet Chip Carver, the president's son. As a fourteen-year old this infatuation was purely puppy love, an attraction based on a fantasy of male attraction. His eyes now conveyed something far deeper after having known Chip for almost three years. He had always been and knew he'd always be in love with Chip Carver.

It wasn't like Chip was blind to Shane's beauty or dynamic personality. Only because of his faith to Ronin and the multitude of events surrounding the Crusade had he hidden this rush of chemistry that wanted him to engulf Shane Colter into his arms the moment they had met. Ben Barkley had beat him to it and Shane had never actually expressed an interest of reciprocity to his hero's attention. Now this momentary stare between the two young men sent a chill down Chip's spine, a pause in the universe that spoke volumes in truth. How had he missed this signal? Why did his heart just leap straight up and do a backflip?

Clink, clink, went a knife to the side of his father's wine glass. "I want to thank each and every one of you here in celebration of my son's debut in the Majors. He has done his family proud." Ted downed his wine and nodded toward Shane.

Shane rose, all six feet seven inches. He tipped his glass to his father. "Thanks, Dad, for the genetics and your direction. Like a child to chocolate, I might have well found my way to baseball on my own, but it was nice to have parental support. I'm glad that my brother has you as a coach on his Pony League team next season. I wish you and my brothers great success in making them Major Leaguers." He moved his glass to Ben. There was almost shock that the man's face drained of blood, so Shane scanned the many faces around him.

"I was not a happy child. That might surprise a few, certainly not my mother or brothers. There was a time in second grade when I kissed the boy sitting next to me, who then gave me a crayon to use. Our teacher scolded me for inappropriate behavior." Shane couldn't help notice that his father had this panic expression and immediately checked the room in fear that there might be press or other visitors in the dining area.

"Why did I take to sports? I discovered on the playground that I could throw a football further than other fourth graders. Boys loved me and made sure they picked me for their quarterback. I volunteered our team to be skins before anyone thought of it." He waited for the laughter of his peers to die down. His father didn't see the humor. "I felt tingly all over just putting my hands under a boy's butt to receive the ball." Shane enjoyed watching his father grimace. "Enough of these fond memories. I do want to thank Pudgy Walters, my Little League catcher, for letting me position his cup in place. It was his idea that it brought us good luck and allowed me to pitch six no-hitters."

"You gotta write a book, Shane," Chip spoke up and got eyes that could kill from Ted Colter, but Chip didn't notice nor care.

"That brings me to my...(Shane almost said partner) friend, Ben. Ben arrived in my life as God's gift at the right time. I don't think I'd be here tonight if it wasn't for him."

As Shane moved his eyes over the table with his remarks, they froze like a magnet on Chip Carver. "And for Chip Carver. If Ben Barkley was my cornerstone, Chip will always be my guiding light. Boys grow up with sports heroes; I've grown up in admiration of the president's son. Thank you, Chip."

Chip blushed. Few men want to be another person's idol or even worshipped. He wasn't perfect; actually, he had always been a silly, misbehaved rogue of a teenager who was still talked about by White House staff. One second they celebrated because Chip was no longer this White House rascal; the next day they missed him deeply.

"Thank you, Shane. We have shared much the same struggle to find ourselves," Chip said very maturely, but honestly and toasted the man of the night.

The possibilities of such a statement had tears in his mother's eyes. Few parents can contemplate what a gay child's grief can entail.

Shane elaborated on Chip's toast. "I think every gay boy comes to a stage when they ask why? Why is this happening to me? Why can't others accept me? Why aren't there more boys like me? Why? Why? Why? I pitched tonight for every gay boy in America; secondly, for the Astros. Every pitch was an arrow at homophobia. When I strike out twenty-seven men, homophobia will be no more. But it's not the strikeouts or winning that makes me happy. For that I owe Ben. He told me that I'd have to accept and know myself first to be happy. He was right. Aristotle said that happiness is the meaning and the purpose of life, the whole aim and end of human existence. Finding meaning in life has also brought me pleasure. I've derived a great deal of pleasure and meaning from being with you all, but we all need solitude, a time to find our thoughts. Ben has given me that time, and he reminds me that I cannot choose wisely for a life unless I dare to listen to myself, my own self, at each moment in life. I've identified my unique needs and wants of my life, so I'm not giving any of you up just because I pitch in the big leagues.

"Having spoken with Chip and Ronin, we want to pay it forward. We all want to share the events, thoughts and feelings in our lives that deepen our appreciation for what it means to be gay. Without friendship, no happiness is possible. Romantic relationships reign supreme."

Shane winked at Ben, which totally embarrassed the senior citizen. "I want to help promote a European gay crusade next summer. Though I won't be a participant, my heart will travel with the thousands of boys and girls who will partake of this awesome opportunity that has been the greatest event of my life. My beginnings of a gay teenager happened in the Crusade. Now we must give this same opportunity to thousands of gay boys and girls in Europe. To have time to discuss this with Ben, I want you all to stay the night at the hotel. I've already arranged the rooms. Mom and Dad, you guys get a nice suite to enjoy a night to yourselves for a change. Chip, Ronin, you guys have a suite next to ours." It was Freudian slip, but Shane was proud he'd said it. "It will give us some time tonight to convince Ben to give us the five-thousand bicycles for Europe."

Ben laughed. "My one contribution, as long as you don't ask me to be the director."

"I wouldn't do that to you again," Chip said. "We've already set up a web site and donations are flooding in. Several thousand signups and we've barely advertised."

"To our future and to the change we all want to see in the world," Shane said upon raising his glass.

For obvious reasons Shane had his parents on the other side of the hotel. If Ben thought this was going to be an instant business colloquy he discovered very quickly that that wasn't the case. No more than the two were in Shane's luxury suite, until he procured private housing, when Shane all but shredded the clothes from his lover.

Ben had no idea how much his body missed the yearning for this special person. He began to devour this naked teen sprawled out on a circular bed. They spent a long time kissing, grinding into each other as if lapsed time had cheated them of truly feeling human and connected. The heat of passion bonded their bodies with electrical impulses that had their cocks dripping with thrusts of excitement. Ben gradually slid his way down vast stretches of smooth skin, taking seconds of prolonged stalls to torment the youth's nerves. How could this magnificent sexual creature with boyish limbs fire a baseball faster than anyone alive?

A narrow waist of heat was squeezed into Ben's face. The man wished he could peek into the boy's heart to see his reflection, so much was he in love with this gorgeous human being. To a throbbing, rigid dick, Ben licked the bubble of clear juice from its pink head. Shane twitched, jerked stiff with the spark of ecstasy, and then moaned while moving his fingers through Ben's hair. Slurping the moistened glans into his mouth Ben slowly slid the organ deep into his throat, forming the contours of its veined shape with delicate lips. A set of balls jerked upward, followed by an exhale that only a body fully enthralled could produce. The boy's body nearly gyrated into levitation. Shane's quick orgasm was understood when the adolescent explained he hadn't jerked off in three days. Ben felt like he'd swallowed a pint of sperm, but it was like sweet nectar, a cognac that was a crime to spill even a drop. The two males lay together in the minutes it took to return from an abyss.

Shane sprang from the bed, his boner still engorged and flipping up and down. He ran to open the door separating his suite from Chip and Ronin's. In he walked to see them making love in bed, Chip moving with ease in and out of Ronin's canal. Shane reclined next to them and smiled at how easy these two lovebirds moved to each other's rhythm. Well, on second thought, at least Chip moved with an athlete's power. Shane refrained from involvement.

This young Major Leaguer was rarely judgmental. For whatever reason he didn't find favor in Ronin's passive participation, the girlish demeanor and nonsensical animalistic reactions to Chip's lovemaking. If only he could show Ronin how to truly make love to Chip the world would be balanced.

Upon their orgasms he obtained both their hands and took them next door to his Jacuzzi tub. There the four of them sat in the bubbly suds of pleasure to discuss the future of the Crusade.

A name was tossed around. Ronin knew more about European culture than anyone there and sensed what would inspire the youth of so many countries. RIDE FOR PRIDE was temporarily the motto, though nothing was in concrete. Next came the course. Ronin suggested a start in London, across the channel to Paris, a bend in Barcelona to the south of France and into Italy.

"There's a nude city on the Mediterranean. They will welcome us without question," Ronin humored.

They wanted a window of two weeks. From Rome upward through Austria and the Czech Republic, ending in Berlin. All the logistics would be mathematically tabulated in the coming months.

Throughout the discussion Shane was side to side with Ben, making this relationship an obvious love affair. From the Jacuzzi the four showered together as close as gay males should shower. Eight hands didn't care who they soaped, there was laughter from second one for the best position to get wet.

In their plush, white robes this quartet of males stared at the huge circular bed. Shane suggested a campout and hot chocolate. He wouldn't take no for an answer. He personally went to his door and tipped the bellhop five bucks. "Don't want them to think I'm cheap. I'm practically a Barkley boy," Shane said.

Ronin flipped a control that raised a large flat screen television, while the four of them lounged against the pillows. They huddled together and sipped their hot chocolate with marshmallows.

The Late Night Show had just started when the host came out to a rounding applause. His comedy usually took in current events. The man's first words had four males in their white robes with their mouths agape and eyes widened.

"Did any of you happen to see the Astro-Angel game tonight?" Practically no one raised their hand. "I mean, come on, guys, a gay, seventeen-year old kid had his debut in Houston. Baseball's first openly gay player and he was sent from a modeling agency. The gay community could have at least sent one their leather, muscled, tattooed men with handcuffs in his back pocket. This boy had my daughter drooling on our TV, and she doesn't even like baseball. My lovely daughter is now one of millions of females who think they can change the boy. `Dad, do you think you can arrange a date for me with Shane Colter?' I'll have to take out a new insurance policy because Shane would bump his head on our doorways.

"Forget that the team can't win a game unless the other team is resting their starters, but this youngster is six-seven and throws a 103 mph fastball. I swear the umpire didn't see the pitch, so he went with the sound and raised his hand for a strike. If you didn't see the game let me tell you straight."

"No! Not the straight!" someone screamed from the audience.

Even the host had to crack up with that one. "I swear the Houston catcher walked out to this boy and said, `check this out, I'm your daddy and you will obey my every sign.' That's right, the first openly-gay baseball player and he's baby-faced under the protection of one of those players who wears all the equipment. The gay community had it right all along. No one, and I mean no one, got up to that plate and said, `Bring it, Bitch!'"

The comic waited for the laughter to subside. "If you haven't seen this kid, wait till he comes to town. There are rumors that every stadium will have their own rainbow section. Seriously, the boy is the talk of the town.

"I've heard the Houston coach had to make numerous adjustments. He won't ask Shane--yes, that's his name, just like the cowboy movie but ten times cuter--if he's ready to pitch. Political correctiveness is the word throw."

Shane placed his cup down and lay prone on his stomach. His giggle was a relief to Ben and Chip. Shane slid off his robe, diminished the lights and offered this very sensuous view to Chip of a naked frame that had amazing long legs leading into a perfect ass, only to move into a luscious valley of lower back to a spine that was more a river of grace. The young man's body had matured since the days of the Crusade.

Chip was sitting in Indian fashion and felt Shane's brush of hip against his knee. The congressman's hand slid up the back of the leg, which made Shane melt to the attention. It started with a massage and moved to far more sensuous caressing. Chip slid his finger along the back of the thigh, like walking on a long stretch of alabaster beach. How something so smooth, tender, and elegant could be so powerful on a baseball mound was almost puzzling. The former first boy allowed his eyes to spy this invited ass above his hand.

In memory of the Crusade he had had this inviting morsel in a boyish moment one night in his tent. With Ronin there it wasn't like he could make love the way he wanted. There was little time to define that experience. To think something so beautiful could supply an unbelievable pleasure was now a blow to Chip's thought process. After all he was wearing a wedding ring and had his partner right next to him.

From the darkness another hand moved Chip's fingers upward. It was Ben, as if giving permission for this tease to continue. Then Shane relaxed his butt cheeks when he brought his left knee upward with an angle toward Chip. The new display also offered a clear view of a hairless valley. It created an invitation that had Chip's erection spring straight up inside his robe. He slid his fingers over the soft mounds of delicate skin. One pinkie finger deviated to slide across the youngster's tight knob. A soft moan from Shane's lips was barely heard by Chip over the TV.

Chip pretended to be focused on this comic's routine while he maneuvered his middle finger into a boy's cave, a moist entrance to Nirvana. He didn't notice that Shane's right arm had stretched backwards to have his own fingertips find his masseur's member underneath the robe, like a spider's crawl to build his web. Chip's own sigh was barely subdued when Shane swept his finger over the pre-cum that had seeped in response. The penis jerked, pulsated, and screamed for permission to thrust into this temptation at his own fingertips.

Chip might have felt tremendous guilt but for the fact that Ronin had admitted allowing his hairdresser to suck him off on occasion. The singer's managed also had his enjoyment on occasion. Ronin would be the first to laugh and confess that he enjoyed acting the slut. In Ronin's mind it was okay to fuck around as long as it was discreet.

Ever so casual Shane moved his hand back to beneath his chin, where he sucked his finger that had captured this secretion of lubrication. Chip almost ejaculated with his observance of this lubricious act. If it was meant to tease it was working.

Ronin stormed off the bed and traipsed to the bathroom.

"Oops," Chip said and decided to make amends by following. He found Ronin with his cell phone in hand.

"I'm sorry if you were offended," Chip offered.

"I'm hardly offended," Ronin replied very off-handedly. "Your boy toy is obviously still madly in love with you. Any blind queer can see that. I should be in London harassing my agent for not getting me a new bloody song. The wanker is so fucking lazy, but he gives such great blow jobs."

Chip sighed. These blow-ups were becoming way too common. "This drama queen act is getting old."

"So now I'm a drama queen? How Nouveau. Baby, you married me so live with it."

Chip loved this British icon, but even his parents weren't pleased when Ronin got all prissy. He'd learned by experience to let it be. Any further comment would just be a start to a new argument.

Chip returned to the bed, far more annoyed than when he left. His erection had gone south.

"Everything okay?" Ben asked.

"Ronin being Ronin," is all that Chip could relate.

"We should talk," Ben added and left it at that for the time being.

No one really knew how Ben Barkley felt about Chip Carver. There had always been a mutual respect, a personal love and admiration for someone who Ben was sure would be America's future. Few political ambitions started twenty years before its time, but Ben was already planning this young man's future without Chip even knowing about it.

A commercial had just ended and the comedian was behind his desk. His guest was another comic who dove right in on the night's subject—Shane Colter. This first guest started his own monologue.

"Of course you then have the locker room. I heard that their manager has plastered a photo on one wall of a Texas penitentiary. Everyone going into the shower room must wear soap-on-a-rope around their neck. Five-hundred dollar fines for dropped soap."

The audience was rolling with the punch lines and this late night host fired back. "Let me tell ya, the kid is cute. Since when does a pitcher have a bat in his pants?"

Shane put his hand to his forehead. They had noticed.

"This Colter boy is so cute..."

"How cute is he?!" someone yelled from the audience.

"He's so cute that his catcher has already filed for divorce from his wife. He's so cute that many of the Angels had to adjust their crotches at the plate. He's so cute that the State of Texas has gone into emergency legislation to lower the age of consent to seventeen. He's so cute...(the comic looked at his staff)...we have to have him on the show." There was loud applause.

"This is probably past this youngster's bed time, but we'll find him at school, a pizza parlor, or wherever gay kids hang out being seventeen."

The guest comedian rubbed his chin. "Let's see, seventeen. I'd be in front of my computer with my hand on the stick."

"You mean mouse," the host said.

"No, on my stick."

Shane went up on all fours and reached for his cell phone. He swung his ass inches away from Shane's face and went down on his elbows. He dialed NBC studios in New York City and identified himself. Just as the host was breaking for another commercial he was handed the phone.

"Shane Colter? Houston Astro phenom? Are you kidding me?! I had no idea that gay kids watched my show."

Shane laughed. "Since when do adolescents go to bed early? I liked your monologue, but the soap-on-the-rope isn't accurate. It's in my contract I don't pick up soap." Shane watched the audience break up and knew he'd just said a funny.

"You have to come on my show, Shane. Are you out celebrating your first Major League victory?"

"No, I'm in my room with friends."


"One of them. The other two are really hot, too."

The host pondered his next question with a smirk. "You aren't having sex, are you?"

"I don't do interviews during a game," Shane said and had the host busting up.

"Wait! You can't have sex on national television! It's...un-American and totally gay. Three-day rest, right?"

"Only for pitching," Shane said and the break for a commercial appeared to be forgotten.

"I'm not touching that one with a foul pole," the host said. "Well, hey, Shane...(he was laughing so hard he couldn't get the words out)...even I can remember how long seventeen-year olds last, so will you come on my show?" He realized what he had just said and went solid red in the face. Shaking his head and trying his best to regain composure he broke for the long overdue commercial. His conversation during the break went to how Shane was enjoying his teammates.

"Great bunch of guys. We're winners, we just need to gel and keep everyone healthy. They respect me and I admire every one of them."

The live telecast came back on. "Shane was just telling me what an outstanding organization the Astros are and the way he's been treated. So, Shane, we want you as a guest."

"If I can bring friends. Chip Carver is here, and he's our future president."

"Congressman Carver is in your room at this moment?! Your boyfriend? What will Ronin say? God help you that the BBC isn't monitoring this show. We're not crass enough."

"Ronin's here, too. Well, kind of. He's in the bathroom grooming himself. Care to speak to one of them? Chip is to my rear." Shane shoved the phone between his legs until Chip reached in and grabbed the penis, like he'd missed the phone. Chip did a lick between the cheeks to initiate a giggle. He was literally speaking into Shane's balls.

"I am not announcing my candidacy at this time," Chip said and had the audience laughing.

"Chip Carver! What's this about you being to the rear?"

"Your point?"

"I think you're the one with the point. Chip, is our future Hall of Famer really having sex?"

"We're having hot chocolate. I'm playing batboy with bat and balls, and at this time I have no intent in running for presidency."

"That's the First Boy I remember, just like your old man. What do you, Congressman and Ronin, have coming up?"

"We're planning a European Crusade like our American one. More details later."

"We look forward to learning more about this. Hey, Congressman, before we leave or get kicked off the air, how's the kid's boyfriend?"

"Gorgeous. He's doing a little relief work by examining home plate." Chip just realized he was talking about himself.

"Short or long relief?"

"We're just drinking hot chocolate. Any rumors of my candidacy has been blown out of proportion."

"Are you bending the curve as we speak?"

"Ah, you've seen my photos. I'd call it more a slider with an occasional change-up," Chip replied.

The host didn't really want to end this call. He asked his audience, "I think we need a gay president to liven this nation up." The audience wildly approved.

"Only if I can have an Astro's pitcher as my vice-president," Chip said in response. He only slightly regretted the off-hand remark.

"America needs a perfect game as well as a perfect couple," this host said and had no idea how many nerves were touched by this candor. Ronin was listening from the other side of the door.

This late night comedian and talk host thanked the boys for their call and would arrange a date for their appearance. There was no way that Ben would be a part of this act.

Chip never made it back to their own room. He didn't want to face the wrath of one pissed-off broad. With Shane sleeping between Ben and Chip, the two young men waited for Ben's snore to rise. Shane went to a spoon position and was entered seconds later. In a most calm rhythm they fucked while Shane held Chip's arms around his chest. For those few hours of sex and sleep Shane's dream had begun to emerge.

Morning came with an unexpected wakeup call on Shane's cell phone. It was the Houston G.M., requiring his attendance immediately. Without breakfast, Shane caught a taxi to the Astro headquarters to be raked over the coals. The Houston Astros were patient with someone so young and valuable to the future of the franchise. Being gay was private and personal, not to be flaunted or used to embarrass the team. All the time that Shane was on the carpet he kept wanting to ask, `Gee, what did I say?'

Assured that he wasn't fired, Shane felt the center of attention with all the snickers and darting eyes as he walked through the offices. Sports had had their Joe Namath's, Wilt Chamberlin's and any number of playboys, just never a gay one. Bottom line from management: Don't be the distraction to the team.

At the hotel Chip was busy covering all the bases. Ronin had departed early in a snit over an interview that went badly on BBC, and mad at the world. What would make him feel better were a few dozen girls to drool over him or a blow job from his hairdresser. He'd let his man have that baby's ass; English boys were better fuckers anyway.

Chip contrived a plan to have Ben slip out under a food cart. Ben would then don a delivery man's uniform to escape out the back door in a truck. If one thought it was being too cautious, there were reporters and paparazzi everywhere watching exits, elevators, or anyone suspicious. Chip had half-a-dozen boys from the lobby hustle up to Shane's room, with their items to be autographed and their cameras in hand. One of them was Nate Newcomb, a fourteen-year old with his own agenda. Surely not all these boys were invited by Shane to come to his room, Nate thought.

The Congressman slipped back into his own room, and then went through the door connecting the two rooms. Stepping out of Shane's room he acted as if he was the player's agent in dismissing this assembly. These aspiring autograph seekers were disappointed to hear that Shane Colter had left early for a meeting. Their departure kept all the reporters fooled and those checking the hallways for that fourth mystery person. Chip even passed out to a few of them the clothes Ronin had left behind. Young Nate lingered behind and wrote a note. He was prepared to slide it under Shane's door when Chip intervened.

"Would you like me to deliver that for you?" Chip asked as he just exited his own room.

"Mr. Carver? Oh, wow! I never thought I'd ever meet you. Most of those boys don't know you. May I have your autograph?"

Chip signed his business card and handed it to the youngster. He heard the explanation of this excited Newcomb youngster and the invitation by Shane. Chip had to smile but not to embarrass the boy.

"Texas does have their lovelies," Chip responded with his observance of this handsome young man. "I can see why my dear friend made this special request. Leave me your phone number and I'll make sure Shane calls you. You do own your own cell phone, right?"

Nate swung out his bright red iPhone to verify his own privacy. Chip was a second away from taking advantage of this situation but wouldn't dare infringe on taking something that Shane wanted first dibs on. When he was First Boy he would have been in the kid's pants in minutes.

Finally Chip roamed out into the lobby for breakfast and had two reporters leap in front with cameras and microphones.

"Congressman, who was the fourth?"

Chip smiled. "I've found in a paparazzi's world that there is no right to privacy. Rights don't enforce themselves, and they are useful only to the extent that they are upheld by effective government."

"Spoken like a true Democrat," a reporter snapped back. "What's so secretive about who the kid slept with?"

"Oh, come on, guys, we all know who our best friend is." Chip opened his palm, but kept his right hand low beneath the cameras, but it was obvious the significance. "You were an adolescent once, I assume." With that profound statement Chip walked into the hotel restaurant.

Left off a few miles from the hotel, Ben walked into a haberdasher store, dressed out in the style he was used to and then called a limo company. In the meantime he texted Shane and told him he'd pick him up in a few minutes for breakfast.

As Shane stepped into the limo, he kissed Ben on the lips and snickered. "I had no idea that I'd have to go to the principal's office when I played professional baseball."

Ben chuckled. "Shows your human side and that you hang out with really cool people. I don't take too kindly to the Astro front office in chewing out my boy. I see I'll have to have a talk with their president."

Easily recognized around the city Shane gave autographs to at least six people before he finished breakfast. Many of them gave Ben an evil stare, sure that his man was Shane's boyfriend.

They picked up Shane's parents and Chip for a day of house hunting. The realtor had several select pieces of property to peruse and had given them instructions on where to meet her. Pulling in front of a two-story mansion, the 18th-century home was a marvel of an historic significance with vast lawns, a carriage house and well-kept exterior. Shane immediately wondered why as a bachelor he would have to have all this space. Only a short distance away was the setting for the U.S. Clay Court Championships, which impressed Chip, if no one else. The community had a reputation as Millionaires' Row, but more like multi-millionaires' row now.

The agent was late, so the men and Irene parked on the street in case someone actually lived there. Ten minutes later a silver Mercedes pulled up and the female realtor waved her client into the half-moon driveway.

The house was far more open and modern on the inside with timber trusses, and a pantry that connected the kitchen just outside the main house. Irene appreciated the tastes.

Though the rear lawn was groomed and spacey, there wasn't a pool or any signs of recreational use.

"The owner wants 3.4 million, but we can negotiate down to 2.5 and let him counter. What do you think, Mr. Colter?" the realtor spoke with ultimate respect for Houston's new prize citizen.

Shane waited for his father to answer, but then realized he was the "mister" here. This was way too weird. He didn't really care for the house as his own, though his mother thought it tranquil, quaint, and darling, as she put it. His father liked the family room, while Chip appeared indifferent. Ben barely showed interest. In the distance police sirens were getting louder and louder—odd for a peaceful neighborhood of wealthy executives and old money. Almost saying that he'd take it to appease his parents, Shane hesitated. His attention was alarmed at how close the sirens were and then the flashing of police cars turned onto this street to stop in front of where they were. Screeching tires, seemingly near the front of this residence, came to an abrupt stop when the running of feet were heard. Seven heads jerked as if their vision could see through the patio to the street.

Ben had known that loving someone so young was a precarious road that put his own life, if not Shane's, in jeopardy with any disclosure. He had to wonder about hidden cameras, mics, or people who had more ways of snooping than a spy agency. If his face showed fear it was increased when half-a-dozen well-armed swat members ran into this backyard area with the guns up.

"Raise `em!" came the command.

Even the realtor, nicely dressed in her chiffon outfit to impress clients, shot her arms into the air. Surrounded, the officers waited until more of their unit had swept the house and ran out to the back lawn.

"Sir, I'm a realtor and this is my client, Mr. Colter. Is there a problem?"

The Swat commander was just beginning to sense this was a ruse, a "swatting" that was a new trend in delinquency by calling in false alarms. He didn't respond.

Ben was sweating, waiting to be told to put his hands behind his back and being read his rights. How embarrassing.

"Nothing!" a sergeant yelled from the backdoor.

Quickly all seven adults were frisked and every bush and tree were checked for targets, but the commander knew the score. "Please put your arms down. We have a prank call, I'm afraid." The commander shook his head and raised his eyes to a six-seven teenager. "You're not who I think you are?"

Shane nodded. "Probably. Is this some kind of practical joke from my teammates?"

"It better not be," the Swat commander replied and ordered his men to the front.

To the main driveway on crushed white rock the assembly gathered to see an army of vehicles with a smattering of local residents that had gathered to be entertained. Standing near the limo, Chip was attempting to humor the moment that this reminded him way too much of living in the White House. "I've heard that the Republicans were a rough lot in this area, but this is pushing it."

Coming up the driveway was a very distinguished looking gentleman of African descent, dressed in a dark blue Armani suit with a lavender shirt behind a purple tie. His shoes sparkled with a flashy taste of wealth. His sunglasses were more Hollywood than Texas vintage.

"Morning," he spoke to Ben and Ted, shaking their hands and introducing himself as owner of a financial consultant firm in the city. Smiling, appearing in a good mood, he moved to where Shane had turned to see who this was, taking the youngster by the elbow.

In words barely audible, the black man said, "Welcome to the neighborhood, fag. I know who you are and the trash you represent. Don't plan on an extended stay."

Only ten feet away Ben's and Ted's ears were attuned to the words. "What did you say?!" Ben spoke up.

Shane jerked his elbow out of the man's grasp.

"None of your fucking business," the businessman replied.

Ted Colter didn't need to have any words repeated. He'd heard all he needed to hear. Taking two steps forward he co-cocked the guy straight in the mouth, sending him flying backwards into the rock base. Instantly Ted shook his fist. "Damn! That hurts." Then he stared at a very startled man. "You ever call my son a fag again I'll kill you."

Commotion erupted. Between a large maple tree, a few cars, and several people, including a human tree as tall as Shane was, few people saw what had happened. Ben immediately stepped in front of Ted to push him backwards.

A dozen Swat members rushed to the scene. Their weaponry had been dismantled, all sense of urgency forgotten. The Swat commander also had no idea what had just transpired, but he quickly stepped in front of Ben Barkley to subdue the man.

"It wasn't Ben's fault!" Shane yelled. "This creep called me a fag and that I wasn't welcomed in his neighborhood."

Cyrus Washington was a respected man in the business community, though many tolerated his pompous nature because he was worth a mint. Few in the black community respected his high-brow attitude and political circles. Cyrus shook off the punch and began to rise.

"I want you to arrest this man, officer. He assaulted me." Still too stunned, Washington had pointed at Ben.

"I take full responsibility," Ben said and wanted to keep Ted out of it.

Captain Nichols was a veteran officer and knew who Ben Barkley was and the influence he had throughout the state. He drew his face close to Ben's. "Don't say anything." Back to the black man holding his jaw, the captain had his own version. "It appears you provoked this incident. If I find out that you called in this false report I'm going to hang your ass. You, obviously, sir, have problems with gays; yet, you appear to have forgotten your own heritage. Do I have to remind you that you're black, sir?"

Washington was not used to being lectured to. "Don't get racist with me or I'll have that badge. I command you to arrest this man!"

Captain Nichols glanced at one of his men. "Arrest this man."

"That's more like it," Cyrus spoke.

"No, I mean you, sir. I'm taking you in for questioning on filing a false police report. Is that your Bentley across the street in the driveway?"

Feeling his hands handcuffed, Washington was livid. "I'm going to have your ass, motherfucker! No one touches me, no one! Are you really going to believe this fag? You have no honor, sir."

"Get this asshole out of here!" Nichols said and had the fuming character escorted to a van. The captain took a full report of what was said and all he needed to hear was that Shane felt threatened when the man grabbed his elbow.

"I and the Houston Astros are thankful that you didn't punch him," Nichols said to lighten the moment. "We have a physical assault on a seventeen-year old, calling in a false police report and resisting arrest. Ben, you've done your duty. We'll call this a citizen's arrest."

"Thank you, sir. Do try to keep Shane's parents out of this. They were purely bystanders. My lawyers will deal with his."

Order restored even the realtor was shocked at the events. She tried to bring everyone back around to the purchase of this fine property.

"Ma'am, I don't really think this fits my personality. I'm not just saying that because that idiot lives across the street."

"No problem, Mr. Colter. I have so many luxury homes I just know you'll love."

Shane went over to his father as everyone retreated to their vehicles. "Thanks, Dad, you didn't have to do that. Are you going to be ready for the first game in Williamsport?"

Ted chuckled. "Son, having a gay son is hard to get used to, but I won't have anyone disrespect you. I love you, you have to know that, and I want the best for you. My suggestion, and I speak for your mother, as well, maybe you'll be happier living with Mr. Barkley on the ranch. I just happen to know that he's offered the ranch's helicopter at your disposal."

Shane's eyes lit up. "Really, Dad? I mean, you and Mom are okay with that?" A secret from everyone, including Ben, was that Shane was going to put off any purchase for a long time.

Ted nodded and gave a thumbs up to Ben by the limo door. "You okay with putting up with a Major Leaguer who makes way too much money?"

"Only at your insistence," Ben said with tongue in cheek. He winked at Shane. "And, of course, if it fits Shane's personality."

Shane laughed. "Love the pool and the scenery; plus, you know you can't fathom riding the range every morning without me. You can have your solitude during my away games."

Chip turned to the realtor who was waiting by her own car. He gave the lady his card. "Ma'am, we won't be needing your services, but if I ever come across a Republican who deserves this community I'll give them your card."

Chip took one more glance at his own business card, a professional designee of his status with a rainbow flag in its corner. He walked back to where Shane was waiting for him.

"Guys, what do you think about this for our new crusade: Tour de Coleur?" He raised his card.

"Awesome!" Shane said and just had to whisper to his friend. "I adored last night."

Chip grabbed this lovable creature on the arm.

"There was this adorable young man waiting for you this morning. A special invitation, he said. One night in my arms and you're already cheating on me."

"I thought it might be a boring few days off. Boy was I wrong."

"That young stud will likely take your mind off baseball for a long time."

"I like long things," Shane admitted and accepted the card from Chip's fingers with the boy's name and number on it.

In the limo Ben rustled both boys' hair and always felt alive when there was a little action he could get into. The driver, a little befuddled at this senior enjoying himself got a quick command from his employer for the day. "To the airport, James. We have a ranch to run."












Chapter Two


A familiar anxiety gyrated through Shane Colter's body, typical before every game the young seventeen-year old pitched. The Houston phenom now had five wins in his first five starts since being brought up from the minor leagues after only two pitching performances. Barely in September, the Astros were 15 games out of first, far removed from any pennant race, though the team was on their longest streak at seven games thanks to Shane.

Management was pleased to say the least. The ballpark had not seen a sellout since the annual All-Star game was played in Houston five years earlier. Despite the losing record Houston baseball had a new pulse and a breath of fresh air.

Shane's common approach to pre-game jitters was to find a wall around the clubhouse—any would do. By himself the six-seven youth began to softly short-hop the ball against the base of the wall, catching the ricochet, over and over, building the rhythm to match his nervous energy. Without looking, he would furl the fingers of his left hand against the seams of the ball, a different grip for each of the pitches he threw. Sometimes a mere speck on the wall might create the focus in order to seek out something that was both ephemeral and central to his success: control.

When Shane was fifteen he learned all about control, just not in baseball. Driven by hormones and the common sense that he was different than his peers, Shane fought for identity. Like any teenager Shane had a deep need to be esteemed, wanted, and loved. Unsupported and ostracized by his own father, Shane was in deep despair until he met men and boys unlike himself. Sexual activity soon became the cornerstone for him to feel desired, valued, and loved—a proof very necessary to self-esteem and happiness. For all his varied sexual experiences during his 15th summer, one person had totally immersed himself into Shane's existence, the love from someone far exceeding his age. Despite society's anti-sexual conditioning, homophobia, certain inhibitions and restraints to what they felt appropriate, Shane did not defer his gratification nor modify his behavior in his feelings for someone he loved more than any other.

For every short hop Shane routinely caught unconsciously without effort, love was as secure as the leather mitt held by his right hand. There was no doubt that his mentor, family and friends were in the stadium awaiting his performance—a gratifying thought. All was in control, and control allowed Shane to avoid regret and strive for the things important to him.

Before the games he pitched Shane decided to stay at the Ritz to keep himself in focus. The night before he had focused on Nate Newcomb. The fourteen-year old fan had ridden his bike five miles to the hotel after his own dinner. The bellhop had no reason to believe this excited teenager was an invited guest of a Major leaguer, until Nate convinced the African-American porter to please call Shane Colter's room. Shane apologized immensely for not giving prior notice to hotel management. Of course he had invited this young man.

There were moments of indecision, change of mind from Shane that he wouldn't dare be this daring or blatant with someone so wide-eyed and desirous. Even the shower idea now seemed too weird. He didn't have to.

"Whoa! Your own Jacuzzi. Can we take one?"

"Absolutely!" Shane agreed. He watched the boy stand up and strip all his clothes off while Shane moved to turn the jets on.

When he turned to back Nate was sitting on the tub's seat, feet and legs soaking in the hot water with his arms bent back for support on the tile. An erection was poking up like a monument to everything beautiful about a penis.

"You're my favorite baseball player, Shane," Nate said with the most wanting-to-please eyes.

"I'm getting to believe you're my favorite fan," Shane said and dropped his robe to the floor to reveal much the same arousal growing straighter by the second.

Shane stepped into the Jacuzzi and his own erection stood above the bubbles and giggling water. He had to smile back with the beaming grin of this budding adolescent to his front. For the time being he'd forgo the kisses and make this adolescent glow while getting his dick sucked on. Almost ready to bend down he was shocked when Nate jerked forward to take Shane's cock right into his mouth.

Obviously new to this experience, as least as a participant, Shane had to give a few words of advice until Nate got the gist of sucking and tongue action. After a few minutes the boy was practically an expert.

They traded going down on each other before the art of kissing was taught from one older teenager to a novice peer. Shane hardly wished to spook the younger male, so he licked the boy's hole so Nate could discover this sensation that was not usually part of the menu for most sexually adventurous couples. A consummation of bringing off the boy in his mouth was enough to warrant a return. Nate said he couldn't wait and would be available anytime Shane wanted.

Hardly deep into a Hall of Fame career, money would never be a concern. Ten years at 25 million a year made him the second highest paid pitcher in the league. Not bad for a gay teenager, yet to be considered a legal adult. This "gay" moniker was becoming less an issue than the growing celebrity status and expectations of a surprised baseball community. Five pitching performances, all shut-outs, and a no-hitter in his third start against Boston at Fenway.

As with a majority of athletes, Shane was his own human metronome, adhering to a process that provided him, at least on the mound, moments of deep satisfaction for which no celebrity status, sexual orientation, or reputation could be exchanged. His hard mental lines knew what must get done when a nine-inch, round baseball was placed in his hand. The well-used Rawling's glove was the same one he had purchased himself as his coming-out present, though it was an accidental coming out. Being caught at fourteen in a compromising position removed the verbal discourse in hopes of parental approval. Sometimes actions just define the obvious.

In the clubhouse Shane had never felt it necessary to adapt to other players' expectations or perquisites. While most of the men wore boxers, Shane loved his European cut briefs, Terry cloth being his favorite. Contouring all aspects of his sexuality, everyone knew he was gay, so why change? His high, tight ass caught more eyes than their center fielder's black dick, which was enormous.

Shane sensed the eyes, but would never front-off a player for a glance. Concerning the black players swinging dicks, Shane knew Chip Carver, former first boy of President Carver, only too well. Their center fielder could only wish he had a penis like Chip's.

Shane didn't have to pursue sex with other players. He had a sexual dynamo at his fingertips. When Shane was at the Ritz, Nate Newcomb knew within the minute. A back entrance, supplied by a very well tipped porter, had Nate out of his clothes and in bed before Shane could kiss the boy with a welcome hug. One thing Shane had discovered, the man who had escorted Nate to the one game they had met was not his father, but a foster parent. The boy's parents had died in an automobile crash two years previous. Intelligent, quick of wit, and an aspiring Pony League player himself, Nate knew he was gay since he was ten. Shane was a godsend to teach him all he needed to know on how to use his gaydar to find other boys.

Though Shane loved being a bottom, such assertiveness wasn't expected from this novice upstart in his arms. Shane knew the scene, begin with fingers and tongues discovering the male body, and then resort to penetration. From a tantalizing tongue darting in and out of Nate's anus, Shane moved in a finger, then two, all the time making sure Nate verbally sought more and more pleasure. Finally it was Nate who commanded.

"Fuck me, Shane. I want to feel you inside of me."

Shane moved the teenager on his side and slowly inserted his member. Once comfortable and relaxed, Shane took the boy to heights never felt imaginable. Another lesson in reversing roles and Shane was at his best moving in an out of positions.

Shane's routine was immensely predictable. No one would think of saying a word to anyone on a hitting streak, an unspoken baseball rule to give pitchers their space when they were pitching a gem. Shane often found himself by himself on the bench.

Shane and his catcher had few words outside of the stadium. Leave it to a professional with six years in the Majors to instantly get inside a kid's head to discover a seventeen-year old's pattern of pitches. Shane rarely shook the sign off.

Back in Houston after a long two-weeks on the road, Shane trotted from the dugout, a habit since Little League. Most Major League pitchers walked, a stroll to the mound like a gladiator focused on his enemy. To Shane baseball was still a kid's game of spirit and fun. A month earlier he'd taken his first step toward this ultimate raised pedestal, a platform of unique importance, for it's the only sport where the defense controls the ball.

No one called out, "Faggot!" or "Sissy!" Nothing but applause and dozens of young boys calling his name, some with extended arms hoping for an autograph at the strangest of times.

Shane's routines were now common place amongst Little League pitchers. He often caught his spikes to the turf as his elongated stride made sure he didn't touch the foul line. A ritual, habit, superstition; whatever one wishes to label it. The hop over the line to a split step was laughable. The pull on the penis through his baseball pants was rather consistent. Few knew that he didn't wear a jock. Young boys tugged on their groins to copy this budding star.

Across the country there was no doubt that boys to teenagers had copied this young pitcher's style and antics. Forget that he was gay, cuter than yesterday's Justin Bieber, and adored as an athletic icon by every gay magazine in America; he was Houston's poster boy in search of a record for innings pitched without giving up a run.

A post-afternoon game hustle to his room at the Ritz had expectations of a happy teenager. There was Chip Carver sitting on his bed naked. Nate was sitting beside him in much the same undress.

"Surprise!" Chip said and had Nate laughing. "I was going take you out for a night on the town, but I see you two have finally met. Nate tells me you're the best thing to happen to him since iBox."

Shane laughed. "Caught me. We could still do that night on the town. Just can't get too risqué. The boy has to be home by nine. The kid's a gymnast in bed. Care for some competition?"

The threesome reminded Chip of the Crusade, where orgies were as common as communal showers. When Nate saw Chip's erection he dove on it with fervor.

Chip glanced up at Shane. "Don't introduce him to Tony; we'll lose him for sure. He's good."

"Taught by an expert," Shane replied with a smirk.

Even after two orgasms each, Nate stood up on the bed to flash his hard-on that rarely went south.

"You wusses! I'm the stud here!" Nate shouted.

Shane took the boy's legs out from underneath him as he and Chip devoured the youngster one more time.

The three of them went bowling, then miniature golf. Way too recognized they were mobbed at each location when Houston fans, no matter the age, flocked to Shane's side. A quiet dinner and Nate had a way of saying the right thing.

"You two make the perfect couple. You don't suppose you could adopt me, do you? I've had both your sperm inside of me, so we're practically family."

Chip didn't want Shane to feel uncomfortable with that suggestion, even though it was done in humor—he thought. "The boy's got us. I think our neighbors might figure it out."

"I don't think your foster parents would approve," Shane offered.

"Sure they would, they're both Southern Baptists. They really don't appreciate that I'm gay."

Shane didn't read the papers. Ben Barkley, his guardian and mentor, almost forbade it. Words become mental games, and why waste time contemplating opinions that are just that—opinions. The boy, as he doesn't mind being called, was a topic of conversation around the league. No pitcher who threw as hard as he did rarely escaped elbow injury. For sixteen years such an injury never entered his mind. Shane didn't have to read, he heard the rumors. Ben, on the other hand, was well aware of the possibility and had gone to great lengths to protect his protégé. Swimming and special stretching exercises, using rubber cables, were almost daily parts of his regiment. Ben had hired two years earlier a biomedical sports medicine doctor. The doctor told Ben that a pitcher subjects his elbow to 100 newton meters of torque. That's the equivalent of holding five twelve-pound bowling balls.

Shane was consistently throwing between 98 and 103 mph. His elbow was nothing more than an elastic cable, vulnerable to snap at any second. A two-inch tendon that had the same strength as a ballet dancer's. A couch potato at home watching the game had the same strength in his tendon. There was no way to strengthen a tendon. It is what it is.

Shane's advantage was that he was tall with a long stride and long limbs. Shane might have preferred that Ben rub his butt and legs first, especially his butt, but it was his elbow that received the most attention—and rightly so.

Triple-digit throwers were mostly relievers; Shane being the exception. Houston was taking a chance, a chance Ben supported because one left-handed elbow had several specialists, paid extremely well, to boot.

Well back into his consciousness, Shane had control over far more important aspects of his life than a fragile elbow. The teen exerted a gay presence of immense pride and self-identity. Gay pride gave him license with every pitch he threw, to compete against another player standing 60 feet, 6 inches away. This pride, this need to be superior, made Shane the center of all attention and the quintessential expression to be immune from judgment. With every strike out came another rush of peace of mind.

Fastballs, sliders, an occasional changeup or a curve, and Shane was perfect through four in his next pitching assignment. Pathetically the Astros averaged less than three runs per game. Hardly inspiring, this fact increased the pressure on every Houston pitcher that they had to practically pitch a shut-out to give the team a chance to win.

Top of the fifth, a hundred and one mph fastball was met so perfectly that few fans held their breath when the click of the bat sent reminders to those who had watched the steroid era of Bonds, Sosa and McGuire. They just knew. The baseball cleared the center field wall by fifty feet.

Slightly pissed, Shane sent his next pitch in at 105 mph. Even the batter grinned because he wasn't quite sure he'd seen the ball. Whether the accuracy of the device was correct, fans were either amused or shocked at the reading. Out came the Houston manager.

"Take a deep breath," the veteran manager said, well knowing his own future might well depend on this franchise investment.

Shane never questioned an adult. He had yet the maturity or the bravado to be recalcitrant. "Sorry `bout the pitch. I caught too much of the plate." Shane figured he'd better apologize for the home run.

Tom Hicks was in his mid-fifties, but he felt old being around a young bunch of ballplayers in their twenties. Tom felt like a grandfather around Shane. He broke a smile. "Hey, kiddo, the guy guessed right and stuck out his bat. It's gonna happen. One run doesn't mean shit."

Here came the home plate umpire to hurry this sidebar conversation to a close. Tom had forgotten why he even came out, but to calm his ace from over-throwing and acting like a rookie who had just been burnt.

Leave it to an Astro catcher to rope in his charge. A few curveballs, slider and change up, and Shane struck out the next three hitters in succession.

Shane was pulled in the eighth without his team offering even a tie. He had no idea of his 105 mph pitch until after the game. Disillusioned from losing 1-0, he felt really bad for losing his focus on one pitch. All the press wanted to talk about was the fastest pitch ever recorded.

"Guess I was a little ticked and I put my butt behind that one," Shane said to humor the seven reporters who had surrounded his locker.

Tom Hicks had established boundaries for reporters and players around his seventeen-year old. In this case he felt the boy might learn something from a loss, so he let the press have more leeway. The boy was an easy target, but humility was a growing step Tom felt.

What Tom didn't realize because of any direct line of vision, Shane had stripped down to prepare for his shower. Nude, with the contours that made straight men drool, his genitals had barely a light brown patch of hair, shaved exquisitely by one Nate Newcomb. Likewise, Chip had shaved Nate down to bare. Boyscraping, Shane had teased. Likewise, Nate got to shave his two favorite men.

A hairless physique befit more a Greek statue than masculine virility. It was when Shane stood up, his bare chest above well-dressed reporters, when his manager hustled over.

"Whoa, guys! I better not see any cameras or cellphones up." Those that were there a second ago quickly found their way into pockets or hidden. "Shane, get a towel around you."

The young pitcher didn't like being treated as a twelve-year old around adults. Nevertheless he wasn't one to question any authority, especially his manager's. Without comment Shane wrapped his blue towel around his waist and strolled off to the shower. He wondered if this was more about being gay than his age. Either way he resented the intrusion.

Even in the shower Shane didn't like the quietness. It's what victory often represented in contrast, the sarcastic humor, camaraderie of players, relaxed and joyous. Winning was far better. He also hated disappointing Ben or his family and friends. They'd tell him he pitched great. It was the lack of offensive fire power. Not so in Shane's mind. He owned every performance, good and bad. To place that ball too close to the center of the plate meant failure. In the Majors there was no room for such mistakes.

Then there was Nate, who was given two tickets to every game if his foster parent could bring him. The man wasn't all that interested in baseball nor the teenager, but the money was good in taking care of three foster kids. Between Shane and Chip they had begun to invest a great deal of time in young Newcomb. These mentors to a younger teenager had a lot to lose if this relationship was questioned, but Nate was not naïve to this possibility either. He did more to prepare his two heroes for any inevitable than their own warnings. With his small allowance he always bought Chip and Shane some knickknack to humor them. What the boy didn't know, both men were now giving money to his foster parents to buy the boy clothes and other supplies. Nate rarely saw any benefits from his foster parents with this money.

Returning to his locker the reporters had all dispersed, as had most of the players. He stood there tall and straight, sweeping the towel down his spine and wiggling his ass into the towel. Ben would have expected ice, compression and elevation on his shoulder. Truth was, he felt like he could pitch a double header. Of course Shane would comply when he arrived back at the Ritz or if he returned to the ranch.

At Ben's ranch compliance would get him attention in bed. Though sex was like a reward for winning, Ben would love him just as hard even in loss. These thoughts of sex had blood rush to his groin. Shane was glad he had the locker room to himself. Like only a job they showed up for the men hurried home to their wives or girlfriends. Some would head for bars.

Sensing he was half-erect Shane brought his left leg upon the bench to dry between his legs. His peripheral vision caught a movement nearby. The team's leading hitter and center fielder had taken a later shower than even he. A furtive glance at this naked creature saw a rippled ebony physique, a chest of a bodybuilder and arms polished to perfection. The man's defined abdomen made his look like a boy's. A gay man's dream, Shane instantly compared it to Ben's powerful frame.

In Ben's or Chip's arms he felt comfort, possessed as no teenager could possibly make him feel. There would be fear if this player clutched his body, fear of being crushed, dominated by sheer force. The glance turned to a stare as his eyes watched the veteran Golden Glove, All-Star peel back his foreskin from a swollen cock. Maybe Chip didn't have a big advantage in length after all. The black head reminded Shane of a peer's tortoise at the ranch. It almost made him smile. This one-eyed monster was wet, but not from shower spray.

Shane was learning not to be shy around his teammates, so his eyes shot up to meet Vince's.

"Sorry that you had to watch that ball clear the fence," Shane said seriously about the ball hit well over the fielder's head.

"Ah, forget about it, kid," Vince replied, his towel sweeping under his heavy balls to make a black sausage flip up rigid and ready.

One thing Shane had learned, a black guy's dick was about as long limb as it was hard. It was tough to tell the difference, but he guessed that his center fielder didn't mind exhibiting himself erect. Interesting fact was, Vince was the playboy on the team, always seeming to have women within reach. Only when he saw Vince's eyes go to his ass as he stroked his appendage to ooze pre-cum did Shane feel that Vince had intent of making him his lay for the night. Even being just seventeen, he'd learned in his short modeling career how to say no.

Shane lowered his leg to the floor. Trouble was, his hard-on was straight up. "My family is waiting so I better get my butt in gear," Shane said and slipped on his underwear faster than he'd ever dressed.

Whether to intimidate or put Shane on notice, Vince strolled over while wrapping his own towel around his waist. "You have one fine ass, white boy. Nothing like a firm pair to make me forget pussy." He slapped Shane on the butt to make his point.

"Thanks, Vince, but my boyfriend thinks the same thing and he's not into pussy. See ya tomorrow." Shane was almost out the door when Vince had his retort.

"Yeah, we keep hearing about this boyfriend, but nobody sees him. Sounds to me like someone is just scared of a little sex."

Shane stopped in his tracks. If this guy only knew. "Put your hands on my ass again and you'll meet him."

Vince busted up laughing. "Fuck, I'll have that ass then." Vince started toward the startled youth and Shane hustled out to the door.

His first confrontation with a teammate and it felt more like high school bantering.

Shane knew he would tell Ben; yet there was an obvious truth that Ben wouldn't seek out the team's center fielder to give him a piece of his mind or put the fear of God in him. Shane had to be proactive, speak his mind if he wanted to live and work among professionals. Advertising his erection wasn't the best way to say no, so discretion would have to take precedence next time. Maybe even finding someone real tough who could act the role of boyfriend. But who?


A long stretch limo was waiting in the parking lot. Its darkened windows gave no clue to its occupants. Shane faked a smile even before the driver opened the door. The smile lasted only as long as he was next to Ben, then tears came. In the other sofa sat his two brothers and Scooter, Ben's nephew. Fourteen-year old Trevor patted his brother's knee.

"It wasn't your fault. You pitched a great game. Your hitters suck," Trevor said in support of Shane. The other boys agreed.

Ben swung his arm around the joy of his life. An intuitive man, there had to be something deeper behind these tears than losing his first game in the Majors. "Want to talk about it?"

"When we get home," Shane whispered.

Ask any seventeen-year old, they would much prefer frivolity than a funeral scene, especially around peers. He put up a strong face in front of the other boys, shoving Vince's actions to a space for Ben to solve later. Shane spoke of the home run pitch, a ball that you don't throw big hitters: a fastball down the middle. Speed most often overpowered hitters, but not when they were guessing and swinging at the same time.

To the airport, the ranch's helicopter had them home in a matter of minutes. A beeline to their bedroom Shane sat down on the bed, pensive in expression. Ben knew this wasn't about the game.

"Who do we know who can beat up black guys?" Shane said with a grin and then let his tears run again.

Ben approached and held the boy's head against his chest. He listened to the locker room scene.

"First of all, youngster, this guy's ass is on the line here. He's not going to risk his livelihood by doing something stupid. Yeah, sure, if you would have stuck your butt out he probably would've gone for it. Your physical reaction is just that, a physical response. Say `No' or `Forget it' and the message is clear. If he persist I'm a few steps away."

"Yeah, but then everyone will know," Shane finally admitted his biggest worry.

"As long as you live on this ranch I'm far more than your lover. I'm your guardian and I'm responsible for your safety, not your boyfriend. Boyfriends don't go around and beat up people to defend their jealousy. There are other ways to get the message across and it all starts with you. Do you understand?"

Shane arched his head up with a nod, then hugged this man who meant everything to him. Composed, Shane knew the routine by now—rehab in the swimming pool with intervals of underwater swimming. There was going to be one distraction Ben hadn't revealed until now.

"By the way, I asked the Topps' representative to come to the ranch for your card picture. They've been wanting to get this done. There's a uniform in the closet. Shouldn't take but a few minutes. Okay?"

Shane nodded and was left to prepare for something usually done in spring training. Given his late season arrival, Shane wasn't sure if this season or next would be his rookie year. Every kid dreams of being on a baseball card. These days even his brothers had their own cards in Little League. But this was bigger, way bigger, and children all over the world collected baseball cards. Would they really want a gay teenager's card in their collection?

Shane slipped on one of his uniforms he kept at the ranch while remembering some of the stunts players were known for during this picture taking. In 1969, Angels third baseball Aurelio Rodriguez had the bat boy stand in for him. Other players clandestinely flipped the bird or wore their baseball glove on the wrong hand. Shane wasn't that brave.

Shane walked out in full dress, tugging a bat and glove. He noticed several teenagers, some naked from the pool. Most of them were from the ranch's baseball program and had gathered for this monumental occasion. Boys were often nude more than dressed. At six-seven, Shane towered over all of them, yet any sense of superiority was absent. Shane was often as nude as they were which has a tendency to level the playing field. Standing beside Ben was a smiling photographer whose job was to bring life to a baseball card, which meant having the owner of the card capture what the player was all about. They moved to the ball diamond a quarter a mile away.

To appease Shane or justify this shooting, the man said, "We've had such a demand for you, Shane, we've made an exception this year. I don't even have a pale-blue placard with your name on it. I've had players substitute all sorts of people for them. Usually the process takes from four to eight months for the final card. Just act natural and give me your favorite pose."

Ben chuckled from a few yards away. His boy's best pose was with his rear in the air, and Shane knew exactly what he was thinking. Shane wasn't offended.

"You might be shocked if I gave you my best side, so how about if I stand here at the plate like I've hit a home run?"

Shane slid the bat across the plate like he'd just hit a 500' slam. He got his laughs from his peers. This Topps' rep wasn't fooled.

"Part of my job is to know a little about every player. You, young man, will never see a time at the plate unless you're in the American League. Grab your glove there."

Tony put his hand over his mouth to qualm a giggle. So far he was the only one who had noticed. Shane had not worn any underwear and his penis was well defined by the tight baseball pants. A dozen pictures later and the shoot was over. Ben walked over and accepted Shane's glove and ball.

The teen tossed his ball cap, shoes, before stripping off his uniform. Stark naked, he ran with the other boys toward the pool, leaving one photographer's mouth agape.

"The gay guy who gets that ass is going to going to be one lucky fella," the reporter said.

Ben thought it best to say nothing.

The two men walked together toward the rep's vehicle. Ben's mood was always 100% behind Shane, and the boy had acted exactly as any teenager wanting to be accepted by his peers. At seventeen he was still a free spirit without a lot of adult hang-ups.

"Too bad Colter isn't with a pennant contender. He's the hottest pitcher in the Majors right now," the photographer said.

"He's good for Houston," Ben replied. "Being seventeen, there are a lot of cities that would have no mercy for his youth."

"And being gay," the man added.

"Men will find it easier to criticize the boy than to equal him," Ben said honestly. "Baseball has always been very protective of its so-called masculinity. It won't be an easy adjustment for Shane, in that he faces continuous rhetorical, social and legal attacks for simply existing and loving other males. In some ways, he's a new version of Jackie Robinson."

"That's profound," the guest replied in thought. "The teen appears really grounded. Great parents, huh? I suppose he's religious."

Ben allowed the photographer to pause in view of this large 50-meter swimming pool. At least two-dozen naked bodies were in or around the water. There certainly wasn't any inhibition.

"It hasn't always been an easy adjustment for the boy. His father never quite accepted having a gay son. While I have several boys here who resent religion for creating scripture that people use against them, Shane believes in a Higher Power Who made him as he is. I have tried to instill in the boy that someone who believes he has God on his side is capable of any thing."

"Powerful statement, Mr. Barkley. If you don't mind me asking, only because I'm quite the fan of your protégé, there's been rumor that the boyfriend Colter speaks about on TV and to the press may be you. Any truth to the rumor?"

Ben hadn't expected this from someone whose job was with a camera. No one had dared insinuate to his face such a connection.

"Sir, I doubt if you lie awake at night wrestling with the conflict between private morality and the public good. Friendship is one of those realms of life where you put your soul at risk. Look around you, Paul. I allow few outsiders to view into Shane's life. I dare say he considers most of these boys his boyfriends. They have a life here that's uncensored, free, and unburdened. Could he have this if he was with the Angels, Dodgers, or Yankees? Of course not. The love these boys have for each other has no requirements. That's what makes it love. If your love for another carries requirements, then it is not love at all, but some counterfeit version. My relationship with Shane exists for us to decide and to declare, to create and to express, to experience and to fulfill our highest notion of who we really are. Nothing more."

Only the sounds of splashing and boys laughter filled the Texas night for several seconds. There was a smile from a photographer who had been around the block a few times. A reporter would have given a year's salary for this assignment.

"Mr. Barkley, I have no intention of judging. You'd make a good politician. Somewhere in there is the truth."

Ben appreciated the man's perception without accusing. "Yes, I suppose truth and God are found in the same place: in the silence. Don't suppose I can order a hundred Shane Colter cards right now?"

"For the right price I believe I can assist you with that request."









Chapter Three



Ben's relationship with his nephew Austin had a history of companionship that both males would carry with them the rest of their lives. Austin was a senior at Texas University, a life that no longer revolved around ranch life and the direction of his uncle. His swimming career had never reached the pinnacle of Olympic promise, but his fifth place finish at the NCAA Swimming and Diving Championships in the 100 meter butterfly still made him an All-American swimmer. His goal to be his uncle's sport psychologist was on track.

Austin's loyalty to his uncle had no precursors or demands. Though his uncle was one of the richest men in America there was a tacit understanding not to take advantage or appear needy. Uncle Ben had always supplied every need without question.

Ben had few needs himself, but he was about to ask his nephew for a large favor: Would he pretend to be Shane's boyfriend for awhile? They were, after all, good friends. Problem was, Austin was a popular student and athlete on campus, and his gay orientation was hardly a secret. His lover and constant companion was another swimmer, which presented a conflict if the press and paparazzi imposed on Austin's life. It wasn't a question of would they get married, but when.

A typical phone call to his brother and Trevor and Bo were added for the evening meal and an overnight stay. Ben had long forgotten when he had the ranch house to himself, except for the nights that Austin stayed over as a teenager. Now every bedroom was filled. For awhile a bedroom was kept for Shane, but he rarely slept anywhere but in Ben's bed, so this ploy was given up for better use.

Ben frowned on television, though he didn't mind when the boys voted for a movie, as long as it wasn't horror or excessively crude. The boys had their own definition of crude. On this evening the latest Spider Man movie made perfect sense.

Ben had also gotten used to having his bedroom used as a round table for conversation. In short duration teenage specimens, dressed in only their underwear, gravitated to Ben's king size bed. They each gave their opinion of how Spiderman handled his crisis, all assured that there would be another sequel.

Ben rarely directed traffic or the topic for the night. Since Scooter and Bo had recently returned from the Little League Championship in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, the other three teens listened to Bo's and Scooter's experiences.

The tales were not so much about baseball, for the Texas team ended up two and two for the tournament, getting beat by a strong California team in the semi-finals of their division. The humor all came from the gathering of hundreds of eleven, twelve, and thirteen-year olds from all over the world. Meeting boys from Japan, Taiwan, Australia, Dominican Republic, and Europe became a fascinating journey for boys so young.

Scooter, eleven at the time, had been the youngest boy out of thousands that had gone on the first Gay Crusade two years earlier. Two weeks of sexual enlightenment had enriched his knowledge of everything a boy could do. Now at thirteen he saw himself as the exponential entrepreneur of romance. From a pure orientation perspective Scooter would admit his strongest urge was with girls, but boys were far more fun.

Twelve-year old Bo was Shane's youngest brother, a constant sidekick to Scooter's antics. Standing tall at five-ten already, he was a human stick who might surpass Shane in height. For the time being he was a first baseman. Neither a martyr or biased, Bo was at that stage where anything was pleasurable and hilarious. On the verge of puberty his attention often centered on Scooter's budding ejaculations and growth. Their measurements of each other's erection were a constant game of one-upmanship.

Scooter was the only one with a T-shirt on, though Ben donned a yukata, a shorter version of a kimono, which Shane had bought him for Christmas. WORLD CHAMPION STRIP POKER CHAMPION read across the front of the T-shirt. Naturally the focus went to this and Scooter's use of it at Williamsport.

"Did it work?" Cheet asked, Scooter's older brother by two years.

A look of, `Are you kidding me?' was non-verbal from Scooter. "Bo and I had five games in three days. Two Chechs, three Canadians, a really cute Netherland's kid who loved two on one, four Germans, and three more from Cucao."

Tony, Ben's adopted son, flopped on his stomach with his orange briefs and white waistband. "You won all five times?"

Scooter, an air of confidence, pretended to be holding a cigar. "Tony, my boy, losing in strip poker is still winning. With Hans I didn't mind losing; actually, I made sure of it. Soooo cute, he fell in love with me instantly. It's probably all he talks about back home, how an American boy made his toes curl."

"You're so full of it," Trent said and slugged his brother's arm.

"Hey, Scooter's not lying. I was there. Hans kept coming back everyday, but we had other reservations," Bo said.

"Did anyone flake out?" Shane asked.

Scooter thought about it. "The three black boys from Cucao, well, they thought they were real shrewd at first. Two of them wore three sets of underwear, but we had rules of one T-shirt, one underwear, one pair of socks, so they had to comply. It came down to Bo and their pitcher on a final hand, both of them were naked. Loser had to be the bottom. The kid had three queens, but Bo lucked out with a full house on his final card. This jerk said he wasn't going to do it, until I grabbed all their clothes and ran to the window. We were two-stories up. I threatened to drop them to the ground. Bo got to fuck him for five minutes. They wanted a rematch but they lost to Taiwan and departed the next day."

"No wonder you lost, you were too busy getting your rocks off," Cheet said, a fifteen-year old six-footer, taking after Austin his older brother.

"Bo doesn't come yet," Scooter replied.

"Yeah, I can hump forever," Bo agreed. Bo rehashed all the fun they had with their new friends: swimming, game room, carnival rides, pranks and practical jokes, no matter what anyone's nationality. Adults just let them run crazy, he admitted.

In his green briefs, Cheet was another Crusade veteran. Heterosexual by nature, he was Tony's roommate and constant companion. He sat up to give everyone fair warning. "Uncle Ben, that photographer was taking pictures of us during our whiffle ball game after we swam. A guy with a boy promo book in mind, huh?"

The boys knew that was slang for porno. Ben didn't even act surprised. "My bad. I let the guy snap a few pictures in exchange for a sheet of rookie cards. He promised me they were for personal use only. I have him by the balls if I see them on the Internet."

"It's Shane I worry about," Cheet admitted. "If they hear he plays whiffle ball in the nude we'll have to put up barbed wire around the ranch to keep all the girls away."

"No more pitching, by the way," Ben warned Shane. The teenager didn't know the effects on his arm by throwing a plastic ball.

"I've always known Shane as a catcher," Tony said and got plummeted by Cheet. The teen was a tough cowboy for his age, but he also loved Cheet and would do anything for him.

Out of the blue, Shane, leaning against Ben's shoulder, blurted out, "I had my center fielder hit on me today."

"No shit!" Tony said in astonishment.

"Watch your language," Ben reminded.

"Yeah, kind of scary," Shane admitted, his long legs spanned down the bed with boys on both sides. Covering his groin was a pair of plaid boxers, about as conservative as the teen's personality. No one who didn't know the young professional pitcher would ever guess that this quiet, reserve youngster was a sexual dynamo in Ben's arms. Shane ran the scene down to his friends.

"What's the guy to think? You flashed him the big one," Bo said.

Ben was usually the listener, except when wisdom or adult intervention was necessary. "That's not the point, Bo. Whether you're straight or gay, no one has the right to just assume you want to have sex. It doesn't hurt to ask rather than assume."

"Let's jump the guy, teach him a lesson," Tony reacted. "Dad, you tame him and I'll ride him like I did BIzzyrd in my last rodeo."

The boys laughed, knowing that their young fourteen-year old bull rider was more bluff than bravado, but the kid could ride a bull, that was for sure.

"Violence is never the answer," Ben checked his adopted son.

"Yeah, not like you could beat the guy up and tell him to keep his hands off Mrs. Barkley," Tony said expecting laughs. He got an evil eye from his father.

"Oh, shit! Sorry about that one," Tony quickly apologized.

Ben didn't have to react, Cheet and Trey spanked Tony's ass until it was good and red. Ben was embarrassed for Shane, always concerned how the teenager dwelt with an unusual love affair.

"Young man, when two men marry, one of them doesn't become a missus. One of them is usually more passive, but who's to say that he isn't the dominate partner? I respect Shane more than you know, as I love you, Tony. Should we call you a bitch because you service Cheet?"

"No," Tony protested in absorbing the lesson that, once again, he put his foot in his mouth. "I love you and Shane. I kinda wish you two would get married, then I could have two fathers, one a Major League pitcher."

"Society isn't ready for that one, I'm afraid, but, thank you, Tony. Each one of us has to have boundaries. No one will respect you until you respect yourself. Gay boys don't wear signs saying FUCK ME, anymore than girls do. Don't ever let anyone take advantage of you." Though Ben directed his words at the group, it was mostly aimed at Shane. As easy as it would be to defend the boy's honor, Ben's intimacy with a seventeen-year old would be something he'd likely take to the grave.

"We can be your bodyguards, Shane," Cheet said as a solution.

"The Houston Astros aren't going to let a group of my friends hang around my cubicle as bodyguards. I can handle Vince. I probably shouldn't have had a boner," Shane said and laughed. He was already feeling better talking about it. Tony was Tony, and Shane knew he had to trust everyone of these boys to keep a secret. It wasn't that Ben threatened them with being ostracized, but there wasn't a single one of them that didn't have their future on easy street with knowing Ben Barkley. Would any boy here risk this future by doing something stupid? Shane guessed not.

As was typical in these chat gatherings, a push resulted in a push-back. One on one quickly turned to two against one as wrestling ensued, which then led to removal of underwear and a boys' orgy. Ben reached over and clicked off the table lamp. Holding the love of his life in his left arm, their lips met in a prolonged expression until they could get rid of a whole lot of squirmy, naked boys. An occasional, "Watch the ankles!" "Don't lay on the legs!" were to protect Shane. A single haphazard move and an injury would be hard to explain to the Astro's organization. Ben would give them thirty minutes, then yell, "Anyone for banana splits in five minutes?", which meant orgasms would come fast and furious and the room would be cleared in seconds. It always worked. Worth celebrating—Bo had his first ejaculation.


Ben put in a call to Austin's condominium, a birthday gift three years earlier. "I need our little favor tomorrow," was Ben's first words to Austin.

Uncle Ben was no less a second father to this Texas senior. In all of his young years he'd never known Ben Barkley to ask anything from anybody. Sure, Austin had plans with his own friends for Saturday afternoon, but he wasn't going to decline his uncle. Yes, he would attend a card show in Houston and pretend to be Shane's boyfriend without Shane knowing that it was a set-up.

This sports memorabilia show was an annual event. Kids still collected cardboard cutouts of their favorite players, more in basketball and football than baseball in recent years. Grownups were more likely to pay big money for any sports item from their boyhood heroes. In Shane's case, the Houston Astros were offering a chance for their fans to meet the newest Astro. Somewhat of a risk, management had no pulse on how their youngest fans would accept a gay teenager. The boy may well be sitting with pen in hand with nothing to autograph.

With his usual entourage in tow, their arrival at the Houston Convention Center brought enormous attention from the thousands of participants already gathered. A vast array of booths depicting every sport imaginable offered the young and old athlete memories or aspirations of athletic stardom.

Six-seven Shane stood out like a NBA player, towering over almost everyone except a few Houston Rockets stars who were also present. If Ben had expected the average fan or aficionado to be shy in having any association with the aspiring pitcher he was quickly assured that wouldn't be the case. Everyone wanted to shake hands with the handsome, reserve youth. Escorted by Scooter, Cheet, Trevor, Trent, Tony, and Bo, the boys acted like mini-bodyguards for their colleague. Any paranoia that they may also be considered gay wasn't even on their minds, though Tony had a little rainbow flag attached to his cowboy hat. For those associated with Texas rodeos, they well knew of this up-and-coming bull rider.

Treated like a superstar, a director of this annual event led the contingent to an autograph table where an endless line, it appeared, waited in anticipation. Even before Shane sat down he felt an arm swing around his shoulders. Certainly Ben would not allow anyone to get this close, Shane thought, but his quick glance upward caught the eyes of Austin. Shane and Austin were no strangers. Both Crusaders, they'd even had sex during the Crusade. To Shane, Austin was a bit intimidating, a champion swimmer, college boy, and really intelligent. Like himself, Austin's "male software" enjoyed being the passive role. They respected each other without the thought that they'd ever become a couple.

The arm lingered into a hug, head to head. Shane was perceptive, his senses told him this was setup. Side by side, their faces barely touching, a dozen cameras caught these two males in candid interlude.

Ben, the ever present but removed agent, kept out of any direct photo opportunities. Only when they were seated did Ben take a closer position to protect what many considered his investment. Next to him Shane had stood up, started to sit again, but then took one step to the rear of Ben. A squeeze around Ben's neck and almost a kiss, Shane whispered into his lover's ear, "Homey won't play that game. Whatever Austin does to me, I will do to you."

Shane kept his face next to Ben's, as another dozen flashes came from camera bugs. Ben's face went flush; his ploy backfiring. Only someone like Chip Carver could save his butt on this one. As the autographs started, Ben motioned Austin to his side. The whisper was obvious.

"Sorry, kiddo, Shane is on to us and doesn't want a stand-in boyfriend."

Austin nodded and figured the last five minutes had served its purpose. He could still join his friends on their excursion if he hurried.

Dressed in his smart, open-collared peach sport shirt, Shane smiled and greeted every man and boy who presented a baseball, glove, piece of paper, or other artifact for him to sign. To see a ten-year old's eyes light up with a most amazing smile in just meeting a teenager not a lot older than he nearly brought tears to Shane. Fact was, the Houston Astros weren't a very good baseball club and had little respect in the league. Why fans even supported them was questionable. In Shane's consciousness he was disappointed in himself for having one loss. Maybe he'd rather pitch for the Rangers or the Angels, front runners and teams that were respected, but that would mean a home away from the ranch. Ben meant more to him than a better team.

Then a father with his two boys stepped forward.

"Shane, promise us you'll bring us a pennant," the man said seriously, probably more for his boys than he believed it.

"I'll try, sir. I'd like to make your boys here proud to wearing Houston baseball hats." He almost said that they needed to spend money on better hitters, but he caught himself. Shaking hands with a nine and eleven-year olds, still wearing their Little League jerseys, sent a chill through Shane that he saw a future in these boys as much as they saw him as a hero. He didn't deserve it; he was just a normal kid.

A group of five young teens approached, all wearing their Senior Little League hats. Their front-runner was brash, almost reluctant to be the first of his group to reach out with his program and ask for an autograph. To impress his teammates, if not to make a point, the boy abruptly went where no one had yet.

"Don't write love you or your friend or anything, just your name. Okay?"

Shane cracked a smile at the request. He watched another fourteen-year old smack his friend in the back of the head.

"Dude! What the fuck?! The man can write anything he wants. Quick being so fuckin' homophobic," the boy scolded.

Just this castigation led to the other boys shoving their peer away so they could get Shane's autograph. "Sorry `bout that," the next teen said and Shane waved it off as inconsequential. Ben was ready to warn the boys of their language around so many youth, but he held his tongue. The situation didn't call for adult interference.

This team's leader snagged the program from his friend's hand and handed it to Shane. "Just write anything you want. Kyle's a total jerk. Not like I didn't feel his boner sleeping next to me last night."

Shane laughed and held up a finger to his lips because there were many young boys in line.

"My bad," the kid said and added, "Figured you'd appreciate knowing that."

Shane was stuck for words. What did these boys think of a gay teenager? One second he knew he wanted to be accepted as a baseball player; the other he also wanted credit for loving other boys. There had to be a balance somewhere.

Shane wrote, "Get well soon and have more sleepovers, Shane Colter." The boys broke up in hysterics and Shane had gained a new appreciation among these young ballplayers.

Ben examined anything that wasn't a baseball artifact to make sure no one was tricking Shane into signing a document. A few fans had no idea who this kid was, but an autograph was an autograph, especially for free. Only one twelve-year old, at least politely, asked Shane if he was really gay.

"Yes, and you?" Shane reversed the question.

The boy stuttered, eyes shot open as if he'd never been asked anything like this before. "Huh, no. I like girls."

"Good," Shane responded. "Let me know how that works out for you."

The boy smiled, thanked Shane for his autograph. "You're cool," he said and went on his way.

Shane had a chuckle with Ben as the youngster strolled off. Kids were funny and mentally stimulating. One thing he had learned, once two people got to know each other, judgment was soon forgotten. He shook his hand to lessen the affects of cramping. Ben asked him if he wanted to take a break for a few minutes.

"I don't want to disappoint these people waiting for so long," Shane replied.

He glanced up and a jolt of electricity went from the top of his head to his toes. A blue-eyed, Texas boy, with a grin that spoke volumes, appeared more like an angel from heaven than an interested boy who wanted an autograph. Shane went numb for words, as did the boy. Finally an Astro baseball program was brought forward.

From a very nervous teen spoke the words, "I' your autograph on this."

Eyes locked and Shane would be the first to admit that few boys at this age had ever fascinated him like this one. Gaydar was often joked about, but lights and sirens went off in his mind. Obviously Nate was an exception and Chip would always be his dream, but this teen was tall, lanky, and had fascinating, soft eyes. "Ah, anything you want me to write?"

"Your friend, if that's okay."

"That's no problem. What's your name?"

"Jay...Jay Autrey. I saw you pitch yesterday. You're awesome."

"Well, Jay Autrey, I'm sorry I let one get away." Shane reached for the baseball and expected the boy to let go. As an option Shane put his fingers around the teen's and signed across the open space. To anyone watching, it appeared a rather intimate way of signing a baseball. The mere skin to skin contact had sent blood to both boys' groins, one less obvious because Shane was sitting. Jay wasn't quick in wanting this contact to stop.

Shane felt like he wanted to tell this boy that he was gorgeous. Little did he know, Jay wanted to say the same thing about Shane. Ben saw the obvious. A tinge of jealousy, he knew this moment would come eventually. Any exaggerated second had far more meaning than a routine autograph. Ben had to intervene.

"Jay, I'm Ben Barkley." He motioned the lad to lean left and away from the next fan. "Shane has a Facebook page for his peers. Would you like the web site?"

"If that's possible," Jay blurted out. "Can I give Shane mine?"

"Of course," Ben replied. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen, but I'll be sixteen next month."

Shane was thankful for Ben's attention and said so while multi-tasking with autographs and his intermittent eye contact with Jay. No words were necessary to what human eyes conveyed between souls. He had yet to tell Ben about Nate, but Jay was in the here-and-now and would be a subject of conversation.

"Are you here by yourself, Jay?" Ben asked to distract this chemistry. If his boy was an older athlete and this fan an attractive female, he could have seen these two fucking in some backroom before the event was finished.

"No, my dad's here. Would you like to meet him?"

"Sure, if he's supportive of you," Ben replied with far more meaning to those words than Jay would guess.

Off the teen dashed. It didn't take a neuroscientist to explain what had just happened to two teenagers' libido when chemistry had its way. Ben didn't know what to expect, even if the boy would return at all. This adorable creature was no less six-three, so an ominous figure might well approach with the wrath of a Baptist protecting his son. Ten minutes later, the idea almost forgotten, here comes Jay with a shorter fella of five-eleven, twenty years younger than Ben, shoulders as broad as bull's, and a cowboy hat as prestigious as Ben's.

A hearty handshake. "Ben Barkley, Ray Autrey." It was said as if the two were meeting in a courtroom before a civil suit.

"Ray," Ben greeted and froze. One man was between making two teenagers very happy. "Do we know each other?"

"Your reputation precedes you." It almost sounded confrontational. A sports convention was not a place for two men to settle philosophical differences.

Ben tried to humor the moment. "That sounds what Patton told Rommel."

"Sir, I can respect what you did for those kids two years ago and, God knows, that's none of my business but for my middle son here. His brothers think he's a bit on the funny side, so I'm learning to be flexible here."

Ben's dander was rising by the second. He was equal in height to this character and sized him up as in preparation to break in a wild horse. In front of Shane and Jay such a confrontation would be avoided at all cost.

"Funny? I'm not familiar with the word as to preference."

Ray Audrey was no fool. He knew he had rattled a man's cage. "Wrong choice of words. My boy here is apparently attracted to his own kind. The missus and I have eight children, so maybe it's all in the percentages. Doesn't mean I'm going to neuter my son for his choice. Reckon I'd have to deal with his first heart throb. I highly doubt if your athlete here is interested in my boy, but I'm glad they had a chance to meet. This Colter kid is all he talks about. Maybe he needs to get this out of his system."

Ben took a deep breath. "It's not a choice, Mr. Autrey, trust me. Shane is only seventeen and enjoys meeting boys like himself to converse with. You can understand this, can't you? With your permission, you're welcome to bring your son or family to my ranch for a barbecue."

Jay's smile was barely subdued behind his father's shoulder. Ray eyed Shane, who glanced up and nodded. "I'll speak with the missus. I don't want to encourage this nonsense, but I'll consider it. Is there a number we can reach you at?"

Ben wrote his cellphone number and email address. At his ranch the two men could settle this in a correl. "May I ask what you do for a living, Ray?"

The man acted surprised, like everyone should know who he was. "I run a meat packing business."

Ben's brain sparked the connection. "Of course, Autrey Beef. My apologies for my senior moment." Ben knew the man had his own ranch north of Houston, where he bred horses and even had a Kentucky Derby entry years earlier. Another horse man, what the two could share in conversation. "I hope you may accept my invitation. We can ride the ranch and you may well enjoy a few Appaloosas I picked up from an Indian reservation in Utah. Superb breed."

"That does sound interesting," Ray replied and the two men shook hands. Ray had already decided to rip up the card when out of sight, but with the subject of horses brought up, he might just entertain a barbecue.

Totally engulfed in the men's conversation the two boys smiled at each other that their future would be more than an autograph. Jay couldn't keep his eyes off of Shane, watching the young man sign boys' shirts and hats.

Out of admiration for this kid liking him, Shane reached over and grabbed Jay's slender hand. He signed into the palm while holding the fingers gingerly: `Try to convince your father. YF, Shane.'

Even when father and son departed, Jay kept looking back as if to assure himself that this meeting actually happened.

Shane was not without his female admirers, nubile nymphs to mothers. One of these cougars, discreet at thirty-five and "supposedly" getting the autograph for her young son, said she enjoyed the young man's modeling pictures in a recent Detail magazine. Shane had fashioned a Hilfinger swimsuit.

Not always the young set waited patiently for this rookie's signature. True baseball fans were betting that this rookie wouldn't be a one-year wonder. An old codger of eighty-one tossed down his twenty-five-year old baseball hat, adorned with a dozen signatures.

"Only the ones who have impressed me," Max Jonas said to explain the other faded signatures.

Shane glanced at a few, honestly not recognizing most of these older ballplayers who once played for the Astros. Astro stars most often quietly retired like distant sunsets that few, loyal fans remembered with any significance.

"Just my signature here, sir?" Shane asked.

"Son, anything else and people will likely think we were romantic acquaintances." Max chuckled at his insinuation and was glad the boy smiled. "Can't say I've met a game-changer since the likes of Jackie Robinson. Too far back for your memory, but I had the pleasure of meeting him when I was but a teenager like yourself. I don't know how he did what he did. That man took a pretty good beating the first couple of years, but I think he changed many a man's attitude to do what he did. All that suffering in silence. Shane Colter, you stick up for yourself, hear?"

"Yes, sir, I will," Shane responded and handed the hat back. The conversation was so unspecific Shane could only guess what the man meant.

Max leaned forward. "You probably are getting told what to do by everyone you meet. Listen to you heart, sonny, that's the best advice."

"Thank you, sir. I usually only listen to Mr. Barkley and Chip Carver. They love me, so that's all I need."

Max glanced at Ben. "Good for you, Ben Barkley. A boy needs to love the game and have someone special in his life."

Ben knew better to delve too deeply into the man's words. "Shane and I appreciate your support. I'm sure Shane feels honored to be on the same hat as Rusty Staub."

Max Jonas flipped the flimsy cap on his white hair. "Given this youngster's age my hat feels younger already. The game needs beautiful boys and young blood. What I wouldn't give to have one more shot at a World Series. Do you have a secret raising tall beauties like this one?"

Ben didn't hesitate. "Strong work ethic, community support, and emphasis on academics. The young man knows who he is."

A successful venture until two teens, 14 or 15 years of age, strolled by and one of them mumbled, "Faggot."

Ben shot out of his seat and bee-lined it after these adolescents. These two smartasses quickened their pace, darted amidst several booths and thought they had lost their pursuer until they almost bumped into the adult. Off they ran, out the exit a whole lot earlier than they had planned.

Ben wasn't sure what he would have done to the two rascals--probably, and by pure accident, bump into them with a deflection of sending one of both sailing through the air. So far he would have liked to box a father's ears and two teenagers. So far a card show was just like raising horses and bulls.

























Chapter Four



Shane tossed his glove on the bullpen bench and sat back with his bag of sunflower seeds. Around him was a hub of his peers, the worst relief crew in the Majors. Teams were hitting close to .300 from the relievers. The press was already giving Shane Colter less than a year before his elbow blew, thanks to having to pitch more innings because of an inept bullpen.

Three of those shooting the bull a few feet away had beards, men in the twilight of their career. Shane shaved once a week and felt as respected as a batboy. No one dared bring up relationships, though the pen's jokester asked him last week if he masturbated before each start. Shane didn't fathom the question but admitted he had that morning, if that counted.

"So you and your boyfriend make up after the game" the guy asked.

Shane didn't fully get the sarcasm. "Sure. Don't all of you?" Shane asked. He figured they were all more into booze than having fun in bed.

"When your boyfriend found out we were relievers, he relieved us all, as well. Gives great head."

"Yeah, he's good at mercy blow jobs," Shane gave as good as he got.

The trainers were never too delighted that Shane received all his physical therapy at the ranch. In uniform he was there as support, not to warm-up his arm. If they ever made the playoffs, pitchers like Shane could go full throttle for a few outs, unloading peak velocity.

Typical Houston performance the Angels jumped up to a 3-0 lead. In the fourth the Astros had a man on first with one out. Vince hit a two-hopper up the middle, lagged it to first and was thrown out in a double-play. With his normal speed there was no way he should have been doubled off. Back in the dugout the Astro's catcher bumped Vince's shoulder.

"What's the problem, Dalton, got your head around a boy?"

Dalton pushed back. "What the fuck you talkin' `bout?! Get the hell away from me, old man!"

By this time the entire Astro team in that dugout had taken notice of the confrontation. Tom Hicks didn't intervene. Roy Bacon stood his ground, having all the evidence he needed from a conversation with Ben Barkley. He used discretion to keep Shane Colter out of it.

"Playin' stupid? You think there were only two of you in the locker room? You're a bad influence for the kid. You half-ass in the field and now you won't even run out a ground ball."

"Fuck you!" Dalton yelled and reached for his glove.

"Spencer! You're in center! Get your ass out there!" their manager yelled. "Dalton, take a seat."

Vince threw his ball glove and shattered a dozen drinking cups before knocking over the water jug.

Shane wasn't aware of the dugout incident, nor would he ever be told. After the game, which the Astros pulled out 6-5 in the tenth, Shane expected the locker room to be alive with their late-inning rally. It was rather solemn, and then the manager walked in to speak to the team.

"As some of you might already know, Mr. Dalton has packed his bags. He's been traded. This team has heart, as you showed tonight. Our new owner won't tolerate fifty-percent players. We may not be in a playoff position this year, but that's going to change. You have to continually adapt to change and the Houston Astros have been stagnant for too long."

Eyes lit up around the room. Word of a new owner shocked everyone. They knew their previous owner had put the team on the block for several years, but there were never any takers. A losing proposition most of them considered. Standing in a far corner was an older man listening in on the team meeting. He stepped out of the shadows when Tom Hicks introduced him. Most men knew the man's name; few knew his intimate connection to the team's star pitcher.

Ben had his best business composure. "A lot of people think I'm a horse lover. To me, a horse lover is a horse in love with another horse. I love my baseball and my intentions are to invest in this organization to make it a winner. If I'm not right, virtually all of the underpaid players are under 30 and virtually all the overpaid players are over 30. I'm hiring a new president who will make sure that this organization will rely on young talent, but we need free agents as the nucleus. I don't feed my bulls to jack off, nor will I pay my veterans who rely on their past laurels. I'm hip to money ball, but money ball is really about exploiting inefficiencies, valuing what everybody else is undervaluing. I assure you, we're moving forward. It's about time we give Houston a winning combination."

Ben received a standing ovation and a wink from Shane. He had no idea Ben had considered buying the Astros.

The helicopter sat down near the South Congress Bridge. On such a sparkling evening, Ben and Shane walked to the Hotel Saint Cecilia, where they ate a late dinner at a private members' bar. They spent the night sleeping in a Hastens' bed, completely organic and handmade by the Swedes. Three hours of sex was what happened when a teenager was in the mood to be loved and an older adult had saved his energy.

Shane wiggled his limp penis against his lover's thigh. "Since you won't marry me, I want to bring up your child," Shane said in all seriousness.

In the pitch darkness of the room Ben moved his hand through his boy's hair. "Youngster, I've pumped enough sperm into you for a thousand kids, but you don't have the female touch. And it's not that I don't want to marry you; we both wouldn't survive societies' wrath. They'd crucify me and make your life a total hell. I know a young man who loves you beyond words. I just haven't worked my magic yet."

Being seventeen, Shane knew the precarious nature of this relationship. "Chip has Ronin."

"I have my scouts; the marriage won't last. I'm just glad they didn't adopt or have their own."

Shane was in deep thought. "But Chip is usually in Washington. I well realize I can't get pregnant, but you can find a surrogate. I want a little Barkley in my life."

"You are one amazing teenager. What kid wants to change diapers and play daddy when you're stretched a thousand different ways by obligations?"

"We'll hire a nanny. The boy or girl will make me always feel close to you," Shane said.

"Son, what we just did I couldn't feel any closer. Why? You think I'm going away, or something?"

"No, that's not what I mean. It's just that, well, you deserve to be a father."

"I have Austin I've been a father to for many years. Though I love you more than a son, you're my boy as well. If you're going to pout about it, we'll make a deal. I'll have one; you have one."

"I won't have to screw a girl, right?"

"We'll spank the monkey together." He moved his hands over the smooth skin with exquisite contours of boydom. For having his one orgasm this mere thought of possessing someone so beautiful stirred a rush of blood back to his groin. "So, what do you think of Jay?"

Shane loved to stretch his body up and over Ben's. Eight inches taller, his penis flopped between the man's thighs. They were eye to eye, but then Shane rested his head besides Ben's. "He's cool. I like him. Why, you jealous?"

Ben smacked the muscular flesh of buttocks. "Nothing, I just noticed the lump in your jeans."

Shane giggled. "No one does that but you, silly man. Okay, maybe Chip. I'd like to know Jay as a friend, that's all. I just seem to have a lot of empathy for gay boys my age. I have this feeling that I owe them something."

"Young man, you owe no one. Everyone has to find their own way; otherwise, you'll be neurotic thinking you have to make everyone happy. I've always said you need friends your age. I'll invite his family for a spread, with your permission, of course."

"Not like I don't have dozens of brothers. I guess a barbecue would be fun."

Shane had come three times, so Ben figured that once the boy felt the swollen member under his stomach they'd have one more round. He ran his fingers down the tiny bumps of a naked spine to the tip of his ass cheeks. Short and light breathing sounds were followed by a delicate snore. Shane was sound asleep. For time being Ben was content to have a naked body as his blanket.

The velvet curtains had barely sparkled with its brilliant fabric as the sun peeked upon the horizon when Ben rose and brought the bedspread upward to cover Shane's naked back. He called down for coffee and a newspaper.

Within minutes a bellhop was wheeling in a tray with the Austin Times, a pot of coffee, and all the ingredients that Ben would have required. The twenty-something male, groomed all in white, glanced at the large Hastens' bed and saw a long, slim figure, covers below his gorgeous rear, and a knee stretched upward to reveal a hairless anal offering.

Ben had gone over to his wallet to retrieve a tip and hadn't even noticed himself that Shane had kicked back the covers again. Instead of a five spot, Ben grabbed a twenty.

"Keep that to yourself, got it?" Ben said.

"Yes, sir, of course. I didn't mean to stare."

"Don't blame you," Ben replied with a smile. "In about an hour, bring us our breakfast, please. I've made our menu selections on the notepad."

"Yes, sir. My pleasure, Mr. Barkley. If there's anything else, I'm always at your service." The polite attendant stole one more glance and departed.

There it was on the front page of the Sports section: Barkley Buys Astros. A few quotes from Ben during the news conference and a brief commentary about how Ben's ranch had turned into a baseball academy, including the development of Shane Colter. "We are determined to leave no stone unturned to increase our revenues so we can go toe to toe with the Rangers." Ben thought about his words, which pretty much summed up part of his aim. He had trouble believing he'd actually bought the Houston Astros. The organization needn't fresh blood, and no one chewed out his boy's ass.

Right on time the same bellhop wheeled in a cart that would make anyone's mouth drool. No naked frame this time, Shane came from the bathroom dressed in a white robe. It wasn't exactly what Ben desired because the bellhop knew enough about baseball to know that the six-seven creature in front of him was Shane Colter. Shane had no idea that he'd displayed his button and balls for the guy an hour before.

Ben rationalized his position. It wasn't like anyone had seen them in a sexual position. A lot of people slept nude.

In a clothing boutique in the hotel Ben bought them both shorts and a sport shirt to traipse around Austin for the morning. Another evening game left most of the day open to explore. They walked down to Barton Springs—a huge natural-spring pool open to the public. They sat on a bench to watch the dozens of children and adults frolicking in the water.

Ben placed his hand on Shane's shoulder. "So are you really serious about the baby thing, youngster?"

"Yeah, Ben, it's something we can share together besides our love for each other. Bringing to this world our own children would be really cool."

Ben slid his hand down to take Shane's within his. No one around them seemed to be interested and, anyway, Shane beamed any time Ben showed him affection in public. Shane's fingers just as easily squeezed Ben's hand.

Thanks to a tip from a clerk at the hotel, a sports reporter with the Times had hustled to Hotel Saint Cecilia early that Sunday morning. He saw his target coming out of the hotel with Shane Colter by his side.

Bill Winston had only hoped to get a few words from Ben Barkley on the man's strategy to improve the Astros. He was about to get a whole lot more than he expected.

Bill kept his distance at Barton Springs, not wanting to intrude on what must be a private conversation with the team's top pitcher. His camera with a telephoto lens came up at the right time to capture Ben's hand on Shane's shoulder. It was the holding of hands that caused a rapid clicking of the shutter. The prize picture was when Shane Colter leaned forward and planted one right on his owner's lips. Interesting thing, Ben Barkley held it there with a hand around the youngster's head.

Winston knew he held gold in his hands. This might not be sports news, or was it? But this was hot—very hot.

Young as he was in the business, working Sundays just seemed like a way of proving himself. His editor wanted him to write interesting stories and recognize that it was a good idea to have the lead sentences and the conclusion relate to one another and do it at a rate of 800 words an hour. This was a scoop, a means to advance himself beyond just a columnist to a true sports editor.

Leaning against a tree across this swimming pond, Bill's mind ran wild with freelancing, maybe even a paparazzo. What if, Bill thought, this was far more than older man protecting his young protégé? What if this was something far more licentious? He had to finish an article on the Longhorns' victory over SMU the previous day, but he could do that while keeping tabs on two very interesting males.

By Ben's suggestion, and to keep the clubhouse appeased, Shane allowed the team trainer to rub him down, including an ice bath, which he hated. Another stint out in the bullpen, but on this night he got up in the fifth and threw a few pitches. A walk-off single helped propel the Astros by the Indians for their second straight come from behind win.

Houston's new center fielder, an even trade of recalcitrant players, had played for Toronto under two suspensions for PEDs (Performance Enhancing Drugs). That and marijuana usage made Dwayne Adams a poor fit for the Blue Jays.

Ben met with Adams before the game, assuring the man that he held no judgments. Understanding that the player would be a free agent after the season, they both knew this was more of a foster child on a temporary stay.

Another stay in Austin for the evening was a prelude to an agreement. Dinner at the Continental Club, Ben asked for a table downstairs where they could listen to country and blues without being bombarded by autograph seekers. Shane chuckled, knowing that was an exaggeration. Sure he was recognized by a few, but no one thought of him as a Jim Ryan. The clandestine location was more to protect their friendship. Not that the location had its privacy, Bill Winston roamed nearby and snapped a few pictures with his private eye camera.

"But I reload in minutes!" Shane whined in his dispute with Ben and his refusal for sex.

"I think the sperm bank is aware of this fact, but they want abstention for at least 24 hours. Actually, more like three days, but that's asking for a miracle from a seventeen-year old."

Back in their hotel room Shane pouted, stripped and began to wrestle the grizzly, as he called Ben when he acted too much like a father. It worked to a point; Ben stripped off his T-shirt, but not his underwear. Into the bathroom Shane sprinted and came back with a bottle of coconut oil. Peeling back the covers, Shane stood five feet back, his half-hard-on rather obvious. The spray of the bottle shot at Ben, mostly at his crotch. Shane pounced, slippery and slimy, the slippery substance made it difficult for Ben to use his weight and strength to subdue a wiry and limber youth. With one yank Shane shot down Ben's boxers.

Ben slid out of bed and stepped out of the garment. He threw them at Shane, nailing the surprised teenager in the face. "Here, you can have them, but we're not having sex." He leaped on the kid.

Strong shoulders and legs were not easy to overcome for the shorter and more stout man. Laughing and often serious, Shane several times squirmed away from Ben's grip to wrap his legs in a grapevine move around Ben's hips. On one of these moves, Shane's cock was pressed against Ben's ass, ready and willing.

"Move and I'll do it," Shane threatened.

"Rape your lover?" Ben replied.

"It's not rape when you're begging me. I felt your thighs move apart last night, and I know you Ben Barkley. You wanted me. Your fingers put me to sleep. Your loss," Shane replied laughing.

"That may be true, but I know you, as well. You'll come in seconds and there goes our appointment in the morning."

"I won't, I swear. I've learned to hold off." Shane's mere tease and all the lubrication all but sucked his cock into the hot opening. No resistance from Ben, the man's deep breath and sigh were more pleas to continue. Inch by inch Shane penetrated. He froze in his attempt to distract his mind from the overwhelming pleasure. No luck. As if his dick grew another two inches up and out, electrical jolts sent his body gyrating into a stiff, rigid torso. Sperm hit supersonic speed to flood the cavity. In his attempt to hide his orgasm, Shane immediately went into fucking.

His eyes rolled back, neck arched to the rear, he barely managed the words, "See, I survived." Shane did a good job of covering his orgasm for five minutes of steady humping. Flaccid from pure torture of post-orgasm, Shane finally pulled out and suggested dessert to take their minds off of sex.

Ben was almost convinced that this love of his life had showed great discipline and restraint. His senses had given him mixed messages. He knew Shane like a well-read novel, the flow of emotions, rhythm, and pace. Every physical nuance Shane had exhibited, even though Ben couldn't see his face, were signs of ejaculation. There was really only one test left to determine the truth.

"Okay, we can do dessert. Hold onto that thought." Ben swiveled out of bed and went to the bathroom. Sitting on the commode, he squeezed. Out came a stream of sperm.

Shane was standing at the foot of the bed, his arms up in surrender. He pleaded. "I couldn't help it, Ben! Your ass is too tight and you squeezed your sphincter." He started to make a dash for any escape in this luxury suite.

There was enough furniture and Shane's quickness that Ben found it difficult to get a firm grip on this alluding teenager. Then the oil didn't help. Laughter prevailed. Two naked, totally oiled males flying around this room, jumping over furniture, tossing pillows, sheets and bedspreads in order to evade. Shane slipped on the carpet by the door. When he looked up with a smile, Ben released a sigh of relief.

"Got ya now, dude," Ben said.

Out the door Shane flew.

"Shane Colter, get your ass back in here!" Ben said in his own plea.


"Okay, okay. Hurry before someone sees you," Ben said.

As bad timing would have it, though great timing for Bill Winston, his ear against the suite door had picked up a great deal of laughter. It was when the door handle moved that he ran back toward the elevator. A second later out jumped a naked, six-seven boy. Camera shot upward and ran off a series of photos that were more of a movie clip.

Shane hustled back into the room and leaped onto Ben, knocking them both to the floor. His kisses were to dismiss any furor. Ben rolled the lad over.

"Hey, kiddo, you've got to be careful where you go without clothes."

"Ah, just some guy down the hall. He was just waiting for the elevator."

Ben twisted the youngster sideways and tangled Shane's legs to where he couldn't move. A few slaps on the ass led to more. "You better be able to shoot a cup full tomorrow or I'm buying you a chastity belt with spikes."

"You're so sexy when you're mad. You probably want to fuck me, right?"

A few more swats had Shane squirming for release. "Pitch a good game on Tuesday night and I'll fuck you silly."

"That's an offer I can't resist," Shane replied. "Plus you have to take me to a gay bar."

"Shane! You're only seventeen!"

"Yeah, but I look older, right?"

"They will think I'm a dirty old man."

"Sure! But you're my dirty old man and I love you."

A jovial entrance into the hotel's restaurant, the speakers in the ceiling had the musical composition of "Here Comes the Boy." Shane danced a few disco moves to Ben's amusement.

They were both in a good mood reminiscing the previous night's frivolity. Fun to a teenager was the spirit of life. Money and his future secure, Shane relished being around people he loved, especially Ben. His most memorable experience was still a night in Missouri during the Crusade when a mass of youth danced nude to disco sounds. On this night Ben was part of his existence and the two became one on that muddy field, pouring rain, and Shane's virginity was lost forever.

Ben's vigor was not lost to those who noticed how happy a senior citizen can be. They ordered a hearty breakfast with smiles and nods to other diners who recognized Shane.

Two business executives from Dallas, in Austin on assignment, held their own commentary being baseball fans themselves and seeing both the new owner and his franchise investment.

"To be a fly on the wall over there," one of them implied in a low key voice. "Dare say the guy is trying to persuade Colter to cut his salary."

They chuckled. His partner had his version. "Listen kid, you're only seventeen. What do you need twenty million a year for? I'll get you a subscription to Playgirl and all the KY Jelly you need. What'da ya say?"

Only one guy actually heard this conversation and that was because he held a sensitive listening device aimed across a few tables. Bill Winston was on a mission, a mission to make himself wealthy at the expense of one Ben Barkley.

Ben subtlety placed his left hand on top of Shane's. "If we were to get married it would be private and discreet. Can we agree on that?"

A bright glow lit up Shane's face. "You're not teasing me, are you, Ben?"

"No. I've put a lot of thought into it. You being seventeen doesn't exactly help, but we can plan this on your eighteenth birthday. I'll have to check the schedule for next year to see where we'll be."

"Can I plan our honeymoon?" Shane asked excitedly.

"Of course, after the World Series. I have dreams."

"This is so cool. I can't wait to call Chip and Ronin."

Ben always had to curve Shane's enthusiasm. "Discretion, remember? Don't get me wrong, I trust Chip, but Ronin is acting strange."

Shane sat back to allow the waiter to place his tray down. His eyes swept across the room and saw a man who looked very familiar. A happy face went to a questioning one.

"What's wrong, Shane? Someone you know?" Ben asked.

"Nothing. The guy looked like the one by the elevator last night. I think he was staring over here."

Ben excused himself and went to the restroom. He made sure on his return to check out the guy's table. A newspaper covered up something, but it was probably immaterial.

They entered the clinic through a rear entrance, as agreed upon by the manager. Given separate rooms, Shane whipped out of his and entered Ben's. An assortment of magazines, both gay and straight were available for perusal. Ben was appalled that Shane was so brazen.

"Shane! They will be expecting your sample to be put on your own tray."

"No problem. When we're finished I'll place it on "my" tray," Shane said with amusement. "Let me bring you off first, okay?"

Forget the magazines, they each masturbated the other and, sure enough, Shane squirted more than his share. Ben could've gone another day or so. He was no match for youth.

Ben had to make adjustments in his expectations. Shane desired to be part of every decision, and rightly so. All Ben could do was trust this clinic with total confidentiality.

"I understand this contract," Ben said after reading his obligation to any surrogate. "I'd like to expand my...our commitment. These girls are looking to have their college paid for, which is understandable. If they'd be willing does one put it? increase fertilization possibilities, I'm willing to pay, say, a million dollars to make their life more comfortable."

The clinic director straightened up. Obviously his fee would increase, too. "No guarantees, sir, but this is a possibility. We'll be in touch. I assume you're speaking for both of you."

"Actually there will be three, Doctor. The other young man will be visiting shortly," Ben replied.

Shane had been in the restroom and walked out. "Can you separate boy and girl sperm?"

The doctor glanced at Ben. "Is this what you want, all boys or girls?"

Ben eyed Shane. "Are you sure this is what you want? Daddy's little girl can be precious."

"I know," Shane implied, thought about it and added, "all boys."

Parked across the street Bill Winston was confused about this detour in his little investigation. He tried his best to put the puzzle together. Who was Shane Colter marrying, and why a fertilization clinic?

Before the game Shane made himself available for a few autographs. An adult, of all people, made it verbally known that no queer was signing his program. Ted Magnus, the team's left fielder made a lunge at the guy with a swat from his ball glove. The idiot retreated back to the cheap seats where he belonged.

A few easy pitches and Shane felt relaxed and ready for the following night's game. He was used to idle chit chat, humor, teasing, and jokes. It was when he was the target of the other pitchers' prodding and hurtful remarks that he didn't like.

"So, Colter, hear you live with our new owner. What gives?" Baxter Biggins was the bullpen buffoon and the instigator.

"I live on Mr. Barkley's ranch, if that's what you mean."

"So you're tight then. You can get us a raise, right?"

"Personally, I think we're all overpaid for playing a kids' game."

"Some of us have mortgages, kids, cars, and have to plan for retirement. I hear you already have it on easy street. Don't tell me I'm overpaid."

"Easy, Baxter, Colter's right. Where else could you take your lame ass and get paid a million a year for a few minutes of work?" Leon was their long reliever, Cuban, and didn't take shit from anyone.

"Spoken like a true refuge. You'd be happy to have your Green Card and minimum wage."

"Come on, Baxter," another pitcher spoke up, "let it go."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. I'll find my ass on the next plane out of here like Vince."

Shane had read a great deal about Jackie Robinson, and how he had to turn the other cheek over and over. Maybe this was his turn. A year ago he might have cried or walked away from being teased. He thought about what Ben would do, and then resorted to a story. Being well aware of all these pitchers' records and stats helped. Baxter was 1 and 7, a 7.1 ERA, one strikeout for every walk, and three blown saves.

"At the ranch we have this really ugly and stupid bull who, for every heifer he walks by, strikes out with another. I think the poor animal has barely one pregnant cow for every eight he tries. Ben's even offered three-in-heat heifers, and that old bull still blows the chance. Personally, I think Ben ought to put the beast down."

Baxter wasn't quick enough to get the analogy, but one of his peers jumped on it. "Maybe Mr. Barkley should name him Baxter." The whole bullpen broke up in laughter and Baxter walked away fuming.

"Good job, kid. Don't let the bastard get on your nerves," a veteran told Shane.

Three wins in a row and now the Athletics were coming into town, a team vying for another division title. Oakland had swept the previous two meetings between the teams.

By Tuesday morning the league had approved the new owner and sale of the Houston Astros to Ben Barkley. He had inherited a last-place ball club and a team of comedians, according to those who thought Ben had paid way too much for this bad investment. Ben fired the front office and made his brother the president and the team's lawyer. Austin volunteered to be head of player relationships. Ben laughed and gave his nephew a front office job. Nepotism at its best.

Gone were the days of the Astrodome, a symbol of Houston's unrelenting can-do-attitude. The new Reliant Stadium had luxury boxes and the Astro's future securely in a modern facelift. His competition for fans included the Texans, the Dynamo, and the Rockets. Fortunately the world's largest rodeo was in March, a month ahead of baseball season.

Ben had one of the smallest payrolls in Major League baseball. Shane's contract had been a major step in the Houston management. Usually young players have to play for six years before they can be free agents, and are drastically underpaid. Dominant individual seasons came from players in their first six seasons. Winning from the cheap was a goal for every owner. Young talent was in the sights of this Astro owner.

School was in session, so Ben wouldn't be taking any boys to the game that night, though Shane was pitching. He did acquire two season tickets behind the dugout on the first base side and texted Ray Autrey that they were available for Jay and him. Ben made sure the Colters had their own luxury box for Tom's clients or just the family.

Ben desired to put the Astros back into people's homes. Cable had gone bankrupt and frustrated several Houston teams. The availability to games on TV was a big concern for Ben. A regional sports network had been almost the ruination of an entire franchise. This Ben saw before he purchased the Astros, but his aim wasn't on greed but offering the public the opportunity to enjoy baseball. For the time being, Ben would let his brother, Joe, be the general counsel and negotiate the fees.

Another call to Corpus Christi and his double-A affiliate knew that Ben would be paying a visit on Thursday for their home game against the Frisco Rough Riders.

Shane came up from behind Ben, who was sitting at his computer, and kissed him on the neck. It was eleven-thirty. They had the ranch house to themselves, so they thought. Stark naked, Shane's dick was hanging like a leech full of blood. Ben couldn't resist and took it in his mouth to bring it to full attention. If Ben was from the old school of thought he would've considered that sex sapped the energy on game day. Shane believed it relaxed him and prepared his focus. In walked Tony and Cheet.

"Don't mind us, you sexy fools. Dad, they're having that stuff that looks like lasagna for lunch. Can me and Cheet make ourselves a grilled cheese sandwich?"

Ben had sat back and tried to appear calm. Sure the boys knew about Shane and him, it was just that it had never been blatant until this moment. Shane didn't mind and stood there with a wet hard-on. "First of all, it's may I; secondly, Cheet and I, not me and Cheet."

"Gee, Dad, if you want one, you're invited too, if you're still hungry after swallowing." Tony giggled and had Cheet and Shane laughing.

"Okay, you've had your fun. Get your butts out of here," Ben said with a smile. He continued where he left off.

Shane was comfortable in his skin and traipsed into the kitchen after his orgasm to see if his brothers had made him a sandwich. Tony had made two extra.

"Get your rocks off?" Tony asked.

Cheet bopped him on the head.

Shane was good at ignoring brothers. "Comin' to the game tonight? I feel like humming a few balls over a hundred."

Tony glanced up. "Dad won't let us, not on a school night. We'll watch you on TV. I think you're still growing." Tony sprang up, a sandwich in one hand, before he reached inside a drawer for a magic marker. The boys often measured their height on the kitchen wall. Dragging a chair over to the "height" wall, he grabbed Shane's hand and had the teen stand up straight. A line was marked across from a vertical tape.

"Yup! I was right. You're six-eight and an eighth. The Houston Rockets will be in touch."

"Cool!" Shane said and kissed Tony on the forehead. "I don't think Ben will be buying the rockets."

"If blow jobs make you taller, you should be seven feet tall, Tony," Cheet teased.

"We have another fifteen minutes," Tony offered.

"Uncle Ben will have our asses if he finds out we were late for school. I know you, you'll want more than a blow job," Cheet replied. Off they breezed back to the academy for their home schooling of 38 boys in three classrooms and one lab.

It was mid-afternoon when the ranch's helicopter landed in Houston. The home office of the Astros was once a scary place to Shane. Now he walked around the partitions, amidst executives and secretaries, with his head high. His lover owned the Astros; nobody fucked with him. Shane couldn't exactly proclaim this, but everyone knew that Ben Barkley's boy was Shane Colter. Shane's secret goal was for Ben to fuck him over his desk, but that could wait.

They arrived by limo at the stadium at five after dinner at a Korean noodle house. In the locker room men were nursing injuries, most of them old. Trainers poked and prodded their bodies. Tweaks and strains were part of the game. The torn ACLs and micro-fracture surgeries were the ones notoriously difficult to recover from.

Adjusting his routine from youth days, Shane allowed the kneading of his muscles and tissues in a 30-minutes pre-game session. At first he giggled, squirmed and thought this was as close to Guantanamo torture as it came. The trainer kept trying to convince Shane that this was preventative medicine.

"Ah, so you hurt me now so I won't hurt later, right?" Shane asked and got his ass slapped. He wouldn't have minded if the trainer was handsomer.

Gone were the days of the jock. Shane had his superstitions from Little League days, but he didn't have favorite socks or jewelry. He often had Ben kiss the pouch of his briefs for good luck, so Shane felt comfortable leaving on his blue underwear. When Shane thought about it, he was sort of picky about blue. He drank blue Gatorade before the game, and his shower towel was blue. The night a player went the yard on him he had worn white briefs. No more white.

A Velcro terrycloth wraparound was also a powder blue. He got kidded by the other players for its shortness, but Shane loved it and that was all that mattered. Ball boys, most sixteen years of age, or so, would run around the clubhouse acting like slaves for the veterans. So far these teens kept their distance from Shane, like they would be accused of being gay. Shane didn't mind and was quite able to get his own drinks. He's caught every bellboy sneaking a glimpse at him dressing, so they all have the teenage sense of comparison. At almost seven inches erect he was a normal gay kid. Shane decided to bring Chip to the locker room someday and watch these guys bug their eyes out.

The Astros were on a three-game winning streak. No one much cared because they were in last place. The Angels cared because they were knocked out of first place during a few easy victories over hapless Houston.

Shane left the pregame scouting reports to his catcher and pitching coach. For a seventeen-year old, he had an uncanny way of reading the body language of hitters. He was comfortable with shaking off his catcher and making last second adjustments. Ray Bacon had no trouble with this after Shane's initial success. Ray was the first to admit that when the pressure mounts, Colter's fastball velocity increased. Ray liked to refer to Shane as Baby Blue, after his powder blue shower wrap. Bacon had made the right decisions by befriending Ben Barkley and looking after this "special" young athlete. This veteran catcher had helped assist Shane's seamless transition into the Astros' culture. On team bus rides and flights, Shane learned to cede the best seats to veterans. He took good-natured teasing and to give back just enough to show he's not a pushover.

The Athletics had used their star hurler over the weekend to take advantage of the Angels' losing streak. Starting their second best pitcher should be enough to handle the Astros.

A teen's voice was just loud enough to garner Shane's attention. Shane poked his head out of dugout and saw Jay Autrey and his father in the front row to the left of the dugout. Out he came to shake hands with both of them. Nate Newcomb was also there by himself. He gave a signal of hands up, like, what gives?

"Been busy. I'll call soon," Shane promised and actually missed seeing the young teenager. He then stepped a few feet to his left to greet the Autrey's.

"Thanks for coming. I can't say we'll score any runs, but I'll try to hold them," Shane said between the three of them, though many ears were about. Quickly he was inundated with kids running down the aisle to get an autograph. Shane signed a couple, then begged off that he didn't want cramped fingers.

Shane had struck out 67 batters in his first 54 innings, a major league record for any pitcher in his first six starts. His splitter was the talk of many hitters. Such a pitch puts tremendous torque on an elbow by stressing the ligament that extends through the forearm. By driving the ball in between their index and middle fingers, that separation—from which the splitter gets its name—was different for Shane. He didn't bury the ball quite so deeply against the webbing of his fingers, and finished with a high-torque snap of the wrist, as if he was wielding a bullwhip. This way, the stress on the elbow and forearm is likely diminished. Add a curve, fastball, and changeup, no batter wanted to see that splitter. Best thing for Shane, he could throw it to either side of the plate and throw it anywhere he wanted.

Three innings went way too quickly on this humid, Texas evening. A small crowd of 16,248 had come out to see their adopted seventeen-year old. Eight strikeouts were above his average for the three innings. The left arm was alive and, just maybe, he was showing off for Jay Autrey and Nate Newcomb.

Finally in the bottom of the fourth the Astros put together a three-run rally. The crowd sensed this might be enough with this new kid on the mound. A screamer down the line to start the sixth was one of the few times Shane held his breath. His left-fielder ran and snagged it above his laces.

After the seventh inning, score, 5-0 Astros, there began a nervous hum amidst 16,000 souls—no runs, no hits, no errors, no walks. Shane struck out the side in the eight, his 16th and 17th Ks for the night.

Shane once pitched a game like this in Little League. His teammates didn't know, care, or realize its significance. They told jokes, ran their high-pitched voices, and acted like ten to twelve-year olds should. In the Astro dugout no one spoke or sat next to Shane. He felt like a pariah, ostracized like a leper. Instead, Shane went around, patted a knee, a shoulder, or otherwise thanked a player for their hit and RBI. Looks of `What are you doing, kid?' came back at him, or a smile of `Kid, don't you realize you're the man in all this?'

Top of the ninth, fans rose up to give Shane a standing ovation. Shane's knees all of a sudden felt weak. He didn't like being the center of attention and stepped off the mound to get his focus back. Ray came out after the warm-up pitches.

"What the fuck is that all about? Is it your birthday, Baby Blue, or is your fly open?"

Shane laughed and relaxed with Ray's humor. A ground out to short was a relief. Then a towering pop up which the third baseman and shortstop debated who would catch it. The shortstop was lucky enough to find the thing when it came down, only because the shortstop's glove was higher than his peer. Shane let out a sigh.

First pitch, 105 mph. Ray stood up, put his palms downward as a sign to settle down. He didn't need to have this fastball hitter sitting on the next one. A changeup surprised the batter with an awkward swing. Strange pitch at a strange time. Two foul balls, then two balls, and Shane delivered a pitch low in the zone that would have been ball three. One of the league's best players swung aggressively. The ball dove, skipped off the plate and into the catcher's glove. This Oakland slugger had flailed over the top of it, a whiff on a splitter. He glanced at his bat and then at the umpire in disbelief, before he trudged back out of the way to avoid Ray Bacon's charge to the mound. Ray still tagged him on the butt to assure the out.

Shane just stood there, arms dangling, not fully cognizant of what he had just accomplished. In less than a second his shortstop had shot an arm between the teen's legs, and with the help of their first baseman the boy was raised to the sky.

Unusual for Houston, fans poured onto the ball field. Everyone wanted to touch this youngster as a memory for what they had just witnessed. Not a chance.

Ben had his own guest that night in his luxury box. Congressman Carver had flown in at Ben's request. They walked from his luxury box in the seventh to tell Pete Autrey where to meet them after the game.

Now that there was pandemonium on the field, it was enough for Jay to whip over the barrier in front of him and to get Shane's attention. He gave Shane a thumbs up. Nate was standing right next to this boy he had just met. A smile of admiration was typical Nate.

A mass celebration in the clubhouse Shane listened to every reporter's reaction to no-hitters and perfect games thrown at him in thirty minutes time. "When did you realize you had a perfect game going?" "A changeup? What were you thinking?" "Did you know that you are the youngest pitcher ever to throw a perfect game?"

"I threw one when I was twelve," Shane responded and got laughs.

In walked Ben and Chip with Pete Autrey and his son. Players nodded, smiled, and sensed satisfaction from their new owner. Shane excused himself, his left shoulder packed with ice, to be the recipient of huge hugs from Ben and Chip. He shook hands with Mr. Autrey, and didn't mind getting squeezed by Jay. Secretly, Jay wanted to kiss him but his dad was present.

They arranged for dinner after this locker room melee. Shane's mind was still spinning, trying his best to recapture everything that had happened in the two hours preceding. Life could be very surreal when good or bad things happen. Numbness might well be the feeling for the next hour.

Manager Tom Hicks shooed the reporters from Colter's locker to allow the youngster time to shower and dress as the team's owner with his guests waited patiently. Jay pretended to leave and then traipsed back to watch Shane get undressed.

"You were amazing," Jay said and sat down on the bench next to where Shane tugged on his penis and whipped a towel over his shoulder.

If anyone was looking they would have seen this visitor adjusting his rising boner in his pants. Jay couldn't take his eyes off the perfect butt that was moving away from him.

By the time the foursome arrived at the Italian restaurant, Mazzantini, it was ten o'clock. Pete Autrey was far more cordial and pleased to be part of this celebration. Though well respected in his own field, the celebrity status of this young pitcher had its humor as so many patrons recognized Shane and were aware of his evening's performance. All over ESPN and news channels, late diners were very much surprised at seeing this star in their midst.

Shane excused himself to head for the restroom after so many people had shaken his hand. There, waiting by a sink, was Nate. They might not had let him in the locker room, but he had waited patiently outside the stadium to see where Shane would go. The two boys kissed and Shane had a sense of guilt for leaving Nate as odd boy out.

"I'm sorry, Nate. I know you expect more, but this just goes with the territory. Know that I love you and look forward to when we can see each other again."

Leave it to a fourteen-year old, far more mature than his age, to understand. "That's okay. I just wanted to see you and tell you how proud I am. I'm not a kid who thinks I have to be the center of attention. I love you, too."

"I want you to find a booth and I'll tell the waiter to oblige your every wish," Shane said.

"My every wish to have you in bed with me." Nate swallowed up Shane in his arms and they kissed passionately one more time. With that Nate left with the same clandestine that he had entered.

Ordering four USDA Prime strip loin steaks with the Italian treatment and a side of cipollini had Jay and Shane smiling when they caught sight of each other. Both teens took sips from each of their mentor's wine glass, though Pete Sr. was not pleased that his son took the liberty.

Jay was also homeschooled, which made staying out this late on a school night quite acceptable. Nothing this exciting had ever happened in his young life. Barely any conversation about baseball, the two teens talked favorite movies and music, while the men crisscrossed this conversation with ranch talk.

Shane and Chip caught each other's glance every few minutes. Like two lost lovers who relished any opportunity to set eyes on each other this non-verbal affection spoke volumes. Every time the two of them were together now seemed awkward. For Shane, Chip was a temptation he kept trying to push behind him. His body's reaction revived the memory to the point he wanted to leap across the table and strangle Chip for marrying the wrong person.

In Chip's mind, Shane had always exemplified the ultimate lover. His beauty and personality were far different than any boy he had ever loved. Bad timing, Chip knew, but how he wished he could go back in time to make things right. Afraid to make waves between he and Ben, it was best just to admire the boy from across the table.

While Jay was telling Ben about his brothers and sisters, Shane took the opportunity to connect.

"How's Ronin?" Shane expected the usual comeback (Ronin is Ronin).

"He's seeking a divorce. He says I'm smothering him." Chip wanted to laugh at this ridiculous assertion; instead, he almost cried. Ronin had been a big part of his life from Chip's days at the White House where he seduced this lovable youngster. Since becoming a celebrity and coming out, Ronin's personality had gone flamboyant and off-the-charts.

Ben reached over and put his arm around Chip for emotional support The man had been multi-tasking in listening to two conversations. Inside Ben's gut his heart was leaping for joy. All part of his plan he could have easily told anyone that he knew this would happen. He didn't even think of saying it.

Shane's mind went to empathy. His dream man was available but this wasn't considered at that moment. A few tears welled up when he felt what it must feel like to lose someone you really cared about. Shane's hand reached across the table and rested on Chip's. Though Mr. Autrey had no history of this conversation, his own son was as sullen with respect as if he'd been on the Crusade himself.

Parting ways, a date was set for a barbecue at the ranch. Ben checked the team's schedule, making sure that Shane was back for a home stretch. By the look of all the e-mails on Shane's computer he would be busy with interviews from many magazines and news sources.

As promised the stretch limo delivered one owner, congressman, and one Major League rookie to a gay bar off the main beat of Houston. Ben stepped in first, spoke with the owner, and received permission from a man who was well aware of Shane Colter. It only took one baseball aficionado to recognize this athlete. Given the night and hour the bar wasn't as lively as other evenings. Half-a-dozen couples danced to the fast disco beat, adorned on the corners by athletic built men in thongs on platforms. Ben slid three twenties in Shane's hand. Off he went to slide these bills in the thong of each dancer, while Chip laughed hysterically at this teen's enthusiasm.

Ben had promised two years earlier to shine off alcoholic binges. He ordered two 7-ups and made sure he tipped the waiter a fifty for the establishment, like an apology for not ordering alcohol. The toll of alcohol had accumulated a few health problems in Ben's system. Though Ben kept this to himself, he abolished any use of beer at the ranch. An occasional glass of wine replaced the daily six-pack of beer. He wasn't going to die like his dear friend, Art Acosta. Not on his watch! Art had been too prideful to ask for medical assistance that might have saved his life. Ben had the best doctors and tests. His personal doctor told him to get off the beer or plan a funeral. Ben knew how to follow solid advice.

Shane had his neck at all sorts of weird angles, admiring all the naked paintings and sculptures of males depicted in the barely lit room. Gay nirvana! This was who he was. A thought that Tony would love all this ambience brought a smile to his face.

Wide-eyed and absorbent, Shane was no less a boy in a candy store for the first time. His first gay bar. Standing up, he began to gyrate his hips to the disco beat and also to entice Chip to join him. The two young men stripped their shirts off, their shorts slipping lower as the sweat accumulated. Ben just sat back with a huge grin on his face in complete satisfaction that his plan was coming together.

Around the dance floor so many of this bar's clientele drooled to the sight of two tight bodies. Instantly a bare-chested man stepped in front of Chip, grinding his crotch into Shane's. Persuing this handsome youth as his own possession, they were soon in sync with each other's pulses, smiling to a rhythm of males having fun. Not uncommon in this party atmosphere, Ben didn't intervene for several minutes. Three young men, one rather inebriated, enjoyed taking turns with Chip. The teenager might have towered over all three but was naïve to their cravings and ultimate aims. Chip just as quickly had a new partner but also had one eye on Shane to assure safety.

Finally one of these men in leather suggested to Shane to join him in a back hallway. Shane declined, but the man persisted and cupped the boy's elbow. Ben intervened.

"Hey, old man, can't you see I'm dancing here," the thirty-something said rudely.

"Yeah, but he's my old man, dude. He has priority," Shane said and moved to take Ben's hand to start a new rhythm.

This leatherneck wasn't used to being ordered around, especially by a kid and a senior citizen. Just before he began to impart his physical presence he discovered that his wrist had been snagged into an arm bar. Slightly bent over Chip guided the man toward the front door and out of the bar.

"Don't even think of returning tonight," Chip said as he released the character on the sidewalk. Chip got only a prolonged stare back before the guy took a swing that caught nothing but air. A fake to the stomach and Chip rotated the back of his hand into the guy's nose, followed by an elbow underneath the chin. The man stumbled backwards, shocked at how easy this handsome young man physically embarrassed him.

"Another time," the guy said and decided it was in his best interest to leave.

Inside the bar Ben grinned. He knew Chip Carver's skills and was glad to let the younger man handle the small stuff. With a sweep of his hand he swung his arm around his boy's waist. A swirl and a dip, Shane was all his. Two years ago a fifteen-year old had the greatest experience of his life in these same arms, though that perfect memory might change after tonight's perfect game. At fifteen he had lost his virginity dancing while abandoning his body to music. Though dressed this time Shane felt just as aroused when Ben grinded into his rear from behind. The music blared to Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel. A few pissed off men watched from the distance and wondered what this senior had that they didn't.

By the wave of Ben's arm Chip soon made a third partner in this triangle of disco haven. Ben lasted a few more minutes and then was glad to sit down and let the younger generation have their fun. This was hardly the dancing Ben knew of from his younger days, but far more entertaining. He laughed at the two boys imitate sodomy and then grind their groins into each other. Finally Shane wiggled his ass lower and faked fellatio. Was this really Shane Colter? His modest introvert?

A short stay, Ben offered a longer one to both his boys on another weekend as he kissed both their foreheads and wiped the sweat from their chests. For Ben it was enough exercise just watching these two.

A lone patron sat at a far booth, dark in its vicinity. Only a glance by Shane awoke his memory. A whisper to Ben had the adult's interest. Another conversation from Ben to the bartender was typical Ben Barkley's way of doing business. As Ben and Shane exited the bartender brought a beer to this individual.

"Gratuitous from the gentleman who just left." The bar's owner who enjoyed serving drinks, as well, then accidently on purpose spilled the drink on the man's lap. Apologetic, the bartender had help from a colleague in delaying any departure from Bill Winston.

Their arrival at Hotel Derek was near midnight. As was custom for Ben, he had reserved a suite for Shane and him. Chip was more than a welcomed guest. The unique lobby scent inspired by Tiffany & Co. Men's Sport gave a little edge to the hotel's southern hospitality.

There was no denying Shane's adolescent late night fervor for a swim at the SPLASH pool. A mere request from staff had a size 28 Speedo brought to the suite. Forget any other covering, Shane grabbed his two favorite males' hands and off they flew down the elevator, with Shane wearing only a tiniest of garments.

Ben was long over his boy's brashness, but seeing this 6'8" creature's body in only a brief made his loins stir with what was to come. At poolside Ben enjoyed a Coconut Rumcicle, while Shane swam a few laps to invigorate his limbs. Two influences allocated the hotel's compliance to this late night desire: Ben Barkley as a hotel guest, a congressman from out of state, and having sports biggest name for the evening in their pool.

While Shane dove his lithe body into the blue depths of this reserved pool, Ben reached his hand over to the adjourning lounge chair to hold Chip's hand.

"I'm not sorry to hear about Ronin, Chip, and I readily apologize for my selfishness. I know you loved that English lad immensely. I've also known you've had an admiration for that silly kid in the pool there. At the time your mind, but I don't think your heart, was taken by another boy present during the Crusade. Given my inexcusable, but predictable lust, I again selfishly absorbed Shane for my own. Do I regret this? Not hardly. Everything has its time, and I swear God must be a Texan."

Chip began to say that no apology was necessary, but Ben cut him off. "A political career these days requires an investment of an Arabian sultan. I want you to know this will be taken care of."

"But I'm quite comfortable, Mr. Barkley," Chip said as not to intrude on thinking of using Ben's money.

"Call me Ben, please. You make me sound older than I am, Chip. Yes, you have made right by yourself, but you don't have the type of money to run a campaign. I do. You are probably asking what I expect out of this. Point of interest." Ben angled a finger at the sleek body of a swimming Adonis doing laps. "I only ask that you make Shane Colter your running mate. I have a feeling you two will be much more."

Chip's jaw dropped, not so much like this was an insult, but the boy was only seventeen. Then he chuckled at himself for his thought. He was only twenty. "I can't run for president now, Ben. It's way too early."

"Exactly. I know this is twenty years off, but I'm a planner. I decide who's in the starting blocks and when the gun goes off. My luck on who wins is Barkley history." Ben let the words absorb, almost too blatant, if not narcissistic. Narcissism, Ben knew, is a good trait when it's backed by experience and doesn't harm.

"Let me tell you what's going to happen. That young steer will be the next Jim Ryun. A Hall of Fame pitcher who has money and a business sense he'll learn from you and me. He'll be respected by the community, well-liked by his peers and teammates, which makes the boy a leader. I know! I call him a boy, and he'll always be my boy. To you he'll be a man, but a right-hand man you can trust and depend on. If he follows you as president, so be it. I just hope I'm around to smile."

Chip did smile. Not even his own father was this brash. Certainly, Chip long knew, a political career required major financial clout. Being gay with no family of his own, per se, were two strikes against him from the start. Chip doubted that even a prominent citizen like Ben Barkley could pull this one off. Twenty years? Maybe. The United States hadn't even elected a woman yet, and here they were planning on putting a gay man as the nation's leader. Society would have to mature ten-fold.

"I'll follow your lead," Chip said and was surprised at his words.

Ben handed the young man a card. "They're expecting you at nine tomorrow. Keep your hands out of your pants until then. Having a fucking good time tonight but don't shoot. Not exactly Wyatt Earp's words but Ben Barkley's. Difficult but not impossible, I well know that a twenty-year old as a trigger finger with a hard-on. A seventeen-year old has almost the same number of bullets. I think you know I have firsthand experience."

Chip laughed and put his hand on top of Ben's. "Ben, you're an amazing man. All seniors should be so lucky. Please take care of your health and I just hope I can fill your shoes."

"Oh, you can and you will, my boy. Shane adores me, but he is madly in love with you. He thinks saying such a thing will insult me. Actually the thought gives me great pleasure. Take the other night when I played my role as snorer and deep sleeper. I had a Viagra boner realizing my two lovable boys were humping next to me. I heard Shane's moans, his heart bursting with joy of having you inside of him. Why I nearly had my first wet dream in fifty years. Reckon there was a half-gallon of pre-cum left on that sheet. One of these days, if you don't mind appeasing a Texas wrangler, I'd love to feel that rod inside of me."

"My pleasure, Ben. I wouldn't mind feeling your power in me. I hear you ride a boy like a fine stallion."

Ben chuckled. "I can make you heeeee like a Triple Crown winner," Ben teased.

Shane was no innocent child when it came to teasing men. Exiting the pool, his long frame stood erect, dripping wet, a six-foot eight frame that exhibited pure male sexuality. Certainly by Shane's design the suit hung just high enough to show an inch of his boyish crack, his soaked crotch bunched nicely a few inches from Ben's face. With only one attendant nearby, appearing not to notice, Ben dried his boy off. The Speedo's front torpedoed at a right angle with an erection that strained to escape the Lycra suit.

"You're advertising, young man," Ben informed.

"And your point?" Shane faked pulling down his Speedo, loving the panic expression on his man's face. As if sharing his love was very important, Shane moved to Chip's lounge chair and set between the man's legs. Chip swung his arms around Shane's chest to keep them snug together. When Shane arched his face around to be kissed by Chip, Ben hummed Endless Love to tease these two. His matchmaking was proving a resounding success.

They remained in their respective positions for several minutes. The blue light in the pool was practically hypnotizing. Obviously the day had been more than successful and Shane's yawn proved that too many hours had elapsed to fill a teenage clock.

"Let's take a gander at the hayloft, boys," Ben said.

Ben hurriedly wrapped a towel around Shane's waist. With Chip on one side and Ben on the other they both grabbed one hand each of this baseball hero. Off they hastened toward the elevator. A few hours before, this area had dozens of hotel guests watching a movie poolside on a projected screen on the hotel's three-story mural with cow-print and a drive-in sized movie screen. Now the hotel was eerie quiet.

When Ben went to the bath area Shane experimented with the adjustable lights, eventually setting them at a pale blue that illuminated the bedroom in a soft glow.

One a.m. Ben exhaled with his mind questioning his body and this relationship with a seventeen-year old sex machine. Thank the Good Lord that he had a twenty-year old to fill in the blanks. Gone were the nights of ten o'clock to bed, up at five to watch the sun rise over the hills. An adolescent had a different time table. He popped a Viagra when the boys weren't looking to assure himself that neither the alcohol nor tiredness would negate his role. A quick shower and out he stepped to wrap a towel around his waist.

Adjourning to the main living quarters, a rush of blue bathed everything, including Shane. The teen thrust a banana in Ben's mouth, but he sucked it as erotic as the real thing. In turn Shame slid it out and munched on half of it, only to squish part of it in Chip's mouth when they kissed. Back between Ben's lips, the adult ate the rest, before an extended kiss tasted the remnants on each other's tongue.

Collapsing on his knees Ben had aims to remove this miniscule swimsuit hiding the ultimate pleasure. "Use your teeth," Shane said. As with most of their sexual trysts the boy held the cards and directed traffic. All this changed after Shane lost all resistance and surrendered to his lover's embrace. What must appear as brutality to any witness, Ben totally eye-fucked the teenager with delirium.

Ben used his teeth to peel down the Lycra briefs until the laces popped out. A quick unlacing and Ben's mouth lifted the fabric from its capture of a spongy rod, while Chip gobbled up what was between those ass cheeks. Minutes of effort got the suit down to the thighs. Shane shook his hips, squeezed his thighs together until the garment fell to the floor to be stepped out of. To be loved by these two men was almost as good as his perfect game.

Under the balls Ben licked the light brown seam to a sack holding the two delicate spheres. The smell of chlorine, fresh from the pool, gave the genitals a clean aroma. He slid his moist tongue up the shaft, tasting the bead of sweet pre-come. Using his hands he twisted this erotic creature around until his fingers separated the puffed mounds of muscle which hid Shane's button of joy, wet from Chip's tongue. Hot and moist, when the tip of his tongue touched this delicacy it didn't take the Viagra to make Ben rock hard. A blast of pure, unadulterated lust tossed all sensibilities to the wind.

Warm, rough cowboy hands slithered down the boy's long legs. Returning on the inside of the thighs, Shane barely could keep his balance. Chip had the seven inch cock down to his tonsils. The boy's hand went to press Ben's face deeper, but Ben slapped it away. This would not be a two or three orgasm night. He was now in control. Once again this teenager's erotic concoction had hyper-stimulated male psychological cues of experience, wealth, competence, Ben's craving for dominance, and Chip's long-held desire to ravish this boy he wanted to possess. It was these aspects that drove Shane's love for the older man, his undying commitment to the younger. He broke free and dashed off.

"Shane, love, I'm not chasing you around the suite," Ben said on his knees.

Chip just busted up. The adult-child in all of us has a tendency to bring out the ultimate freedom we find most satisfying.

"Lover boys, I only want you to make love to me while we're viewing Houston on this fantastic night." Shane stood in front of thirty feet of open glass, its curtains swung back to expose a city drenched in somatic light. He pressed his hands against the glass and spread his legs.

Obtaining two cushions from a leather sofa, Ben threw them on the floor and stood on them to be almost as tall as Shane. He grabbed the soft strands of butterscotch hair, forcing the boy's head back until Ben's thick member found an angle to fence with darts of passion. "How bad do you want me?" Ben teasingly asked.

A leaning back of his ass didn't meet expectations. Ben kept his dick an inch away from Shane's desire. "Hurt me, please," Shane pleaded as his butt arched up to be taken. He laughed to diminish that request.

Chip squeezed to the teen's front, sat on the windowsill and licked Shane's balls with long strokes.

Ben allowed the tip of his cock to enter. Both bodies shuddered, bloodlust surged forward in a wicked, consuming rush, as powerful as their union to be one had ever been. Ben bared his teeth and went for the neck. Fangs delicately bit, almost horrifying Ben that he desired Shane so much he would drink the boy's blood to prove it.

Shane shivered, a balmy rush bloomed out all over his skin. He almost came, but Ben knew his body as well as he did and brought his fingers to the tip of his erection, squeezing it lightly to subdue the sensation. The musical lilt of his voice was of a twelve-year olds, the rhythm of his speech, the sound of his words, it all spread through him, calming him, comforting him as words he rarely used except around Ben just seemed normal and necessary. "Fuck me! Both of you."

A gymnastic effort, Chip had to recover a footstool to allow the opportunity. Shane all but surrounded Chip's waist with his legs to allow two cocks to enter his passage.

The thrust had no less the energy of a spear. The three males froze to their facial contortion of impending orgasm. Ben fought hard to abstain, while Shane had Ben's fingers strangling his cock to resist explosion.

A bemused reporter was not to be distracted from his mission. A perfect game only enlightened the importance of detection, a game of private eye that had now motivated his very spirit. Hitting all the four-star hotels, he struck gold on his second try. A twenty dollar bill was lost to a clerk on his first try but not on his second. Yes, Ben Barkley was in a suite on the top floor. Another twenty got Bill the exact location. Already late and prepared to call it a night, the desk clerk offered a bit of information to entice the reporter. "Mr. Barkley requested a swimsuit, size 28 brief. They were at the pool, but I'm not sure they're still there."

Bill hustled to the pool area in time to see the Astro's star pitcher standing beside a lounge chair. The teen's skimpy suit was blatantly sticking out near someone's face. That someone came into focus—Ben Barkley. An exit followed, hand in hand with the top half of Colter's ass visible above the tight swimsuit. The teenager was advertising and it was for two men.

Absolutely childlike even Bill found it adorable when Shane sat between Congressman Carver's legs. This would be shocking to an English man who probably had no idea that his husband was cradling a seventeen-year old in his arms. So excited by what he was observing, Bill forgot to take any pictures. One thing he now knew, they were on to him, so there would be no more pretending to be just a bystander.

At 56 years of age, his athletic accomplishments were playing tennis once a week and swimming at a club pool when he got the chance. Down the block another high rise commercial building might serve the purpose. Up the fire escape he climbed until he found himself on the roof. Views of the Houston skyline were breathtaking. Across the street stood the hotel. Still two levels below the top floor of the hotel, Bill mounted his camera and telephoto lens.

Across the various suites he scanned. Only one room at this time of night had any type of lighting, a dim, bluish texture that barely lit of the large bedroom through the tinted glass. What appeared to be an ominous figure pressing against the large pane of glass became his second gold nugget for the night. Dark, elongated, and seemingly motionless, only a zoom lens revealed another figure behind the first; a figure in motion. Then a third shadow came to the front literally sandwiching the middle body. What puzzled Bill, the human figure was nearly as tall as the one in front. Did Shane Colter have a boyfriend as tall as he was?

An erectile drug had made Ben's dick into a stiff weapon. Once losing the initial impulse of being inside Shane's tight hole he went into a rhythm from slow to fast, pounding and riding with deliberate thrusts that sent shivers through this beautiful creature in his hands. Two cocks made the opening that much tighter and had Shane's hole stretching to engulf both.

With both hands around a narrow waist Ben's fingers still touched each other. An occasion slam sent an exhale through Shane's lungs that preceded a high-pitched, "Yeah!"

This love, now two-years old, was so deep and pure that it went far beyond mere friendship. Ben well remembered their first time on a field, rain drenching their bodies to a slippery mess. So many bodies it was a dance orgy with sexual innuendo. Most of the youth that night danced naked, but Ben had shorts on. Shane had turned his back to him, pressing and grinding until Ben thought his groin would explode. So crowded around them, no one had noticed Ben unleash his cock and slip it inside a very happy boy. Ben remembered gazing into those soul-weary eyes of Shane's and seeing the blazing emotion lying just beneath the surface.

"I love you, guys," Shane said with a drooped head, his hands pressed high for balance.

Shane's romantic gesture diverted Ben's memory back to the present. "I love you, Shane Colter." Ben smiled, love and joy and sheer bliss swelled so big inside his heart that he felt he would surely burst. How in God's great earth did he find a teenager who could find in his heart such a deep emotional love for a far older man? This intimacy was far more complex and engaging stimulation than the average same-sex union.

By rounding his back Shane found Chip's lips to fence tongues and devour each other's mouth.

Shane liked what he saw in that plate glass window. His contorted face was not one of pain, but ultimate pleasure of having his prostate milked and titillated with each slide. Two dicks inside of him was like being balanced by a tripod. A fullness at the tip of his cock was like a loaded bullet waiting for that ultimate trigger. Balls swayed, legs weak, yet his dick remained erect. He liked being naked and vulnerable for the world to see. In daylight maybe someone in an office complex could view this sex act, but Shane hoped that some custodian might be jacking off across the street. He had never felt safer or more alive than with the fulfillment of two big penises.

They were one in chemistry and as soul mates. Maybe he'd play around with other boys, but always come back to the arms of his favorite persons. He felt his hair grabbed, his head being arched backward. This was when Ben liked it rough and would soon come inside of his ass. Chip, on the other hand, was now licking and sucking his neck. The affection was overwhelming.

Chip wasn't sure he could abstain. He bit into Shane's deck, licked the tiny, hardened nobs of a teenager's chest. Even Chip couldn't remember sharing a hole with another male. Maybe when they had the Vasquez twins over for that sleepover at the White House. Too crazy to remember.

Shane would prefer another hour of just being ridden, but it was getting late.

Ben's fingers joined Chip's, encircling the tiny nipples of his boy. They were playful in his fingertips. Pronounced kisses were possessive embraces. Heat flared even harder in Ben's loins, ramming became bullish and he even slapped the boy's buttocks.

"Give it to me, Ben! Fuck! I'm yours! Show me!" Shane yelled and even spanked himself.

Ben was well aware of being overly violent and degrading. He knew Shane's desire to be dominated, to be submissive to the strength of someone like himself. It was a game, Ben told himself. His rhythm became fast and furious, even asking Shane if he was his forever.

"Yes, Ben, I want both your dicks! You're both mine, I'm yours. Oh, God, fuck me hard!"

And that Ben did, until he squeezed the boy's balls to get a loud moan. He slid his hand around the boy's cock. The first spurt went over Chip's head like a looping rocket onto the plate glass window. Other spurts hit Chip's chest with sounds of raindrops, splats that accelerated with the force of a Colter fastball.

Ben had no choice, relaxing his own balls in search of that sensation. Up it came, the electrical impulse that flooded Shane's rectum with more sperm than he had filled a cup with at the clinic. The anus was stretched further with the explosion of blood. There was no thrust, only total oneness, a physical intimacy that few couples find in fulfilling sex at an emotional level. It was an irresistible cue that is so potent and fundamental that it fuels a male fantasy to relive the moment as soon as possible.

They stayed as one until all their nerves had come back to earth. Ben milked the last few drops of sperm from Shane's swollen member, making Shane giggle and shaking like a spent electrical charge. Chip had his tongue slurping these final droplets, tasting the warm jism of youth from Shane's upper chest.

Not surprising Ben's cock was still erect as he pulled out. It was an excellent ending to an excellent day. The hole appeared to slap back to a vice against Chip's cock. If anyone thought a male could hold off ejaculation after that they were truly nuts. Chip's boner flipped out, followed by a steady stream of white substance that had filled the canal.

The three males hugged and spoke of how pleasurable the sex was. Shane still wished his ass would secrete eggs so sperm could unite for a baby. They laughed at this teenager's wish to become pregnant.

They showered together. Ben took a washcloth and wiped Shane's ass, before he hustled back into the bedroom to clean the window pane of streaks of any sexual juices. He left two lovers in an embrace while water drenched their beautiful faces. All part of his plan, Ben would step out of the picture gradually.

Finally three limp dicks were the remnants of an awesome sexual event. Ben knew that Chip had come, but their refractory period, the few and rare moments when the penis desires rest, wasn't a time for these three to want to be left alone or to ignore the others' needs. No one smoked a cigarette or turned over to go asleep with a resolve that their rocks had been relieved. More than often they snuggled and kissed, well aware that the sexual tension between them was on hiatus. Sometimes it led to more sex, but, for tonight, Shane fell asleep between his men's arms, which was quite alright to one billionaire cowboy and an aspiring junior congressman, who was beyond questioning that his love for a seventeen-year old was real.

Ben had a little smile before he closed his eyes. He'd so much wanted to feel nine inches in him. Perhaps another time, he thought.
















Chapter five


Come Wednesday morning everyone in the sports world and in Houston were looking for Shane Colter. Few people in Houston knew the whereabouts of the Astro owner and star pitcher. At ten o'clock Ben checked his watch to shake his sleepiness off. He was getting as bad as an adolescent. On his cell phone were two-dozen messages. To some it was an emergency that Ben Barkley had dropped off the face of the earth.

Shane had no less the number of messages, mostly from the boys on the ranch and one from his father saying GREAT JOB! They had had a falling out, per se, a few days earlier when Mr. Colter had asked his son at what bank Shane had set up an account. "Oh, I just give my check to Ben," Shane had said, which infuriated Tom Colter.

"Young man, that's totally unacceptable. You have to learn to manage your own money and be accountable."

"Look, Dad, Ben knows all about investments. I have very little use for cash, but we've set up college funds for each of my siblings."

Tom poked his son in the chest. "That's hardly your responsibility! I can take care of my own children. Shane, when are you going to get it that the man is sixty four? Damn it!"

"You're right, Dad, but he'll be sixty-five in another month, so it'll be okay. You better get over it because I love Ben and he loves me."

Fuming and barely resisting striking his son, Tom walked away.

Chip had his own dozen messages from his home office. Being a congressman had several responsibilities and wore many hats. He was amused with one message from Nate Newcomb. (My body misses both of you—my mind misses the love messages you give me)

While Ben took the limo to the corporate office, he had Shane wait a few minutes after breakfast in bed to return to the ranch, via helicopter. There the boy could sleep through lunch.

Shane suggested a morning shower to Chip, and with the big honcho gone the two young lovers spent minutes rubbing their crotches together while kissing became the centerpiece to display their love. There wasn't heated sex, but Shane simply feeling what had taken him seventeen years to declare—he knew Chip Carver was his forever.

Chip's mind was in a tug-of-war. He didn't want to take advantage of Ben Barkley; yet, he had never met anyone who grabbed his heart like Shane Colter. Dizzy with passion, he decided he just might have to ask Ben what the Texan's intentions were for this young man. Would he even consider letting go?

Getting routine Troy and Reece were at the ranch house to make their own lunch. Reece liked the academy's school more than his junior high. It was causing problems between him and his parents. They congratulated Shane, and then Tony suggested to Reece that they had time for an afternoon delight.

Normally Shane minded his own business. He didn't like it that his fourteen-year old brother had a one-upmanship on him by catching Ben giving him a blow job the day before. So he waited outside their bedroom door for the sounds of skin slapping. Instead, he heard Tony moaning. In he walked catching Tony on all fours and Reece fucking him from behind.

"Oh, sorry, guys, but Ben needed Tony's signature on this application for the next rodeo." He placed the app in front of Tony, who signed it. Reece looked perturbed and stayed firm against Tony's butt.

Even Tony figured this was done on purpose as a payback. He lunged forward to reveal Reece's hard-on. "Yeah, he's got a nice one like you, Shane."

Reece grinned and jammed it back in. He glanced at his brother. "I can keep my mouth shut, if that's what you're worried about."

Shane felt a little guilty over his passive aggressiveness. "Brothers should always protect each other. I'm sorry for disturbing you guys."

Reece reached out and grabbed his brother's arm. Pulling out of Tony, his dick swung until it was pointed at Shane. Reece was no longer embarrassed. "Look, Shane, it was rude of us yesterday to just walk in. We apologize, too. I love you and Ben and I'd never do anything to hurt you. I wasn't real nice and said some cruel things when I was twelve. I'm sorry for that, too. No more judging because I love making out with boys like you do. I just might find a girl down the road, that's all."

"Not if I can help it," Tony said.

Shane bent forward, grabbed Reece's wet cock and kissed his brother on the lips to surprise him. "Thanks, bro. I'm glad to see you're healthy." He eyed the erection.

"Being a top isn't all bad," Reece said and slid it back in.

"You haven't minded being a bottom a few times," Tony replied back.

Fifty miles away in the countryside outside Houston, Jay Autrey was laughing so hard he had the hiccups. Seven of his siblings, plus his mother, were no less in amusement. It had all started the night before when Jay returned home after the game and dinner. Hardly sleepy and his adrenaline running high, he was masturbating on the top bunk to the picture of Shane Colter in the Astro game program, held high to catch the few rays of a full moon through the curtains.

Jack, his fourteen-year old brother, slept on the bottom bunk as they had for thirteen years. The brothers had routinely respected each other's space and knew that taking care of business was necessary. Jay was very surprised to see his brother appear on the ladder to the top bunk. Jack snatched the program, and then turned on his nightlight to see who it was.

"Ouuuu, Jay's in love," Jack teased and wouldn't give it back.

Jay was in no mood to make a scene. He rolled over and went to sleep. In the morning Jay found his program on Jack's desk with Shane's face having a mustache and goatee. He wasn't amused at the destruction of his property.

Back when Jack was twelve and Jay fourteen, it was Jack who discovered Jay looking at gay porn. He told their mother. Mrs. Autrey is an educated, intelligent mother who thought she had taught her children mutual respect. She hustled both boys to their bedroom.

"For thirteen years you two have shared the same bedroom in laughter, tears, fun time and disputes. I do not expect to hear or know everything that goes on in this bedroom, especially what each of you do sexually. Do we understand each other?"

Both boys nodded and that was that, except everyone in the family knew they now had a gay sibling. Mrs. Autrey explained her position to her husband, who wasn't exactly delighted with the news.

"Pete, you were the one who wanted all these kids. There was a good possibility that one or more would be gay. This doesn't mean we love our son any less or show him in any way that we disapprove."

Pete was a powerful man, but he didn't rub his wife the wrong way. He nodded. "It's just...well, Janice, the boy isn't going to have an easy time of it. He just better keep his hands to himself around his brothers. Thank heavens he's not in a public school."

"Then we support him to make sure he has an easier time," the missus said as absolute and the matter was settled.

So on this morning Jack only snickered at what he had seen and done. During a recess Jay got his revenge; he took a desktop photo of the file icons on Jack's computer and made it a screen saver. Jack returned and began to use his mouse to bring up a file on his computer—nothing happened. He fidgeted in frustration that his computer had somehow froze. Off, then back on, same thing. Even his mother, two sisters and younger brother couldn't understand where the problem was.

"Jay, can you help your brother?" their mother asked.

"I need an apology first, Mother. No explanation necessary, just a "sorry" would work."

Jack relented and apologized, saying he would find Jay another picture of you-know-who. Jay reached over and replaced the wallpaper with the actual icons. Only Jack didn't laugh, at least at first. The practical joke was one of the milder get backs over the past few months.

Janice Autrey was a mother of immense abilities. While finishing her masters in behavioral counseling she met her future husband Peter Autrey on the golf course, since they both were on their respective college teams. This wonderful career, she had spent years in training to do, became null and void after discovering that an evening of heated passion with Pete led to pregnancy.

Peter Autrey was a fraternity president, but not the most studious. Ambition was his nature but a degree escaped him nonetheless. Rather than finish his senior year he took his parents' money allocated for college and bought in on a side business of buying and selling cattle. Profits came fast and furious. The rest is history and a 400-acre cattle ranch became a just reward.

It only took a few years for Janice to realize that her husband was quite able to support a family. She ruled the roost and immediately decided that their children would be homeschooled under her tutelage to use her education and knowledge. Her first two children were experimental. Gene, her eldest at twenty-two, appeared to resent his deprivation of peer sharing in public schooling. He was now in the U.S. Army, stationed in Kuwait. Sara, 21, was an emergency medical technician in Houston. Twins Jasper and Lynn had graduated early and finished college at eighteen. Both worked for computer firms in Dallas.

Janice had Jay on track to graduate at fourteen; that is until his brother outed him. This mother took Jay's sexual orientation as her challenge and everything she had strived for with her master's degree. She could give a lecture on social and cultural construction, as it relates to childhood and adulthood, but now reality had slapped her in the face. Homosexuality and the gay movement basically questioned the construction of sexuality. Not that she needed to protect and nurture her son—or did she? She joined GLAD as a proud parent of a gay son and to be educated on how to be a successful mother in raising one.

Each year Janice became a better teacher in her expansion of knowledge and methods. Her children never figured out that their mother was learning, as well. Most elementary kids would look cross-eyed if you suggested trig by age ten. The Autrey kids just figured that's how education worked—biology, chemistry and physics by age of twelve.

There's a fine line between being an overachiever having an underlying fear of failure and a self-worth contingent upon competence versus a child who just strived for goals based on a pure desire to achieve. All Janice could do is prepare her children for mistakes and sometimes failure. A big part of competition was failure. Associating risks to rewards became constant lessons in her children's studies.

All the Autrey kids were fluent in Spanish. They all played expertly at least one musical instrument. They studied religions for six months with an underlying theme of Jesus' teaching: love and compassion superseded law and authority. Faith revolved around opportunity, discovery, worthiness, lack of ego or need, peace, joy, and passion.

They were required to read at least one book per week and find a sport they could excel in. Every child was required to serve as a volunteer at a mission or community project. At fourteen Jay became involved in Houston's gay parade in decorating the floats. He had become like an adopted puppy to their LBGT group. His mother had to become a constant companion to persuade many men that he wasn't a piece of candy.

Janice had one aim: to allow her children to gain a greater sense of well-being and of purpose and meaning in their lives.

A new promotion for writing and poetry emerged after this "gay" discovery. Janice was more excited about having a gay son than Jay was for the revelation. She began this kick on emotions, believing that emotional intelligence predicted cognitive development. Each child wrote an essay on their sexuality because writing about sexuality is about power and control, a fantasy created to make them feel like viable teenagers. Her lesson was about freedom of expression, the most important freedom is emotional freedom—the freedom to act as they wisely chose.

"What if the act imposes on another person's boundaries?" Patricia had asked, eyeing her brothers who had a notorious reputation of spying.

Janice thought it was a great question. "Obsession behavior that is destructive to ourselves and others is not personal freedom but a slave to dependency."

Humor was never absent from classes. Janice invited it, even though it was often slanted to sex—thanks to boys, most often Jack. Their mother's story about Aladdin had Jack admit he had something like a lamp. "I tell Jay that I know it's not exactly a lamp, but keep rubbing."

Jay gave his brother the eye but then burst out laughing. Pete Jr. and Luke, admirers of their older brothers, giggled for several minutes. Four-year old Jamie knew something was funny and laughed at anything his brothers said. The girls always thought their brothers were disgusting.

Gone were the days of regiment, of pedantic lesson plans that the first four graduates of the Autrey method of schooling had to endure. Janice had matured, learned by trial and error and grown as much as her children. In a world of Internet and lack of privacy a whole new awareness of adolescents had emerged. Her last four pregnancies had been open home deliveries for the family to view. The birth of Jamie had had the most impact on his older siblings because they had been at the age to truly grasp the tumultuous birth of a human being from the womb of his mother. Jay had thought the experience was wonderful, asking to assist holding the head of his new brother upon popping out, while Jack was totally grossed out.

From an affair of Pete's during their early years of marriage there actually were four more children in this household that weren't of Janice's birthing. She had always treated them as her own. These four blended in and were considered cousins until a further explanation was at hand. The other eight, four of which had left the nest, held a bond of kinship, an open acknowledgment of their sexual roles. To have a gay brother only enlightened the conversation and empathy for each other.

Pete Autrey was rarely involved in any school activities. His business world was his life. He expected "Yes, sir," from his sons, and "Yes, Daddy," from his daughters. Pete thought of his wife as a progressive activist, brilliant in her maternal duties, and faithful to his sexual needs. After a dozen kids, a twelfth from another affair his wife didn't know about, he had a vasectomy, ordered by his wife.

Aside from lesson plans, the large dining room classroom had become a place to examine a child's life. Jay and Jack were usually the instigators, though "the twins" liked to compete for equal time.

Six months earlier Jay and Jack had adapted to mutual masturbation, a tete a tete that orgasm was an intrinsic part of being a teenager. For a gay boy the possibilities were endless. Jack, analytical by nature, implied that Jay was enjoying this way too much and was metaphorically making Jack gay. Seeing Jay stick a finger up his ass while jacking off had removed the last vestiges of common decency for Jack's masculinity, so he said, and thus became a solo performer when Jay wasn't present. All this was not family knowledge, but Jay had his revenge. He kept his web cam on most of the time, aimed right on Jack's bed. Sure enough, Jack had come in early from a swim, stripped off his suit and leaped on the bed to masturbate. Eventually a finger, then two went up his rectum to promote a vibrant orgasm. Jay had it all on tape and channeled the video to everyone's computer in the class.

The vestiges of war had rarely had such a beginning. Jack's sex life was now open book, even to his sisters. He told his sisters that they should be so lucky to find boyfriends with a horses' dick like his. Slightly exaggerated, was his mother's reply. Jack explained away the finger thing as an experiment to feel what it must be like to be Jay.

Now the Autrey kids were hardly naïve to the sexual act. Their mother had allowed all of them to pick out any video to be shown in class. Naturally the boys had found any number of sexually explicit educational videos available on the Internet. The only secrets left were their own sexual lives, but these were soon uncovered.

Thirteen-year old Lucy and her twelve-year old sister Patricia had boyfriends from a ranch a mile away. Fourteen and twelve, the two blond-haired brothers were fixated on these Autrey girls. Adorable and polite, Janice wasn't fooled by their gregarious nature. Boys were boys, she knew and only hoped her girls knew enough to protect themselves from pregnancy.

For his twelfth birthday Pete Jr. received a drone. No one was safe. The boy became, along with ten-year old Luke, the NSR expert of surveillance. His pilot skills allowed him to fly the drone around their huge home where no window was safe. With his and Luke's allowance they soon had a camera mounted on the drone. Ingenuity created a way to muffle the sounds of the four propellers, making this toy more military espionage than backyard fun.

Their greatest mission came with the arrival of their sisters' boyfriends. Innocent in expressions, even Pete Jr. knew the look of boys with far more than a simple attraction for girls. Luke and he followed the foursome out into the woods adjacent to their home. Kissing led to removal of clothes and two boys with hard-ons stood aimed and ready. Lucy had seen enough sex education to know how to give a blow job. Patty followed her sister's every move. Somewhat reluctantly the boys had to return the favor.

High above their heads, in between limbs of a towering oak hovered a drone with a remote control zoom lens. The oldest boy went for ground zero, but Lucy parried his spear with a full finger grasp and jerked the boy off in 15 seconds to ejaculation. Patty did the same, though the twelve-year old barely squirted a clear liquid and took forever. Pete Jr. got a high five from his brother—mission accomplished.

A little editing with music and the boys put together an educational video entitled SAFE SEX.

Lisa, at eight, was often the lone wolf. She roomed with four-year old Jamie. While her mother had catered to seven children, Lisa sort of adopted Jamie as her's. Mrs. Autrey considered it an interesting experiment and allowed it to happen. So far, Jamie appeared very happy to allow his older sister to care for his every need.

Lisa was also the family snitch. She knew everything going on and had no reservations in telling her mother the inner workings of her siblings. Lisa was known to hide in closets, eavesdrop from outside bedroom doors, and crawl under beds to get the scoop. No one paid much attention to this lightweight and somehow she escaped detection.

Potentially the most brilliant of her siblings, she knew how to turn on web cams from her own computer. Jay had taught her this, but thought the lesson would be gone in seconds. In the time it took to see what Pete Jr. and Luke would do with their recorded act, she caught them in their own sexual exuberance by giving each other fellatio and then intercourse boy style. Obviously it wasn't the first time for either. Giving this copy to her sister brought a major kudo. The girls called it, JAY + TWO.

Pete Jr. and Luke were giddy the next school day, offering their video as a class project under drone technology and social interaction. Lisa had warned her mother, so Mrs. Autrey had prepared her own lesson after this so-called surprise.

Snickers and giggles, the discovery that their sisters were sexually active was rewarding to Jay and Jack. They gave their younger sibs an A for the project.

"Cute," was all Lucy said, and presented her own thumb drive. The blood drained from Pete Jr. and Luke's faces.

"We're not gay," Pete said. "We only do that because it's fun." Luke wasn't too sure about orientation anyway and kept his mouth shut.

With her first four children, hormones were silent and secret. Janice was highly sexual herself, as was her husband, but she pretended that sexuality was meant to be this hidden drama of life. Things had changed. View of public school had always labeled them as joyless test prep factories. No one challenged the content or the method. Janice had always had her own goals, to liberate her children to advance at their own pace. Her own college views of constructionism had gone the way of dinosaurs. She had learned that kids lose interest in subjects because they are often taught as a bunch of mechanical routines you follow to solve problems disconnected from everyday life. She had liberated the classroom; making it human and real.

That's exactly where their sexuality was going. A case in point, her younger kids acted more mature around older kids, and older kids act more mature around younger kids. Her methods of customized learning was the key, just like her way of teaching history. Bring up a social crisis, and then look back in history to explain its significance. There were no rules or expectations, only discovery of the truth.

Before this video Janice had no way to know if her girls were this sexually active. Secrets were still being kept, but why? Why were her children mastering physics and math, then acting immature when it came to sex? Other mothers, even teachers, had requested Janice's methods for teaching. Do something cool, do it quickly, and people who love it will want it. There were roadblocks in her children's essays and poetry; they weren't opening up their emotions. This desire to be normal has kept them from being their authentic sexual selves.

None of these eight bright-eyed, mischievous youth in front of her expected their mother to be traumatized by these explicit videos. Actually they didn't know what chaos they might receive. Their mother closed her book on sociology and eyed her kids.

"Take your clothes off. All of you," she said and added, "I'm going to bend the curve here and give you a reality lesson in human sexuality."

Everyone shot their eyes at the sibling they felt closes to. No one dared object to anything their mother proposed. Slowly each one stripped. They were asked to stand up and examine everyone in the room. Nervous laughter, giggles, and embarrassment became the norm. The girls decided to cross their arms across their chests, as if two mounds were more appealing than the lips between their legs. Each boy didn't exactly put their hands across their groin but they each hoped their penis size was what their sister's appreciated.

"Welcome to the human race, boys and girls. We're each a little different but the same," Mrs. Autrey said. It was her first view at her own children in years. Her lips bent up in a smile at Pete Jr.'s beginning hair growth, his nipples a little swollen. Jamie was the most relaxed. Jack pulled on his penis to give it maximum flaccid length.

"First line of secrets gone," Mrs. Autrey said to her class. She walked over to a cabinet and pulled out tubes of purples, greens, fluorescent reds, majestic blues, pinks, browns, yellows, and gold leaf. She spread them on the table. Pairing boy with girl, except Luke and Jamie, each pair took turns body painting the other. Tense at first, somewhat reluctant, they were soon laughing and having immense fun designing swimsuits and animals on the other's skin. The nudity had begun to be all but absent, though Jack couldn't resist popping a boner when his penis was painted by Patty.

"Make no mind," Mrs. Autrey said upon seeing the rising member. "Boys' libido is six times higher than girls. They have erections many times during the day and we've all seen Jack's before."

Two hours later, no one seemed anxious to put back on their clothes. Each had a unique swimsuit on, painted in luxurious colors. Down to the home gym, which was an every other day occurrence, they exercised nude with medicine balls, ability ladder, plyo boxes, kettleballs, pull-up/dip station, and Indian clubs. It's why, besides Janice's strict dietary meals for her children, no one was overweight or out of shape.

Janice's practical lesson had turned out better than she thought. It was the kids who decided that their afternoon in class would be spent the same way. From English to Spanish, and back to math, Lucy was the first to admit that she had forgotten she had no clothes on.

"I'm not suggesting we do this everyday, kids, but these games of spying on each other are over. Petey, your drone is in time out for a month, like grounded. Lisa, no computer for a week and I want that software to turn on web cams erased. Each day we'll discuss hormones and behavior in a positive way. Your biggest sex organ is your brain, so let's start by discussing what each of you think and feel about others and yourself."

Jamie was the first to ask if he could wear his new paint suit for a few days. His mother promised her youngest that they'd do this again soon, but clothes would be expected for dinner. Jamie was practically in tears.

Her kids only comment to start the following day was that they'd like to come to their classes nude once a week. Janice saw no reason to deny this request as long as it was unanimous. It was.

Janice reached from her adolescence. "All I can say is how I remember the games my friends played. Maybe being a nudist family might open up new lines of communication. I'm sure your new attitudes toward each other won't eliminate human nature. Boys are strategic geniuses in their attempts to get into girls' panties. Girls love to read about sex; boys love pictures. We'll study this more closely."

Off to a Houston museum, the eight Autrey kids viewed Body Works, the first anatomical exhibition of real human bodies. Entire bodies, individual organs and transparent body slices were preserved through the process of plastination. Jay was the first to comment that he was thinking of being a doctor now.

On Friday leave it to Jack to walk in stark naked. He didn't think that they should be restricted to just one day. His mother and siblings laughed, but Patty had already told her mother she had started her period, so Janice had no plans for a nude classroom. With Jack's permission she had the boy jump upon a chair. What better time to teach them about males, since she had spent the night before reading all about the male physique. Jack stood there all proud and deserving of being the male model.

Mrs. Autrey said that 85% of male testicles, the left hung lower than the right, as was true in Jack's case. She talked about circumcision, which her boys were, and vasectomies, like their father. The size of a penis was irrelevant in his flaccid state, but the average was about 6" erect. At Jack's age the average ejaculations per month was near fifty, but Jack said it was more like eighty. The average time of stimulation to ejaculation was 2.6 minutes, though Jack said he could do it under thirty seconds. Lucy and Patty had first hand experience with boys jacking off, and Lisa admitted spying a few times on her brothers in this act, so Jack appeared disappointed that he couldn't demonstrate. All questions were answered on where sperm came off, stored and that pre-cum often had semen as part of its makeup, so ejaculation wasn't necessary for pregnancy.

"Why's the head of the penis shaped like a turtle's head?" Patty asked.

Janice was stuck with that one, so she opened it to the floor. "I think it's a caveman thing," Jay said. "See, if more than one man wanted to impregnate a female, they had to scoop the other sperm out while they pumped. God has a sense of humor."

The girls laughed, but Janice considered this as a probability. She said she'd look into this and get back to them, which she always did. Lifting Jack's balls to show off the perineum and explain that he was once a female until the testicles and penis burst forth, had Jack grow hard as a rock. She admitted as a girl that an erect penis was scary. It was hungry, demanding, and pointing to be relieved. America's puritanical restrictions had a tendency to promote fear of male genitalia. Janice countered this by pointing out that many cultures, like Japan's, honor the phallus as beautiful and should be exhibited with pride.

Jack smiled, hands on hips, and proud of his manhood. He pointed it at Jay. "Want this, don't you, Jay?"

Janice smacked her son on the rear. "Don't tease your brother!" She still laughed.

A quick explanation of what had just happened to achieve an erection, Janice ran her index finger up the bulging vein over the urethra. A shot of white liquid flew through the air and hit Lisa's hair on the fly. She freaked out while her siblings rolled with laughter. Jack thought it was hilarious and what Lisa deserved for being miss goody-goody.

Another lecture of sperm that it wasn't poison; actually, Janice was giggling when she admitted that it was sterile and had nutritional supplements while tasting a bit tart.

"Have you swallowed some?" Lucy asked.

Janice had never been evasive. It was her direction to be honest in all this. "Yes, of course. Most men enjoy when their partner swallows."

Jay smiled in his relief of watching porn on his Internet. His curiosity could reach porn in three clicks, six to get boys his age. He had wondered how safe that was to have a penis in your mouth. A little cleaning and Jack jumped down, pleased with his presentation and accomplishment. He wiggled the half-erect member in front of Lisa as an extra torment.

"You can swallow next time," Jack teased.

Janice had opened up Pandora's box; she just wasn't sure if she'd created sexually intelligent children or lubricious adolescents.

Back in their bedroom Jay gave his brother a high five for his antics. "I might let you taste it some time," Jack said to bait his brother.

"I can do myself," Jay said to shock his brother.

"This I have to see," Jack replied.

"Maybe. I might have to charge admission."

That evening Jay texted Shane well after the Astro game had finished, hoping to get his friend on a down time. Houston was on a six-game winning streak with Shane scheduled to pitch tomorrow night against the Mariners. Sunday was the barbecue after an afternoon game. Jay could barely wait.

It was their third texting session. At the end of their second texting session Shane had signed off with a YF. Jay was in seventh heaven. The usual start of, `Whatsa doin'?' was their way to get personal . For Shane it was a way to discuss with someone his own age what it was like meeting with some reporter or giving interviews to a local newspaper.

Jay had no embarrassment when he said he had studied sex in school.

(Studied? Why not just do it?!)

(No one to do it with. I'm 16 & n'vr bn kissd)

(Yikes! That will change)

(Any suggestions?)

(I'll cum up w/someone)

Jay brought up his laptop to his knees on the top bunk. Jack was in the lower bunk reading. He asked Shane if he could ask a personal question. Shane gave a smiley face with a yes. Have you been in love? Yes, was the reply. What's it feel like? Shane texted back that your heart flutters when around the person; you feel weak; and you can't wait to be held by that person or hold him. It's being possessed and being possessive at the same time.

Jay thought about that and knew that's how he felt about Shane. He typed, (have yu done everything?) Jay regretted asking because he was afraid of the answer. The yes didn't surprise him. (Boyfriend?) Jay was getting daring.

(Older, but one younger is a good balance, don't yu think?)

Jay was both disappointed but not surprised. (Yes! Have I met him?)

(Yes He thinks yu'r gorgeous)

Jay didn't dare ask his name. Certainly the older boyfriend couldn't be Mr. Barkley; yet, Jack had, as promised, recovered so many photos of Shane, even from two years ago at a crusade. One of these was a blurred photo taken outside in the dark at a dance. Kids were nude and barely visible. A picture taken from a stage had hundreds of teens in the photo, but an arrow pointed at Shane. Someone was sure it was the Astro pitcher. Behind him was an adult, really close behind. Jay zoomed in on the spot and the boy did resemble Shane. He was holding the man's hands around his chest, a look of ecstasy that Jay knew was pleasure. It sort of made sense—every time Jay had been around Shane, Mr. Barkley was present. Was the man gay? Maybe it was just a mentor type love.

Jay was reluctant to be too inquisitive. He wanted to ask if he'd meet him on Sunday. Too daring. How much older? Too daring. Same guy at the Crusade in the rain? Way too daring.

(Are older guys okay?)

(The BEST! You'll love him too)

Jay kept it simple and asked if he should be jealous. Shane said no, not when love has no boundaries or rules. Age has nothing to do with the heart, and wisdom beats youth any time.

Dozens of questions flashed through this teenager's mind. He finally asked if an adult would be too controlling? You know, like demanding—the adult wants it his way all the time.

A surprise answer: (A bottom is in control. What r u?)

No one had asked him such a question before. If it wasn't for the porn he watched Jay wouldn't even know what a bottom was. He typed in that he didn't know. Shane asked what he fantasized about? Was he the fucker or fuckee?

(LOL My fingers roam, but I think I'm doin' yu) Oops! Jay realized what he had just typed and kicked himself for sending it.

(AWESOME! Go on yur stomach, make a fist and enter those tight fingers)

Jay placed his laptop on his pillow, twisted around and tossed his burnished curls out of his eyes. A tube of Vaseline was squeezed in his right hand. He was already hard. Down with his underwear he put the tip of his cock against his fist, but that's when Shane texted to do it slowly, only an inch, then retreat. More deeply this time, but slowly. Out. Now slide it all the way in. Jay followed the instructions and balanced himself with the other arm. The vice grip made his body shutter with excitement. He had no idea that his knees poked really deep into his mattress to give Jack a clue. It was Shane's next text that started the orgasm.

(I'm that tight. Fuck away)

Jay barely slid back and forth when he ejaculated in his fist, barely able to move for the last squirts that were uncontrollable onto his mattress.

"Dude, you are desperate," Jack said observing the scene up on the ladder.

Jay didn't even bother with his brother. He sank flat on his bed and typed in (That was so cool. Came like a beginner)

(A true top) Shane joked and hoped it was true. Nate would want to meet the kid.

Jay had to wipe his bed off, so this texting was cut short. He told Shane he couldn't wait until Sunday. Leaping down from his bed he got chuckles from his brother. When he came back with a washcloth, Jack asked him if Shane had jerked off, too?

"Probably not on his sister," Jay replied.

"Hey! That was totally by accident! If Mom hadn't touched me there..."

"So you're fantasizing about our mother, is that it?" The brothers could laugh with and at each other with ease.

Adolescents don't usually think of older people as sex objects. Certainly not parents, Jay thought. Maybe coaches, teachers, actors, and musicians. Walking down the first fairway he tried his best on this Saturday morning to put things in perspective. His mother was driving the golf cart and wondering why she had a pensive son. There was his uncle, Uncle Stu, who was funny and often paid attention to him. Uncle Stu called him Champ after Jay had won a junior golf tournament at age twelve. He still referred to his nephew as Arnie Junior, a name which didn't mean all that much these days. Jay loved his uncle, but not as a lover.

There were the men in the Gay Parade who treated him like a younger brother. His mother thought some of the men were getting sexual, but Jay didn't think so. Many guys liked to sweep their hands across his bangs, pat his butt, or eye his groin. So what? He didn't mind a bit when they looked down at the urinal to his exposed penis. He did much the same thing to glance at what everybody had. It was a guy thing! Those holes in the stalls were confusing until this man's hard dick came poking through one day. At fourteen it was both funny and a little scary. Jay fondled the erection and then just got the hell out of there. His mom had been right; big dicks were kind of scary.

There was this man who often played in his dad's foursome when his father would take him out on Sundays. A year later and now only his mother golfed with him. She was good but Jay was often ten strokes better. Parker Dexley, the name flashed in Jay's memory. The guy liked to coach him around the green, often putting his arms around Jay's waist or hands over his to get some secret technique out of a trap. One time when his ball was buried in this sand trap out of view of everyone, Parker had recommended a spoon club. The man assisted in this planting of the feet, spreading the boy's legs and giving Jay the perfect stance. Though fourteen, Jay felt the hard-on press into his rear. Parker whispered, "You are so hot, Jay. You could make a fortune in the boy business."

Jay smiled. You certainly didn't challenge an adult or question their behavior. Anyway, Jay liked the compliment and thought Parker was very handsome. He jerked off a few nights with that feeling of something being shoved near his anus and what Parker meant about the "boy business". He wondered if that meant he was a bottom. Yeah, suppose he could have sex with an adult, but he wasn't making the first move. It would be exciting to be seduced.

Jay made a move to adjust his erection in his shorts. His mother saw the adjustment. "You know the next hole is a par three. You won't need the woodie."

Jay grinned, but wasn't all that embarrassed. "Mom, if a person was to meet an older person, like, you know, in a relationship, is that good or bad?"

Mrs. Autrey pulled their golf cart slightly in the rough while waiting for another member of this foursome to retrieve their ball from an unplayable lie. "Are we talking boy-boy or girl-boy here?"

"Does it matter? Let's say boy-girl to be politically correct."

"Oh, nice try, buddy. Way to throw it on the heteros. Okay, well if it was my daughter..."

"No, you can't look at it that way, Mom. What are the positives? Let's start there."

"Hmmmm, okay. An older person is more experienced, grounded, probably settled, financially secure, knows what he or she is after and, most of the time, more mature."

Jay thought about that. "Yes, I can see the advantages. About the negatives."

"Jay, there are many variables here. Say I was single and wanted to date a younger guy."

"Like seventeen," Jay added.

Janice laughed. "At my age that's stretching it. I'd feel like I was dating one of my sons. But, anyway, let's say twenty, okay? I'd be a real cougar, out for a stud who could, you know what, all day. Emotionally we couldn't hang, and how would I present him to my friends to have them take him serious? Then there's music, interests, art, and our education. Not to brag, but we wouldn't be on the same page. Now a guy dating a younger girl, well, that's more common, especially guys in middle age."

"Lechers," Jay added.

"That might not be accurate. A lecher is more lewd, filled with debauchery. See, it's normal—God, I hate that word—for males to desire youth. No one wants to get old and sometimes younger people make us feel good about ourselves and keep that youthful spirit alive. Plus, youth represents beauty, virility, and energy. You can't blame a guy for desiring what youth offers. It's just important to see how valuable someone your own age is, as well. Get my drift there, son?"

"I think so. It's why all the porn on the Internet is so young." Jay knew he had admitted more than he should.

"Well, the word youth outdistances any other subject by two to one. Hey, your shot! I'd recommend a seven iron."

"Ah, Mom, I hit nine irons from here."

"Don't let your boner get in your way."

Jay laughed. "It's gone down. Not something you girls have to worry about. Guess when I become a pro everyone on television will think I have a short iron in my pants." Jay stepped out, grabbed his nine iron and put the ball twenty feet above the cup and had it spin back to three feet from the hole. His mother was impressed.

"Wow! Who taught you the backspin?"

"A guy who plays with dad. He has quite the short iron game." Jay knew his mother wouldn't get the pun. "I think he has the hots for me."

"Jay Autrey! Is this what the conversation is all about? You have a crush on an older man? What's the guy's name?"

"No, it's not like that, Mom. You know Mr. Dexler. I could be wrong, but..."

"I'm not going to call the man, Jay. What'd he do?"

"He reached around to show me how to hold the club and brushed the back of his hand against my crotch. Might have been accidental, but he's done it several times. And then I felt his hard-on. Maybe he's gay."

"He's married with three kids," Janice said rather perturbed. "There are many men who marry in hopes that it will change them. Doesn't happen. Boys are less threatening to this type of cheating on their wives. They don't have to worry about you calling him up and wanting to be the next Mrs. Dexler."

"So is he one of those pedophiles?"

"No. A pedophile goes for boys before they reach puberty. Gay men are no different than straight guys when it comes to adolescents. Boys your age are the epitome of gaydom, just like the flirty blond, cotish high school cheerleader makes your father cream his pants. Men are likely to get their fingers burned if they do more than just look."

"Why's that, Mom?"

Janice chipped her third shot on the green, barely outside her son's ball. Jay was already thinking that he got to watch his mom putt so he could see the break. She replaced her wedge and grabbed her putter. Silence commenced while everyone putted out; Jay made a birdie for a two under going into the seventh green. Back into the cart Janice drove slowly to the next tee. The previous question still lingered. Always trying to outthink her kids, Janice was pretty sure that Jay and Parker had something going on the side.

"Let's just say you're in this romantic relationship with an older person. You're in love and can't hold the excitement from telling someone else. They are envious of your love or decide that this adult is taking advantage of your great body. They tell someone else, maybe an adult. They call the police and arrest the guy for molestation or statutory rape, whichever sex is involved. Lives are ruined, your self-esteem goes south and you plead the perpetual child to same face. The man spends fifty thousand on an attorney, loses his job, his family, and spends a few years in prison. All for the pure enjoyment of having a young body for a few seconds of pleasure."

"You're a real downer, Mom. Gee, talk about a pessimist," Jay said half-serious. He got up and hit a six iron to a par three that landed in a sand trap on the left side.

Janice felt terrible that she had ruined her son's game. She joked, "Should I call Parker to help you with this one?"

"Very funny, Mom. At least I wouldn't be a virgin."

"Maybe you and Shane can change that. You do like him, yes?" She stepped out and hit a five wood on the green. She again felt guilty for hitting a great shot after ruining her son's. Jay's retort put a new spin on this mother-son chat.

"I really like Shane, Mom. Do threesomes ever work?"

"Jay, you might have to give me the formula to solve this problem. Are you referring to three boys like Petey, Luke, and yourself, or you, Parker, and Shane? I'm not so sure your brothers are actually gay just because they have had gay sex. Boys experiment, that's their nature at that age."

Jay smacked his lips. "Mom! I haven't had sex with Parker, and I'm not interested in getting in bed with my brothers, at least not a ten-year old. I wouldn't mind humbling Jack, though. With Parker I got hard when he rubbed my crotch, but it wasn't like he put his hand down my shorts. I mean, yeah, he's great looking and sexy, but he hasn't asked me out. Let's say that Shane loves this older guy, but he also loves me. How's that work?"

Okay, Janice told herself, the camera just became focused. "Shane might be seventeen, son, but he's a professional baseball player. He hangs around adults, so it's going to happen that his attachments are with other men, mostly older. Do threesomes work? I knew of two girls in college who lived with one guy. I suppose as long as one of them didn't get possessive and they had sex at the same time, sure, it would work. Mormons certainly think so. Gay sex? Tough call. I've read enough to know that gay guys are not all that monogamous. We all want someone to call special, but that's from a female perspective. Boys have sex on their minds and don't always care where they get it. I hope I'm making sense here, Jay."

"I'd just like someone to call my own. Am I that different?"

Janice bent over and kissed her son on the cheek. She felt for him as she had never done before. To be fifteen and gay, well, Janice couldn't begin to understand. "Tell you what, youngster, whatta ya say we stop by the LGBT office on the way home? We'll speak with Wally."

Jay lit up, always glad to be around the guys and gals who hung around the gay center. "I like their bathrooms," Jay said and knew his mother wouldn't get it.

"You're not going to the bathroom and wait for some guy to show you his dick."

"Gee, Mom, I'm not that kinky."

Wally was the director of the center, a fast-moving fifty-year old who always dressed in amazing pinks with gaudy jewelry. His body was pretending to be busy even when it wasn't. When he saw Jay walk in with his mother his face beamed with a sun burst.

"Bright eyes! Blessed Jesus, I just knew you couldn't stay away from me until our next parade. And who did you bring with you, your sister?"

Janice smiled and kissed the man on the cheek. "Wally, you could teach straight men a few things. Do you have a few minutes?"

Into Wally's office they strolled. Wally was ready to be a counselor, possibly boy problems was his guess. He listened to the teen's concern of whether a threesome works.

Wally looked Jay straight in the eye. "Listen, Sweety, I've been around the block a few times. Threesomes? Good luck, darling, they're a circus. Maybe a month at best. Pairings barely make it work. Split up responsibility three ways and someone will think he's doing more than the others. Two of ya are horny and have sex, the third thinks it's World War Three that he's left out. Loyalty between three people?! Give me a break here, cutie. Takes only one to cheat, bring home a disease and hell has no furor as a faggot burned."

Janice's face contorted. Wally wondered what he'd said wrong. "We don't use words like that at home. Too demeaning."

Wally glanced back and forth, an angel face with motherly love. "My apologies, young lady. Our world is often as crude as the black side of town where they call each other nigger. Is this some kind of school paper?" Wally knew the boy was homeschooled.

"No, not exactly," Jay said. "I just, sort of, wanted to know. Guess it wasn't the answer I expected."

"Sorry about that, bright eyes. Living in a frat house with a dozen queers might have better success. No emotional investment, if you get my drift."

Janice chuckled and waved off another word that was taboo. "Wally, same thing holds true for an adult and two teenagers, I presume."

His butch hair, all slicked up with gel, was like an overgrown lawn that needed mowed. Wally leaned forward. "Ah, contraire, mademoiselle. Such a lucky fella has struck gold. A sugar daddy, what every gay boy longs for, even a well-used boy like myself. Call him a chicken hawk if you wish, but to possess youth's bloom is a dream come true. A threesome with limited pubic hair has great dividends. No rivalry because sugar daddy rules the roost. Just two play things deciding who plays bottom and who gets his juices swallowed. Boys learn virility, the art of the bed, the habit of silent obedience, and the capacity for multiple orgasms amidst a wide selection of cavities."

Jay laughed at his mother's discomfort and Wally's bluntness. He was beginning to feel better about the possibility, at least the way Wally described it.

Janice fidgeted, like she'd lost control of her class. "But the complications, responsibilities, Wally, you were saying..." Janice fought for words.

"Ma'am, we're talking boy toys here. Ornaments, decorations, moving statues of creamy skin, unblemished penis and soft balls, God's ecumenical creations of immaculate beauty. Sugar daddy defines responsibility as being erect upon command. Boy ready, boy loves man because older male exemplifies everything great about dominance; boy loves other boy because there's a man between their ill-defined rubric of intimacy. All the risks and worldly dilemmas are absorbed by aged wisdom."

Jay tried his best to subdue his snicker again in contrast to his mom's bemused expression. To the rear of Wally's desk Jay's eyes darted to the assorted rainbow configurations, stickers, bulletins, and a UT pennant. Like a punch to the nose it came to him. At the card show Shane had introduced an older teenager with a Texas U. cap on. What was his name? Oh, yeah, Austin. Did Shane say, meet my friend, Austin, or was it just Austin? Either way, the older kid appeared much enamored by being close to Shane. That must be it! The older guy is a college student! That's cool, a college student wanting a boy under each arm. That must look pretty cool on campus, Jay thought rather naively. He twisted in his chair to tell his mother that he had no more questions for this gay guru.

"Wally, if I may ask," Janice started, "when did you know you were gay?"

Odd question, Jay contemplated and remembered when his father hoped he would outgrow this urge for everything gay. Gee, what were these feelings, just a stage? Did his father actually think he would change to liking boobs and a vagina? It wasn't like he chose to get a hard-on just thinking about Shane, and, what's worse, he would love to suck off Jack, or even fuck him. Yeah! That must mean he's a top!

Wally had his answer by rote. "Dare say, young lady, that it was when I told my mother that I was in love with Billy Wilson. And my mom said, `Wally, let's see how you feel about Billy next year in second grade.'"

Mrs. Autrey laughed, as did Jay. Wally had the floor, though. "Old joke, though befitting of yours truly. I think around ten. Had a friend who let me suck his dick. He did mine after I gave him a few marbles. Fred's now the mayor...of Houston." Wally waited for the smiles and got laughs. "The guy still waves to me but won't introduce me to his family. Not like I'd front him off to his children. His kids might actually see their old man as someone other than a crooked politician. The guy could suck a dick, though."

"Just wondering." Janice turned beet red, but tried to dismiss the concern. She mentioned that two of her youngest were exploring assorted gay sex, like playing doctor.

"Tough to predict these days," Wally admitted. "Bright eyes here, well, he has God's gift written all over his face. He's a float that doesn't need flowers or a marching band in front. If I was fifteen again I'd be on your son's doorstep every day wanting to play emergency room proctology, my balls would be aching that much."

"Wally, you have very descriptive vocabulary. I'm not sure I can invite you as a special speaker to my class." Janice only shook her head while Jay busted up. "So I shouldn't be all that concerned on these bedroom antics?" She said it rather emphatically, if not rhetorical.

Wally's face grew stern. "My dear, if this was with two neighborhood girls you wouldn't be questioning their sexuality. You might suggest waiting for a few years, or suggest condoms, whatever the politically correct thing is for the twenty-first century, but you wouldn't be hoping that they love boys next year. Bad message for your sons."

"No, no, no, no! I didn't mean to imply that being gay is wrong. What if they enjoy it so much, girls aren't on their minds? I can't believe I asked that."

"Petey's twelve," Jay told Wally.

"Old enough to love booty," Wally joked, which Jay thought was hilarious and enjoyed watching his mother squirm again.

"But should Petey influence his ten-year old brother? Sure, they're roommates, and Luke will do anything his brother says," Janice said.

"You watched some sort of tape, you said. Did your ten-year old appear to resist or frown on the sex play?" Wally questioned.

"It all seemed too natural, like two errant vacuum cleaners gone wild. Luke was all bubbly and couldn't wait to change places with his brother. And then the sodomy. Where do kids learn these sexual acts? I was totally numb to sex at their age."

"D'oh!" Jay spoke. "There's this thing now called the Internet. Gee, Mom, you're a girl. Boys have needs and boners to play with. What do girls have?"

Wally high-fived his favorite teenager. He leaned his elbows on his desk. "I've always wanted to ask that question." He got Mrs. Autrey to laugh.


More than a little surprised in front of a sellout crowd Shane stepped from the dugout to a standing ovation. The previous perfect game had set off baseball hysteria in Houston. To the gay community this was perhaps their grandest moment in sports history.

Shane was just glad it was an afternoon game. Practically from bed to the breakfast table to the helicopter there wasn't any idle time like evening games. The night before Ben was tired, late in getting back from meetings with his general manager. Sex was out of the question. Instead Shane lay with Tony and Cheet, playing video games until one in the morning. Popcorn and gossip came between their amazing finger dexterity to destroy aliens and save the Earth. There was no mention of sex.

Four days ago the Erickson's had moved to another commune. Ben said they were more like a gypsy family, desiring a vast open family structure where everyone is one huge hunter flock, like the caveman days. They were far richer than when they lived in Missouri. The ranch had a little of that hunter flock image, but 90% of its occupants were gay. Lars Erickson, Ben's ranch manager, had done a fair job, hard working but more inclined for farming than ranching. Three of his daughters had given birth to children fathered by other teens on the ranch. These toddlers were now dispersed to two of the boys' parents; Reece's son was in Austin being raised by Mrs. Colter, and Philly's son was with the former First Lady in Pennsylvania. Cheet's 18 month old, Benny, stayed at the ranch house.

Scooter had the hots for a twelve-year old Erickson girl. His sexual trysts often had Bo involved in their orgy. Their luck in sexual proclivities ended with the departure of her family. It was only a matter of time until this girl would have been impregnated, as well. Scooter's sperm was still too immature to equate to his brother's success, and Bo was just shooting blanks.

So the week had been an upheaval. Ben had hired a woman he had met at the Houston Astro cafeteria. A vibrant, black woman, her husband was a horse trainer at the local race track. Neither one had received the financial rewards they deserved. Only an offhand conversation with Izzy Burton during a lunch break did Ben think this was the perfect woman to manage his ranch house and keep an eye on "his" boys. Izzy admitted having a gay son, a boy interested in theatre and acting. The ranch's personality would change drastically in the last few days, but not for the worse. No longer were there girls around the pool or the ranch for that matter.

On the diamond Shane lived for the moment, not the Astro's record or reputation as a loser. The team was feeding off of their win streak and appeared to enjoy coming to work each day.

The Mariners were still in the hunt, but barely. They didn't like losing to the Astros anymore than any other team who looked at Houston as a way of padding their win-loss record. There was a downside to having games with Houston, no one wanted to face Colter.

If there was a goal of Shane's it was to get into the batter's head early by throwing strikes. When they're down 0 and 2 Shane had his way with either a hard fast one by him or the slider.

Scoreless through the third, a Mariner finally got a seeing-eye ground ball between third and short. The fans sighed that another perfect game was lost. Shane had the fans believing that perfection might be every game. No runs until the fifth when Houston exploded for three. The huge crowd sensed victory was at hand; Shane Colter didn't give up runs.

In the ninth the first Mariner bunted for a hit. The fans booed the hitter—cheap hit, deceitful! A following single had the thousands of Astro fans holding onto their breath. Out came the Houston manager with his hand open. A relief pitcher was coming in. Shane walked off that mound to another standing ovation. He smiled, waved his hat and felt disappointment that he couldn't finish the game.

In came a Houston reliever, Baxter, suspect at best. Another base hit, a two-run double and Seattle had tied the game. In the dugout Shane showed an emotional outburst uncharacteristic of his nature by throwing his glove at a stack of paper cups. He'd seen other players do it, so he vented. Few could blame him. Only a home run in the bottom of the inning by their new centerfielder from Toronto saved the game. Houston upped their winning streak.

It was bittersweet for Shane. Two earned runs went against him, thanks to a reliever, two that Shane swore he wouldn't have given up if he'd stayed in. He only mentioned that to Ben to avoid hostilities with Baxter.

By morning Baxter was on his way to a Triple-A club, which might have well been an assignment to assisted living for a pitcher of his age. Baxter would never report.

Pensive, somewhat withdrawn even in victory, Shane found solace in calling Jay while he was flying back to the ranch. He caught his friend in the shower, where Jack handed him the phone with a smirk. Leave it to a younger brother.

Jay was ecstatic it was Shane. Two teenagers conversed in a different realm than Ben or other friends on the ranch, and that was very refreshing to Shane. They talked about the game, as witnessed by Jay on cable. A three-hitter and a bizarre finish, Jay had Shane laughing with the bone-head decision to take Shane out of the game. The team needed a managerial change, not a reliever.

Jay didn't dare mention his visit to the LGBT center downtown. He didn't even dare bring up a supposed third wheel; instead, he brought the subject up in humor. "Shane, is it cool to have three guys in bed?"

"Mathematically it works. See, you have two holes and they each have two holes. You won't have to choose between being a top or a bottom because you can be in the middle of a manwich and you get to do both at the same time."

"Great idea!" Jay admitted holding his phone in one hand and drying off with the other. "I'm not sure what I am. Sixty-nine would have a unique twist, huh?" He sorta wanted to impress his friend that he knew what that was.

"Daisy chains are fun, but sucking two cocks at once is an art. Watching two guys fuck each other can be pretty hot. But having someone watch while you'll getting fucked is even hotter."

"What if you come first?" Jay asked. Jack came back in to take a piss. Jay knew he was just being a snoop, so he reached over to click his cell phone off the open mic. His finger missed the button.

"Don't feel guilty about that. Just grab a shower while the other two get each other off."

Jack started to laugh and Jay held up his fist to stay quiet. Between brushing his teeth and trying to multitask his phone, he gave up. "Is there a lot of talking?"

"Since when do guys talk during sex? If someone says something it's nice to have a second cock around to stick in his mouth to shut him up."

Jay busted up, but so did Jack.

"Who's that?" Shane asked.

"My goofy brother. We're in the bathroom. I know that sounds kinky, but Jack is cool. He thinks you're the best pitcher in the majors."

Jack wasn't really into baseball, but he found it amazing that his brother and a Major League baseball player were hitting it off. He cupped his brother's butt cheeks underneath the terry cloths shower wrap.

"Hi, Shane! My brother jacks off to your picture."

There was the sound of a punch to a shoulder through the phone. "I'm going to pulverize you, dimwit! Just wait till you have a girlfriend!" became the next sounds from Jay. Shane laughed.

Jay apologized for his brother, saying he had just returned from a mental institution. He waited until Jack departed with his snicker. Jack pretended to jack off as he departed backwards out the door.

"Do two of you gang up on the other person? I mean, just in fun."

"I've only been in a couple of threesomes and that was a couple years ago. Oh, I forgot about Chip and Nate." Shane said it under his breath but Jay heard it. We were just good friends goofing around. Except for Chip. I'll explain later. I'd have to think about sharing someone I love with another."

Jay sort of panicked. "Do you believe you can love two people at the same time?"

"I'm coming to that conclusion. I'm only seventeen, so love is new to me in some ways. I suppose it would be fun to have someone pin me to the bed, grab my legs while someone holds my shoulders. I might even fake resisting." The two of them laughed together.

Jay walked out of the bathroom and into the kitchen with his phone held in his hand. He gulped down what was left in a carton of orange juice.

"I've dreamt pinning my brother down. That's kind of kinky, isn't it?"

"Not for a gay kid. You're going to make a terrific top, dude. Three guys, three loads, if you play your cards right, they could all end up on your chest." Shane was surprised he said that.

Mrs. Autrey was in earshot in the next room. She giggled from at this conversation between her son and Shane Colter.

"Promise?" Jay pleaded and got a different answer.

"Let's work on that kiss first," Shane replied.

Jay so much wanted to tell this boy that he was his first boyfriend. He held his erection underneath his shower cover, but the Velcro loosened and down went his only cover to his ankles. Thankfully it was night time and his siblings were in their bedrooms. Another multitasking, Jay masturbated, placed his phone by the sink, and wiped the orange juice from his chest with his other hand.

"Very creative," Janice said as she strolled in.

Jack whipped around and then remembered he was pointing his boner at his mother. A drop down to pick up his shower wrap, and then another attempt to mute his mic.

"Forget it, young man. Your mother isn't panicking. Tell your buddy that it's getting late."

"Mommmmm," Jay muttered. "It's Shane Colter, Major League baseball pitcher? I just can't tell Shane to go to bed."

"No, but I can." Janice took the phone from her son. "Hi, Shane, Mrs. Autrey here. You have my handsome son madly in love. I'm glad you're not here or I'd never get my boy to sleep."

"Oh, hi, Mrs. Autrey. Sorry about that. Jay's a neat kid."

"Yes, I think he's pretty cool, too. Don't Major League baseball players need their rest?"

"Oh, yes ma'am. I suppose I should be doing that."

"Well, we could discuss botany or physics to make you tired."

"Ah, that's quite alright, Mrs. Autrey. Tell Jay I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"You can tell him, Shane. I'm teasing you here, but the boy has school tomorrow." Janice handed her son the phone, snatched the wrap from around his waist, and walked out holding his cover.

"Sorry about my mother. She can be very motherly at times."

"That's cool. I think you have a really cool mom. I'll call you tomorrow so we can resume our twosome about threesomes."

As with most of his friends Shane didn't like to talk shop. Baseball was now a job to him, no longer a dream of pretend. He was far more interested in Jay's interests, which he knew little about. He found out those interests were school, golf, guitar, playing video games, and learning everything about being a gay boy.

"Yeah, I guess I should start with my first kiss, though I've seen a lot of boys kissing boys on the Internet," Jay added. They chuckled.

"Nothing like the real thing, Jay. Web cams might be the greatest invention for teenagers in the past hundred years," Shane said. "I have brothers who have no hesitation in showing off their bodies to whomever is watching."

"I know. I'm probably the one watching," Jay admitted with a chuckle. He sat on the oak floor and resumed rubbing his dick in the darkened kitchen. "You know that name you mentioned, Nate? He's the boy at the baseball game, right? He's cute and so lucky to have had sex with you."

Shane coughed. He'd fumbled that one by thinking out loud. "He'd make for a good test run for you. Very gentle and caring. He told me the other night that you were cute, as well." Shane sort of made that one up.

"As long as you're the third I don't mind."

"You're making me hard," Shane said.

The boys had fun with their phone sex. Grunts, groans, and slapping sounds had them both laughing. Jay ejaculated all over his stomach and chest, and then used a dish towel to wipe it all up. As teenagers often forget the simplest of things, he left it on the counter.

No more had Shane finished than Jack came looking for his brother. "Man, you are desperate. I don't care if you jerk off in bed."

Jay headed for his bedroom. "This family is way too nosey," he said on his way out the old western, swinging doors.

Jack finished off the orange juice container and then wiped his mouth with the wet dish towel. Sperm dripped down his chin and mouth.





















Chapter six


Having their own day off school Tony and the boys had planned on a whiffle ball game to occupy the morning. Needing one more player they woke Shane at nine. He was out the door to join the his brothers and friends. Eighteen holes sounded like something he would do after lunch, or until daylight disappeared.

Another late shower and Shane couldn't wait to call Jay to ask him how his day went and what an Autrey boy does for fun."

Jay was at his desk doing homework. He glanced at his brother for some space. Jack gave off his best snicker and left the bedroom. Jay leaped up on the top bunk in just his pajama bottoms.

"Fun? The same thing a Colter boy does. Oh, you mean, like, sports. I chase a little ball across a Technicolor, pesticide-primped lawn. These days I golf with my mom."

"Cool! I never would have thunk. You do resemble one of my woods. No offense, but you're as skinny as I am. We have a course here at the ranch and I played eighteen this afternoon. Played is a relative term when I golf. I'm not very good. The land is relatively flat, but the course is green with tiered greens, shaved so close you can putt from 30 and 40 yards off the green."

"My short game sucks anyway," Jay admitted modestly and falsely. "What's your handicap?"

"About the same as the number of batters I pitch against on an outing. How about yours?"

"Depends on whom I am playing against. I'm a sucker for someone putting their hands around me and helping me putt."

Shane chuckled and suggested a tree-lined fairway where they could meet in the rough. "I'm Davy Crockett on this hole. I might need help with my musket, if you have a six iron."

"Seven point five, actually. Jack, he's my brother and roommate, we keep a tally. He's thicker; I'm longer."

"I've got the perfect hump and hollow for your seven-point five club. You'll have to help me with my slice. It's worse than my slider."

"I'll have to analyze your trajectory physics and aero coefficients," Jay sort of joked.

"I love it when you talk sexy to me," Shane said.

By pure coincidence, according to his roommate, Jack walked back into their bedroom to torment his sibling. Almost at the same time Ben had come home and entered his bedroom, which was also Shane's. Through the phone Shane heard a voice say, "Really?" and then a sound of a smack on what was Jay's ass, as he lay prone on his bed.

"Knock it off!" Jay retorted.

On the other end Ben kissed his love on the abyss of the lower back. "Sorry, I'm so late. Who you talking to?"

"Got to go," Shane said first and both boys said they'd see each other tomorrow.

If Shane felt like Ben had been ignoring him, he found out he was partially right. Ben sat down on the bed, complimented Shane for another awesome performance and relieved some of the tension between them.

"I know I haven't exactly been lovable all week, but the clinic called and they want another sperm sample. I'm holding up for several days to make this work."

"I've noticed that your spurts have turned to drips. I'm concerned that you can't keep up. You should have the giant testicles of a chimpanzee, which can blast out an enormous volume of sperm."

"Where'd you learn that? First hand experience?"

"Ouuuu, nice try. You're learning this trash talk really well. Jay told me that his mom teaches them all about sexuality. You might be able to use a few of her lessons." Shane knew those were fighting words to his lover, and he got pulverized without really trying to defend himself. Sometimes it was more fun being completely dominated.

Ben played the ownership card the next day, calling in that he and Shane were under the weather and wouldn't be at the afternoon game. It must have been something they ate. With the Autrey's coming, there was too much to do to prepare the ranch.

Now that the junior baseball season was over there were 22 boys left in the dorm; the others had returned to their families. Rarely were they given notice that this was a non-nudist day, which meant no skinny dipping or other activities without clothes on.

Izzy Burton was visibly excited in preparing a large feast for Mr. Barkley's guests. Besides the normal ribs, she was preparing wild-caught king salmon, set off by trout roe and rosy roasted beets. Izzy also had her own favorite rhubarb pie.

As the Autrey's piled out of their large SUV in front of the ranch house, there were a few disgruntled faces. Tension was in the air. Lucy and Patty wanted to bring their boyfriends, but their father rejected that idea. Pete Jr. was sure there'd be nothing to do. He wasn't that keen on baseball and meeting a Major League pitcher was only so-so. Luke, Pete's usual confidant, was more reserve. He was looking forward to meeting Shane Colter. Jack had his smile for his brother that meant he was prepared to mock any sign of affection seen between his brother and Shane Colter. Lisa just followed along like she usually did with Jamie's hand in hers.

In jeans, a big silvery belt and western shirt, Pete Sr. had intentions to ride one of these thoroughbreds Ben Barkley had so much talked about. As usual he expected the missus to keep an eye on his children. A few Texas beers and the afternoon would be worth it. He expected his kids to be bored and that was just fine with him.

The Autrey children, all in shorts and leisurely shirts, had brought their swimsuits. Lucy had worn her bikini underneath her shorts. She didn't trust undressing in any place she was unfamiliar with, especially when she heard that there were so many boys at the ranch.

The Autrey family froze in their tracks when Ben and Shane greeted them at the front door. Eight young faces bent their necks back to look up at this stick for a teenager. Shane smiled, stuck out his hand for all except Jay, who he hugged. Jack snickered as expected.

Two surprise guests came from the rear of the house in unison, the older with his arm around Nate. Chip introduced himself to Mr. and Mrs. Colter. Janice smiled as if she had just met a prince, but Pete Sr. was far less interested. He hadn't voted for the kid's father to begin with and was never happy that so much attention had been put on gay rights toward the end of President Carver's term of office.

Nate smiled with Jay's happiness that the boys had met again. They skipped the shaking of hands and went to a hug, just like Shane did.

To the backyard, Izzy had a tray of cocktails for the adults: whiskey, muddled with fruit or a bourbon double chocolate finished with roasted cacao nibs. Izzy had an inkling toward French cuisine and drinks.

The Colter family had been invited, as well. Tom and Sarah Colter arrived late, and then blended in with the other adults sitting on the large deck leading down to the pool. The adults had quietly separated themselves from 15 kids.

Not surprisingly Shane and Jay drifted off, as Jay retrieved his clubs from the van. He'd almost had a father and son debate for just bringing them. Mr. Autrey was sure if Barkley had any type of a course it would be a par-3 and unkempt. No one from his club had ever heard of any golf course out this way.

Tony was by far the least shiest of his peers. He quickly organized the group into a whiffle ball game, a type of activity that normally would have had the Autrey children gravitate toward their laptops for game time. Their mother made sure no computers or Game Boys were stashed.

Cheet, Trey and Scooter might have had a lot to do with this immediate approval of teams. One smile from Cheet, and Lucy had all but forgotten that she had wanted to spend the day with her boyfriend back home. Trey and Scooter were like bookends to Patty, and she absorbed it all. Bo was always the more reserve, quiet type. When Lisa asked him about his Little League hat with stars on it, he was glad to tell her all about the LL championships at Williamsport, Pa.

Jack backed away from this sickening flowery words of boys trying to impress his sisters. He liked Tony's macho appearance and charisma, let alone his quick wit. Tony made a friend by simply making Jack a captain of one of the teams. Reece started playing catch with Pete Jr. and Luke, while Jamie loved swinging a red plastic bat.

Their make-shift diamond, fashioned like the Green Monster of Fenway Park, was all groomed with a small electric scoreboard. This was impressive to even kids who weren't into baseball. In minutes their fun and laughter would last for a one-hour game.

Petey pitched one that curved so far it caught Patty in the chest.

"Juuust a bit inside!" Tony yelled and had Petey busting up. Leave it to Tony to keep everyone laughing.

Janice and Sarah found common ground: art. Sarah did her own wood-carving, and they both appreciated sculpture. Their fluency in the language of galleries, their art-world terms and descriptions, were a sort of word soup. Janice never came across as a teacher, knowing how quickly some women become defensive, if not feeling inadequate. Sarah certainly held her own. Not quite as liberal, but having a gay son, they were quickly having laughs about their love for Jay and Shane.

Though Ben loved his horses he wasn't an associate with horse people. Too much drama he had always said. There were overprotective owners who insisted that their animals be treated like porcelain figurines, and "back seat riders," who loved to criticize other people's technique. If Pete Autrey thought he was meeting a snobbish horse owner he was sorely mistaken. He'd met hunter-jumpers and dressage people to Western pleasure people. He was glad he was in the cattle business.

Ben-the-billionaire had a way of making his point. He gave Pete one of his best stallions and he took his favorite mule, Stanley. Contrary to popular belief, mules are not slow. They're also too intelligent to do stupid things. While a horse can be ridden to death, when a mule is exhausted after a long day on the trail it'll stop. Plain and simple.

They rode out to the oil fields on the far reaches of the ranch. Idle chit chat put their lives in perspective, both hard working, dedicated men to their livelihood and wealthy to the core of respect and decency. At least Pete would have Ben believe that.

Near the main oil fields security was on them immediately, but once this patrol recognized Ben it was the ultimate assistance and adoration for the owner and boss. Pete Sr. was introduced and given the blue-ribbon treatment.

For the first two holes Jay was out to impress Shane Colter. His first drive alone was over 300 yards down the center of an immaculate fairway. This golf course was a far cry from what his father had supposed. Manicured and professionally landscaped to a Jack Nicholas' design, Jay birdied the first two holes, compared to Shane's double bogeys. The 17-year old was a far better pitcher than a golfer.

Jay began to help Shane's swing on the fourth, coming from behind and correcting his grip and suggesting that Shane keep limiting his left hand involvement. Shane thanked his friend by twisting his head and giving him a quick kiss. A straight drive, not necessarily far, was the result. Every stroke now required Jay's close stance behind Shane. An erection was soon poking a six-eight frame. Shane wiggled his butt back as an acceptance.

Shane moved the back of his hand against the swollen shaft. "May I use this club?"

"I'd love that," Jay said.

Golf swings slowly were forgotten when Jay squeezed Shane around the waist, the pressing of his penis against his friend's shorts almost made him come. Up on his tiptoes he rested his head on a shoulder until Shane went a one-eighty and locked their lips together. His palms squeezed Jay's tight ass against his own boner.

Right there on the dog-leg fourth fairway, Shane dropped to his knees, lowered Jay's shorts and underwear to first lick the boy's balls, then engulfed the swollen member. Jay's legs went weak, barely able to keep his balance and moaning that he was about ready to explode. Shane knew the score, squeezed the bulbous head to settle the fifteen-year old down. Whipping off their golf shoes, socks, shorts and underwear, Shane rested on his stomach on the short cropped grass and had Jay lay prone over him.

"Take it slowly," Shane coached.

Jay felt his erection between the soft mounds of muscle. He kissed Shane's neck, back, and reached around to find the lips. His own hips were grinding when it happened so suddenly. It slipped in. Frozen in the enclosure's magnificence, only when he knew he couldn't possibly control his ejaculation did he begin to move in and out to the buildup. Electrical jolts too amazing to fathom sent his cock deep into the hole. Spasm after spasm, a turbulence of sperm became a Gatlin gun of release.

Seemingly exhausted, Jay felt he owed it to Shane to resume fucking. His cock still rigid, if a male could double orgasm it was at this moment that sensations evoked even more pleasure. Finally Jay released his pin, his oneness with this boy he knew he loved more than any other had finished before he really thought about fucking his idol.

Flipping off onto his back next to Shane, he found his body covered by this amazing youth, crotch to crotch, Shane kissed him passionately.

"I've finally lost my virginity," Shane teased and had Jay smile.

Jay rolled his friend back onto the grass, and then went down on this unfulfilled cock. His first blow job and he loved every second.

"I'm coming," was spoken almost as a warning if Jay didn't want to swallow.

Jay heard it but no way was he releasing. This novice felt the first warm spurts hit the back of his throat. A quick swallow, Jay sucked every drop of juice from Shane's loins. His kiss back to Shane shared the warm, salty liquid.

They lay there for many minutes, absorbing the Texas air, their nakedness and this union that they both hoped was just a beginning of a long friendship.

"Nice hole in one," Shane teased as they were dressing.

"It's why I love golf and you. Both flagsticks are my goal," Jay said.

On the twelfth, a water hazard with a small pond, Shane stripped his clothes off, followed by Jay. They swam to cool their bodies and cleanse their sex. For the next two holes golf meant nude perfection.

One hour and nine innings later, Tony yelled, "Pool time!" and fired off his shorts as he usually did. A tap on his shoulder from Cheet was a reminder.

"Uncle Ben thought we should wear suits today," he said.

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot," Tony replied.

Lucy stepped forward. "Do you guys usually swim naked?"

Cheet smiled. "All the time, except when we have guests."

"We're not prudes. The Autrey's don't care," Lucy said emphatically.

Jamie joined Tony in less time than it took everyone to agree. Jamie dropped his shorts and underwear and ran for a cannonball entry. Quickly sixteen naked kids were occupying this Olympic-size pool.

On the patio Janice was the first to glimpse at what appeared nude boys and girls dashing for the pool. "What is going on?" she asked calmly.

"Normality here, my dear," Sarah said. "My own daughters are the modest ones in this family, while my boys, well, boys will be boys."

"Yes, and girls will be girls. They were resistant to coming today; now they're swimming with naked boys. Go figure."

Higher on the range Ben and Pete were riding their chestnut mule and dashing white thoroughbred, taking in the countryside and occasional animals. A few hours on a horse did wonders for the stresses of the world. Ben caught the sight first, not exactly wishing to bring attention. Pete was just as quick to catch the movement down in the valley. Two golfers with their bags over their shoulders were striding side by side down a long fairway. Interesting thing, they didn't have any clothes on. Pete sat up in his saddle for better examination.

"Damn! That's my boy!"

"We don't freak on clothes around the ranch," Ben said using a common word from his son Tony.

"I can see that. He sure didn't waste any time trying to impress Shane Colter. Having a gay son is taking some time to get used to."

"Pete, your son doesn't have to try to impress Shane. Your boy is very handsome and athletic. Shane admires the boy a great deal."

"What's there to admire?" Pete caught himself and chuckled. "Okay, given what homosexuals like, he has that, but the boy has no exceptional qualities."

Ben was irked but didn't show it. As if this guy next to him showed any exceptional skills himself. "Looks to me like he takes after his old man. I'm sure your wife found you very attractive and virile." That came out far more complimentary than Ben wanted.

"Uh, thank you. I will have to admit my son has an exceptional golf game. I could beat him until last year. The kid puts me to shame now. Ever since I told my colleagues that I have a gay son I'm afraid they would be uncomfortable playing with him in our foursome."

Ben was a fraction of a second away of coming out to far more people than just his brother. This was his chance. So easy to say, `I'm one of those homosexuals. Would you ostracize me, too?' His mind began to contemplate the complications. Always his worst enemy at times, he thought about his reputation as a Texan icon, a man who employed dozens of men, the owner of the Houston Astros, and had a ranch house filled with boys. Boys being the operative word. The word homosexual scared people if an adult was involved. He even had an adopted son. Then to mention a dorm filled with more gay teens. Chances are Mr. Autrey wouldn't even allow Jay over to see Shane anymore.

"A person's sexuality is irrelevant to his contributions to the world. To even think in this day that people wouldn't want to play golf with a gay teenager is unfathomable."

"Yes, well, it's not that my companions have said anything, but I don't want to push it. Your support of Shane Colter is admirable, but I'm not sure I can allow my son to be caught up in the publicity and scrutiny of a Major League pitcher. I wouldn't be surprised to see a reporter sneaking around your ranch. Dare say that's the most risqué thing my son has ever done. Being led astray for a fifteen-year old must have taken a lot of persuasion. Okay, sixteen on Tuesday, but that Colter kid is too shrewd."

What Ben wouldn't give to knock this guy off his saddle. Though he had asked Tom Colter to join them, he was now glad Shane's dad stayed with his brother Joe on the veranda. Knowing Tom Colter, Autrey's message was too much like the Tom of old. Fortunately the two men always talked business and investments.

"I can guarantee you that my boy's...ah, Shane's character has not been tarnished, nor is he sexually risqué, as you put it. Most boys, if I remember, have this pointer that doesn't exactly come with directions, but it finds gold none the less."

"I'll give you that one," Pete said.

"If that was my daughter down there you might think your son got pretty lucky. Or if your daughter was down there I doubt if you'd have the same viewpoint."

"Trust me," Pete said twisting in his saddle, "my daughters have more sense than to run around in public in their birthday suits."

Ben glanced down at a par-3 tee and saw Shane standing behind his shorter compatriot. Shane moved his fingers over the boy's rear and up the lower back. The other teenager appeared to tilt backward in splendor. Shane collapsed to his knees and put his face into the boy's ass.

One intelligent mule seemed to pick up on Ben's rush. "I think we ought to go right over that way. You'll like my trout stream," Ben said and pointed to distract Mr. Autrey away from the golf course.

After his first birdie Shane was hyper. He ran his finger nails up the spine of his new friend, sending the teen's body into putty. Dropping to his knees, Shane licked the hairless sphere of delicacy. There are no finer words then, "Oh, yeah!" by anyone receiving pleasure. Jay's legs went all marshmallow.

Following Shane's advice, Jay went to the grass and on his side, a beginner's approach to intercourse. Shane entered cautiously, retreated, inserted another inch, retreated and found Jay's hand reaching around to assure that this penetration lasted this time. Jay sank into oblivion of this erotic button. A miniature course of Shane's favorite positions, Jay's one leg was swung up, then on his back with both legs held together. Shane plummeting his cock deep and hard into the crevasse.

Knees bent toward his chest, Jay kissed Shane wildly while this boy he just knew he loved immensely froze inside of him. On his knees he was ridden like a dog. Finally Shane flipped over on his back and had Jay sit on his member. Jay rode up and down, his whole body shivered and convulsed as his load shot upward onto Shane's face and chest.

In return Shane sensed the squeezing of the boy's anus. He sent his own hot jizz up the shoot. Golf had two holes vibrating with long woodies that afternoon. Smearing Jay's cum off his face and abs, Shane made circles around Jay's nipples with the creamy cum. As a lesson, Shane put a finger inside of Jay's mouth so the teen could taste his own spurt. They ended their foray by soft kisses.

Joel Burton was never happier living at this ranch instead of a dilapidated house on the bad side of Houston. His parents refused their three boys from venturing out after six at night in fear of drive-by shootings. Playing with all these white kids was really new, and, despite his lanky, un-athletic appearance, he'd had a blast with whiffle ball.

Over the past few days he couldn't believe what he had seen around the ranch. All these naked boys just strolling around without a worry in the world. For a gay boy this was heaven. His two brothers adapted more slowly, finding everything a big weird. Their father kept telling them that this was a chance of a lifetime and not to screw it up by complaining. Let the white chilun's be as naked as jaybirds. Who cares? We do not rile the man who makes the gold.

Joel was wary of Tony. The boy was assertive, brave, funny, and had a body encased in muscle. He was surprised that the boy dropped his shorts in front of so many girls. But then everyone decided no clothes. Joel didn't hesitate, but waited for a reaction like he got at school. His dick hung super low, like it had been deliberately stretched. Tony immediately joked for Joel not to run as he might trip over his dick. Jack laughed at everything Tony said and did. Joel, certainly used to trash talk with his imitation of rappers, admitted to the boys and girls in the pool that he had the only cock he knew that got shorter when he had an erection. In truth his penis seemed to thicken and swell to a shorter version than when flaccid.

"Eel from Brazil," Tony kidded and held the limp tube in his fingers.

Joel's brothers, Darrel and Rufus, 12 and 11 respectively, busted up laughing with Jack and the other boys. They were on their way to having the same gifted endowment.

Pool volleyball was a wet relief from the hot sun of whiffle ball. If Tony was the jokester, Joel was the comedian. His vocal imitations of cartoon characters kept the kids in stitches. He was feminine without being effeminate, gay without being prissy or the flaming queer. In many ways Joel's humor saved him from a great deal of bullying at school and in the neighborhood. It was a way to camouflage Joel's own feelings of insecurity by hiding behind make-believe characters that made people laugh. In three days he'd met a Hispanic boy at the academy. Though only fourteen, Jose, a shortstop with great potential, had befriended this black youth.

As several of the kids began to leisurely recline on the hammocks and lounge chairs around the pool to chat and drink lemonade, Tony asked Jack if he wanted to ride a mechanical bull. Off they raced, wet asses to the air, to a barn a quarter mile away.

Chip was left with two women yakking after Nate hi-tailed to the pool. For the moment the teenager had the brightest idea to get away from these mothers. Chip regretted not following Nate's lead and sat there nodding on occasion but was totally bored.

Janice was the first to pick up on Chip glancing constantly at the pool. "Chip Carver, you get your buns over there to play with those kids. You're still a boy at heart. I'm kind of hoping to see what my boy sees when he goes on your Facebook."

Chip grinned. "Not as much as he might have a few years ago. I've had to clean up my act. Being a congressman kind of sucks." Chip got the blessings from both mothers and leaped at the chance.

Joel caught a poke from Scooter to check out the new guy on the deck. Scooter waited for the response. Sure enough when Joel saw Chip lower his underwear his eyes bugged out.

"That guy has to have some black in `im," Joel said and had Scooter busting up.

Pete Autrey wasn't paying attention to the leaves turning brown as fall approached nor the cloudless sky, or the grazing of cattle sprinkled like pepper over a hillside. His own ranch had dusty yards and corrals, clusters of outbuildings, cattle as far as the eye could see. What he found interesting was Ben's commentary on the Astro's biggest problem—poker. Pete had laughed at first, then it all made sense: too much time on their hands, the need to win and the challenge of risk.

"The players tell me that it helps their concentration," Ben elaborated. "You can't let the swings of poker get to you. Stay steady and focused, just like on the diamond. You must calculate all the probabilities and make the right decision. Same thing against a great pitcher."

"Fascinating," Pete spoke with his own admiration for poker. Perhaps he'd talk this senior citizen into a game before they left.

They rode over a dirt trail, a bumpy strip of brown that overlooked the ranch house below. A mass of pink and a few bare black boys dotted in and around a blue glare of sparkling pool water. Ben almost laughed, but Pete had trouble believing his eyes.

"What the hell is going on here?" He saw his wife and another woman nearby, wine glasses in hand. Pete didn't dare make a scene over something his wife approved. His children would hear about this later.

As they entered the barn Jack's eyes were as big as apricots when he saw this mechanical apparatus surrounded by hay. He smiled ear to ear and watched Tony leap upon this bull and touch a remote by a leather ear.

Time to show off was on this spirited boy's mind. Tony stood up in the stirrups, his penis whipping around and balls bouncing, but he had Jack's attention.

Allowing Jack his turn, the young teen went tumbling within seconds. Tony leaped back on the saddle, and then helped Jack saddle up behind him. They rode for a couple of minutes together, Jack hanging on for dear life. With his arms wrapped around Tony's front it didn't take long for the boy to realize a hard-on was poking upward into his arm. Humorously he reached down and gripped Tony's arousal. Tony put his hand around Jack's, making sure the grip wouldn't subside.

Jack felt a tingle in his own balls. A surge of blood made his own dick grow upward until it was squeezing into his friend's back. They both accepted the other's excitement. He certainly wasn't going to tell Jay about this. Tony was probably into girls like he was and this was just a boy thing of letting it hang out.

With one turn of a gauge, the bull sprang into twisting jerks and angles. Off the boys flew, Jack landing on Tony. Their giggles were loud and robust. A slight twist from Tony to his back and he had Jack's groin a few inches away. His hands went to Jack's butt to bring the boy forward. One sweep of his tongue under a set of pink, sweaty balls sent Jack's head backward with delight. Up the shaft, into the mouth, Jack had never known how good a blow job can be. As close to saying that he wasn't gay Jack decided that this felt way too good to interrupt. Maybe later he might mention this so Tony knew he was straight.

This was long past any boyhood discovery for Tony. It would take more than two hands for the number of straight boys that Tony had seduced. They had all come back for more. He was an expert at gay sex in teasing this neophyte to heights the boy never knew existed. A shove sent Jack sprawling backwards to where the young Autrey was on his stomach. Tony's strong arms had a leverage that let the boy know to stay that way. Wet and curled, Tony's tongue darted into Jack's asshole, and then downward to gumming the boy's soft sack. When Jack separated his legs to allow access Tony knew he'd have another notch on his belt. Back to more penetration with his tongue to massive nerve endings made Jack shiver with awe.

Satisfied that he had this teenager begging for more, Tony pushed the boy's hips upward until Jack was on his knees. Ever so gradually Tony eased his cock into the wetness, paused, released, another light entry, release, and the moan came. Tony plunged to exhale all the air out of this teenager's lungs. He hesitated to let Jack get used to the odd sensation. Often a new boy at this will think he has to go to the bathroom. Purely a sensation that disappears. Gradually it was Jack who lowered himself onto the rigid member by moving his hips back and forth.

Tony was not a quick comer. He fucked with expertise for several minutes to own this young bull. Flipping onto his back he knew Jack was not pleased to end this fun.

"Sit on it," Tony ordered.

Jack sprang up and squatted with a chuckle that this should be really interesting. Jack lowered himself until he had swallowed the entire penis with his ass. Face to face the two boys smiled. Jack, for his accomplishment of sitting fully on this cock; Tony, for his expertise in fucking his friend. Jack's dick twitched, as hard as it ever had. Up and down he massaged and rode Tony's cock, far easier than the mechanical bull to their rear.

"Yipppeeee!" Jack shouted to this super feeling inside of him.

Jack raised his right arm to swing it in the air in make believe that he was this rodeo star. His thought of being a straight boy had been forgotten.

Outside the barn Ben unsaddled his mule, while Pete brushed the stallion down before entering the stable. Ben didn't dare say anything about the nude sunbathing or swimming; after all, Pete had said his daughters had too much sense to do something like that. Instead they talked politics, especially how much each detested the IRS. When Pete admitted being a staunch Republican, Ben left it alone.

Ben led the way in the barn to guide his mule Stanley in his stall. He casually brushed the mule's hindquarters and gave words of appreciation for a fine ride. The sounds of the mechanical bull were quite evident, but no one was in the saddle. Up and over the rail he glanced, hearing moans and the slurps of sliding skin. There was his son and Pete's boy going to town. Both with closed eyes, faces contorted, and his son Tony ramming his cock upwards into this once virgin hole. This would be a disaster if Ben didn't move quickly. Out of the stall he hustled, grabbed a braided bullwhip and cupped Pete's elbow before the man ventured too deep inside the barn. Too late, Pete saw the mechanical bull to the rear.

"Whoa, that's not what I think it is, is it? Someone must have forgotten to turn it off."

"Busted," Ben said and literally knew that would be true if the man went back there. "I'll show you that later. Here, can you use one of these?" He led the man toward the exit.

If Jack didn't hear it, Tony sure did. Only problem, Tony was close to coming. He grabbed Jack's face to bring it downward where he could kiss the boy's lips. The kiss with the frozen penetration sent Jack erupting into ejaculations that creamed both their chests. Tony sent a surge of sperm into Jack's rectum. They stayed hugged for several seconds, each feeling the aftereffects of orgasm.

Like another dimension of reality, Jack came to a conscious decision that he'd just had sex with a boy. He stood up, his ass feeling wet, his own cock was still erect and dripping with the last remnants of cum. He'd been kissed! But he wasn't gay! A movement had his eyes see a mule in the next stall.

"That donkey wasn't there when we got here, was it?"

"Sometimes that crazy mule just walks in on his own," Tony tried to reason.

"And close the gate? Who is that, Mr. Ed?" Jack joked.

"Okay, my dad must've brought him in," Tony admitted.

"Your dad?! Oh my God, he probably saw us. I'm in major shit! He'll tell my father for sure."

Tony sprang up. "No, my dad's not like that. He's cool, trust me. Ben doesn't care, got it?"

"Is that why he's not married?" Jack questioned without saying the word.

"Jack, I really like you, but you can't tell anyone that my father is gay. Got it?"

"So, you're gay, too?"

"Of course! I don't make love to any boy, just the hot ones."

"But I'm not gay," Jack admitted.

"Since when does that make a difference? Did you have fun?"

Jack had to ponder that one. "Well, sure, but it all happened so fast."

"Why have to think about it? Our dicks like to do the thinking for us."

"Yeah, that's what my mom says. We think through our dicks, she teases us."

Tony cupped the boy's face into his hands with almost a humorous vice. "Look, dude, we've just had two amazing ball busters. Know what happens? Yeah, sex isn't exactly on our mind for a few minutes. Within the hour we'll remember this time like a trip to Disney World and want to repeat it. Relax and let your dick enjoy its vacation."

Jack listened to this logical explanation and nodded the best he could. He crouched down to peek between two boards. Outside of the open barn door was his father. Now he was super aware that he was nude with his father around.

Tony knew of every entrance and exit to this barn. He made sure the path was clear, then grabbed Jack's hand to whisk out a hole in the fifth stall. Jack sprinted back to the pool to retrieve his clothes. Tony only shook his head and walked back.

At the suggestion of Austin, Ben had installed a non-slip rubberized basketball court next to the pool. Tony quickly organized a basketball game and yelled at Jack to join them. Straight boys often felt remorse for sex with other boys. Jack was no different, so Tony did his best to get back in favor with his friend by inviting him to be on his team. Boys like Jack were a trophy and Tony had had several: Cheet, Reese, Bo, Trey, Philly and Scooter, and so many others on his trips to bull riding competitions. He'd even fucked a twelve-year old who just wanted his autograph after Tony had won the state rodeo championship.

Tony had been in the restroom when the handsome youth entered with pen and paper. A few words, a hand on the boy's crotch, and the two hurried into the nearest stall. The twelve-year old said it was better than even an autograph.

Tony knew that once they tasted the fruits of sex any boy worth his oats would more than often come back for seconds. Twelve-year olds turn into thirteen-year olds with bigger dicks. The boy would be at several rodeos in the future, Tony knew.

Jack had regained his sexual energy after a short refractory period. He quickly accepted the fact that his peers were nude, so he threw off his shorts and joined in the naked fun. His father wasn't around, so what the heck? It wasn't like his father knew that Tony was gay anyway.

Mrs. Autrey came out to the pool area and informed everyone to prepare for dinner. Mrs. Colter offered the pool house for showers, but Cheet told the girls that they could use his shower in his bedroom, as well. He said it more as a joke, but more than one young lady didn't take it as that. Hand in hand Lucy slipped in the house with Cheet, while Reece and Trey walked in with Patty. All most as physically developed as Lucy, Patty's perky breast was more of a sixteen-year old than someone twelve. She was far more mature for her age than her brothers at that age.

Scooter and Bo decided that their own shower in their bedroom was faster than following Tony, Jack, Jamie, Joel and his brothers in the pool house. Lisa was delighted to be invited by Scooter, while Pete Jr. and Luke followed Bo.

To give credit to Cheet, he was actually aiming for the guest shower until Lucy asked which room was his. Cheet pointed down the hall and Lucy pulled the boy into that room where they saw Reece, Trey and Patty run in a few seconds earlier.

Two double beds, one of them Tony's, the other's, Cheet's, were tumbled on by the naked kids. The boys all had experience with the Erickson girls, and wasted no time taking advantage of these desirous sisters.

Lucy and Patty already had it in their minds to just jack off these boys. Intercourse was something to be done when they were older.

While Cheet got into a kissing contest with Lucy, he quickly lowered himself to kiss her breast, then even lower to taste the girl's hardened clit. The slit had a flow of light brown hairs a little heavier than her sister's. Moist with the scent of chlorine from the pool the soft tissue came to life under Cheet's tongue. Barely lifting his head Cheet opened the drawer beside his bed to find a condom.

"I just got off my period," Lucy said and Cheet closed the drawer without the protection.

He rode up on his knees and held Lucy's fingers against his tiny chest knobs down to his abs. Directing her fingers onto his seeping penis he put her index finger into her mouth to taste his pre-cum. Lucy grinned.

A lean forward to kiss her desirous lips, in he slid into the well-lubed opening, thinking the girl was as experienced as he was. Lucy sighed out a breath of air, truly having her body enveloped in ecstasy. Those ideas of saving herself for marriage were replaced by an awesome feeling of being fulfilled as a woman. The notion to just jack off a boy seemed so immature. A small pool of blood would stain Cheet's bedspread for his effort.

In the next bed the three giggling kids certainly saw the passionate love making of their peers. Patty stared at the erection easing in and out of her sister's vagina. Her moans and passionate kissing even excited Patty to copy her sister.

Reece came in behind this petite girl and mounted Patty. He aimed for the pink wrinkle, not easily visible inside a strand of blond hairs. Trey moved up on his knees and bent his erection between the girl's lips. Her sucking wasn't perfection, but would do. Distracted to her role in giving the best blow job she could, Patty felt the boy's boner sliding in. It was a discomfort at first, but then a total bliss.

Cheet liked different positions, but he noticed the blood stain. "I didn't know," Cheet apologized, like he should have taken things slower.

"You're terrific," Lucy said. "I'm okay." It was awkward to be on her elbows and knees, but she liked the position Cheet fucked her with. They finally ended up with Lucy mounting Cheet and riding him while he stroked her breast. Her first orgasm, she shuddered and kissed him wildly. Her sex was now an instrument of pleasure.

Reece came quickly. He switched positions with Trey to allow Patty to taste his cum and her own juices. Trey slipped in with sloppy seconds. He moved with wild abandonment and loved when he saw Patty's boobs bounce to his rhythm.

Four boys and a girl bounced on a bed in the next room. Scooter popped the first boner and everyone laughed. A collapse of bodies had Scooter on top of Lisa. Lisa held his head to make this Little Leaguer her first kiss. A single hip placement and Scooter's penis slipped between Lisa's legs. He had found its haven without trying. The young lady might have been hairless but she relished having a penis inside her.

Bo and Pete Jr. were getting hard just watching Scooter's ass going up and down. They wrestled Luke to the mattress and teased him with licking and a blow job. A three-way commenced with each trying to show the others what they knew.

Patty was the most fastidious of the Audrey children. Seeing the blood stain she dashed off to get a cold rag. Lucy, on the other hand, had just experienced her first orgasm. She wanted more. With a jump from one bed to the other her fingers fondled Trey's half-erection, covered with Patty's blood. Slipping it inside her wet pussy Trey was hard again in seconds. Reece came in behind her and guided his member into her ass. Before Lucy knew what had happened she was being fucked front and back.

Patty came in with a wet washcloth and was pissed that her sister was fucking her boyfriend. Flopping on her back she had Cheet grow hard in her fingers, before plunging his hardness between her legs. An exception to her sister, it had been three weeks since her last period.

Janice and Sarah were the first to notice the absence of all the children. Sarah began to head back toward the bedrooms when Ben stopped her.

"I'll check in the boys' rooms," he said to avoid any surprises. That was putting it mildly. He walked in his son's room and saw nothing but bare butts moving in and out. The blood smear quite visible on the sheet meant loss of virginity. Ben moved to the bed and smacked each boy hard on the ass.

"Get dressed, now! Dinner is waiting." He held his nephew's elbow a little harder to get the message across. "Lucky for you, Mr. Autrey didn't come with me. He'd be branding your asses with a hot iron."

The girls were far more shocked than the boys. They quickly hustled back to the pool to retrieve their clothes.

Through a side door Ben moved and saw no less a naked display of sex acts with four boys and a young girl.

"Oh, shit!" Scooter said and slid his dick out from between the girl's legs. He got a swat for the language and one for not being ready for dinner.

"Move!" Ben yelled and had the kids scatter to find their clothes.

It wasn't the sex but the chaos that concerned Ben. A family outing had turned into an orgy. One saving grace was Tony coming into the house with Jack and the Burton boys. At least someone had the sense to be ready. Ben kissed his smiling son on the forehead.

"That away, Champ. You know the routine. Get all the kids at the round table," Ben instructed and patted Jack on the head.

Two more to go, Ben ascertained, but his two older teens were moving across the lawn with their golf bags in tow. Shane leaned forward and kissed his man without the slightest worry on what Jay might think.

"Jay is a pro," Shane confessed and had his friend smiling.

Ben shook the boy's hand. "I caught a glimpse."

Two tables, one adult, the other, a round table full of kids. Only exception was having Jay and Shane at the adult's rectangular table. As usual Tony entertained the sub-set with jokes and innuendo, often about the Crusade two years earlier. A constant tone of giggles and laughter. Assured that Mr. Barkley hadn't told their father, even the girls were now relaxed and having a grand time.

Ben had Franklin Burton, his new trainer and ranch manager sit at one of the far ends of the oak arrangement. Franklin was a wise black man, who'd been around men and horses for years. Money and class made him feel uncomfortable, but Ben's ranch was laid back. His wife Izzy presented a spectacular spread, including wine and desserts.

For all the commotion the dinner went exceedingly smooth. Jack got the hiccups with Tony's constant humor and Jamie wished they could do this every night. Shane drank wine very sporadically to be sociable, while Jay had never indulged. His two glasses made him starry-eyed. Every few minutes the two teens touched fingers, a reminder that they were hot for each other. This would be his boyfriend forever was on Jay's mind. Shane had his own list and Jay would be added with affection.

Lisa glowed with having her first boyfriend and thinking she'd experienced sex before her sisters. It had all happened so fast but amazingly fun.

Lucy and Patty eyed each other every few minutes. Smiles broke over their faces that glowed with the fact that they'd done it. They were women.

An after dinner cognac supported Jay's buzz, while the kids rushed to the family room to watch the latest X-Men movie. There was a scramble to hold their favorite boy's hand, while the boys could have cared less about what the girls' romantic interests were.

The men spoke of a poker contest, while the ladies insisted on helping Izzy clean up.

Everyone rose; that is they tried. Thankfully Ben saw Jay's off-balance and caught him as he fell. Pete Sr. wasn't sure what happened, but he frowned.

"Tripped on the throw rug here," Ben gave an excuse and decided to take the boy outside for a walk, while Shane helped rid the table of plates.

Chip was always quick to catch the odd quirks. He immediately indulged Pete Autrey into the latest gossip of political favor. Chip was as sophisticated as his father when it was time to be politically neutral, if not evasive.

Outside in the cooler night air the two males strolled. Ben's arm swept around the teen's waist for support. "First time drinker, huh?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry about this."

"Make no mind. Not every day I have an adorable male in my arms."

They walked for several minutes, breathing in the early evening's fall air. It did appear in minutes that Jay felt a whole lot better, his mind no longer spinning. As a thank you he leaned to the side to kiss Mr. Barkley on the cheek. Ben twisted just enough to have their lips meet.

"Oops, sorry about that, Mr. Barkley," Jay apologized.

Ben swept the boy toward him. The strong arm of support. The affection. All this went through Jay's mind. Shane had someone who really cared for him, and it was kinda cool to be held by a man.

"Why isn't Austin here?" Jay asked.

"I'm sure my nephew is with his boyfriend on campus," Ben replied.

"But...I thought Austin was Shane's boyfriend."

"Not hardly. The two like each other, but never to the point of being that close," Ben replied.

"But, then, who is..." Jay held his words. "I really love Shane."

"I know, Jay, and I love him, too. I'm glad you're in his life. Do you think we can share that boy together?" Ben turned the teen to face him and was shocked that Jay hugged him.

"It's you. I'm glad, though. You're really special." He felt comforted, almost possessed by Ben's arms and body. So strong and powerful, for those brief seconds he knew he sensed what Shane must feel like.

Ben felt the teenager relax and dissolve in his arms. At first he was reluctant to truly engage the teenager, but then his arms engulfed and the union was like a father and son reunion. A mere retreat of their heads had Jay droop his head. Their lips attached a second later that wasn't by accident. Ben kissed long enough for it to have a special meaning. Holding the teen by his waist, he slipped a hundred dollar bill into the boy's pocket.

"Happy birthday, son. Your lifetime membership to my golf course is a verbal between you and me." The quick thinking made the kiss appear like a birthday present.

"Thanks, Mr. Barkley." Jay leaned forward to plant another kiss on the man's forehead, then another one to the lips. This one was much longer. The wine, the cognacs had made Jay feel very amorphous. He whispered in Ben's ear if he wouldn't mind loving him. Not waiting for an answer Jay put his hand around his host's forearm and led him to the barn. By a stack of hay bales halfway down the stalls, Jay tossed off his T-shirt and shorts. The erection was stiff and straight up. Hairless balls hung as delicate as plastic ornaments.

Should he or shouldn't he? Ben knew the boy was slightly inebriated. Silly, sexual, he grew hard seeing the boy's arousal and tease when Jay gripped his boner like a prelude that he would beat off if Ben didn't satisfy him then. Ben picked the lad up by his waist and sat him on one of the bales. Again they kissed passionately. A flip of Jay's legs held open the fruits of youth. The scent was of Shane's cum, but that didn't stop Ben from licking the delicate hole that had lost its virginity to his peer a few hours before. Ben flipped out his boner, forgetting that he'd saved up his sperm for several days for a return visit to the clinic tomorrow. A few more days of waiting wouldn't make a difference, Ben thought and knew Shane would be back east on a road trip.

Far different than long and slim, Ben filled the cavity with girth, power and fullness. Jay's mind and body gyrated, electrified with the pressure on his prostate. He felt even closer to Shane now, a desire to fulfill a dream come true. Having Ben Barkley fuck him was a happening to really make this day special. Not sure he could take the thickness that expanded his anus, after the first minute Jay lay back to allow his consciousness into another realm of pleasure.

No one in the family room had noticed the immediate dismissal of two boys. Troy was right about Jack, the boy desired more sex after the initial taste. They sat next to each other to watch the movie, and Tony's fingers moved like a spider until his little finger brushed alongside Jack's hand. Jack brushed back. They eyed each other. When Tony slid his hand down his the bulge in his shorts, Jack did the same thing.

The two licentious teens watched the movie in silence, but it was one they'd both seen before. In the pitch darkness Tony reached over and felt the protruding boner from Jack's shorts. Another eye contact and they all but sprinted to the barn, tore off their clothes and leaped on the mechanical bull. This time Jack wanted to fuck Troy. Troy rode up from the stirrups and sat on the protruding erection. To let a straight boy fuck him meant far more adventures to come.

It was the two dark shadows that entered the barn that had the two boys freeze attached. At first Tony thought it was his dad and Shane. The shorter height registered that thought as wrong. Then Jack whispered he thought it was Jay. "This should be interesting," Jack whispered and began sliding in and out of Tony to prolong his own sexual wont.

Ben felt no pain. He could handle liquor, but it was rare now that he over indulged. His initial concern was for Shane. If they hadn't had a discussion the night before Ben wouldn't have dared touch this boy. Ben knew Shane would have other loves, potentially Jay. Shane said that any lover of his would have to accept and love Ben. No if's and but's, they shared. Safety and health were the only conditions.

Jay's sexiness invigorated Ben's loins. This boy was new to gay love and desired as much as he could get. The boy held his arms above his head, his legs spread. Delirious, wanton, Jay had no reservation in his vocal descriptions of how his physical senses were vividly aroused. This was no longer his fingers or a felt tip marker in experimental wonderment of how a real penis would feel. Now a real, hard cock, thick and pounding was making him a gay boy to be counted.

Ben could feel the boy's anus pulsate, the muscle vibrate around his swollen member. Fucking this teen was a glorious celebration of all that was beautiful about being one with another. His hips slapped the raw skin with quick rams. He wanted to slap the boy's bottom, hear the vocal come-ons that so enticed him when Shane did it. Shane all but demanded rough play, but such a demonstration might scare a beginner. For the moment he was quite content to have this teen feel a man's dominance of a satisfied boy.

When Jay raised his hips above the straw, his cock twitched. No rubbing, no touch, it shot sperm up and over his head. His verbal projectiles were ones he'd never used, but they seemed so natural given how his body felt. Ben had a momentary conclusion that he wouldn't ejaculate, but Jay's muscular anus latched onto his cock to ignite the impulse to orgasm. Ben did one last thrust and sent his load into the boy's bowels. His eschewed face and subdued moans let Jay know he had satisfied this adult.

Jack had never heard his brother abandon his senses in sexual abandonment. Watching and grinding into his new friend's ass sent a shiver down his spine that created a shock wave from his toes to his head. He leaned around and kissed Troy's lips, while flooding his new friend's bottom with white juice. He might like girls, but fucking Tony was the coolest thing he'd ever done. It was an orgasm that never wanted to end, squirt after squirt, the pounding into Troy's ass lasted until Jack froze from exhaustion. There was no way he could have pulled out.

Ben licked the boy's cum off of Jay's chest and stomach. They kissed for another minute before getting dressed. They were now both limp but laughing at their conquest.

Ben strolled in alone, as planned. His brother Joe, Tom Colter, Franklin, Chip, and Pete Sr. had a small card table arranged with chips and cards. They wondered if the oil barren and Astro owner had cowered out from this big game. Ben groveled a chuckle and admitted that a walk in the night air had cleared his lungs and mind. He didn't mention his balls.

Chip pointed nonchalantly at Ben's groin. Sure enough, his zipper was still down. Ben winked and, as timing would have it, Jay walked in at that precise second with straw hanging from his shorts. Chip subdued his own chuckle and had done the math in that split second.

Jay bee-lined his stride toward where the kids were watching a movie. No Shane. Scooter suggested down the hall to Shane's bedroom. Sure enough Shane was preparing his suitcase for a seven-game road trip.

"Part of the job," Shane said and knew this was part of being a major leaguer. He was to pitch Wednesday night against Boston with a much advertised and anticipated game against the Yankee's best pitcher a week from that night. Colter vs. the Japanese pitcher Tanada. They expected a sellout and a nationally televised audience.

Shane wasn't suspicious of Jay's walk with Ben. Actually, he hoped they'd made out. "Ben really likes you," Shane blurted out and kissed his friend. Shane smelled his lover's cologne. He just knew that these lips had touched Ben's. He smiled with the thought that Ben had enveloped this boy as he had.

He couldn't resist by reaching down the back of Jay's shorts and touching his index finger to Jay's hole. It was very wet and oozing sperm.

"That guy is going to mess up his deposit again," Shane said, more to himself than to Jay.

"Deposit?" Jay said and knew that Shane was on to the clandestine affair in the barn.

"Nothing. Having a good time?"

"The best! You are so lucky, Shane. This is so cool being here. I want to be your friend for a long time."

"You already have Ben's approval on that. He is part of me, so he is now part of you."

"I would like that," Jay agreed and started to cry.

Shane held his new friend. He had always been the "boy", the one to be taken care of by an older man. Now he felt the elder friend, the responsible agent for introducing a sixteen-year old to a much older adult. If he had his way Shane would make sure Ben had a harem of boys. A reach from his hand to the top of the dresser and he presented Jay with his birthday gift, a brand new cowhide, baseball glove with his signature on it. The card said, `I want to play with you, pitcher or catcher, makes no difference.' Jay started to bawl again.

Shane always felt uncomfortable when someone cried. He often was the one crying when something upset him. There was only one thing he knew, just like Ben would do to him. He took Jay in his arms and held him tight.

"You're so new at this I don't blame you for losing it," Shane said. "While I'm getting ready you might find Nate. He really wants to spend some time with you."

Jay never wanted Shane to let go, but he also didn't want his older peer to think of him as a baby. He nodded, kissed Shane on the lips and all but ran out before he cried again. These weren't tears of despair, but ones of happiness.

The challenge of poker meant nothing to Ben. His entire motivation from the first hand was to make sure no one got their feelings hurt. He gave a "bonus" cash front to Franklin for patching a few acres of fencing, a job that the man took on himself. The few hundred was to make sure that Franklin didn't bet any of his own money. Tom went down $500 an hour into the game. They took a fifteen-minute break halfway through to say goodbye to their families. Ben assured everyone that their husbands would be flown home in the morning in the helicopter.

Out in the driveway Ben slid Janice a fifty-dollar bill. "I know sex is a two-way street, but my boys are older and should know better to use protection. This isn't to get your daughters in trouble, but let's assume there was more than kissing. I apologize for my boys' temerity. Sex is very common on the ranch."

Janice was not surprised and gave back the money. "No, Ben, my girls are not innocent in all this. I'll buy them morning after pills on the way home. Thanks for the update."

Despite their father being around, Jay kissed Shane and hugged Ben. By a tree that was away from the porch light Jack squeezed Tony before they gave each other their new secret handshake.

"I had a great time, Tony. I was going to tell you I'm not gay, but you're a lot of fun to be around."

Tony grinned. "Thanks, Jack. Don't think of sex as straight or gay, but just something really cool to do with someone you like. You're amazing just the way you are." Tony got a broad smile he wanted.

Ben had met with the boys in his bedroom before the poker game. He gave Cheet, Bo, Reece, Scooter and Trey the option of being grounded from the pool and other activities for three weeks, or take the alternative. They each dropped their shorts. Ben hated when they did that. They were too big to be spanked and he wondered if they just didn't laugh at this behind his back. He sure didn't call it punishment, and reminded them that this wasn't violence or aggressive.

"Pain is a reminder that failure is not acceptable in life or sex."

"But, Uncle Ben, you've always told us to do what makes us happy," Scooter tried to reason.

"Yes, but not at the expense of others. That girl is too young to have experienced your happiness. You will fail, but learn something from it. Pregnancy is a tough lesson. He spanked each boy a dozen times until their asses were good and red.

Sometimes after the spanking they sort of wished they'd taken the grounding.

Back to the game, Pete was smug, if not arrogant in his winnings. A last hand of two-thousand in chips was Ben's with his full house. He watched the betting, saw that Franklin had held his own all evening. Most often the man folded unless he had the right cards. Tom was down to a few chips, while Pete's stacks were full. Ben knew the cattle barren was bluffing with his two jacks showing. Why? Ben had the other two and three queens. Tom showed two eights, almost positive of having another. Franklin folded, happy to break even. Chip was the only guess work. Three clubs showing would likely mean a flush. Ben upped the pot until Tom threw in his last chips, almost sure he'd spent foolishly through the night.

"Call," Ben said after fulfilling Pete's and Chip's raises.

In came the two jacks, ace high from Pete. Chip surprised even Ben with his own full house three threes and two nines. Tom smiled with his three eights and two tens. So it was up to Ben. He eyed the table and saw that Chip was a little ahead in chips, but Tom was the only one struggling. He tossed in his cards, face down. "Beats me!" and shoved the chips toward Tom.

Elated, Tom swept in his reward, recouping his loses. It was like they had enjoyed the three hours with enjoyment and everyone was a winner. Only after the men shook hands, drank down a final flask of cognac did Pete check the bottom five cards—a full house, queen high. Pete wasn't pleased.

Ben secretly told Franklin to keep the money. It was a bonus for putting up with Pete Autrey. Tom wasn't exactly poor, but felt shame, a shame for disrespecting a man who had given his family so much. He shook hands with Ben, guessing that this man had a higher hand and just threw in. Yes, Ben was having sex with his son, but Shane was happy, deliriously happy. Tom felt that he didn't deserve Ben's friendship, not the way he talked about this man in his son's life.

Sarah knew they owed everything to this man. They had been down and out in Illinois, no fault of Ben's. He had saved them. It didn't matter that her son was madly in love with an older man. Life had odd twists and no judgment was her best choice. Immoral men destroyed the lives of others; Ben had done everything in his power to make sure the Colter family was successful. She had moved her eyes over so many of the boys and girls who were there that day. When she saw Shane with Chip, their mannerisms with each other evoked far more than two boys who knew each other. Nah! Sarah had surmised. When Shane moved his hand upward and brushed his fingers across Chip's cheek, the shock left her speechless. Ben Barkley was not the only lover in her son's life. Sarah prayed that Ben wouldn't find out. If she only knew that this was Ben's plan all along.

Left alone while Izza showed Pete the guest bedroom, Tom held Ben's hand. "Ben, I'm aware of what you did. I'm not poor and I should learn how to handle my liquor, but thanks. Chip didn't have the better hand but you did. You old scoundrel."

"In cowboy terms, those words might cause a gunfight. I'm the last to speak to anyone about taking risks. Beware, you get real nervous with your fingers when you bluff. Pete read you like a book. With Chip there I was kinda hankering for a game of strip poker." Ben knew how to irk Tom.

Tom only shook his head. He thought Ben might be joking, but the man never smiled. Being around gay men had its moments, but it sure made life different.

Shane was sent off to New York by having his genitalia manipulated to perfection that morning by Chip. They'd left Ben alone to make sure he had a few squirts in his gun. He was determined to get his sperm in a tube. If Jay Autrey's rectum had been a test tube he'd be in business.

When the helicopter came back from delivering Pete and Tom back to their residences, the pilot took Shane to the airport for his flight to Boston to join the team. Ben would join him over the weekend. Ben went through the ranch house to find Chip. He asked Chip to join him for coffee and a chat. Chip always knew this was like when his dad would meet with the Joint Chiefs. This must be something very serious.

Mrs. Autrey started school an hour later the following morning after her trip into town and allowing her kids to sleep in. Not a single sour puss on her children's faces; they all wanted to know when they could go back.

"My sons have a waiver on their sexuality, but my daughters do not," Janice began. She passed out the female condoms to her daughters, except Lisa. Lisa was not to be treated as a child, so she held out her hand.

"I did it and it was wonderful."

Janice didn't press the issue and handed out another condom. Lucy tried to pass off an excuse that she was on her period. It didn't fly.

"Sperm can survive for five days, maybe longer. Why risk the thirty seconds it would have taken the boys to put on condoms, young lady?

Jack eyed his brother and vice versa. For all their competitive nature and rivalry, they loved each other. Jack knew he'd never give up his secrets. There was something very special about Tony Barkley. No one saw that the two of them had raced back to Tony's room while their fathers were talking.

Jack was sure it was going to be another round of sex, but Tony hustled to his closet full of clothes.

"Friends don't let friends wear bad outfits," Tony had said and dressed Jack in one of his western ensembles that he wore to rodeos.

Not that Jack wore geeky clothes, but they were getting small now that he had sprung up another two inches from the previous year. Looking spiffy and really sharp, Jack laid one on Tony that even surprised this gay teenager. They had held hands until they were back in front of the house.

It was just fun looking for the sparkle in his brother's eyes. Jack tried to compare it to making out with an older woman. It must be exciting to learn from experience. He had texted Tony that morning to start his day with laughs. Could a girl actually make him feel this alive? His butt had a slight ache to it, but he'd do it all over again in a second. Masturbation couldn't compete to a boy doing it for you. "You're so awesome, Tony," Jack said underneath his breath.

"Talking to yourself this morning?" his mom commented.

Jack hadn't realized he was being watched. "Of course I talk to myself, Mom. Sometimes I need expert advice." He got the laughs from his siblings, as usual.

Pete Autrey wasn't what one would call a family man. Sure, he was protectorate of what was his, but it was a relief to have his wife rule the household. His mind went to the night before. So many things bothered him: his son nude on the course; his children naked in the pool; the looks on his daughters' faces that they'd done something against their parents' wishes; Jack's attraction to that way too gregarious boy, and then the hug from Jay to Mr. Barkley. The man ran a loose ship, no doubt about that! He was way too close to that teenager, Colter. There was something real strange between them, and Pete didn't want his son caught up into a sex nest. His own namesake, Pete Jr., was playing grab ass with another boy at the other table, and then having young Luke think it's funny. He could see boys exploring sex together, but it all seemed common and expected at this ranch. Then there was the poker game. He knew he was the best player there but a few hands had gone south. Something told him that Tom Colter had somehow marked the deck to win that last hand.

Pete called up his lawyer and had the guy put an investigator on the hunt for one Ben Barkley. Time to know what his family was getting into.
























Chapter Seven


A fall night in Boston had a cooling breeze through Fenway Park. Shane wore thermals and a jacket. He watched the Astros continue their winning streak from the bullpen. The role of a starting pitcher in the Majors was beginning to set in. Periodic moments of grandeur versus pure boredom.

After the game and without Ben there, Shane took a taxi to a gay bar. His height was one thing; his soft eyes and boyish face caused the doorman to card him. "Forget it, kid," came the reply.

A few professionals might have said, "Do you know who I am?" Not Shane. He said, "You wouldn't say that if you had me in bed." They both laughed but Shane couldn't get the man to relent.

Off to a gay club this time he wore shades and a funky bandana which gave him a sort of rough look. He breezed right through any scrutiny. In a drawstring, navy, jersey trousers, unstructured blazer and loafers with no socks, Shane had a sense for fashion. After all, he had been to France and Italy while modeling as a fifteen-year old. He knew what to look for, the eyes of someone desiring his body in bed. His cologne was $285 a bottle, Armani/Prive Myrrhe Imperiale, his favorite. The fragrance was loved by Ben, and now Jay.

He also knew he would likely be hit on. Sitting at the bar, he ordered a Baileys. Immediately he had an older man by his side, asking to buy the teen another drink. Shane said he was waiting for his boyfriend, a line he used when he didn't want to be bothered.

Lighting was between a crystal blue and metallic white, all dim enough as to create a place for a secret rendezvous. Shane turned on his stool and focused on the pristine bodies of thong dancers in cages above the dance floor. Their hard asses and bulging crotches sent a rush of blood to the boy's groin. He laughed.

One of the dancers was a spitting image of Nate Newcomb. In reflection Shane was glad to hear that Nate and Jay had taken a walk around the pool and found a few things in common. They were now texting each other. Two more men were sent away with the "waiting" story. It wasn't the price of liquor, but the quantity that Shane respected. He sipped.

A young dancer, not much older than Shane, jumped off his stage, sweaty and muscular, to take a break. The college student had his own target. He cupped Shane's elbow and the two walked back through a darkened hall. In vaguely lit rooms men were naked in their sex acts in full few of those walking by.

There was no kissing or foreplay. The dancer, high on weed that he took before every performance, all but pushed Shane against a railing overlooking the dance floor, undid the lacing and pulled Shane's trousers down to reveal a smooth, hairless ass of a seventeen year old. From a nearby fishbowl, the dancer reached in and pulled out a condom. A lubricated finger swept once over the man's target, then inside. Shane exhaled to the sudden penetration. The next thrust was the guy's penis. A momentary sting, Shane tried to relax. He'd never been invaded that fast.

Two minutes of fucking, Shane felt the extraction and an instant replacement. A huge and powerful hand pushed the boy's body lower. Whatever entitlement this leather bound monster felt, boundaries weren't in his vocabulary.

In almost panic Shane tried to twist his head around to see who was fucking him and to make sure the man wore protection. Probably 250 pounds of a Hercules' statue there was no question that this beast was getting his. In desperation Shane knew he couldn't escape the man's grasp, so he reached between his legs to pull the pounding member between thrusts. There was a relief when he felt a rubber sheath. His body rammed back and forth for minutes, finally grunts and more "Yeahs!" than was needed, the orgasm was through. He had been taken rather forcibly, a long fantasy of being a slave.

Shane barely caught his balance when another baldheaded, shorter freak darted forward, his cock in his hand, ready and pointed. Shane straightened his legs so that this intruder didn't have an angle.

"What the fuck?! Bend over, kid!"

"Condom!" Shane said with all the assertiveness he could.

Pissed and with a glare of, `Who do you think you are?' this forty-something accepted a rubber from another man roaming about. In seconds he forced Shane's butt downward and slammed his cock into the well-fucked hole.

The man thought he was riding a young pony, slapping Shane's ass over and over with comments, "Yeah, baby, that's one fine ass!" These hard slaps and pounding went on for minutes until the guy did one last thrust, pulled off the condom with his massive load inside, only to toss it on the floor. Shane ended up picking up the used condom and trashing it.

No masturbation or sensual hands in friendship, three straight fucks were hard and fast. Shane had let the men have their way. A rapid twist of his body and, unbelievably, five more men had lined up to be part of this train.

"Fuck this!" Shane said, pushed the next guy out of the way while he pulled up his pants and tied his drawstring. If this was what they do in gay clubs, it wasn't for him. He'd rather pick who he wanted fucked by.

He passed an open door where one naked body had been strapped up on a circular device, immobile, a rubber ball stuffed in his mouth, genitals with chains around them, and leather straps surrounding an erection. The other guy was dressed in leather, whip in hand, and a black hood that covered the face but for three cut strips. Shane watched with fascination. His own fantasy was now reality to his eyes.

Behind him he didn't see the push coming, but he staggered into this room, thinking someone had accidently run into him. Two brutes were on him before he could fathom a guess. Way too powerful one of them swept Shane's arms back while the other handcuffed him. Shackles around the ankles they cut and stripped Shane before he even knew what hit him. All Shane could do was keep his eye on his pants to make sure no one grabbed his wallet. The pants were tossed to a corner in the room.

Up against a wall the cuffs were released, thank heavens, only to find these same wrists strapped to a bizarre apparatus that could have passed for an exercise machine.

Scared, frightened beyond belief, Shane could only mumble with the same rubber-type ball stuffed in his mouth. His eyes like saucers, they focused on two amazing thick cocks that made Ben's appear childish. No wonder, these were penis enlargers. His nipples were pinched, dick stretched, and the ball sack was manipulated worse than being hit by a baseball. In succession he was slapped, had his balls squeezed, and then whipped by a leather strap with several strands across the thighs, stomach and chest. Being called names wasn't as bad as some of the words he'd heard from fans at various ballparks.

Shane's odd vocabulary sounds replaced "Ouch!" "That hurt!" and "Ahhhh!" which sounded pretty much like "Ahhhhh!"

His legs were momentarily freed, only to be spread like he was an Olympic gymnast and tied with more leather straps. Shane watched with intense displeasure as one of the men fitted on a rubber glove with bubbles of plastic that made the glove appear to have a disease. Lubricated from fingertips to below the elbow, this master player beamed with satisfaction.

"I'm taking that virgin ass, pretty boy!" this leather-vested expert said face to face with his victim.

The kiss was rough and the sucking on his lip was totally new to Shane. Having his neck bitten and sucked made his cock engorge.

Fingers first, Shane could feel his ass begin to open wider and wider. From fingers, fist, to wrist, if the teenager hadn't experienced two cocks previous he might not have stayed conscious for too much longer. So implosive was this fist fucking that Shane felt he would ejaculate at any second.

An electrical charge was like a heavyweight blow to his brain. His body shuddered, went spastic, and it truly felt like his nerves had imploded. Shane strained his eyes to glance down and saw that his penis was nearly as long as Chip's. Rigid and ready to launch, his own weapon was amazing. When sperm came it didn't shoot, but blasted like a canon, squirt after squirt and the distance was phenomenal. Shane was sure he had fainted for a few seconds, so much impacted by the physical sensation. No drugs on earth could have given him an orgasm like that.

Like a dutiful slave to this assigned master the other man began licking the sperm from the wall six feet from where Shane had sent his projectile. On the floor the man's tongue traced the secretions until he had Shane's dick in his mouth. He slurped which drove Shane crazed with a tickling effect of post-orgasm. Out came the forearm and fist to Shane's relief. Two thumbs pressed his cheeks together followed by a kiss that was more like a vice on his lips.

Licked and sucked from neck to toe, Shane began to realize he had miraculously taken the role of the object of desire. His body was spent. Even his nipples were sore from being tweaked. Finally four hands swept over his body as if these men were blind and were confirming this male beauty. If anything the hands were soothing and non-violent.

Released of his bonds, Shane all but collapsed to the floor. The orgasm had drained him of energy. Not was all done when his hair was grabbed.

"Suck it, boy!" the order came.

No longer those huge enlargements, Shane had a cock jammed into his throat. He gagged three times but kept sucking with an expertise better than he'd ever given someone a blowjob. The cum hit his throat and drowning could not have been much more traumatic. He held his breath and just let the spurts of cum accumulate in his mouth and throat. The swallow felt like three grapes sliding to his stomach.

"Did you like it, boy?!" the voice echoed and Shane felt it best to nod.

Shane hadn't even realized that the other man had ejaculated all over his face and hair. A quick sweep of his fingers kept the sperm from reaching his eyes. Coughs and gasps for air, when Shane caught his composure the two men had left and he was but a naked ragdoll on two knees. He picked up his clothes, cut into almost shreds with the disrobing. Expensive threads weren't fit for a homeless man now. A quick removal of the clamps over his nipples, the ball disengaged from his mouth, he fondled his own genitals to make sure there were two balls and one flaccid dick. He had survived.

"Now that was fun," he told himself and laughed because of his survival, not in spite of it. Shane had never really thought about his prostate, though he knew this was a pleasure center. This little bulb was now doing flips and pulsations that were yelling, "Wahoo!"

Shane sat and waited for his ass to stop twitching. He dressed to where he almost looked presentable.

His brain had settled, it was his spinal code asking, "What was all that about?!" It let its owner know by giving this seventeen-year old rubber legs when he decided to leave this torture chamber.

Shane got the hell out of there. His self-talk was in disbelief that gays actually thought that was fun. Okay, the orgasm was out of this world, but those nipple clamps hurt! His balls ached from being chewed on and his penis must have added two inches with all the lugging. Just out of curiosity Shane felt his ass. His finger went inside his anus to see if it was still softball size. Thankful that it felt as spongy and tight as before, Shane gave thanks to his sphincter muscle for hanging tough.

Ben? No way would he play master. Chip? Yeah, but no nipple clamps! Maybe slight sucking and pulling might work. Chip's fist and arms were skinnier; plus, that boy needed no penis enlarger. It was worth a shot.

Curfew was an hour away, so he didn't want his manager to be looking for him. Shane practically bounced with lightness as he strolled down the sidewalk. He was an accomplished S&M player. Even Tony couldn't say that!














Chapter eight



The following day was an afternoon game. Breezy but sunny, the game went into extra innings. Fourteen innings, Shane hated long games. The Astros pulled it out on a Red Sox error.

This time Shane decided against gay bars and clubs. He found an athletic club where you didn't wear clothes. Bummer that it was coed. The club was bustling with members, happy and energized after a day at work. Shane walked in and moved to the front desk.

"Hi! I'm visiting for a few days. May I pay for a limited membership?"

The female attendant laughed. "We have a guest fee. I'll need for you to fill out this form. Are you on any sex offender registry?"

Shane wasn't sure he heard the question correction. What is a sex registry? He was most amused and jokingly said. "No, but I'd like to be."

Only because this visitor was cute and seemed innocent did the girl laugh. "You didn't hear what I asked, did you?"

"Sort of," Shane answered. "I've never heard of a sex registry."

"Good. I highly doubt you're a danger. Oops, I see your date of birth. We don't allow minors here."

"Shane Colter?!" The question came from a man who had just entered the establishment.

Shane grinned, surprised that anyone in Boston knew who he was. "Yes, sir. A Houston fan?"

The man with his two buddies thought that was funny. "Oh, my God, you want to use our club?"

"I wanted to, but this lady said..."

"Suzy, this is Shane Colter, like, Major League pitcher supreme. He's pitching tomorrow night."

A small crowd that had entered the club was being drawn to the scene with this very tall teenager and a group of men who were awed being in the company of this professional athlete.

"Ah, I guess we can make an exception in this case," Suzy said. "I will check with Carl."

Carl was already present. Since a small boy Carl had loved the Red Sox, Celtics, Patriots, and Bruins. No way was he declining a superstar from a professional team. "No charge, Mr. Colter. We're happy to have you join us."

Carl ran down the classes, weights, and spa facility for his members. Escorting the teen to the locker room, he showed Shane his cubby and mentioned that no clothes were allowed in any other area of the club.

"Thank you, sir. I'd like to try your Pilates class, if that's okay?"

"Of course, Mr. Colter. If I may ask, could I have your autograph before you leave? A picture, if you'd be so kind. We don't allow any cell phones or photography equipment in our classes, but your presence will be a great promotion to us."

"No problem," Shane replied, not sure at what stage or dress he'd get his picture taken. He signed a waiver, which was still illegal, since only a parent could grant their child to be photographed nude and used in a commercial usage. Shane didn't mind since he was being treated like a star at no charge.

Around the world of baseball Shane Colter was an anomaly, a mystery of sorts how a mere boy could throw 105 mph fastballs and be so light and thin. But on the wide spectrum between art and science, Shane followed his own private muse over anything like method. No concrete conditioning program, he'd always let Ben dictate any between-outings routine. He didn't watch video of himself or anyone else. He didn't read scouting reports on opposing hitters. He now rarely shook off his catcher. No longer needing to show off his fastball, he only made a hitter look foolish if it's the right pitch to throw at the right time. A slider or change up is more fun because it made the batter look silly in their contortions.

He'd never done Pilates, only heard about it from Jay, who said his mother did it several times a week at a club. Conscious that two dozen men and women were eyeing his nakedness the second he stepped into the studio with Carl by his side Shane had always felt confidence with his body. His height was another story. He didn't really like towering over people. A forty-year old divorcee hit on him right off.

"You have the nicest rear end I've ever seen on a male," she said.

As gracious as ever, Shane said, "Thank you," eyed a college student across the way and watched him tug on his penis. Shane tugged back, thinking this might be a gay thing.

Their instructor was a flighty gymnast; at least built like one. She viewed her aspiring students, more female than male, and had to joke. "If any of you guys sprout a boner in my class, I might give you individual lessons." Everyone laughed, with the key words being if and might. In ten minutes Shane would applaud any male who could do these exercises and still get a boner.

Amusing was the word Shane thought of. Bouncing breasts, penises flipping right-left, up-down. Testicles acted like bingo balls in a machine. One guy had balls the size of kiwis, while Shane wondered if this black guy's dick would put bruises on his thighs. The teenager pondered how women could tolerate those grotesque bags on their chests, and then smiled at the assorted rugs between their legs. Guys were no different, hairy bushes masking everything that was beautiful about a penis. A few were shaven, groomed to present their bodies as something to be taken care of. His own pubic hair was cropped, thanks to Ben, who manicured it like a well-seeded lawn. His balls gleamed with smoothness, flexibility, and rhythm. His ass didn't need trimming. It might need sewn back together if he had to endure another arm again. There wasn't a wrinkle to Shane's body. A hanging penis was more a welcoming lollipop desiring to be sucked.

A few men had rings through their tits or penis. Even women had tattoos, some romantic, others with cute sayings that were out of date.

His instructor did say go at your own pace, so after 35 minutes Shane strolled to the next studio and joined a yoga class. He couldn't help but notice the video cameras in each room. A posted sign said, (Erections are normal—STAY PROUD, DON'T FLAUNT) The teacher was male and he never touched anyone without first getting permission. He was definitely gay, 50ish, flexible rubberbandish, and had dyed blond hair.

There was a post-it on the wall that said his name was Ory. His gaydar was so keen he had Shane in his sights from second one of his entry. One look at this teenager copying a downward dog pose and Ory knew he had a beginner.

Getting Shane's permission Ory had his hands on the teen's spine. A trifle up, stretch here, arms positioned as such and, after a few corrections, Ory let his fingers slide over the buttocks. Easy going, complacent, and always the puppy dog, Shane only smiled with the attention. Blood started to build in a seventeen-year old's penis. A headstand with elbow assistance had Ory use both his hands to straighten Shane's posture. His fingers slightly brushed the boy's penis. It grew quickly. Shane loved to show the other boys at the ranch that he clocked his erection from limp to hard in seven seconds. This might have broken that record. Leave it to Tony to actually practice for six seconds.

Pointed straight at his face, few around him knew that Ory had excited their guest of honor. Ory knew, coming back for seconds to rest his hands on thighs and hamstrings, then slide downward over the balls and hard-on to get his jollies. Ory deviated from his normal course of yoga positions and had everyone go to a cat stretch. A quick perusal and Ory grew erect seeing Shane's hairless anus. The instructor decided to join his class as to hide his boner.

Shane collapsed his headstand into an enhanced child's pose. He smiled that it was a perfect cover until he recovered. Having this temptation in his class Ory couldn't recover from being aroused. He recommended to Shane another course in an adjacent room that was just beginning. Shane balked, no more vigorous exercise or he'd be too worn out to pitch the following day.

"Oh, but you'll like this exercise. Tantric Sex, very good for the soul. The instructor is Indian," Ory said with a gleam in his eye.

Sure enough, Shane was about to learn a new sensuous pleasure, ancient secrets of personal pleasure. The essence of Tantric awakening through discovery of your body. Shane made the seventh male in this spiritual exercise of self-love. Beyond masturbation, this was about nurturing energy, honoring your temple, discovering your breath, and through using chakras, one could extend your orgasms. For the next thirty minutes Shane learned all about his sexual organs, energy centers, and chakra clearing. The goal was to prolong gratification and enjoy the pleasure of sexual awakening. As the only beginner in this course, Shane ejaculated far before anyone else, but this was expected. He couldn't wait to teach this to Ben and Jay.

A steam bath, sauna, swim, and shower, before he met Ory on a pre-arranged dinner date. The yoga instructor was the opposite of a Ben Barkley. Soft, gentle, and very effeminate, Ory didn't have a threatening bone in his body. He made Shane smile, laugh, and feel he could trust this man with his life. Not exactly S&M type, Shane confessed his fear and love for what happened to him the night before.

Ory was pleasant, if not experienced. He scolded the young man to only do this bonding with people he knew and trusted. This yoga guru had no idea of Shane's status but, worldly in their travels, the two males had dinner conversation about Paris and Florence. As Ory reached for the check, Shane snagged it first.

"My treat for your expert help," Shane said.

"But I so much want you to come home with me tonight." Which was another way of saying that, if he paid for the meal, Shane would owe him.

"I have curfew," Shane said and added, "another time." Of course Shane had to explain being on a team where the manager required his players to be in their rooms at a certain time. A confused German of birth, Ory relented.

Boston didn't throw their best against the Astros. They thought their weekend, 3-game series with Tampa Bay would be more important.

For a rare moment Houston showed some offensive firepower by scoring 6 runs in the first three innings. Shane's arm was lively, striking out eight of the first nine hitters. In the zone he shook off sliders and curves to throw nothing but heat. Even Red Sox fans oohed and aahed with the sound of 102 mph fastballs smacking leather.

It started in the fifth, a frustrated Boston pitcher deliberately hitting an Astro hitter. The umpire warned both benches. Next hitter received a fastball in the back—pitcher and coach ejected.

Shane had yet to be put on the spot in protecting his team's honor by tit for tat. Ray Bacon figured a high fastball under the chin would suffice. The Boston hitter got up from being dusted and pointed at Shane.

"Your Little League ass is mine if I ever get my hands on you!"

Roy got in the guy's face and a shoving match ensued, almost emptying both benches. Order restored, Shane struck the guy out and couldn't resist a smile. That alone inflamed the moment.

Houston added four runs to their lead in the top of the seventh. Ray came up and saw a ball come straight in for his groin. Luckily his bat caught part of the ball and dribbled it foul. On the next pitch Ray swung well over a slider and let his bat sail. A couple of rotations and the wooden club caught the pitcher right in the ribs. Benches cleared.

Shane had never been in a brawl. Nothing like this happened in junior ball. Fortunately the pitching coach and Manager Hicks caught Shane by the pants to assure that he was one of the last to clear the dugout. Even then a few Red Sox players searched out this rookie to get revenge. There were two to three staggered fights, all quickly restored to order. Shane found himself surrounded by at least five Astros, like a dragnet to protect the Houston franchise. Ray got his punches in, already knowing his suspension and fine were coming. Shane had one chance to put up his fist, but that Boston player was tackled by his own team member.

With a ten to nothing lead, Hicks decided to take Shane out after seven. The 18 strikeouts and only one hit were barely evident after the brawl. Fans were rowdy, a few throwing whatever was available at Astro players in the outfield. Finally the umps gathered and called a forfeit against Boston.

In the locker room the Astros were both elated and feisty. Two of the players came up to Shane, congratulated him on his performance and added, "Man, ya gotta back our play. Don't be afraid, we have your back."

"Back off!" Ray said moving in on this black versus white bullying. A fight almost ensued until Hicks intervened.

"Enough of this! Colter pitched a hell of a game. Give the youngster a break here. Sure he has a lot to learn about being in the show, but eighteen Sox walked back to their dugout with their tails between their legs. Personally I'd rather strike them out than hit the bastards. We're going to lose a few players after this debacle. Damn if we don't have the finest winning streak in years, too. The Yankees won't lay down for us, you can best believe that. Hit the showers!"

Fifteen hundred miles away thousands of Houston fans were celebrating. The talk on the Internet and every sports channel in America was the brawl. Two new Astro fans were on bunk beds, cheering, hammering their fists on pillows, and all but crashing through the bed posts. At the same time one of them was busy texting back and forth to a devout Houston fan in Tony Barkley. They now shared far more than just friendship, but a love for the Astros and their young pitcher. If Tony loved Shane, so did Jack.

Jay leaped down to land with a thump on their wooden floor. He saw Jack's grin and the two brothers gave each other a high five. No words were necessary. On his way to the bathroom Jay touched the glove Shane had given him. It was a reminder of their love.

A late shower, Jay figured their butts would be on a platter because they chose a ballgame over homework. He came out of the bathroom drying his hair with no clothes on. A quick spin caught his eye when Jack spun on his stomach. His brother's bare ass was very evident with his nightlight on. He'd actually caught Jack beating off! Even the smell of Cocoa Butter filled the air. Out of humor Jay dove on his brother.

"Caught ya!" Jay expected an elbow or at best a, `Get the fuck out of my bed!'

"Just go easy," Jack calmly said.

(Just go easy?) What did that mean? Jay thought. His groin was pressed into a bare behind. Would Jack really want to be...? Jay's penis didn't need to think how to react. It did. Pressing the erection between the crack didn't afford anymore resistance. Unbelieving this whole scene as more of a dream, he reached above Jack's head and squirted lotion onto his fingers. Jack reached up and clicked off his nightlight.

Lubricating his cock, Jay smeared his fingers inside his brother's rear. First a fingertip, then up to the second knuckle. Jack lowered his head into his pillow with a sigh. This was too surreal and Jay still expected a wrestling match because, certainly, Jack was just playing with him. From one to two fingers Jay milked the opening with tender loving care.

Jay lowered his hips onto the pink mounds, and then rested his body over Jack's. They were brothers but Jay felt the warmth of skin to skin, the chemistry of the two boys being naked upon each other. While slowly moving his rod up and down inside this cleavage, Jay moved his hands upward to cradle Jack's shoulders. He almost kissed Jack's neck but resisted this attraction.

A temptation to ask this 14-year old if he was under hypnosis or if this was some kind of trick passed over without a word. It was during one of his slippery slides that his cock disappeared inside this moist cavity. Jay froze, a brawl unlike the one in Boston may well emerge. He was inside his brother!

Jack moaned and wiggled his ass to this entry. Jay pulled back out and waited for instructions or threats. If his brother had never been fucked, what was going through his mind? Jack reached around his shoulders and placed his hands over his brother's fingers. Nothing but a boy's rear rising like an invitation to resume. The slide commenced again; this time it wasn't as easy finding the hole until Jack reached back and pointed Jay's cock back inside. This time Jay slid it in all the way and began humping.

What little experience he did have helped to ward off an impending orgasm. He even kissed his brother's neck out of love. More like a thank you the kisses went to the shoulders. Jack arched his face sideways to find Jay's lips.

Jay rode his brother with expertise, hearing sighs of pleasure from Jack. He didn't dare, but he did. A tongue inside Jack's mouth was accepted. Reaching around, Jay slipped his hand underneath Jack's hips. His brother's dick was warm and hard, still slippery from the lotion. Jack did his own grinding within Jay's grip.

Jay wrapped his hand around it and rammed his own cock to its base to prepare for its ejaculation. Their kissing became more pronounced, they were now lovers. Jack's rigid member began to grow even harder, its head gorging in Jay's fingertips. When Jack's body stiffened, legs shot out straight, a vocal of mindless joy, Jay relaxed his ass to let his own jism shoot into his brother's rectum. At the same time he caught the hot cum of Jack's into his fingers to save the sheet from a wet mess.

Their orgasms were drawn out with Jack humping Jay's hand, while Jay slid his last few drops out in massaging this tight hole. Jay rolled off, his right hand coating all this cum onto his stomach to avoid dripping.

"Wow, that was awesome!" Jay said as the first words between them in several minutes. "What's got into you?"

Jack spun around and slugged his brother in the shoulder. "I like it. You're not bad for a fruit loop."

Jay used to hate it when Jack called him that. Now he just leaned forward and smacked a kiss on Jack's lips. He tore off for the shower again with Jack on his tail.

Two brothers shared a shower for the first time in seven years. Not a word was said about sex, but a whole lot about that night's Boston-Houston baseball game.

The commissioner wasted no time. Ray Bacon got a ten-game suspension, which meant the season, and a $50,000 fine. Ray told the press his bat slipped. It didn't help when he added, "These cowards throwing their ninety-mile per hour fastballs at batters should, at least, be able to duck a thirty-five mph bat."

Two other Astros got a one-game suspension. Three Red Sox players received 3-game suspensions. Eighteen strikeouts and a one-hitter through seven were second paragraph notations.

With Thursday night off, Ray was done for his season. He took Shane out to dinner and the new Captain America movie. Not exactly any gay scene, Shane felt really happy that Ray had taken the time to be with him. He knew Ray wasn't into sex with a male, though Shane would have loved to be manhandled by this muscular catcher.

An email from Tony to Jack became a round-about way for Ben to invite Jay and his brother to the ranch for a golf outing on Friday morning. Their mother referred the invitation to their father. Pete Sr. had displayed some verbal disappointment for all that had gone on at the Barkley ranch. Janice knew better to rattle his cage too often.

Rarely giving his sons time, Pete walked right in his boys' room that Thursday night. Thankfully the two were doing their homework in their pajama bottoms. They didn't dare tell their father to knock as they did their mother. The boys' only comment about the previous night came from Jack.

"Glad the old man didn't invade our privacy," he blurted out as they were brushing their teeth next to each other. They both busted up.

Over the next 24 hours Jay and Jack said nothing about "the event". For Jack it leveled the playing field. He knew about his brother and Mr. Barkley. Now his brother knew that he liked to be fucked, but didn't know about Tony. It sort of equalized things out. The fucking and kissing were okay, but not like Tony. It was just different, Jack surmised.

For Jay, he was still shocked. Very suspicious, in the shower he watched Jack squeeze the sperm from his rectum as they both laughed. Boys don't learn that the first time. Shane had told him to do that after they'd done it on the golf course. It was then that Jay remembered who his brother had hung around. Shane had told him all about Tony and that the boy was a sexual dynamo who thought every boy was ripe for the taking. Tony Barkley and his brother—it made sense. This might break ground so that masturbation wasn't such a secret anymore. He was pretty sure that Jack wouldn't let allow anymore fucking. Both the kissing and the fucking lacked that immense rush that he'd had with Shane. Maybe being brothers had something to do with it. There had to be a reason. Maybe, just maybe, it was a way of his brother accepting him being gay. On the downside he didn't think their father would let them go golfing tomorrow.

Their father did walk in on the boys as they were putting on their underwear. He watched until their genitals were covered. It had been a long time since he'd seen his sons naked, but wasn't surprised to see the patches of pubic hair and the adult genitals. Their red, swollen penises reminded Pete when he was their age and jerked off five times a day until his dick was too raw to be touched. An odd expression from Pete Sr. sort of questioned why his son Jack would be naked in front of his gay brother. Pete stood with his chest out as the ruling member of the clan.

"Your mother tells me that Mr. Barkley has invited the two of you to his ranch tomorrow."

"Uh, Dad, it was Tony," Jack said.

Pete didn't like being corrected. "Do you actually think this boy would invite you without his father's approval? No, indirectly this came from an adult. I've discussed this with your mother and you have my permission."

From frowns to bright faces. The brothers couldn't believe this. The two brothers reached over and gave each other a high five. What the boys didn't know, Pete had his investigator on this from second one. This was a setup that needed live bodies.

When his father departed Jack reclined on his bed and quickly texted Tony that he and Jay were coming. Tony responded, KINKY. Jack sprang from his bed, dropped his underwear and jumped for joy like a native dancer with a flipping half-boner. Jay was climbing to his top bunk to text Shane. He swung back and laughed at his brother's antics. For a straight brother he was getting pretty cool. His guess about Jack and Tony had been right on.

One spring and Jack was on Jay's body. He peeled down Jay's underwear to his ankles. "My turn," he said.

Jay kicked out of his briefs and flattened out on his stomach. If he thought his brother was kidding he quickly found out he wasn't.

"What if Dad comes back in?" Jay asked as his brother was lubricating both the entry and the tool of choice.

"He's such a bigot. Let him see what the Autrey boys like," Jack responded.

Jack straddled Jay's waist and separated the rounded pink cheeks. A stream of spit dropped down on the hairless hole. He used another glob of saliva to coat his own dick beyond what the Vaseline had done.

Jay wasn't going to refuse, though he wasn't in the mood. He slightly turned his body to his side to allow easier entry. "I might not be a virgin, but it still needs TLC."

Jack was gentle in his entry. In the daylight's rays that brightened their bedroom Jack watched his turtle head open the pink button until it disappeared into the cavern. He waited for his brother's reaction, saw the grimace and paused. A smile and nod were permission slips to proceed. Jack slid his boner in till his balls touched his brother's.

Their room did not hide the secrets done in the dark. Jay only became aroused when he accepted this as not a retaliatory fuck, but one of brotherly love. It helped that Jack did light kisses down his brother's spine and back up to touch the neck and ears.

Typical Jack, the fucking became hardly, the slaps loud and vigorous.

Forget their father, they hadn't exactly considered that one of their brothers would come in unannounced. "Hi, guys! What are you doing?" Pete Jr. asked coming up on the side of the bunk bed.

Jack froze inside his brother and lay flat out. "Hey, Petey! We're just wrestling. What's up?"

Petey wasn't tall enough to see anything beyond his brother's bare ass. That was until he climbed up the ladder. "Cool! Luke and I have wrestled naked before. Just don't let Dad catch you. Mom says breakfast is ready."

"Thanks, Petey, we'll be right out."

Petey kept his eyes on the nakedness and wondered if there wasn't something more going on here. He jumped down and walked to the door. There was an opening and a closing. What his brothers didn't know, he had just crouched down and never left. He saw the top bunk rock, but there weren't any sounds of wrestling, only the moans and sounds of sex. A climb upon the foot of the bed he watched Jack's ass raise and lower into Jay's rear. His own dick became hard and he masturbated to the sight of his brothers having sex.

Jay raised up on all four, his face buried into his pillow. When his brother stretched forward to plant a kiss on Jay's lips, the older brother wrapped his arms around the narrow wrist. His own erection was a few seconds away. "Show me what you have, stud," Jay kidded.

Jack smiled. It was all the encouragement he needed. There was something way too informal about this and hardly romantic. A physical display of raw boy desire, the hard smacks of Jack's groin against Jay's ass were like whips, loud and crisp.

Almost nonchalant at first the more his brother thrusted and made love to him the more Jay found it satisfying. A knock on the door froze both of them.

"Yes, Mom, we're fine!" Jack yelled. "Don't come in! We're not dressed." Those were desperate words that panicked Jay. His mother had seen them naked many times now.

There was laughter on the other side of the door. "Nothing I haven't seen before, young man. Did Petey tell you guys breakfast was ready?"

"Yes! We told him to tell you we'd be right out."

"Oh. Well I haven't seen him since."

With his boner out of his shorts Petey slithered into Jack's bottom bunk and under the covers.

"Right, Mom. We're just getting dressed. Be right out!"

"Sounds like you're beating each other up in there," their mom said.

"We're brothers, Mom! It's what brothers do sometimes, but not this time!" Jay yelled.

"Okay. Well, hurry up. Glad your father approved your trip. Ben Barkley called and is sending his helicopter over for you at eight. Okay?" She opened the door a mere inch and saw one of her son's ass behind another. It left little to the imagination. She had no idea that the boys had grown that close. Janice close the door softly and was determined to make sure her husband had no intention of entering his sons' bedroom.

"Sure, Mom!" Jack said and his confidence had him slowly fucking Jay again with their giggles of success.

Two smiles meant they'd escaped the ultimate chastisement. It invigorated both of them, but only after Jack bent down and kissed his brother again, this time a little longer.

The thought of Petey crossed Jack's mind. He scanned the bedroom and then peeked below the top bunk. There was his brother jacking off on his bed. Petey glanced up and gave a hush sign. At least Jay wouldn't know that this brotherly love wasn't a secret anymore.

Two hyper brothers, golf bags as heavy as they were, slung their clubs over their shoulders. They each kissed their mother goodbye and waved to Jamie and Luke, who were always up earlier than anyone else. A bright blue, Bell Executive helicopter had just landed in their back lawn. The coolest thing Jamie had ever seen, so he said.

Pete Jr. was ticked. Now that he was in the know he expected to be part of anything involving his older brothers. Jack swore he'd make it up to him.

Seeing Tony swing open the bay door, Jack dropped his clubs and ran back to his room to retrieve a package of Titlist golf balls, a gift to his friend for inviting him and Jay. As a thought Jack decided to swing by his father's office on the first floor to say thank you again. With the door ajar it sounded like his father was on the phone, so Jack paused just outside.

"Yeah, Stan, my sons are just taking off now to the Barkley ranch. I'm not suggesting that you trespass. I'm sure you have other means of surveillance. Maybe one of those drones they're using now. Check the golf course first. Barkley might have these boys golfing nude. My boys might be fine golfers but they're not the brightest steers in the pasture. I believe Barkley is a homosexual, so my sons are quite vulnerable to his charm. Also the pool, don't forget. Get whatever you can, got it? I'll be the new owner of those oil fields after I get done with Barkley."

Jack stood stunned. What did his father have against Mr. Barkley? Was he that homophobic? That was kind of low to say that he and Jay weren't that bright. Jack dashed off and was pleased that his brother had taken his clubs to the copter. Their relationship as brothers had taken a turn for the better. They had agreed to have sex together if they were both horny, which was most of the time.

Inside the whirlybird Tony was ecstatic to see his new friend again. They did their secret handshake, which wasn't so secret after Jay saw it. It was so complicated the older teen would never figure it out.

A bit more pensive than he was minutes before, Jack sat silent in thought for the short trip it took to get to the ranch. Mr. Barkley was at the landing pod to greet them. Handshakes to hugs, Ben welcomed each boy. With his own son, he faked a handshake and threw the boy up in the air in a judo technique but made sure Troy landed on his feet.

Jack was both humored and pissed that Tony had such a great relationship with his father. He almost wished that Mr. Barkley would do that to him.

Waiting for the right time to speak with Ben, Jack had time to examine his feelings. He'd always loved his father, loyal to a fault. Even at 14, Jack knew he had replaced Jay in his dad's foursome because of his brother's sexual orientation. What if his father knew he liked to fuck and be fucked by boys, as well. Jack regretted ever outing his brother. Spying on Mr. Barkley wasn't right either. Calling his sons stupid really irked the teen.

Tony had golfed five times and it showed. His game was erratic and pure beginner. Jack pretended not to notice. His focus was on the adult. Ben's second shot went into the trap at the first hole. Tony took five shots to reach the fringe, while Jay landed his second shot five feet from the hole. Jack's ball landed fifteen feet from the cup.

No more had Ben sprayed sand on his explosive wedge from the trap, then Jack was there with the rake.

"Jack, my boy, I can do that," Ben insisted.

"Sir, it's my way to speak to you. I don't quite know how to say this, but my father is spying on us at this very moment." Jack thought it better to say us than you.

"Now why would he do that? I enjoyed your father's company the other night."

Jack sighed. "Sir, I wish I had those answers. I only heard my father tell a man named Stan to keep an eye on the golf course and pool. He thought you'd have us golfing naked."

Ben laughed. "So that's it. Jack, your brother and Shane were seen by your father the other day. They were golfing nude. I certainly didn't suggest that."

"My dad thinks you're a homosexual. Are you? I mean I saw you with Jay the other night. You were in the barn. I mean, it's okay. Jay's into that."

Ben looked over the trap and told the boys to putt again. He put his hands on Jack's shoulders. "Yes, I am. I have only the utmost respect for Jay's mind and body, and only with permission would I ever cross that boundary."

"Does Shane know that you, well, fucked my brother?"

If anything, Ben appreciated that the teen shot from both holsters. "Let me put it this way. Shane and I love each other more than you know. I tell him everything and he tells me. Just like my son, Tony. He doesn't keep secrets and I'm very pleased that you and he hit it off. If my boy comes on a little strong at times, just tell him to put it in park. Knowing my son if you ask for space he'll give you the stars."

Jack chuckled. "He told you everything?"

"Does it embarrass you?"

"No, I guess not. Jay and I are tight. I guess I don't understand why my father is after your oil wells. He has plenty of money."

"My boy, I can't explain why people do what they do either. I'm only saddened that you're in the middle of all this. I can assure you I will do nothing to harm you or your brother. I think the world of you both."

The talk did cheer Jack up. He began to help Tony learn how to golf, even though his friend had confessed a very intimate secret. It must be really cool to be able to tell your father everything. Their laughter was always contagious, and it didn't take long for Tony to realize that being a clown wasn't really all that mature. He approached his father on the fourth green.

"Dad, can I have golf lessons?"

"Absolutely, son. Learning to respect this great game will make many friends. You don't have to be a professional, but be respectable. These boys have golfed a long time. Their game shows it."

With Jack lining Tony up, assuring a correct swing, the whiffs became fewer. A few "clicks" sent the ball in perfect flight. Tony gleamed with success. On the eleventh Par 3, Jay and Jack didn't abide by protocol and let Tony go first. His five wood hit the ball three feet from the hole. Tony jumped for joy, spun around, and acted crazy. Jack hugged his friend with the great shot and even winked at Mr. Barkley. Just knowing that the man knew of his sexual proclivities made him relax.

Jack took out his six iron and hit a looping fly ball that bounced twelve feet short of the hole. A backspin sent the ball reversing its direction. The white ball proceeded to roll straight to the hole. A mild clink off the flagstick and the ball dropped in.

"You can't be serious?!" Tony yelled.

Jack threw his club up in the air with his arms held wide and went as berserk as Tony. They kissed before accepting congratulations from Jay and Ben.

"My first hole in one!" Jack said after all these years. His smile was glued to his face. After Jay teed off the smile disappeared.

"Oh, shit!" Jack said to no one in particular.

"What's wrong?" Tony asked.

Jack stared at Ben. "That guy might have seen you-know-what." He meant the kiss.

Ben whipped out his cell phone to call his ranch manager. "Franklin, have Red take the helicopter up over the ranch. There may be an intruder on the perimeter. Also take a few of your workers and patrol the course. Check for drones. Bring a shotgun and put it out of commission."

Naturally it all had to be explained to Jay and Tony. Jay shook his head, and Tony was livid. "I'll find the asshole!"

"Son, you'll do no such thing. We're having a fun time, so let's continue."

"My father can be a real jerk at times," Jay said.

"It's not my position to judge anyone. Sometimes fathers can be overly protective. Perhaps that's the case here." Ben was always the mediator.

Jack surprised everyone with his preponderance. "That's not the case here. He doesn't really care who we fuck. My dad's always been greedy. He thinks you're a pervert, Mr. Barkley."

Wow! The word landed like a meteor to stun everyone to silence. Jay's anger showed immediately. "Jack! That's a rude thing to say! Apologize!"

"Jay, it's okay," Ben tried to intervene.

Jack stepped forward, hands up. Tony thought for a second that Jack was going to fight his brother. "That's not my opinion. A pervert forces kids to do things they don't want. Mr. Barkley isn't weird like that. If two people want to have sex, go for it. If I have sex with an older woman, my peers will think I'm the luckiest kid in the world. With an older man, I'm a punk and he's a predator. Go figure. So who am I to care? Dad thinks he's so perfect, but I've heard him on the phone being all lovey-dovey with another woman. I just haven't told Mom. Maybe he's the pervert here. He's cheating on Mom."

Jay didn't know whether to cry or be mad. Instead he held out his fist for Jack to bump. They did.

"Before we have an orgy here, can we get back to golf please?" Tony said and got his laughs.

Within twenty minutes a shotgun blast startled the still morning air. From a distance a few birds flew upward from the woods. Nothing else was seen. On a perimeter road used for fence mending, Franklin pulled his tractor in front of a Cadillac. With no one around, he accidently punctured the front left tire.

A few minutes passed and a man came out of the woods wearing a shirt and tie minus the jacket. He slid a remote into his back pocket.

"Hey there! Guess I'm lost," Stan Wiggins said.

"Easy to do around here," Franklin responded. "Saw you had a flat. This road is dangerous to drive a fancy car like this on. I'll help you fix it."

Franklin let the intruder do most of the heavy work. It was sort of fun watching the man's suit pants get all dirty. Franklin eventually went around to the passenger's side, opened the door quietly and pulled a chip from a receiving station that had video from the drone. Wiggins didn't notice the break-in. Just in case Ben wanted more info, Franklin took down the license plate number.

Coming down the eighteenth, Jack put his arm around Mr. Barkley. "Sir, I really like you. You're a cool father, and I know that Tony loves you. That was wrong of me to say that word. I apologize."

Ben gave the boy a serious look, but one of respect. "Jack, you're a wise owl for a boy your age. No one is ever going to make you do anything you don't want to. Yes, there are people who question what it means to love another male. I have wondered if boys I've loved don't regret their time with me later. So far no one's complained. Reckon I'd want to climb in a hole if they did."

"Have you had sex with Tony?"

"Someday, Jack, you're going to be a great attorney. I haven't. I don't have sex with people I have to say no to. He's one."

Jack laughed. "Would you say no to me?"

"And get a lecture?! Not in your life!"

"You're super cool," Jack said.

"Great! I used to be pervert; now I'm super cool. Make up my mind, would ya!"

The two males hugged, which had Tony yelling, "Get a room!"

Jack took out his five iron and placed the golf ball on the green from 210 yards out like it was child's play. Down the fairway Jack stayed on Ben's shoulder.

"Jay says I'm G.I.B. What's that mean?"

This time it was Ben's turn to chuckle. "I'm happy that two brothers can love each other. It means good in bed. It's obviously a compliment."

Jack blushed. "Well, I guess my moves are pretty good."

"Thanks to my son?"

"Yeah, he's a good teacher. Don't tell him that, cause he'd think I really like him. I'm straight, you know."

"Of course. We couldn't have this discussion if you were gay, you know."

They both busted up.

The mid-day light shined through the golden leaves that bathed the field in warm light. This half-mile walk back to the ranch house was, in hindsight, a bad design unless a golf cart was involved. Ben detested the little carts, far preferring to walk. This narrow path, lined with handmade wooden fences, flowed down the countryside leading home. To Ben a beer sounded really good but he would settle for lime water.

Three boys were secret in their private conversation to Ben's rear. Before he knew it Jay had run ahead, encircled Ben's arm and whispered, "They saw us."

His only response was a grin. "You have been added to my son's heroes. Does that bother you?"

"You mean he's cool with it?"

"Jay, if you weren't so irresistibly cute I'd let Tony have his way with you. He's as G.I.B. as Jack, I presume."

"Oh my God, he asked you?! It's not what you think. Okay, it is, but it was more of a truce."

"In God's eyes, all things loving are beautiful. I'd guess that He also sees brotherly love as a pure form of love, intertwined with occasional episodes of testosterone competitions."

"You had a brother?" Jay said rather rhetorically. "Why do you think Jack did that if he's straight?"

"Because he's fourteen with a perpetual hard-on, and he wants to show you he loves you without saying it. I dare say, because he saw you and me, it was his way of resolving his one-upmanship."

"You are brilliant, Ben. I learn more every day why Shane loves you."

Izzy had a grilled cheese sandwich for each of them when they returned. Tony and Jack ran for the pool, sans clothes. Spies no longer worried the younger Autrey. Ben walked over to the mantle in his library and put the score card in the center. He'd frame it later. He stood with his arm around Jay's shoulders.

"A sixty-eight. Do you want to be a professional golfer, Jay?"

"I think so," he said.

"You have to be more positive. If you want this, think of golf like Shane. Is it worth committing yourself to the goal?"

"Yes! I really want both! I mean, I love golf; I love Shane. I think I love you. Is that wrong?"

Ben engulfed the teenager to hold him tight. He put him at arms length. I'll sponsor you. I'll need your parents' signature."

"I'm not speaking to my father anymore after what he did."

"Jay, my boy, it's okay to disagree with your father, but never to disobey. We'll work this out together."

Jay walked around to examine all of Ben's awards and accomplishments. Jack was on his mind, as well. "Ben, my brother will break Tony's heart when he finds a girl."

Ben didn't look up from his schedule. "Two years ago, Cheet, who is also straight, found love in an Erickson girl. They used to live here. Tony cried for weeks with the loss of this boy in his life. Cheet and this girl had a baby, naturally out of wedlock. Cheet eventually became bored with this teenage girl's possessiveness and demands. He was soon back into Tony's arms, non-demanding, of course. I'll be there to catch his fall. He'll cry and I'll have to tell him again that a boy out there is just waiting to meet him, a gay one. He'll give me this perturbed look and say, `The straight ones are more fun to break in.' That's my boy."

Past his study ran two naked bodies. "Slow down, you two! You better not be wet!" Ben yelled to no prevail.

They were soaking wet. Jack wanted to use Tony's snorkel equipment, so they hustled to his room to retrieve the aqua gear. Naturally Tony wanted a kiss, so Jack obliged. He had yet to kiss a girl, but he was an expert now with boys. Jack had accepted this need from his boyfriend, a touching of tongues. They were both hard instantly.

Tony retrieved his baseball card collection and drew out a Yankee team picture. He propped the card on his hardwood floor six feet away, and then stood behind Jack to aim his erection at the card. Masturbating the boy to ejaculation took no time at all and, sure enough, the first squirt nailed the Yankees to their laughter. Jack returned the favor and they had a baseball card gooed with sperm. Satisfied sexually, they hustled back to the pool.

Ben sat down on his desk and wrapped his hands around Jay's waist. "How would you guys like to go to New York for the Yankee series?"

Jay gleamed. "Awesome! But there's my father. Like he's going to allow us out of his sight. We might lose our virginity." He giggled to Ben's smile.

Ben got on the phone and called the Autrey residence. Naturally Janice answered. She would have to speak to Pete, but it was okay with her.

Pete Sr. was in Houston when his investigator called. Stan didn't mention being caught, or the loss of a $1200 drone and camera. He had heard the shotgun blast and thought some idiot had mistaken the drone for a bird of some type. The contraption was lost in the woods somewhere. Then there was the missing memory chip, an actual video of one of those Autrey boys kissing another boy. He told Pete.

"It couldn't have been the shorter boy. That's Jack. Had to be Jay, he's taller. Are you sure?"

Stan verified what he had seen. Possibly a hole in one, but they'd celebrated with a kiss. That's when Pete said he had another call coming in, his wife.

Rather perturbed at this lack of success with nothing to show for it, Pete okayed the trip to New York. He clicked Stan back. "Go to New York and track down where Ben Barkley is taking my sons. Don't screw it up."

"It's a big city, Pete."

"That's your problem. You can always find them at Yankee Stadium."

Janice was back on the line with Ben a minute later. Ben wasn't necessarily surprised, but he knew he had to guard his bases. He turned to tell Jay, who had disappeared behind a pair of black curtains that led to a private gallery. Leave it to a teenager to traipse anywhere he wanted.

"You're going to New York!"

"Cool" The voice was so casual it was like the boy hadn't absorbed the meaning. Then came, "This is so cool! Shane never said anything about this." Out stepped Jay through the curtains. "Will you photograph me?"

The private gallery's walls were lined with black and white and some color prints of Shane, Austin, Tony, Cheet, and other boys in athletic poses. Their nude bodies were so artistically captured Jay was in awe.

"Get your golf clubs," Ben said laughing.

Jay ran and brought back his entire golf bag. "But don't we have to do this on the golf course?"

"All those pictures were done with a green backdrop, so I can digitize the scenes later."

"So that's why it looks like Shane is pitching in a stadium, and Tony looks like he's riding a real bull, all naked. And I can be in the Masters golf tournament at Augusta."

"You've got it, kiddo." Ben had Jay strip and stand in front of a green backdrop to do swings and putts. From many angles and dozens of rapid shots, Ben had another beautiful boy at his fingertips.

A pat on a bare ass was followed by a suggestion. "So you turned sixteen this week. Any driving experience yet?"

"Nah, my dad's too busy, and Mom doesn't want me to be in a hurry."

"Good time to start. Stay naked or clothed, makes no difference."

"More pictures?"

"I can put you in a NASCAR race, if that's what you like."

Jay nodded. They meandered around the horse barn to a brick structure to the rear, Ben with his camera slung over his shoulder, while Jay hoped no one was around. Opening a large aluminum panel, there were half-a-dozen cars of all vintage inside. Ben tossed Jay a helmet, one for himself, and tossed two more in the back of a '65 Ford, green and orange Mustang. He handed the key to this new 16-year old and pointed toward the driver's side.

"But, Ben, I've never..."

"No better time to start."

Jay sat down in the Recaro sport seat, buckled his harness and sat awed of so many gauges to manage this shoe-horned 351 Windsor engine. Listening to Ben's instructions, he put the car in neutral and turned the ignition. VaROOOOM! The engine turned over, sending Jay's balls for cover. He repeated all the vocal cues: put in clutch, shift to first gear, slowly release clutch while giving it a little gas. Instead the car stalled.

On his fourth try he made it out of the car stall, Ben called it. In this case, stall had a new meaning. Jay drove the car out to a dirt road and a large field that Ben had prepared a year earlier for Shane. The field held a large oval track, a half-mile in circumference, cones in the middle, and all this was separated by a fence with an interested bull on the other side.

Eventually Jay managed second gear, then third. Start, stop, repeat. In time he caught the rhythm. The boy was oblivious that Ben had a camera on him half the time. Several laps, then a switch to the infield to circumvent cones. Composure settled in with renewed confidence.

Ben exited the vehicle, opened a gate and had Jay drive through. "Let's play matador," the adult instructor said with a grin. Jay had no idea.

The teen was told to move slowly ahead and stop. Sure enough a beast of an animal with two well-angled horns rumbled up to observe. Observe only lasted a few seconds. The bull charged.

"Reverse!" Ben yelled and scared Jay to where his bowels almost released.

A stall, restart, in reverse, the Mustang spun backwards and almost was rammed by a thousand ton animal if Jay hadn't twisted the wheel at the last second.

Calmly, Ben said, "Nice. A little quicker next time."

"Next time?! Are you kidding?" Sure enough the bull made two hoof shuffles in preparation and began to charge. Jay dumped the clutch and left two long stripes of 355 rubber. The 3400 pound car was like a kid running from a bully. Away and relieved, Ben switched places with his protégé. For the next ten minutes, Ben showed the boy how to play with a pissed off bull. It had Jay laughing to hysterics now that the Mustang was mocking the beast.

Jay was back behind the wheel when the car skidded to a stop beside the pool. "Get in!" Jay shouted to his brother and Tony.

Tony knew the score. He grabbed his friend's hand and raced to slide through an open window to the backseat. Inside he helped Jack buckle up and put on his helmet.

"But you can't drive!" Jack told his brother.

"Hold on to your dick!" Jay replied to humor. He peeled away to Ben's grin. Down the road the hum of the engine was music to any boy's ears. Onto the field Jay did three laps, almost losing it twice to sidespin. Super-thrilling, his brother was holding his breath, Jay noticed in his rearview mirror. Into the infield, Jay showed off his new skill in acceleration, braking, figure eights, and braking. The braking exercise was when Ben yelled, "Deer!!!" Jay didn't see a deer, but he slammed on the brakes. Ben laughed till he cried. Jay punched him on the arm.

"Damn it! You scared me. Don't do that."

Jack finally caught his breath, amazed at his brother's limited skill. He gulped when Ben told the boy it was his turn. Tony smirked. Minus the bullfighting antics, Jack learned as any young teenager the delicacies of a stick shift and handling a machine with a bigger heart than his. The boy spun out at 60 mph, but this green machine circled a cloud of dirt and stayed ready for a new round.

Tony took over, experienced when Ben taught Shane. Showing off, the boy knew how to launch a Mustang. His shifting had heads and bodies bob forward and back. It was funny if it wasn't so incredibly annoying. The boy handled the track no less than a Jeff Gordon. Tony's look at his father got him a nod and a pat on the head.

Ben opened the gate and decided to sit on the rail to watch. Tony manhandled both the Mustang and the bull who Tony called Tilt. His two friends laughed till they cried from Tony's antics. Finally Tilt gave up chasing that stupid machine around.

Tony slid to a stop by the gate to allow his father to take over. On the far side of the field was a drainage ditch, as Ben built his speed up to eighty and climbing. A steel gate and a barbed wire fence were straight ahead. No one asked Ben if he knew what he was doing. At the last second, Ben swerved to his left and climbed an almost invisible dirt ramp. The Mustang arched upward, flew through the air and landed on another decline ramp, which would have put everyone through the roof without their harnesses on. It was better than any ride these kids had been on.

Another switching of drivers and Tony launched the Ford Mustang on the straight road back to the ranch. Ben trusted his son with this high-powered muscle car more than he did Shane. There was virtually nothing this car didn't do in astonishing fashion, and Ben felt the same way about his son. Tony had ways with a car or with his body of sucking the air out of anyone's collective lungs.

It was all the boys talked about for several minutes. Their bodies soaked in sweat and grime, the three teens showered together without their sexual energy rising.

Drying off, Jack whispered to his brother, "Why was Ben taking pictures of us?"

With towels whipped over their shoulders, Jay took Jack to Ben's study and opened the curtain. Wide-eyed and highly appreciative, a boy's beauty even awed him.

The world of sexuality and gayness had sharpened Jack's awareness. In Tony's room he took the time to examine the pictures and trophies of his friend. Junior rodeo champion, bull-riding champion—it was all there. He had thought of himself as this accomplished golfer, practically looking down on Tony because of his neophyte golf skills, and here his friend had a national reputation. Jack felt humbled and even more in love with one Tony Barkley.



Chapter Eight



As the helicopter flew over Houston on the way to the airport Jay pointed out the River Oaks golf course, where they were members. Jay liked to tell a story his mother told him about a widow of a natural gas king, who in the 60s had a local Boy Scout troop dress as Nubian slaves for one of her parties. Ogled at, caressed and certainly admired by so many ladies, several of the scouts grew hard-ons and had their first sexual experience that day. Rumors spread and the Boy Scouts had their own secret club to keep hush about.

"Dad, can we invite a Boy Scout troop to our ranch?" Tony asked straight-faced.

Jack spoke up. "These days they'd arrest the women as pedophiles."

It never failed to amaze Ben of Jack's perception of these legal entanglements. The kid was too smart for his own good and few teenagers had worried Ben like this one.

"Boy, you need to wear blousy pirate shirts and change your name to Rafe." Ben knew how to get a smile out of Jack.

With Ben's Embraer Phenom 300 personal jet on call, the oil barren was master of his own time. At a speed exceeding 500 mph, the jet made New York in under three hours. Jay and Jack slept most of the way in their Houston Astro jackets that Shane had in his closet. Tony played pinochle against his father, but also had an idea for the ranch.

"Dad, can we build a cart track, like a figure eight. The boys at the academy would love go-carts."

"Son, you have homework, practices for the rodeo, and now you want golf lessons. You have a lot on your plate."

Tony gave his father his best puppy dog eyes, which sometimes worked. "I'll make sure I get everything done. How about weekends?"

Ben tweaked his son's nose. "Your gay charm isn't working. You have rodeos, probably have Jack over, and golf. No time for racing. I tell you racing is a full-time sport."

Tony grinned. "Dad, it's jack off, not jack over."

Before they departed the ranch Ben had taken measurements of each of the boys, then called ahead to the Hilton for clothing to be bought and ready in their room. Money had the power to move people.

Ben had reserved three suites, all next to each other; two boys to a room and one for himself. A college-age clerk had bought the clothes, per age and sizes. The IZOD blazers, shirts, powder blue pants and red cloth belts were more fitting students at a boys' academy. Ben frowned; the boys loved the outfits.

Off to Yankee Stadium, they had a dinner of hot dogs, popcorn, and milk shakes. Bags of peanuts kept their hands busy rooting for the Astros in their 5-4 victory over the Yankees.

Invited by the new Yankee owner in his own executive box, Ben spent time reading the New York Times' sports section. There was a buzz around town pitting their best against Colter on Sunday. It was why Ben kept most of the media away from Shane. There on the second page was an article he didn't want to see: HOUSTON YOUNG STAR VISITS NUDIST CLUB.

Though the two touched base daily, Shane hadn't mentioned this. The boy was stretching his wings, but the role of a professional had massive scrutiny. Fortunately the article did imply this was an athletic club and reports had the young athlete participate in their Pilates and yoga classes. Leave it to a reporter to hustle there and interview several members. Ory was quoted: "The young man was a perfect gentleman at all times. Perfection to a fault, Mr. Colter realizes that to become the ultimate athlete in his sport several disciplines are necessary. It was our pleasure to have this well-mannered youth in our presence." Ben finally smiled.

Two years earlier Mrs. Colter traveled with Shane as his popularity as a model sent him to Europe. So many in this business were gay, and Shane was an irresistible piece of candy. His mother had no idea of those who lavished after her son. Privacy was almost nonexistent in the modeling world. Models quickly dressed, changed outfits regardless of gender in the room. Cell phone cameras were discreet and every where. Shane didn't care one iota, and what appeared as innocence to naiveté disappeared when Shane found himself in an opportunity with another male.

Most of the time that other male was Ben when he filled in for the lady of the house to allow time for herself to shop. To Sarah Colter, it was literally passing the bodyguard role to this handsome senior who had made everything possible. Far from her imagination was the fact that sparks and an amorphous relationship went on behind her back. No more were the two left in a room together when clothes were shed and two gay males ravished each other in animal heat. One of these carnivores paced himself for the ultimate orgasm while the younger went through ejaculations like choosing a donut in a box, only to eat three.

The protectorate role was no longer necessary. No one panicked at an occasional zit or a suntan. At least the owner of this unique club was quoted as saying that they didn't normally cater to minors, but Mr. Colter was exceptionally mature and gracious.

Into the locker room after the game most of the players greeted Ben Barkley with a nod or smile. His entourage was usually young males and this was no exception. Ben pinched his son's behind when Tony was staring way too much at the nudity coming from the shower.

"Gee, Dad, I'm only comparing," Tony replied.

Few people knew of Ben's adoption of Tony. If Ben had had a biological child he couldn't have done better in likeness and personality. Both father and son wore identical cowboy hats, sway, boots, and adoration for each other. The sway may well have come from Tony's practice of his father's walk and demeanor. He had it down to a tee and would never forget it. Tony would tell the boys at the ranch that Ben had had an affair with his mother. He was the result. Eventually he became to believe this himself and had pointed to a trip Ben Barkley had made to Toronto sixteen years earlier. His mother danced at a few male strip clubs. Certainly his mother and Ben had crossed paths and, just possible, Ben had a few too many drinks and did the one-night stand. Tony believed this as fact.

Ben, not wanting to put a damper on his son's imagination, admitted he visited a few bars and wasn't one to have just a few drinks. Tony beamed a wide smile and hugged his mentor with a hearty squeeze. This alone might have been the greatest gift Ben could have given the boy.

Jay and Jack received hugs from Shane, though he had been as much a spectator as them. Tony always had a fancy handshake, depending on the person and their practice time. Shane was his brother, but so was Austin, Cheet, Scooter, Trey and Bo. When around his brothers Tony was as protectorate and possessive as if he were their guardian. In Tony's mind no one fucked with a Barkley or a Colter.

Though hardly hungry, the boys had banana splits while watching Shane scarf down dinner and explain the newspaper article to Ben. Tony wanted all the details on this Tantric sex thing. There was no mention of Ory and his adventurous fingers, nor was the gay bar brought up. Shane would rather forget that disaster, though he had plans to run the scenario down to Tony for laughs. Then Shane remembered that his brother had learned how to use a bullwhip and liked leather. Knowing Tony he may well want to try all this out.

A long day for all, Tony fell asleep on his father's lap in the limo on the way back to the hotel. Too big to carry to his room, Ben woke the teen with a nudge.

"Oh, sorry, Dad. I was examining the lint on your crotch."

Ben was bushed. He knew that Shane and Jay should have their time together and Tony and Jack's theirs. A shower and Ben crawled into his king size bed alone for a change. Tony had slept with his father the last two nights. Thunder and lightning often sent the fifteen-year old to the safety of his father's room. Here he was, one bad ass, teenage, bull rider, the best in Texas, and he scrambled to his father's arms during bad storms. Ben always welcomed him.

A bed to himself was a blessing. He had just dozed off, but it could have been hours, Ben wasn't sure. A brushing of hair was tickling his neck, while an erection was at the base of his spine. Ah! Shane must have slid in. Ben swiveled around, stroked the teen's hair in his hand and planted a kiss on the soft lips. Something was strange. Toes were equal to his; normally Ben's toes would be feeling knees. The hair length was shorter, and the boy's smell was younger. To Ben, a boy's scent was an aphrodisiac, an aroma like no other. In the dark he opened his eyes. A younger set was staring back. Up on his elbows he examined the creature beside him. "Jack?"

"Yo, Matey, Rife is here," Jack replied. "Tony conked out early, so I just thought I'd stop by."

Ben didn't know what to think, but he didn't have to. The 14-year old flipped over on him. The boy's nakedness was apparent. From a sitting position Jack looked down on the adult. A boner was straight up over Ben's chest. As the teen slid forward toward the face, Ben went to grab the member, only to have his hands swept back over his head into a schoolyard pin.

"I'm the predator here. Just lay back and enjoy," Jack said. He arched up and slid his cock into Ben's mouth. A two-minute fuck proceeded. Downward he moved. If his Ben's penis wasn't completely hard, it soon was. Jack gave him equal time in his gumming.

Sheet and blanket went flying back so Jack could sit up high and point Ben's cock toward his hole. "You have a real cucumber there," Jack said and began to sit on the rod. Already lubed and prepared he absorbed the member with delicate ease.

Ben reached up to feel this boyish torso of 120 pounds.

"Don't touch!" Jack said in the darkness. As soon as Ben's hands retreated there was a change of heart. "Okay, you can touch."

Ben wanted to laugh but he didn't. He threaded the teen's nipples which caused even more moans and whimpers. Like Jay would say later, his brother is a vocal bed companion when it comes to sex. No less a connoisseur than a sexpert, Jack eased the impressive girth of Ben's cock in and out to sounds that eclipsed porn films. If this was a motel with thin walls, there likely would have been knocks by now.

Palming the boy's chest, a waist as narrow as a pole, reminded Ben of another fourteen-year old two years earlier. Thin arms, a cock twitching and pulsating to a rhythm of his own, Ben's libido was skyrocketing beneath this show of utter boyish, sexual abandonment. If this teen didn't know his nipples hardened when excited, he did now.

Ben desperately wanted to stroke the wet head of Jack's rod, but he didn't dare. The boy was funny in his intellectual evaluations of life. Scary and threatening, there was something Ben couldn't solve behind this innocent veneer.

Being under a regiment of HGH and supplements Ben's libido had sprung back to life. He had even ejaculated two hearty tablespoons of sperm for his sample at the clinic. And that was after ejaculating the night before. He was rather proud of himself for squirting the ole white stuff again so vigorously.

A mini six-pack hardened as Jack lifted and lowered himself again at his timing. It was a show that Ben felt a third party, yet arousing to his eyes. He watched Jack gasp for breath, a bead of sweat trickling down below a most delicate neck. A complete surrender of his rear to the entire length and circumference of Ben's cock. Jack began to sing, which almost had Ben bust up laughing.

"Do it to me one more time," Jack voiced right on tune.

"Can't get enough of my lovin'?" Ben said right back, as if this teenager really knew the words from a Lionel Richie hit.

Jack's near adult-size cock swung up and down, back and forth, throbbing and drooling pre-come onto Ben's abs. The short patch of pubic hairs were barely visible in the darkness of the room. All of sudden the bouncing dick shot spurt after spurt of sticky cream all over Ben's chest and abs. Above Ben, the boy's eyes had closed in moaning and enclosing his rectum around the thickness that had stretched his anus to pleasure. His youthful prostate, his erotic button, had exploded in his love chute to rack him with shivers and a convulsive orgasm.

Ben had witnessed many a boy enveloped in a dimension only found in a sexual world. He loved Jack's unabated show of being pleasured. The show was purely self-efflorescence, an awakening that his fourteen-year old body was full of pleasure if he surrendered to those who could help him.

Ben felt his load churning somewhere above his balls. Fully enclosed into the boy's ass, his legs straightened in spasm. A second later hot come percolated like a volcanic eruption, then surged into the youth's ass. Ben had been quiet, maybe too solemn in his enjoyment. He couldn't hold his vocal enrichment of an orgasm that was more adolescent than a senior moment.

Jack rocked back and forth, appearing to lose balance, if not consciousness. He collapsed downward, stopping short to lick his own cum from Ben's chest. When he had enough on his tongue and lips, he slurped most of it into Ben's mouth. Still warm, Ben welcomed the surprise kiss and licked the boy's lips.

Seconds later there was a flop of a flaccid organ from a hole that would take a minute to shrink. They laid face to face, exhausted and spent.

"That was so awesome," Jack barely mumbled close to Ben's ear.

Ben led it hang, not to disturb the moment. When he could involve himself without questioning or making fun Ben sought the right words. He did finally say, "I thought you were straight."

Jack sat up slightly. "I think I'm going to declare myself bisexual. I like it too much up the ass." The boy's giggle was precious.

Ben laughed hysterically, a few coughs to catch his breath. "Jack, may I say you are a conundrum to me. I find you most amazing."

"Yes, my mother thinks likewise. She can't wait to send me off to college next year."

"You're kidding! You're only fourteen!"

"Fifteen in two months. Most of us kids go off to college after fourteen. Jay is the exception. Mom is protecting my gay brother from the wolves."

"Like me?" Ben dared ask.

Jack smiled. "You're no wolf. You are the luckiest senior citizen in Texas to have boys who love you. I guess I fall in that category."

"Really?" Ben quizzed.

Jack bent forward and kissed Ben rather passionately. "Do you love me? I don't mean like Shane, or even Jay, but because I'm me."

A chuckle almost emerged to this fascinating, but important question. This boy had needs Ben was just beginning to realize. "I love you because you, young man, are a special person. What we shared tonight I never would have thought possible in a million years."

"Yeah, I shock people at times." Jack rolled off and helped Ben out of bed to the bathroom where they showered and soaped each other down.

Back in bed they kept the blankets off, as Jack swung his left leg over Ben's nude body. "Have you ever been with a girl?"

"Women are fickle. I'm not saying that to discourage you from future endeavors with the opposite sex. My own experience."

"Your preempt rationale is understood. You aren't a conundrum to me, as compared to me to you."

"Where do you learn all this?" Ben asked in bewilderment.

"I read a lot. Now, about girls being fickle."

"Yes, fickle. Well, let's see, women have their own engines, not ones I recognize or can fix. They think they're always right, and they really think they're right. We, on the other hand, avoid all that stuff and concentrate on things that beat on objects, like golf clubs, hammers, bats, and bowling balls, you get the message. Women act aloof from typical male hobbies because it frightens them. They like to emasculate us, usually with small things like how stupid we are or the clothes we wear. `I can't believe you did that! I can't believe you leave the seat up! You're so Cro-Magnon.' They bitch about some task, like a leaking faucet, so the man will have to do it, and then they'll complain about how he does it. They like control. A man will let them control the kids because, after all, they suffered to have them. A guy will slip his kid a few bucks and he'll do whatever dad wants.

"Never comment on any question of theirs which deals with boobs and rear end. Just avoid it at all costs. Anything you say will backfire. `Oh, honey, your rear looks awesome in those pants.' `Why, is it tight?' `You bet!' `So it's big?' `No, it's just looks good in those pants.' `So, yesterday it didn't look good in those other pants because it was too big.'

"See, there's no winning. Same thing with boobs, either too big or too small. As far as us, we don't care about our rears. We let gay guys and women compliment them. Women like butts and think penises are silly. Trust me, if your girl doesn't shave, you should because someone in the relationship has to be smooth. I tell you all this but, in the end, once a girl gives you a second look, your penis takes over the thinking. Some day you look back in despair and say, `Ben told me to watch out.'"

Jack busted up. "My dick does that already. Does it feel as good in a vagina as it does in an ass?"

"Think of a cow's cud and slap an ugly patch of hair on it. Stick it in and enjoy yourself." Ben tickled Jack in the ribs and got a Tony response of giggles.

"Come on, Ben, I watched my mom have a baby, and the after birth was really gross, but then I've seen my sister. Outside of those flaps of skin and that knob, I can see my dick slide in. I mean, not with my sister, but another girl."

"Oh, gross!" Ben teased and got tickled right back. He finally held the boy's head in his hands. "You okay with tonight?"

A silent pause. "My idea. Mom will want me to write one of those WHAT I DID IN NEW YORK CITY essays, so I'll have to be honest." He waited for the gulp and got tickled again. "It's fun making an adult squirm. One of the bennies of being a kid."

"At my age I'm just lucky to hang out with someone who can get a hard-on." He got another giggle out of Jack.

"I wish you were my father," Jack said and the veneer had been pulled back for a peek.

Ben took the boy into his arms, slapped him on the tush. "Then I'd have to say no, wouldn't I?"

A brush of a tear was felt on Ben's shoulder. Jack snuggled closer. "You can do that again, if you want."

Ben didn't and held the youth tight until they both wandered off in sleep.

By morning Jack had disappeared as Ben's arm searched for a lumpy figure in back of him. Not an easy job, he had four bodies with the addition of Shane who showed up ready for breakfast by nine. Their hearty breakfast was observed by two men: Stan Wiggins and Bill Winston. Neither knew each other, yet their goals were quite similar.

In Ben's room everyone gathered. He tossed low rise, silver, square cut, swim trunks at Shane, Jay, and Tony. For Jack he handed surfing jams that went to the boy's knees. The other boys laughed.

"It's a straight thing, isn't it?" Jack said in tease. He threw back the trunks. Not surprised, Ben had another silver brief.

"It's an Indian Summer day out there. Let's go to the beach," Ben suggested and got four smiles.

"You just want to show your trophies off," Jack said both in fact and humor.

"You're more a bronze medal," his brother replied.

"That's not what you said the other night," Jack retorted.

"You're right, bro, you came first. You ought to get that premature ejaculation fixed," Jay countered.

Even Ben laughed. To be an older brother is so much fun. Jay had Jack caught for words. A miracle!

They went to Fire Island, a gay beach of enormous popularity. Jay and Shane walked on each side of their adult, two boy beauties beside a senior in shorts that came two inches above well-aged knees. The boys didn't have to worry about rip tides or an undertow, they were drowned in stares and lecherous men.

At noon Ben decided that the boys were too involved in swimming, so he sent Shane to the stadium in the limo. They would catch up for the afternoon game later. Come two o'clock and the rented Boogie Boards were well in use. The silver suits seeped into their ass cheeks to allow several spectators on their beach towels a visual fantasy. One pre-mature bald man was on his stomach but moving his hips in a masturbatory motion that he was fucking his towel. Ben smiled. Outside of Tony's firm ass, he had had the other two in fond memory. Eat your heart out, cowboy, Ben would've liked to tell the fella.

The Texan glanced around and saw more than a few naked men, a couple in sexual intercourse higher on the beach. Jack was running toward him and presented a shell he had stepped on in shallow water. The pink curvature of the tiny shell reminded Ben of a one love button in a boy's rear. When he glanced up Jack had the most mischievous stare on his face. The boy knew. Precocious kids were really scary, Ben thought.

He reached out and pretended to pull down Jack's swimsuit. Jack swung his head around and caught sight of nude men and the sex near the tall grass. He lowered his swim suit and the whiteness of his groin was in perfect contrast to his light tan. I tug on his penis and he left Ben with a glare on boy-bouncing buns. Tony and Jay laughed at the sight and then tossed their suits onto the sand.

The guy humping his towel rode up on his hands to arch his back for a better view. Ben saw the hardened member and knew the man wouldn't last too much longer with this view.

Ben certainly couldn't leave the boys at the beach by themselves, nor did he wish to drag them to a baseball game that they weren't interested in. The beach won out. Ben had the limo driver go out and buy a radio so he could listen to the game and bring a picnic basket back filled with food.

Hardly accomplished and trained spies, Stan and Bill stood a hundred yards apart with their binoculars focused on four boys and an adult at a gay beach. Stan was elated. He had dozens of pictures now of his client's son in swimsuits that barely covered up their privates. They might as well been naked, Stan thought. Then Shane Colter departed, but that was okay, there were still three frolicking boys in the surf. Even better was when they removed their suits. A memory card was about to be filled with hundreds of photos and a switch to video.

Bill had no idea who two of these boys were. Might even be pick-ups from a service which supplied teenage boys. His key photo was when Shane Colter kissed Ben Barkley before he departed. A kiss on the lips wasn't your customary see-you-later farewell.

This consistent beach-goer humping his beach towel decided a dry hump wasn't satisfying enough. One boost upwards and he was swaggering to the surf with a swinging hard-on. He pretended to just want to soak his feet in the shallow surf.

Ben was ready to intervene, but on second thought, Tony came to mind. The boy could handle any situation. Sure enough when Tony saw the aroused man he slid off his board and waded through the waist deep water almost right up to the guy. By this time Tony was almost hard himself.

"Want this, bitch? Forget it. I have my boys here and we already have a daddy. Go join those other two guys if you want fucked."

The man was taken back by the brash youngster. Rather than proceed with any courting the man spun and went back to his towel, his erection dwindling by the second. Tony looked up to Ben on the beach and gave a thumbs up. Yup, the boy was another Ben Barkley.

When the limo driver walked onto the beach with a large picnic basket, the men's glances caught the other's eye. Both had cameras in hand, hardly dressed for the beach and suspicious of each other. Accusing each other of being voyeurs, each pretended to back off to see what the other would do.

Ever so slowly they each surrendered their lookout spots in hopes the other didn't think them as strange. Escaping to their cars parked back off the beach, they eyed each other again, pissed glances of being disturbed. Barely able to see the three boys drag their boards to their towels, both men glimpsed the boys as they wiggled their penises in front of Ben Barkley and laid out upon their beach towels under an afternoon sun. A temptation to run for a better view and a hundred photos was hammered by a stranger down the parking lot. Each cursed the other.

Wearing sunglasses, Ben's heart had a glow that no one could see. Beside him were three very pretty boys, their rears, two whiter than his son's, were objects of art for every person on that beach. Ben couldn't resist. He squirted sunscreen lotion into his palm and wiped on each bare ass beside him. His own swimsuit covered his erection, but Ben loved every second.

Leave it to Tony to see two naked men walking by on the beach and, all of sudden, it became a pick up beach with wolf whistling. That was his boy, as well. These muscled butts of boys brought more attention than Ben had anticipated. Who would have thought three bubbly boys would need their own security team just to go to the beach. Ben had to set perimeters. Off to the surf he jogged. In water up to his chest he waved the three youngsters to join him. They were quickly surrounding him with their boards.

"Guys, especially my son here, you're eye candy here. Don't tease back or some guy is going to take it serious."

"Gee, Dad, it's fun to watch them get their boners. A few of them are hot."

"So hot as to give you the clap or worse. If you keep wiggling your sweet little asses one of them will be leaping out of the water and have that as their afternoon delight."

"I'd rather have you," Jack said and had Tony and Jay with startled expressions.

"What'd you do with my brother?" Jay asked and busted up.

Always the instigator, with just eye signals he had Jay and Jack join him to leap onto their man and drop these silly shorts. All Ben could do was raise his arms in helplessness and watch his shorts being carried to shore by small waves. He tried one of the Boogey Boards and discovered he wasn't much of a wave catcher. Tony gave him instruction and he understood the mechanics by starting a little earlier. Then Jack slid on top of Ben and the board sunk that much lower in the water. Two wet faces were barely above the water line, while Jack's rear glistened on top of Ben's hips. Ben didn't paddle or complain. Jack had already penetrated as they both froze in this position.

"I like to keep things on an even keel," Jack whispered into Ben's ear.

Jay was speechless, though Tony laughed.

"You two know each other?" Jay asked.

"We've met," Ben replied. Whether the boys knew that Jack was inside of Ben was left for conjecture.

Jack wiggled his ass with a few humps to tease his peers. It was still a guess whether Jack was really fucking. Jack couldn't help contort his face and tighten his ass when the orgasm came. He collapsed on top of his adult guardian and breathed a sigh of relief. No way was he pulling out.

Ben brushed the water from his eyes and scanned the beach. Several men had their vision glued on this play. As long as Jack didn't show any fucking motion they were okay.

Tony paddled over and gave Jack a high-five. I'd show you how to ride `im, but Dad won't let me. He's a big bull so go slowly, keep one arm up and dig your heels in. He'll be tame in no time." Tony slapped Jack's ass.

Ben gave his son one of those looks that said, "Later," written all over.

Jack not only liked recognition but he was good at the one-upmanship, especially on his brother. With his hands on Ben's powerful back, he raised up as good as he could to show his penis half-in and half-out of the firm glutes. Jay was amazed but cracked up.

With the rising and lowering of each wave Jack had had enough momentum to drive his cock deep for the ejaculation he so desperately wanted. Ben knew when the boy came, the final thrust was followed by a verbal display of riding the perfect wave.

"You sexy boy," Jay remarked and knew the outcome. "Your eyes went all glassy and I thought you might be constipated." Jay had his fun.

Up Ben sat up with a burst of speed and actually did buck the boy off his pedestal of fun. A grab around Jack's waist and Ben sent the boy flying high in the air as if shot out of a canon. The swollen dick was a gorgeous sight for all sightseers. Ben went after Jay and sent him into flight, as well. Tony tried his best to paddle away, but Ben was a hearty swimmer and had his son a minute later. The power of this Texan rancher launched the boy six feet in the air to a splash that simply begged for more. For the next ten minutes Ben was relegated to be the human springboard. He loved it. He made sure to put his hand under their butts to make sure those men on the beach were totally envious.

Egg salad sandwiches, cupcakes, Pepsi and chips. The boys devoured the food after being thrown around on three-foot waves. To these Texas boys, this had been surfing at its best.

Most of the men pretended to just want to park their towels close by; others were more blatant in their attempts to befriend Ben, as if they were old friends. The boys knew the scene. Jack winked at his brother and went up on all fours to bend forward and put mustard on his hot dog. Tony busted up laughing.

Jay stretched out and coated his stomach with suntan lotion, making sure he milked his penis and balls with the lotion.

Tony was rarely outdone in antics. "You need some too, Jack." Jack laid back while Tony sat on the boy's thighs. So thorough was Tony's helpful coating that Jack grew hard again. Tony scooted up and was going to sit on the erection until Ben caught this near sex act.

"Hold on there, cowboy! One of these city slickers may be vice and arrest us all on child porn charges," Ben lectured.

"New York City would regret arresting my ass!" Tony proclaimed.

"Yes, that worries me," Ben replied. "Boys, no sex on the beach. I know, I know, others are doing it, but they have really moronic laws in this state about minors expressing their sexuality."

"Sure, Dad, no problem," Tony replied, stood up and made sure everyone there saw his straight up boner. He had Jack in total admiration with his bravado.

Stan watched from the parking lot as the other voyeur pulled out. He got out of his car and scanned through his binoculars just as Ben Barkley had his hand on one of the boy's butts. Off he ran. At the contours between tall grass and alabaster sand he whipped off his 40mm lens to get to his 80mm. This one he dropped right in the sand. You could hear the "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" a long way off.

Jay sat up, put a cupcake in Ben's mouth and wrapped an arm inside his. Before them two more fortyish looking, nude men appeared.

"Hey, guys. I own a home right up the beach if you care to take a shower or anything."

Tony whipped around uninhibited. He saw a loop through the guy's penis, one through the scrotum.

"Dad, can I have..."

"No!" Ben said firmly.

Jack laughed and swung around but brought up his knees to hinder any view of his groin. He did offer a nice view of his ass to make one man glare at a luscious hole.

"Pretty and pink," this beachgoer spoke with his eyes glued on Jack's butt.

"You like my ass? You can't have it. Kick rocks!" Jack said and had Tony cracking up this time.

"No thanks, gentlemen. Appreciate the offer though," Ben said and watched the men walk off rather perturbed.

Walking nonchalantly and appearing way too innocent along the shore break Ben saw a man he recognized. Even worse he held a camera in his hands. He stood up and turned toward the boys.

"Don't ask, but we have a spy. Put your suits on and, if you want, we can go up the beach away." That's when Ben looked up and saw the same man fumbling in the sand with his camera. "We've become way too popular."

Everyone dressed quickly and up the beach they walked until they spotted a cove. Well blocked from anyone not looking directly in, they all disrobed and resumed their sunbathing. Jay coated Ben's muscular body, enticing Jack and Tony to join in and give a little TLC to this adult.

Three Fire Island veterans strolled by the cove's entrance, stopped, gave Ben a thumb's up and moved on. "Only in New York," Ben said to no one in particular, though the boys knew what he meant.

Ten minutes had passed and Ben realized he had drifted off with Jay's head on his chest, also asleep. He scanned to his right to see that Jack and Tony weren't necessarily jacking each other off, but now using brush strokes to pleasure each other's cock. His hand shook Jay awake.

"Guys, we still have to shower and dress before Shane returns from the park. Let's get ready."

Jack was the first to leap up. He jumped on a small boulder to a larger one about ten feet above everyone. He jutted his dick forward. "Dad, if you're out there, suck on this!"

Tony thought it was hilarious, while Ben saw the anger that was behind it. Like it was an invitation for melee, young Barkley whipped off toward the ocean, fifty years away, touched the water and came sprinting back with his boner flipping side to side and yelling, "Go Astros!"

Considering all his friend's behavior as a challenge, Jack began to do the same thing until Ben tackled him and Jay jumped on his brother to pummel the teen to submission.

"I give up! I give up!" Jack yelled until he was freed from the hold. He still sprang off and equaled Tony's deed. Upon his return he waited for some form of punishment. "Aren't you going to spank me?"

"I have a feeling I'd be rewarding you," Ben replied.








Chapter Nine


The four males returned to the hotel with the satisfaction of spending a day at the beach. Ben felt overwhelmed with the energies required to keep up with three hormonal teens. Given the freedom to express themselves the three boys could tempt even a straight man into an egregious act.

To have the teenagers go to this beach by themselves would be like putting three, naked Lolita's in the midst of a group of horny straight men. There would be dozens of these men trying to befriend the teens. Ben's only concern, the sex police would always blame the adult for offering these teens the opportunity. As idiotic as that sounded, it was true. The billionaire doubted he would partake of being a chaperone again at a nude beach.

Ben wasn't tired, per se, just aggravated that every time he met new parents in his life the scrutiny and parental possessiveness had come into play. If parents could only butt out of their kids' lives, Ben thought but knew that was not realistic. There would always be the mother or father who were afraid of some other adult influencing their child to behave far more advanced than the youngster was ready for. Interesting thing, new behaviors were part of growing up with new challenges and experiences. In America those challenges and experiences had better not be sexual.

Ben wasn't sure whether he could continue being the Pied Piper for the number of adolescents at the ranch. This included the Autrey kids. Sure, Ben had the support of Janice Autrey. The woman was open-minded, a trend setter who was well aware that her children weren't these innocent human beings. She had a gay son and had given him a whole lot of leeway. He wasn't sure if Janice would condone her children having sex with each other. Putting those thoughts aside, Ben wouldn't mind having the woman as a teacher for his boys.

Jack got in his swat when he stepped into the shower. Actually, Ben was already soaped up, figuring he'd be alone, but Jack had other plans. No sex, just Jack's bantering that they should go to the beach more often. From a cautious purveyor of moral judgments to Ben's right hand boy Jack was completely comfortable around this adult. They had connected with the intimacy of a married couple, minus the nuptials.

Like another youngster he had fondest memories, Ben squeezed the shampoo onto Jack's hair and then massaged the scalp. Instant erection. There was something about this dynamo youngster that invigorated Ben's libido.

For a teenager of fourteen, barriers were choices made based on fear, respect, honor, or even love. The boy's close observance and evaluation of Ben Barkley had led to complete dedication and loyalty to this new man in his life. No amount of useless logic or lecture could persuade this young man any different. He thirsted for affection, and if sex was part of this formula, Jack accepted it fully.

Shane arrived at the hotel near dinner hour. Astros had won their eleventh in a row, 7 to 2. Yankee fans weren't very happy losing to the third place Astros in another division, but tomorrow would be different with their Japanese artist, Tanaka.

Dinner in West Village had that Italian-inflected American taste that appeased everyone. The molten chocolate cake topped off their smiles. When Ben's platinum card was refused, he looked at Shane who had already covered the bill. His boy was growing balls to take over Ben's role as the dictator and unquestionable philanthropist.

This adult did have pre-arranged tickets to a show that had come back to Broadway on a special tour—Billy Elliot. Post the Broadway show, the limo dropped them off at Stage 48. A few bills in the right pocket let four minors and their adult companion to the dance floor.

It was late when the five males returned to the Hilton. Ben assumed everyone was tuckered and would gravitate to their beds. He read a few pages of a novel that was slowly being matriculated, when Shane and Jay strolled in without clothes on. Sharing a room with Tony and Jack was like living next to the Marx Brothers. They expected Ben to have a solution. He put down his book, swung back his covers and welcomed the boys to his bed. One difference, he was outta there.

Into his western jacket and boots he caught a taxi to Greenwich Village to the first gay bar the driver stopped.

Most of the customers thought Ben was a city slicker pretending to be a cowboy. Like men dressed up in motorcyclist leather and boots, this character must be into lassoing some young stud he could ride. The first limp wristed, girly girl who strutted up to Ben got a look over and a chuckle.

"I'm not into sheep or Annie Oakley," Ben said and spanked the transvestite on the fanny to send him on his way. So much for the daddy-needs-a-cowgirl prediction from several regulars at this bar.

Ben wasn't looking for a pickup. He did see an older guy who knew everyone and then some. When Ben asked if the stool next to him was taken, the once famous female impersonator swept his arm out toward the chair.

"Honey, if you're that desperate, I can loosen my vocal cords to make sure one of us has a good time."

Ben stuck out his hand. "Ben Barkley, Austin, Texas."

Sporting yellow hair that was usually covered by a rug, Liza shook Ben's hand like a dead fish. "You can call me, Ms. Minelli. Can't say when we've had a real stallion in the bar. Do you have a six-shooter to match the boots, cowboy, or do you wear rubber spurs?"

"I've been sheriff a few times, but I'll settle for Ben. What's your story?" Ben saw a face that was void of color but looked like skin that had baked in the sun for the summer. Makeup and skin tone would make a world of difference.

Liza went back to her toothpick with a cherry stuck on it. "I used to make the boys whistle and wanna dance. When you can't reach the high notes of Dorothy then it's time to play Streisand and retire. Get my drift?"

Ben paid for two scotch on the rocks, then drank the first one down like it was a chaser. "I bet you still got it, Ms. Minelli. Just need a little country air to clear out the lungs."

"Honey, the lungs are okay, it's the tubes that get clogged. No one wants an old showgirl these days. I'd love to polish your stirrups, though."

Ben didn't mind being the listener to a fag hag's sad story of love gained and love lost. He occasionally swung his eyesight around this bar of strange clientele, no doubt the same night in, night out. Men dressed in seventy paisley, bell bottom pants to tight fitting leather shorts. More gold and silver through noses, chins, and ears than Ben had in his jewelry box. A mass collection resembling the Village People as their own lonely hearts club. A society bent on sex and one-night stands. Ben's ears caught the last sentence, only because he sensed being in the company of bright-eyed teenagers was a breath of fresh air compared to wallowing in self-pity in a gay bar.

"...and I even once sang a duet with Barry Manilow. We would have made quite the couple but he was such a closeted showgirl."

Ben patted his company on the knee. "Even Mae West never lost her composure. Perhaps another time I'll hear you sing." Ben spread a ten-dollar tip to the bartender and started to stand up.

"Mae who, Honey? Didn't he play for the Lakers?"

Ben had a good chuckle as he started toward on the door. His arm was held ever so gently by this person he shared the hour with.

At the entrance Ms. Minelli stopped. "Honey, you didn't have to be so nice. I would have liked you anyway."

Ben reached in his pocket and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. He stuffed it inside a bra that held nothing. "I bet you can still bellow a tune. You have charm, my dear, and I treat everyone with respect who treats me the same way."

At the hotel there was desperation in Stan Wiggins' actions. He had attached microphones to the base of the suite door, and then military grade thermal sensors that revealed all human movement inside the room. Nicely secluded in the corner of the lobby, no one much bothered the businessman looking for a little time on his computer. Within seconds he was recording three bodies on one bed, but then one departed. Two more rather high-pitched teenagers were way too hysterical in the other suite. For an hour he listened to teenage chatter or the moans of sex. Stan glanced up at an approaching figure. It was the same man he'd noticed at the beach.

"What do you think you're doing?" Bill Winston asked.

"Who the fuck are you? If Autrey sent you, I have it under control."

Bill stopped right in front of this investigator. "I have no idea who this Autrey character is, but we have to talk."

"The hell we do!" With that, Wiggins swung and connected a left to Winston's jaw. Bill got off the lobby carpet and dove into Stan's body, sending them both crashing onto a glass table. Bellhops were charging to this area as well as the hotel's security.

Ben entered through the front door of the hotel and froze to the racing of men past him and toward a melee of two men, apparently in disagreement over something. Ben had no reason to get involve until he saw one of their faces. This was too coincidental. Back he walked and while the two individuals were being separated on the floor he glanced at the computer screen and headphones left on the chair. A placement of an earpiece next to his ear and he heard his own son tell someone why they should have an enema package in their bathroom.

Ben swept the computer into his arms before anyone noticed anything other than the commotion. He watched hotel security handcuff both men, and then the desk clerk, who was purely a bystander, moseyed over to Ben.

"Did you see what happened, sir?"

"Not actually," Ben replied, "Probably both drunk and having a disagreement."

"We apologize for any disturbance, Mr. Barkley."

"No problem," Ben said and moved off with the computer behind his back.

As soon as he entered his suite he saw Shane and Jay reclined in splendor and watching the Late Night Show. "Boys, see what you can find on this computer."

"Jack is an expert," Jay said as a matter of fact.

In seconds Jack and Tony were sitting on Ben's bed. Jack was more than intrigued in showing off his computer skills in front of Tony and Ben. Several minutes went by and Jack had found a whole lot more than just heat images and sounds. There were pictures from the beach, and one of him standing on a large boulder with his cock bouncing. His words to his father were quite distinguishable, even from thirty yards away.

"That was pretty cool," Jack said as personal satisfaction.

Then there was Tony dashing toward the water and back, followed by Jack. The man was on his job.

"You guys had more fun than I did at the game," Shane humored while viewing the screen.

Jack found everything as he searched the computer files, including his father's name as the man who hired this investigator.

"Erase it all," Ben instructed. "Legally I can't keep this, and I have a feeling he'll figure who took it. He'll be here tomorrow wanting it back. Not our fault his computer crashed."

Ben was right. A ragged private eye, after a night in jail for disturbing the peace, arrived in the middle of breakfast to ask for his equipment. Ben had Jack run up and bring it down.

"Tell Autrey this is a little beneath him. If he doesn't trust his boys, he needs to discuss his paranoia with them."

Wiggins appeared surprised to get all his technology back in one piece. He kept his mouth shut. The snickers behind him as he left were puzzling.

There would be no beach on this big day. Ben took the boys to a clothing store and let them pick outfits for themselves. He had no idea what it must take to raise twelve kids, but he knew that Jay and Jack didn't possess the newest of clothes or undergarments. The purchase of colorful underwear was dispersed to the boys in the changing rooms. He tossed their other garments.

Wild array of colors, designs, and styles, Ben particularly took interest in Jack's selection. Cotton white pants and white and peach wife-beaters and shirts, the boy came out of the dressing room and modeled for Ben.

"Meet your approval?"

"I'm not the one wearing them," Ben offered.

"But you like them on me, because I know you'd prefer the more naked look," Jack said with certainty.

Ben glanced around in dire hopes no one else was listening. Jack could embarrass an adult in less time than it took to put a hand over the kid's mouth. Jack had asked Tony what his father's favorite colors were and knew exactly how to please Ben, with or without clothes.

"Young man, your intelligence would make a district attorney blush," Ben joked and watched Jack began to peel off his shirt and pants. He hustled forward, snatched the teen up over his shoulder and deposited the boy back behind the curtain. Jack loved to see Ben's reaction.

"Wanna make out here?" Jack asked.

"Jack, behave yourself." Ben stepped out, just knowing this precocious boy was a handful. What he'd perceived was right; Jack had a crush on him. He'd seen that look before, Shane two years earlier. How could he have forgotten? Difference was, Shane had been a puppy collie saying `I'm yours,' while Jack was a puppy, German Shepherd saying, `You're mine.' The second one was far more dangerous.

If Tony got wind of this transference there would be one pissed off son, and Ben loved his son too much to cause this conflict.

Ben hi-tailed it over to his son to make sure of equal time. Tony had chosen a leather Porsche jacket. "You trying to tell me something?"

"Kinda my speed, Dad."

"A boy who rides bulls should never ride a Porsche. I don't mind you tangling with a bull once in awhile. A Porsche has 400 bullpower and there's no jumping off to seek safety."

Tony put the jacket back on its hook and then released from its hanger a bright red Ferrari jacket. "Cool, right Dad? It has a Testarossa on it. Sounds just like testosterone. This one I have to have."

Ben didn't have the heart to tell his son that they didn't make this car anymore. "Okay, we can settle on this one. Maybe on your sixteenth you can have one with a Volkswagen engine in it."

"That's okay, I'll look cool puttin' around in style." He hugged his father in thanks. "I thought once that I had to look cool to protect my image. But just being with you, Dad, I'm the coolest kid in the world."

Ben didn't care what anyone in that store thought. He almost cried. Having a son was truly God's gift to men. Shane was more a temporary love to be passed on.

"Maybe we can reconsider a go-cart," Ben said and then knew it was a bribe to keep Jack around. He felt terribly guilty, but then Tony's kiss to his cheek was worth it.

"I didn't say that, Dad, to get a go-cart. You were right, my plate is full and I'd prefer to ride a bull and Jack than a go-cart."

Jay and Shane went back and forth dressing each other until Ben hurried everyone up. In the limo both Jay and his brother leaned sideways to kiss Mr. Barkley on the corners of his mouth. "Thanks for everything, sir," they both said, like they had practiced this for hours. Before Ben could reply, out came a gift from Shane and the boys, all wrapped up in a gift box. Inside was a thong swimsuit and a British derby hat.

"I suppose I have to wear both at the same time," Ben mused.

"At our pool," Shane said to save his mentor.

Their next stop was to a golf gym in Midtown Manhattan. The 25,000-square-foot space sat in the shadow of the Empire State Building. The seven, high-definition, video golf simulators displayed over 30 courses equipped with TrackMan golf radar and video analysis. They knew Ben was from out of town but still charged the man an exorbitant fee to analyze himself and the four boys by performance coaches.

Tony received a full beginner's lesson, while Jay and Jack were declared junior professionals. Shane and Ben had major corrections done to their swings.

Shane left for the stadium much earlier than the rest of them. He rarely showed emotion or nervousness, but he had sensed Yankee enthusiasm for this game of their best versus a gay kid from Houston.

From his lofty status in an executive box, Ben didn't hear the gay slurs when Shane took the field. Shane's only concern was his catcher, just brought up from their farm system to give the kid some experience.

Shane's first pitch, over a hundred on the radar gun, ricocheted from the twenty-year old's glove. An apology didn't help Shane's confidence for the guy to handle fastballs all day. What was worse, Ray Bacon liked to call him BABY BLUE, SWEET CHEEKS, or COMMANDO for the small briefs Shane wore under his baseball pants. This catcher, Ty Dempsey, called him SIR. Seventeen and someone calls him SIR! Just wasn't right.

Shane went to his cutter, which moved almost nine inches. This minor leaguer acted like a deer in headlights with no idea that a baseball could break like a whiffle ball. The minor leagues didn't quite have this much talent.

An easy ground ball to second was followed by a strike out that bounced off of the catcher's chest. With luck the ball came up nicely and the batter was thrown out at first. Out came the catcher.

"Sorry `bout that, Mr. Colter."

"Ty, please call me Shane. My man likes to tell me, `Buckle up, Buttercup,' so I'll tell you to hang in there and do your best."

Ty smiled and felt the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. If a guy could talk about being gay, certainly he could catch a cutter.

Tanaka was just as canny and a perfectionist as his nemesis. Houston hitters swung and missed as if they were the Astros of old. By the fifth the game was barely forty minutes old with no hits or runners from either team. In the Yankee half of the inning it took a dive from the Houston third baseball to snag a certain double down the line. From his knees he threw out the runner to save the first hit. By the end of the inning Ty's palm was swollen and red from all the fastballs.

Sport scientists had marveled at how a 6'8", 165 pound, seventeen-year old could throw harder than anyone. There were skeptics who were waiting any game for Shane's arm to blow. Too light, too skinny, too weak, and too young they said. He'll be a one-month wonder. They all wanted to compare him to Randy Johnson, the retired fire baller of Diamondback fame. At 6'10", 240 lbs., Johnson had had the ideal frame to throw heat, not Colter.

Few knew that Ben Barkley had done the right thing by training Shane with elastic cords, a javelin thrower's workout, and flexibility drills to maximize his stride. Physiologists had already noted that when somebody throws 95 mph, it creates so much valgus stress that the forearm essentially wants to detach from the body. But one 2-inch ligament in the elbow holds two bones together and keeps the forearm in place. An important screw in a sport demanding speed and more speed. It's why Ben and Shane's manager kept instilling in the boy to mix in a changeup with tail and a slow curveball with an eleven-to-five shape. There were many ways to bend the curve.

Eighth inning and Yankee fans stood and held their breath when their first baseman hit a towering fly ball to center field. This was the game for sure. The speedy Houston center fielder, now very happy that he had been traded from Toronto, retreated, waited and leaped. The ball hung in his webbing, flipped up and was caught by his right fielder who ran over to back up the play.

Fans couldn't believe their eyes. Shane collapsed to his knees that he'd witnessed a great play. On to the ninth.

Tanaka came out like a discouraged prize fighter who had done everything he was expected to do and was still neutralized. A single to start the inning, followed by a sacrifice bunt to move the runner to second. A surprise drag bunt had Tanaka dash in and throw wildly over the first baseman's head. The runner who had been on second dashed around third and scored on the errant throw. A run!

There was no standing ovation for Shane as he walked out to the mound in the bottom of the ninth with 1 to 0 lead. They refused to believe that their pitcher with a one-hitter could lose. No one was about to leave the stadium; the Yankees were known for their ninth innings wins.

Shane threw heat from the first pitch. Ty wasn't so sure his hand was broken. It hurt like hell. His signals were for cutters or a slider. Shaken off, Shane made sure each batter saw heat and dared them to catch up to it.

The Yankees' first batter swung at a high and hard pitch before he walked back to the dugout shaking his head. The second batter watched the first two pitches, just waiting on a change up to hammer on. A third strike curve caught the outside corner without the batter ever swinging the bat. Their future Hall-of-Famer marched to the plate to the excitement of sixty-thousand Yankee fans. His year sitting out for performance enhancing drugs was long forgiven and forgotten by die-hard fans.

The man watched the count go one and one, then fouled off a fastball, one he should have drilled. He figured a slider. Colter wouldn't dare throw another fastball. Upon the release Alex thought the ball would stay way outside. Instead Shane bent that curveball four feet to carve the outer third of the plate. A third strike called. Fans screamed, "No!" but Alex's body slumped to accept the call.

A perfect game! Ty dropped his glove, held his hand that hurt unimaginable, and then sprinted to the mound to hug the greatest pitcher he'd ever caught for. Under a thousand fans, few from Houston, went wild in the stands. Truth be told, hundreds of these were gay men from the city who had bought a baseball ticket to see "their" boy.

Silence fell over Yankee stadium as if this was pre-game and the National Anthem had to be sung. Most knew something important had happened, just not how important. No pitcher had thrown 2 perfect games in one season. Few had ever thrown one in their career.


While Shane went south to Baltimore with the team, Ben's jet landed in Austin. Red was there waiting for his boss with the Aston Martin, since the ranch's helicopter was under repair.

It was a little after ten o'clock at night when Ben touched base with Janice that he'd have the boys home in an hour. The change in time zones helped. The three-day trip had proven quite an adventure.

Jay, in the passenger's seat, was the first to lean over and kiss this man goodnight before he exited. Tony made sure he got his kiss from Jack, but then Jack climbed up in front.

"Mr. Barkley, I've never really trusted men, but you've made me feel safe and loved, so I thank you because I've had a lot of fun." He got his peck on the cheek and opened the door to see his father.

"Get in the house!" Pete Sr. ordered. He poked his head through the passenger's door. "We'll talk soon. Stay away from my sons."

Ben was tempted to step out, but it was late and Tony was in the car.

"What's his problem?" Tony asked.

As the Aston pulled away, Ben replied, "Guess his private eye saw enough to put a bug in his ear."

Tony climbed into the front seat when they stopped at a crossroads. "Can I drive home?"

"Not a bad idea," Ben said and got out of the car.

"Really?! No, no? Are you okay, Dad?"

"Do you always think I'm going to say no?"

"Yeah. It makes me feel lovable."

Ben laughed and buckled in. "Son, if you ever see your father do stupid things be sure to rescue me, okay?"

Tony pulled the Aston out into traffic. "Dad, you think through your dick like I do. It's what makes us a great father and son team. I don't want you to change, and I'm not mad because you and Jack have something going on the side. I don't blame you, he's hot."

Ben patted his son's knee with a reply. Tony was right and Ben knew he had a knack for thinking through his penis. It sure made for a risky life. He trusted his son to drive the two hundred thousand dollar car. Anyway there was a lot on his mind and focusing on driving wasn't one of them.

"Jack really likes you, Dad," Tony offered as he locked his hands on the wheel and focused on driving through the gates to the ranch.

"Maybe a little. No big deal."

"No, not a little, a whole lot. It's okay, I'm used to sharing my friends. I'm just glad it's not a girl this time."

"A girl? I don't remember us two ever sharing a girl."

"No, it's not like that. You said you may have had sexual intercourse with a girl in Toronto. I don't blame my mom for thinking that you're handsome. I just want us both to be true to our loins."

Ben laughed to break up his pensive worries. Yes, he'd had a one-night stand after way too many beers in Toronto sixteen years previous. Was it really Tony's mother? A DNA sample would prove it, but there was no way he'd put Tony through disappointment. God had done his miracles for the Barkley clan, but for such a coincidence to have happened would be enough to get him sainthood.

It was tough for Ben to stay angry with Pete Autrey when he had his son along. "You know, son, I might have some legal problems. What I'm saying, you're my boy and you're old enough to be the man of the house. Joe will help you run the ranch."

"I don't understand, Dad. You haven't done anything wrong. I'll kick anybody's ass who says different."

"Appreciate that, Tony Boy. Gone are the days when Boy Scouts can parade naked in front of ladies' get-togethers or fathers can take their sons to a brothel at fourteen to get educated. Texas has changed."

Tony parked the Aston in the barn, turned off the engine and climbed over into his father's lap. "Gay boys need mentors, too," Tony said. "Jay and Jack won't say anything. I'll back your play anytime you need me." Tony went for the mightiest of hugs and felt his father's fear of having this love for boys blow up in his face. Tony held his dad's face in his hands.

"You're the best any boy could ask for. Remember the other night after you caught that guy in the hotel lobby? When you went to sleep like..."

"Old people do?"

"I meant that dads are early to bed, early to rise, while teenagers are late to bed and get up when parents make them. Well, everyone tumbled into our bed and did the funky. Afterwards, Jay told us about this academy they used to have north of Dallas, called the Kings Academy. They had, like, thirty gay boys. I think it's a good idea, to have our own. Shane told us about your trip to the sperm factory in Austin."

"Fertility clinic," Ben corrected.

"Whatever. Anyway, what if, like, me, Tony, Jay, Jack and Austin did the yank so we could have our own academy?"

"You have such a way with words, son." Ben was familiar with this academy. It had since moved to Arizona. His baseball academy for gay boys had run smoothly for two years, but it only took one boy to return to his family and a mother to make it her mission for revenge. It had happened and Ben had received a summons just the week before. A hearing was scheduled soon and Ben's philosophy would be questioned. What exactly had the boy said was still a mystery. The ranch was all but a nudist resort with rampant sex under Ben's nose. He was the responsible adult and Texas may well find reason to think that he was corrupting minors. Ridiculous, but so was America's puritanical viewpoints on sexuality and gays.

"I'll think about it," Ben replied without heart.


Janice knew better than to try to reason with her husband when he'd had a few drinks under his belt. She hugged both her sons and suggested they disappear to their room. It didn't help. Pete came storming in while they were getting into their pajama bottoms. He pushed Jay away and jammed his finger into Jack's chest. It hurt.

"So my faggot sons go to New York to take their clothes off. I'd think my own sons were old enough to know a pervert when they saw one."

"Mr. Barkley isn't a pervert," Jack said and received a cuff so hard against the side of his head it sent him sprawling to the floor.

"Don't sass me, boy! I saw your kiss to that asshole! Since when do boys kiss men?"

"I kiss men," Jay said backing to the door. The words were brave, but Jay wanted to get his father away from Jack.

Pete spun and headed for Jay, but the teen was quick and dashed out. "That's right, go run to your mother's arms. You're her sissy-boy, you pansy!"

His ears ringing Jack slid under their bunk bed to avoid another beating. Pete just laughed, got on his hands and knees in an effort to reach for anything he could grab. Jack pressed against the wall to avoid the stretched arm. His father finally stormed out. "I'm not done with you, young man."


On the luminous clock at his nightstand it showed three-twenty-three in the wee hours. Ben was surprised that Tony would climb into his bed and snuggle that close. It wasn't even raining. When he heard the sobbing, going back to sleep was no longer an option. The real surprise was when the boy was not Tony.

"Oh, God, what happened?!" Ben said sitting up and snapping on the light.

Jack was holding his left ear, tears flowing. When he had his hand removed by Ben, blood was very apparent in the ear canal. Dressing quickly, Ben swooped the teenager up, kicked on Tony's bedroom door, and then carried Jack all the way to the car stall. On the way he saw the boy's bicycle. Fifty miles on a bike! What in hell had happened?!

Ben chose the Mustang because of its speed. What normally took twenty minutes, took ten. On a straight road without traffic the Mustang reached 140 mph. Tony didn't bother with a seat beat to climb to the front seat to cradle his bud in his arms.

Into the Emergency Room Ben hustled with a fourteen-year old in his arms and Tony running alongside in his underwear. There was no time to get dressed. It was an opportune time with few patients. While two women hauled the boy away on a stretcher, the reality of Ben's assistance began.

"I assume you're the boy's parent?" the receptionist asked.

Ben gulped. "Ah, yes, I am." It was a decision far more important than the assumption. Then came the forms. "I'll pay cash."

"That's fine, sir, but we still need to have you fill out the forms. Name, address and what exactly happened. Any insurance carriers, etc."

Risks were a part of the oil business. The problem here, there was far more than money involved. On a slippery slope already, Ben put down that this was his son, Tony, and he'd been kicked in the head by a mule. It was the best he could think of at the time.

Dr. Atherton spotted the lone figure in the waiting room. "Mr. Barkley, your son has had an acostic trauma. He's doing well after a tympanoplasty. How exactly did this happen?"

Ben fumbled for words, knowing full well that this doctor wasn't buying it. He'd dug himself a hole that had more complications than a bottomless pit. Who would ride a mule at night? Why bring the boy in this late? Why no hoof marks on the head, or even dirt? Too many riddles and the boy wasn't talking.

Sitting on a plastic chair was another teenager in just his red underwear. Tony didn't give it a second thought. He certainly felt quite comfortable in his briefs. Ben wasn't about to explain or allow anyone to go there.

Three hours later Ben, Tony and Jack walked out of the hospital together. It had been a long night. While Jack slept in Ben's bed, Ben lingered in his study in deep thought. He called his brother, Joe. It was a longshot at best, but Joe said he knew a solid private eye on short notice. For a ten-thousand dollar retainer and $250 an hour, time was of the essence.

Tony came bouncing out at eight, full of vigor and ready for school over at the academy. "I'm keeping you home today," his father said and had his son beaming with joy.

"Cool! What're we goin' to do, design our new cart track?"

Ben explained what he had said at the hospital, mistakes included. Luckily he did; the doorbell rang and Izzy came into Ben's study with a bad omen.

"Mr. Barkley, a man who says he's with Social Services has a police officer with him."

Ben strolled out by himself, but that would soon change. The child protection agent introduced himself and the officer. They wanted to speak to Tony Barkley, by himself.

"Certainly," Ben complied and called Tony.

Tony came out with his bull riding helmet on. Ben almost laughed. The greeting was cordial, almost too phony. It was Tony who suggested his bedroom. Back they went, past Ben's open bedroom door. Ben was glad that Jack was in his room, covered by an abundance of covers.

Inside Tony's room he didn't wait for the questions to come at him. He showed the men all the pictures on his wall of his rodeo expertise, ribbons, medals, and trophies.

"You're a bull rider?" the agent asked in disbelief.

"I get more bumps and bruises than an ultimate fighter," Tony replied very proud of that assertion. He showed them the calcium deposit on his elbow, and then dropped his pants so they could see his leg scars. His attempt to drop his underwear so they could see his hip bruise was negated. They'd seen enough.

"Guys, between you and me, I didn't tell my dad that I was thrown by Tilt Junior. Actually, I don't want him to be concerned about my injuries."

"Who is Tilt Junior?" the officer asked.

"Well, see, Tilt Senior is a mean-ass bull out in the pasture. Tilt Junior is my mechanical bull in the barn. I can show you, and you can ride him if you want."

The two State employees waved that idea off. They were satisfied that this kid was crazier than a skateboarder or one of those X-game loonies.

While Ben went to the bathroom, Jack had awoken, confused and disorientated, and his head pulsated. He wandered out in the hallway without a stitch of clothes on, his head wrapped.

Tony led the way out of his bedroom, all smiles for his first acting role. When he saw Jack in his birthday suit, he whipped around and pushed the two men back inside his bedroom.

"Guys, I have my national championship on my computer. Y'all got to see it!"

"Young man, we have other appointments, so maybe another time."

"Are you sure you don't want to ride Tilt Junior?" Tony persisted.

The men breezed by this way too spry youngster. A second earlier they would have seen Ben Barkley's arm swing around Jack Autrey's waist and sweep the teenager back into the bedroom.

Departure meant relief. Ben hugged his son with a hearty thank you. "Great job, my boy, now go to school."

"Ah, Dad," Tony whined. "Is there an Academy Award for teenagers?"

"How about your cart track? But only on weekends if you don't have a rodeo." The deal was agreed upon.

Novak Diebler prided himself on his work as a private investigator. He called Ben around noon and squeezed the man for every bit of information he knew about the Autrey's. Part of his talent was his ability to hack computers. Novak was hunting a password.

Out of desperation Ben woke Jack up at two o'clock. "Jack, do you have any idea what your father's password to his computer is?"

Jack pondered the question. "He thinks my oldest brother walks on water. Try Jared. He's a marine."

Ben got back to his private detective within minutes. He kept his fingers crossed. Praying that Pete Autrey wouldn't answer the phone, Ben called and breathed a sigh of relief when Janice answered.

"Ben, thank you for calling. Jack is missing. We're afraid he's run away."

Ben apologized for not revealing her son's whereabouts till then. The emergency room visit had Janice crying. They agreed not to tell her husband for the time being. Contacting the police would complicate things beyond imagination. Status quo until a plan and a calmer atmosphere could be arranged.

Pete Sr. was on a rampage. He found Jay in his room and grabbed the boy's T-shirt with both fists. "Where is he?!"

Jay had heard, but his lips were sealed. "Probably in the treehouse."

"Show me!" his father ordered and the two traipsed across the field and into the woods. When his father started to climb the wooded ladder, Jay sprinted off.

When he reached the house he told his mother what had just transpired. She called for all her kids to get in the SUV out of fear that her husband would get violent. Within the hour they were pulling into Ben Barkley's driveway.

Assorted phone calls included three sport reporters. Ben was always amazed how these people got his phone number. They all wanted the Houston Astros' owners' reaction to the perfect game. Ben used at least fifteen adjectives and thought Houston could at least make the wild card position to the playoffs.

Jack was missing from bed. A search of the house found no one but Izzy, who was in the kitchen. She admitted putting a BLT in the boy's hand a half-hour ago.

The bookcase was open to his study. What used to be a private entrance to an enclosed room was known by way too many teenagers. There was Jack on Ben's computer. When he saw Ben, his first words were, "I'm never going back."

"You could spend your adolescence in this room, but how boring would that be?" Ben kidded. "Mind if I ask what you're doing with my computer?"

In just his beige and white Calvin's from his shopping spree in New York, Jack pointed at some figures he had deciphered. "This topographer you used wasn't thorough. His analysis of rock formations and depths I assume are accurate, but he could have done more. I've made a complete schematic of your energy usage, water, and material. Emissions, water and waste management are not meeting your environmental objectives."

Ben scanned the readouts and reports generated by this fourteen-year old. "Genius," he said softly.

"You need me," Jack said, turned around and planted one on this adult. A prolonged hug was followed by a thank you.

A knock by the entrance and there was Janice and Jay. "Your maid let us in. Hope I didn't interrupt anything," Mrs. Autrey said with her eyes on a pair of beige briefs. It was even more obvious what was jutting out from her son's groin.

"It's cool, Mom. Boys get erections, get over it," Jay spoke up to defend his brother.

Janice hugged her boy and didn't mind the protrusion poking into her. "Today I'm just happy finding my lost son. Have you been behaving yourself for Mr. Barkley?"

"He's a saint, Mom, don't ever forget that," Jack said and had Jay smiling behind their mother.

Ben was just glad he had computer printouts in his hand. Jack even had suggested that a particular well should be moved to its left fifty feet because of a soil sample taken a year earlier. How the boy even got access to all this information was puzzling.

"Here, Ben, I've enabled your Wi-Fi security to protect you from hackers," Jack continued and appeared to avoid his mother's concern.

Janice was overly concerned. She tried to put her hand on her son's shoulder. He shook her off. "Jack, I won't let it happen again." She kept trying to look under the bandage.

"You said that last time! Leave me alone!"

Ben wanted to intervene, he just didn't know how. When Jack started to shake and frantically try to solve some new problem in the stats, Ben put his own hands on the boy's shoulders. Jack froze, turned and began to bawl on this adult's chest. It was eerie and unsettling. What in God's earth had he got himself into? He swore to himself after involving himself with the Colter family that he'd mind his own business in the future. So much for that idea.

Tears welled up in Jay's eyes, and then Janice started to cry. Ben was a softy and his eyes watered. On his desk his cell phone rang. A reach kept the boy against him and the phone in his ear.

Novak proved his expertise, maybe too well. Ben listened, a few "ah-ahs", "yes", "I understand's", and brief drops of his eyes in sadness. He hung up. Only one minor problem, Jack's one ear was sharp. Hysterically he ran over to where Ben's guns were on a rack over a fireplace. He grabbed the double-barrel shotgun.

"I'm going to kill him!!!" he yelled all crazy-eyed and started toward the door.

Ben tackled him and held the boy upward while Jay wrestled the gun away from his brother. Janice helped hold her son's legs. "Tony!" Ben yelled and forgot his son was at school. "Janice, Dr. Royce's number is on my cell. He's on call to my academy. Just let him know it's an emergency and come to the ranch house."

Jack had cried himself out and was almost asleep in Ben's bed when Dr. Royce arrived from Austin. A quick explanation and a shot in the butt had one sedate boy.

Ben took Janice to the side. "Your husband has a mistress living in Houston with a child and one more on the way. The woman has recently sued him for child support. Initial findings are that they're his. Financial matters are almost as bad. Due to the drought and recession, he's sold so many cattle he can't pay his bills. The ranch is under foreclosure."

Janice was close to fainting. Ben's arms supported her. Within the hour there were many quick adjustments made on the ranch. Franklin and Izzy had no qualms about moving to a one-story home that usually housed the coaches, trainers, and sports psychologist for the academy. The large two-story home with ten bedrooms was now for Janice and her children until matters were resolved.

Izzy didn't mind cooking for nine more mouths. She had turned into the finest maid Ben had ever had, though she was the first maid after years with a butler.

Jack was under constant care by Ben, Jay and Tony. Though he appeared normal, erratic behavior was a moment away, according to Dr. Royce. No swimming or mechanical bull riding because of the ear injury, the boys went out to the field and drew a track out of flags. Smiling faces and no mention of family difficulties. It was arranged for Jack to sleep with Tony, but that lasted till Tony fell asleep. Jack slid in Ben's bed and cuddled up.

Ben didn't mind as long as the young man didn't get sexual. Ben valued his sleep and he had a ton of things on his mind. It was all too déjà vu with a memory of two years previous with another boy in his arms.

Houston had won its twelfth in a row that night. Tony had become a diehard Houston fan and he knew practically all the players statistics. He was not the first to remind his father that the baseball world was abuzz with anticipation of Shane's next start.

Out of precaution Ben had locked the guns up before he went to bed. He had also spent a few minutes with Janice. The poor woman had been hit broadside and now depended on a man she barely knew. Ben had a way of coming across like a long-lost brother.

So much made sense with Janice's explanation. Pete had been an unloving, distant father. Once when Jack was five, he got into his father's computer to bring up the last web site visited. The boy arranged the ages of the females in order with photos. It was just something he'd learned to put things in chronological order. Just so happened this was a porn site, down to age fourteen. Pete Sr. spanked the boy to near unconsciousness, and then hugged him. "If you ever cross my boundaries again, you'll get the same thing. In a little boy's mind, the only way he could receive love was to be bad. A lot made sense as to why Jack acted the way he did. If the boy had been molested, Ben would have been more than devastated for his own actions.

Reluctant to give any man power over him, Jack was cautious in his affection. When he believed in trust he dove in with both feet. Now he couldn't get enough. Jack relished Ben's attention but knew he had to share the man with Tony and Shane. If he could keep his brother sexually satisfied then this was one boy Ben didn't have to give attention to. So was the thinking of a fourteen-year old in love with a man.

In the middle of the night Ben woke up to Jack giving him a blow job. Jack said he had been up watching the news and saw where the Supreme Court had made gay marriage legal in all 50 states.

"I just wanted you to be happy, Ben. You can marry Shane now, and my brother can marry who he wants."

Ben ceased the act and brought the boy to his chest. The teen had slept so much no one should expect him to sleep through the night. Ben comforted the teen with a back rub until he was asleep again. In the morning Jack had no memory of his celebratory gift to Ben.

Everything that Ben did, Jack copied. Wondering why the teen walked around in his cotton stretch boxer briefs, Ben had to look no further than his habit of not putting on pants. Ben showered; Jack showered. They used sinks together, ate and drank—coffee, teaspoon of sugar, table spoon of chocolate mix, and creamer. Tony noticed and had a chuckle.

A whiz on the computer, Jack organized the entire company files which revealed that Ben had been double-billed and swindled of $120,000. Within minutes Ben fired two of his accountants, then assigned those paychecks to Jack's college fund.

There was only one disobedience, a failure on purpose to take his medicine. Jack became defiant, turned his back to Ben and bent over.

"Won't work, youngster." Ben turned the teenager toward him and shook his shoulders. "Let's get something straight here and now, if you want to share my bed, be respected and loved, there will be no spankings or physical abuse. You're almost fifteen and want to be junior Ben Barkley. So be it. Show me!"

Jack appeared startled, dropped his head and went in for a hug. Time would tell. Those five seconds turned the tide of an adolescent brain to an exquisitely sensitive, highly adaptable creature wired almost perfectly for the job of moving from a dysfunctional home life into Ben Barkley's life.

Petey, as his siblings called him, had turned thirteen with his twin. Cute and showing all the signs of puberty, his adjustment from boyhood to adolescence was overnight. He invited Tony to homeschool, making this boy he had an instant crush on his protégé. Tony never saw it coming.

From a day feeling overwhelmed to boys and girls younger than he was, Tony's ego stayed intact, thanks to Petey. The Autrey children didn't look down or make fun of Tony's level of education. Tony was convinced after Petey's tutoring that he wasn't dumb, he just never applied himself. He'd learned more in math and science in one day than he had all the previous school year.

An invitation to sleep over from Tony was more a gratuitous gesture than a boy hustle. By the time the night was done Petey knew he was in love, while Tony was totally fascinated how a geek could turn him on. Jack was nearly forgotten by the next morning.

An afternoon horseback ride cleared the heads of two cowboys. Silent, observant, Jack's demeanor had changed. Ben took it as a good sign. They rode for two hours, examining rock formations and softer shale. Falls vibrant colors were alive and harmonized the solemnness between them. As they sat on their horse motionless above the still waters of a lake, Jack turned in his saddle.

"Ben, I'd like to kiss you, if that's okay."

Never had the teen requested or asked permission. Ben was a kisser and a hugger; Shane was most often the recipient. From Austin to Shane, and now Jack was his constant companion. Shane may well protest, yell foul for this teenager infringing on his man. Ben obliged and soon found the teenager straddling him in the same saddle. No sex, just a long catharsis of getting to know that men can be trusted.

Jack had a photogenic memory. He could read a chapter and repeat it in rote. That day he read about drilling and brick-red rock and lime-green riverside vegetation. Remotely removed from the main oil fields, Jack saw something in the fiery foliage.

"Drill here," Jack said out of the blue.

Drilling a well wasn't cheap. To prove the teenage wrong was worth the effort. A short excavation wouldn't cost much.

A thunderhead moved in and made the ranch house a real family gathering that night. Petey and Tony were now inseparable. Luke and Jamie were in battle with video games, while Jay spent hours texting Shane. Peace.

Janice had done her best to focus on her children and teaching. It didn't work. She felt embarrassed and humiliated by her husband. If Ben Barkley hadn't come to the family's rescue she had no idea what she would have done. Izzy noticed the woman near tears and had taken Janice within her arms. She bawled.

Kids rarely miss a beat and were either in the pool, walking the ranch, or having fun with their new friends. Without parental intervention or scrutiny the Autrey children did pretty much what they wanted. Two Autrey girls just sort of assumed mother would be there to always rescue their hormonal desires. Cheet and Scooter's game of Marco Polo in the pool was more a game of sneaking up on girls with their eyes closed and fondling what they wanted. Intercourse was but the next step. No way were the girls refusing these cuties.

With Jack at his feet Ben sat in an easy chair reading his novel. He barely picked up on a conversation Jack was having with his mother when she peeked in to see how he was doing.

"If I use the global greenhouse gas release I can identify the PETM in rocks on the ranch. It's full of fossil fuels and oil reserves."

"Just don't get in Mr. Barkley's way," Janice insisted.

"Ben doesn't mind me meddling. I'm like his human diving rod, except for oil."

Janice's eyes glanced up to trade a humorous expression with Ben. Her son might be an intellectual whiz, but no geo-physicist.

Jack turned from the computer. "See, Mom, I found this anticline today, really a salt dome in the limestone, probably light crude. I'm going to check it out tomorrow with my new way of measuring gravity and magnetism."

Ben placed his book down. "How do you know so much about the oil business my boy? You've only been here a few days."

"I read your book," Jack said just like General Patton did to Rommel. He got Ben and his mother to bust up.

Ben had to get up for a bathroom break, so Jack had a new revelation for his mother. "Mom, Ben and I are soulmates. Remember when we studied Edgar Cayce, well that's us from a previous life. We're in love."

Janice chuckled, but nervously. "Son, I realize you like Mr. Barkley, but I can't see where you share the similarities of soulmates."

"I can read his mind. At first I found it real strange, but when we're one our chemistry is intense. I feel what he feels. It's weird."

"When you're one?" Janice questioned.

Jack gave his mother his best perturbed look. "Oh, pleeeease. Don't ask me to explain a male thing. I just know he'll be asking you to teach permanently at the academy. God has brought us together, just like you said happens when we're reincarnated."

She wasn't one to panic. Janice liked to tell herself that. When she taught that three years ago, it was nothing more than a theory she ran by her children. Like a romantic fairy tale that had some fabled truth. Two males, romantically interlocked for eternity? But the age difference! What did her son really mean being one? Purely a metaphor, she figured.

"Honey, God would make sure you were closer in age. I don't see the similarities. I want you to really think this through. Okay?"

"Sure, Mom, but I have. There are pieces of the puzzle I haven't found yet."

Ben returned composed and delighted. "My brother verified all that data you analyzed for me, Jack. You have saved us a great deal of money." He turned to Janice. "There's no reason for you to return to Houston for the time being. I could use another teacher at the academy. Maybe an advanced class, considering where your children are. There are a half-dozen boys who could use advanced placement."

Jack smiled and his mom gave him a snide, evil eye. "Thank you, Ben. I could volunteer my time."

"Oh, no. I have a feeling that money will be tight. Your husband has drained your accounts and abandoned the ranch. My brother Joe is on top of it. Your family will stay here free, and a six-figure income for teaching is what you deserve."

Janice was pleased that her education would receive a just reward, but there was another concern—her son.

"Ben, Jack thinks you're, well, soulmates, but I..."

Tony breezed in and, as typical, just blurted out. "Dad, Izzy wants to know what kind of cake you want on your birthday. Yeah, that's right, I told her, and Shane wants a party."

"No balloons this year or air horns, promise?"

"Maybe me jumping out of a cake," Tony said in humor.

"When's the big day?" Janice asked.

"Thursday," Tony said. "October first."

Jack lit up like a candle. It was his mother who swallowed and said, "Ah, that's my son's, as well."

"Told ya, Mom, and I didn't even know that."

Janice just had to ask Ben a number of questions: What's your favorite color? Music? Dreams? Mountains or ocean? Food? Books? She went on and on, each answer matching her son's. It was the flower that did it, an orchid so remote few had heard of it.

"Okay, I can buy there's some connection here, but Jack, aren't you straight?" She almost mentioned seeing him and Jay in bed.

"Bi, Mom. When I was married to Ben in the 1870s I was the gay one, he the straight, but we were madly in love."

Ben had to laugh at that one. "You do have an imagination."

Jack looked up. "Ever been to Clymer, Wyoming?"

Ben's face went white. "That's where I was born before we moved to Texas."

"That's where we lived as husband and wife. I was your wife. It came to me, like a trance, when I was under that shot the doctor gave me."

Janice felt bad for Ben Barkley. She had read enough of Edgar Cayce to know the possibilities, and her son wasn't one to make up tall tales. She now wasn't sure who to blame with here, but she had had a long day and wasn't going to argue.

Despite his mother making sure her son slept in his own bed at their new home Ben had given them to use, Jack waited until ten o'clock to climb out of his bedroom window and run to the ranch house to climb in Ben's bed.

Jack no longer dictated what went on in bed. Politely he asked Ben, "Want to make love to me?" And Ben complied. He was getting used to the teen's murmurs and vocal histrionics. Their love had an unusual aura with Jack's premise that they had been married in another life.

Relaxed in each other's arms, Ben had to ask, "Well, did we have a happy marriage?"

All curled up, Jack purred when Ben stroked his hair. "Beautiful, and we had three kids, two boys and a girl. I died, though."

"We all die," Ben responded.

"No, I meant you didn't save me. I had appendicitis and you weren't there."

Ben grew alert. "But I wanted to be, right?"

"Yes, of course. You just didn't know." Jack snuggled and was asleep in minutes.

Not the way Ben would have liked to leave the evening, but waking up this precious boy to assail him with questions just didn't seem right.

These late nights had taken a toll on this senior. He woke up at 8:30 a.m. and Jack was not sprawled out next to him. A sense of guilt felt heavy in his heart. Surely Jack had imagined all this about being married. It was a scheme from a teenager with a vivid imagination. Ben refocused on the dream he had just woken up from, a rare morning dream that was extremely intense. He had been running, yes, that was it, but running where? Someone needed his help. Shane? There was no use in recapturing the intensity, too far removed. Like a bolt of lightening, the "what if" smacked him between the eyes.

Pete Autrey assumed that his wife had taken the children to her mother's home in San Antonio. She wouldn't have taken off without Jack, so he was probably safe. The reality of the situation shocked Pete to his core like a ton of bricks when he received divorce papers claiming infidelity and mental cruelty. An extra knife was the lawyer who signed the decree—Joe Barkley.

Immediately it was all Ben Barkley's fault. Just like him to initiate a retaliatory investigation in an attempt to save his ass from his association with minors. Any attempt of revenge wasn't going to work, Pete decided.

His beef industry had taken a hit with the recession and the recall of his product due to the discovery of e-coli bacteria. That and being nailed by the FDA for unsanitary conditions at his plant had put him behind the eight ball. As a desperation move the previous year he had taken a second out on his ranch and bet a million on a sure bet at the Belmont Stakes. The horse had won easily at the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness. Odds on favorite to win the Belmont, the horse came in fourth. A one million wager on a sure thing ended up as a bad crap shoot. Just his luck, another horse won the Triple Crown a year later.

His calls to Janice were channeled to her voice mail. Finally she answered to define her demands: Don't call, don't try to communicate with their children, and don't try to explain her. Her faux pas may well have been mentioning Ben Barkley. If it hadn't been for him, Jack might have well lost his hearing in one ear.

His world had just gone to shit. Pete was going to make sure he took people with him. Life had given him a bump steer, literally.

Ben wasn't buying any of this reincarnation crap that Jack had sold his mother. So much of those similarities the boy could have learned from Shane. The fact that they both liked Lionel Richie and Rod Stewart—well, a lot of people enjoyed those songs.

There were some bizarre feelings he had that morning. Call it intuition or concern, he had to soothe his anxiety by finding Jack. He told Izzy to hold breakfast, he'd be right back. Finding Jack's bike gone, he climbed on Tony's mountain bike because it would take too long to saddle up a horse. For some reason, time was of the essence.

Fifty years! That was how long it had been since Ben had ridden a bicycle. He felt ridiculous but found a rhythm after a few minutes. Up into the hills he rode. A rare Texas horned lizard darted across the dirt road, while a mule deer leaped into the brush after being spooked by this two-wheel vehicle. Since he could see another set of bike tracks, he became more positive of where Jack was.

When he saw a body sprawled out by a river bank Ben swung his leg out and around before the bike even came to a stop. Then he abruptly froze in his tracks. There, nestled up next to Jack's torso, was a rattlesnake. The snake coiled when it spotted Ben approaching. A rattlesnake bite usually isn't fatal to an adult. For the boy to be unconscious was not a good sign.

Backward a few strides, Ben hoped to draw the snake toward him. It did, zig zagging toward Ben to pursue this intruder on his terrain. Ben grabbed the bike, swung it around and clipped the snake across its upper body. It flew fifteen feet, but hardly dead. With five rapid strides Ben stepped on the snake's head with his boot, then twisted to assure that it would never strike another human being.

Hustling back to Jack, Ben couldn't help notice all the footprints in a circle, over and over, then a collapse. The teen was barely breathing, shallow at best, his eyes very dilated. A grab for his phone and he dialed Red.

"Red! I need that helicopter. Is it ready?"

"Refueling now. Where are you?"

Ben relayed his location and wrestled with the idea of CPR. He checked Jack's calves for a bite mark but had already decided the venom had had time to go through the body. Not sure if he'd do more harm than good, he still breathed oxygen into Jack's lungs.

Barely minutes had passed, but it felt like eternity when the blades of a helicopter sounded close. They landed on the top of a hospital in Austin, the same one he had taken Jack to days before.

"Rattlesnake," Ben told the emergency crew who ran out to the pad.

It seemed natural to throw an oxygen mask on the boy, but when Ben saw the electrical pads of a defibrillator he became very stressed.

"What's going on?" Ben asked in desperation.

"Stand back, sir," the doctor ordered and zapped Jack twice to bring the boy back to life. They pumped on his chest all the way toward surgery.

Red was sent back to retrieve Janice, while Ben waited again for someone with information. Finally in shuffled Dr. Royce, the emergency doctor from the night before. Ben reiterated the snake and how he'd found the teenager.

"Mr. Barkley, the boy has a subarachnoid hemorrhage. He's in surgery, but very critical. Do you have a minister or priest you'd like to call?"

"What?! Come on, Doc, it was just a snake bit."

Dr. Royce sighed. "We checked his entire body for bite marks. Nothing. We missed the possible damage to the boy's brain when he was struck. Usually a CT would help us find this, but the cerebral aneurysm wasn't there."

"This can't be," Ben tried to make sense of all this. "What are you saying here, that Jack is in danger of losing his life?"

"Jack? I thought the boy's name was Tony. What's going on here, Mr. Barkley? I had to report this to the authorities the other night because this wasn't a blow from a donkey. We've had to bring this boy back from death three times. He's likely not to make it. If there's something I should know, I'd advise you to tell me now."

In came Janice, running with absolute fear on her face. "Dr. Royce, this is the boy's mother, Mrs. Autrey."

"I thought you were single, Mr. Barkley," Dr. Royce said accusatory.

"What's wrong, Ben?" Janice asked frantically.

Dr. Royce explained again that her son was bleeding into a space between his brain and the arachnoid membrane, a life-threatening condition. It likely was a result of the previous trauma. If he even survived the surgery he might have permanent brain damage because of the loss of blood and bleeding into the brain tissue.

"May I see him?" Janice asked.

"First tell me what's going on. Who is the boy's parent here?"

Ben started, but Janice intervened. "Ben did it to protect our family," Janice explained and conveyed the abuse by Pete Autrey. Yes, Ben has a son, a few months older named Tony.

Robert Royce was well aware of who Ben Barkley is. He also knew of the hospital's liability for missing this diagnosis. They should have given the boy a MRI or a brain image, called a PET scan. He had left himself open for a lawsuit. Possibly he could give and take here. This boy better not die. But now he had to report a child abuse and possible murder charges. This was getting complicated for everyone.

A fourteen-year old, one day from his birthday, barely survived surgery and was put in Intensive Care on life support. Ben and Janice stood over the boy's bed and cried.

When Pete Autrey saw the police car approaching he snuck out his backdoor and ran to the safety of a child's treehouse. He had only made that call a half-hour before; how did they know it was him? He'd even done it from a pay phone. First financial disaster, then the loss of his family, now prison over a stupid threat. He wasn't going to prison without some sort of gratification.

Janice had Rev. Meade give her son his last rights within the hour. His condition was grave and the surgeon said the boy wouldn't last the day. Since Ben wasn't an immediate family member, he returned to the ranch to bring all of the Autrey children to the hospital. Sick with grief, there was this ominous dread that, once again, he had failed in saving a person he loved. How could God allow this to happen twice if Jack was right about a marriage from 150 years earlier? It all felt like a terrible way to punish someone. There in the visitors' room, watching three Autrey children disappear at a time and come back sobbing, Ben got a call from his Houston Astro office. A death threat had been received against Shane and himself if either one showed up at Friday's final game against the Tampa Bay Rays.

Houston had taken a half-game lead in the race for the last wild card slot. Tampa Bay had a game that night that would either put them a full game behind Houston or tie them. While Ben should be elated at this turn of events life was coming at Ben Barkley from his front and rear.

If he didn't have enough on his plate, his production manager called and said that his crew had gone to the site, marked by a stick and flag put there by Jack. An anticline was accurate, with natural gas and water present in the trap. A rotary drilling had bored a hole down to the petroleum only 250 feet down. There was a problem of possible contamination with the water supply by leakage into aquifers. They had successfully cased the space to seal its formation. Once the Christmas tree was over the well, they could proceed with the production. His manager called it a major reservoir.

That should have been great news, but not without Jack knowing what he'd done. Ben thought about the previous night. Jack was always sprouting a hard-on when he went to bed. Like Shane, going to bed without an orgasm meant something was terribly wrong. He had complained about a slight headache, stiff neck, and slurred his speech. Ben wanted to call the doctor, but Jack said he was okay. In his sleep Jack mumbled, more than usual. He spoke of a Jacqualine Wayne. `Save me, save me,' he said while struggling. Ben had only held him closer. Frustrated by sitting and with a sleeping teenager in his arms Ben called his brother.

"Joe, you're going to think I've gone over the edge, but I need for you to do something." Ben explained the grave circumstances with a boy Joe didn't even know. He wanted Joe to look up in the archives a Jacqualine Wayne, possibly in Clymer, Wyoming, around the 1870s. Joe was used to bizarre errands, but this was way out there.

While Janice waited for the inevitable, Ben took the Autrey kids and his son out to dinner. No one was very hungry. Jamie was the most confused. Why couldn't money buy his brother's health? For most of his adult life Ben had made things happen with his wealth. This he couldn't fix.

In the restaurant he got a call from his brother. "Ben, I contacted Clymer's City Hall. Their record department burned down in 1926. So I tried their library. They have newspaper records dating back to the Civil War. In 1884 a Jacqualine Waine died of appendicitis. If I may read...married in 1871 to Nathaniel Waine, three children, two boys, one girl. Funny that they had a boy named Shane."

Ben almost dropped his cell phone.

A new shift of nurses, Ben managed to sneak in to see Jack. Janice was sleeping while holding her son's hand. Ben tried to stay strong, but it was very difficult. He kissed this adorable teen and held his other hand. Rarely in his life had he prayed, but it was becoming apparent that God had sent an angel to make him believe in someone he had always taken for granted.

"God, I don't know what you want from me. I'll build a tower to your magnificence, sacrifice myself to poverty, or wear my faith on my chest for the rest of my life if you would save this boy. I've tried to help others, share my love to build men of pride and joy. Please don't take this young man from my life. I love him dearly. He will always be yours; allow me to know him for a few more years."

A hand fell over the top of Ben's. It was Janice's. Eyes so drained from crying her last energy was a smile for Ben's pray. "Ben Barkley, you're a kind and gentle man. I'll support you until you prove me otherwise, or my sons abandon you. Right now they think you're the greatest man on earth. Jack is a unique child. Whatever love you two had together, it made my son happier than I've ever seen him. I believe God will bless this union."

No words came to Ben's mouth. He felt that praise was the last thing he deserved. Reaching for Jack's face, he forcefully said, "Jack, you heard what your mother said. Come on, sport, I have an oil well to show you!"

Shane flew in from Seattle and arrived at the ranch near midnight. He visited Jack first thing in the morning. The boy had survived longer than the doctor predicted. Every hour brought new hope. Janice was the first to verbalize the possibility of false hope to Ben. "What if we're keeping alive a vegetable? I'm thankful for having my son alive, but does he deserve this fate? The doctor said..."

"Doctors are often wrong. My experience, they often give you the downside so you won't sue them when they're wrong." Ben asked for an electroencepalo-gram (EEG). The instrument was inconclusive, but the doctor said that excessive Phenobarbital levels can result in a suppression of EEG activity. They would try later.

Ben called Dallas and had one of the finest brain specialists in the country flown to Austin. Upon examining Jack the surgeon was neither optimistic nor pessimistic. A question that wasn't asked before wasn't fully understood by Ben at first.

"From the time you found the boy to the time you arrived at the hospital, did you do any type of CPR?" he asked Ben.

"When I saw his breathing labored I blew into his lungs at intermittent levels and also pumped on his chest until we arrived," Ben admitted in hopes he hadn't harmed Jack by his actions. "They put an oxygen mask on him instantly at the landing dock."

This renown surgeon explained. "Brain cells die when they no longer receive oxygen and nutrients from the blood. There's a possibility you kept his brain alive," the doctor admitted. He wanted another 24 hours with the teenager to evaluate any progress.

Not exactly a way to celebrate their birthdays, by evening a cake was brought to Jack's bed. His siblings blew out all 15 candles on the cake for their brother. It was time, one more EEG before the family left.

Dr. Sturgeon marched with a readout in hand to Janice and Ben. He gave a thumbs up. "Brain activity is positive. It doesn't mean he's out of trouble or won't have severe learning abilities, if and when he wakes up from the coma."

The results were enough to cheer up Janice and Ben, who reported the results to the other children. In some ways Jack had given himself a birthday gift, and he didn't even know it.


















Chapter Ten


Social services showed up with the same individual who had questioned Tony at the ranch. There was a great deal of confusion as the man needed to sort out this complicated scenario. Tony had no patience to explain his role.

"I'll get back to you," Tony said and walked off. Until he received direction from his father his mouth was shut.

As if the last two days weren't stressful enough, the final game of the season presented several problems. Shane was scheduled to start against the Mariners, which the Angels were thankful because they were one-game out of first place in their division. Otherwise, a wild-card slot would require an additional game of jeopardy for Tampa Bay. All a little complicated because of wild-card positions.

A press release made the public aware of the threat against the owner of the Astros and its star pitcher. Threats were common in sports and added security was always the remedy. Ben had a suspicion of who the caller was and told the Houston detective who called him for a list of potential enemies. Within minutes they compared the recording of the suspect to a two-year old TV interview with Pete Autrey about a FDA investigation on unsanitary conditions at his plant. The voice prints matched. Problem was, Pete Autrey had disappeared. A previous investigation into child abuse had previously found the man absent from his home and business.

Shane deferred the decision to attend the game to Ben. Decision: his boy would pitch as scheduled. With the game at seven that night the plan was to helicopter to the stadium and avoid all unnecessary hotel rooms or rides in limousines. Every few hours Ben called Janice, who was in and out of the hospital now that Jack was stable, but still in critical condition. Her life was now centered entirely on her son.

Only Jay and Tony were to accompany Ben and Shane to the game, but then Tony wanted Petey to come along and Ben relented. Around Houston there was a manhunt and an arrest warrant for Pete Autrey.

At the Minute Maid stadium extra guards were posted and security was as tight as ever for this sold out game. Inside the stadium and even the field were checked for bombs. Two sharpshooters were positioned inside the scoreboard. The winning streak had been broken on Wednesday night's game, but for two weeks no one looked forward to playing the Houston Astros. Now the Marinerss were coming to town, a possible World Series victor in two weeks. They had let it known that no one would pitch a perfect game against them.

Private eye Stan Wiggins was one pissed off camper. He regretted giving Pete Autrey pictures and information about his sons and Ben Barkley. There was no check in the mail and now Autrey had disappeared off the face of the earth. Often times he would share his findings with local police if he thought criminal activity had happened in his surveillance. Certainly Houston police could care less about New York City and vice versa. As far as Stan was concerned he had seen nothing inappropriate between an adult and boys, though his thermal imagery was quite graphic for a few minutes, including what his sound mics had picked up. He had lost all the evidence from his computer on those. The pictures he still had in his possession were both common nudity and child porn. Since an adult wasn't in the picture, he became a party in possession of illegal pictures. Now that Autrey had screwed him, all the evidence was tossed in his fireplace. His small claim lawsuit against Autrey would be a slam dunk.

A call to Houston set their arrival at approximately 4:50 p.m. Red assisted the boys and Ben in the copter and started the rotors spinning.

Pete Autrey came onto the ranch early morning. He was surprised to see the helicopter land and deposit most of his children. There was no sign of Ben Barkley or Shane Colter. Well hidden within the woods north of the ranch house, Pete could only assume that his two targets were home and not in Houston. It was highly unlikely that they would miss the last game of the season, despite the death threats he had called in.

Strapped over his shoulder was a Howa Hogue M1500 .308 with a Bushnell scope. There was little wind and no mirage, a perfect day for picking up two people who had made his family betray him. If he had time he'd make sure his wife would get her up comings.

Boredom prevailed through the hours and into the afternoon. There was an oddity that his children could be seen to the rear of the ranch in the swimming pool, minus suits. This incensed him even more. He crept amidst the trees as to not expose his whereabouts, growing antsy with every passing moment. As the sun began to settle in the west, a group of men and boys appeared from the ranch. Pete brought up his gun to pick out his targets.

On Barkley's right were two boys, one of them his own son, Pete Jr. Why was that Barkley boy holding his son's hand? This was even worse news. To Barkley's left was his son Jay, with his right arm around Ben Barkley. To Jay's left was a much taller youth, Shane Colter. A man he didn't know was slightly abreast of the Astro pitcher.

No clear shot, he went to plan B. In Pete's mind no one should grow up loving someone of their own sex. Women were meant for man and childbirth. He'd be doing his sons a favor by ending their lives from a life of despair.

As the helicopter rose into the air Pete aimed at the fuel tank to the rear. No more had he lined up his crosshairs than the copter did a sharp turn north. Pete fired. There was no explosion, but the bullet caught a gear in the rear rotor, sending the copter into a perilous spin and out of control.

Red McHenry had flown choppers in the Vietnam War. He had had his stories of mishaps and near capture after his Marine copter took a direct hit from a mortar. Red never thought he would have to face ground fire again. He fought for control, but was already over an acre of woods. To his left was another open field. Allowing the copter's momentum and spinning like a gyro top to dictate a rapid loss of altitude, he cut the engine and coaxed the helicopter into the field. It bounced, spun, bounced again and settled on its rails.

"Get out! Go! Go!" Red yelled and had all six males unbuckle to leap from the cockpit bay.

With a last second grasp Red managed to grab the fire extinguisher. A rush to the smoking tail made sure the sparks didn't turn into a full fledge fire.

Ducking and running from the main rotor, Ben heard the shot that rang out. The ping of a bullet off of metal revealed this was far more than mechanical failure. He had everyone dive to the ground.

Izzy liked to watch from the kitchen window the blue whirlybird take off and land. She screamed when she saw the smoke and the copter begin to twirl round and round. When the helicopter disappeared behind a crumpet of trees she called 911.

Silence as Red crawled the distance separating him from the group. No one budged. Fifteen yards from the protection of trees, Ben wasn't sure that the field's brown foliage and foot-high grass covered their position. Crawling might well give away any escape to the forest.

"On three we go!" Ben said.

Like sprinters springing from starting blocks they bolted. Almost to the trees Ben felt a bullet crease his left calf. It had barely skimmed the skin, cutting through his pant leg. He took out his scarf to dab any blood flow.

Ben assured everyone they were safe as long as they hid behind the trees. He wasn't going to allow this shooter to approach any closer, at least on this group. With a bit of a limp Ben sat out on his own through the trees and toward the direction of this assassin.

Pete was encouraged when the helicopter lost its control. No time to really get his aim, he fired wildly when he saw the scramble from the copter. Losing sight of where everyone hid, he fired quickly when they emerged from the grass. Now he'd have to hunt them like animals, and he was the only one with a rifle. He liked the odds.

Coming out onto a field filled with little flags, he wondered if Barkley wasn't designing some type of equestrian arena. His angle could see into the forest across a dirt road. Even from a quarter mile away he saw that several of the boys were hiding behind trees. Just to make sure they froze and didn't run to the south he fired directly into a few trees to pin them down. His approach was slow, but cautious. If he could position himself almost parallel to his targets, he'd be able to come at them straight on to flush them out for easy shots. At least they'd likely know who was going to end their lives. He might even get some pleading.

"Pete, you don't want to do this! You have a boy in serious condition in the hospital. He needs your support and love!" Ben yelled behind a tree, now one hundred yards between him and a very visible man in a yellow windbreaker and jeans.

Good! He had the man scared. Pete kept his eye on the woods while climbing sideways over a plank fence and onto another field. From here he could see any movement.

"You and me, we got business to settle, Barkley!" Pete yelled back. Up to his left a sound of another helicopter was approaching. This was not in his plans. Once he saw that it was a police copter he aimed and fired at its canopy. The aircraft abruptly angled off and away. Off in the distance were the sounds of sirens. This meant a more hurried resolve to this standoff. Pete began to run toward the fence separating him from a dirt road. From there he could make a rapid approach to his targets on the other side.

The collision was much like being hit by a car going twenty miles per hour. Of course a car didn't come back for seconds. Tilt nailed the man blindsided, sending Autrey like a ragdoll through the air fifteen feet away. The blow gave him a broken back and an immobile body to protect himself. The color of red might well be the color of a matador, but a bull finds the color of yellow far more appeasing to attack. Tilt scuffled his hoof back and forth in preparation to charge a defenseless human.

Despite Ben and Tony climbing the fence to distract the bull, Tilt ignored the yells and waves. He charged. This time a horn tore into Pete's rectum, lifting the two-hundred pound man straight up in a contortion that a body wasn't designed for. Tilt shook its object free, stomped on the lifeless form and raked across this jacket for any movement that might incite another aggressive attack.

"Come here, boy! Try me, you stupid oaf!" Tony yelled, now only thirty feet from the bull. Tony was ignoring the plea from his father to retreat.

Whether Tilt knew Tony by sight or recognized the boy's voice, this mighty animal swiveled on its legs to give Tony a prolonged look. Tilt snorted and prepared for a new enemy.

Tony knew bulls. He hi-tailed it and ran backwards to a closed gate, opening it slowly and backing in to the new cart course.

Tilt rumbled, a casual trot that could build up to locomotive speed in a second. He followed Tony into this field that wasn't his and found himself alone. Tony had closed the fence behind him and flew back over the same fence. Mission accomplished.

Two fire engines, a paramedic truck and three police cars flew up that dirt road to where they saw humans running. One fire engine aimed up inside an open field toward a smoking helicopter. The other truck parked along the dirt road. Tony waved the paramedics and a police vehicle alongside a fence.

The sight of Pete Autrey was of a man run over by a Mack truck. Broken, twisted, his bowels were hanging out upon the dirt. Ben yelled back to keep the boys from approaching. No man should have to endure such death, so Ben cradled the man's head in his hand. There was still a breath of life, an unimaginable fight to fend off death.

Ben leaned forward and said, "God will always love you."

With an immense sadness in his eyes Pete Autrey tried to mouth a few unintelligible words, closed his eyes and died in Ben's arms. For some reason Ben glanced at his watch: 5:52.

Shane and Jay stood back after Ben's warning. Blood and guts strewed in front of them. Jay vomited on one knee. Tony went zipping by two paramedics to find his friend Petey. The boy was making his way down the hill, holding his cheek. A piece of bark had struck him in the face after the bullet smacked the tree.

While a paramedic declared Mr. Autrey deceased, he attended to Ben. The other EMT hustled to assist a thirteen-year old with a bleeding cheek. Another helicopter buzzed overhead, a news copter that had recorded much of the action from a distance. When they heard the emergency was from the Barkley ranch, they were on site within minutes.

Austin police gathered evidence and made a report on everything that had just occurred. There were several hung heads until Ben asked his crew if they were still up for the game. Four arms shot up. Naturally Shane was one of them. To the car barn they marched, gathered in the Aston Martin and drove off for Houston.

Friday night traffic and stadium security made for congestion and a late arrival. The game was already in the second inning when they arrived. Many fans were well aware of the news on the radio and television of the attack at the Barkley ranch. Initial reports had only one person killed, the assailant.

Shane bee-lined it to the locker room, dressed in his uniform and stepped into the dugout to the surprise of his teammates. He glanced at the scoreboard: Rays 6, Astros 0. They had gone through three pitchers.

"Colter! Get your ass in there!" their manager shouted.

To the roar of the sellout crowd, number 47 trotted out to the mound. It was top of the third and the Rays were glad they had pounced early. Not exactly as warmed up as he was used to, Shane used his splitter and slider to retire three straight hitters.

Houston got back 2 of those runs in the fifth, one more in the sixth. Eleven Rays had gone down straight since Shane had taken over. With two outs in the top of the seventh, the Houston manager called time and came to the mound. He stuck out his hand.

"Don't you dare trot to the dugout, youngster. You've had a hell of a season for the short time you've played. Tonight is your reward."

Handing the ball over, Shane started his walk. Far more than just a standing ovation, fans would not sit down until Shane came out to tip his cap. Houston was ready to support this team next year, and they damn well knew who their leader would be.

High in his executive box with the boys, Ben answered his cell phone. It was Janice. "Congratulations, Ben. That applause was as much for what you've brought to Houston as it was for Shane. Jack and I are proud of you. Our boy has had a breakthrough."

Janice explained how, just before she had taken off for dinner, Jack's eyes flew open and his heart accelerated to where nurses rushed into his room. Janice was fearful he had taken a turn for the worse. His eyes closed, the heart gradually returned to normal. Dr. Sturgeon examined the teenager and couldn't explain what had happened, but thought it related to post-traumatic shock. He was either in a deep sleep or gradually coming out of his coma. Time would tell.

"What time was it?" Ben asked.

"Funny you should ask. I had glanced up at his monitor to watch and noticed the time was five-fifty-two. Why?"

Ben knew that Janice had heard about her husband. "It's the exact time of his father's death. Only Jack knows why."

After the game Ben drove straight to Austin. It was late but the nurse allowed everyone to visit Jack. Jay and Petey kissed their brother on the cheek and patted him on the chest. "Get well soon," Jay said and was just glad to have his brother still alive.

Shane put his ball glove next to Jack's pillow, a hopeful gift that they would one day play catch again. Ben stepped forward.

"Well, kiddo, you were right, that new well is from an ancient river delta. Had my foreman drill a cylindrical sample and the oil sits below a salt dome. You're going to be a wealthy man, because I'm sharing it with you. What do you think of that?"

They all watched as Jack opened his eyes, then closed them again. There was a murmur from the boy's lips, as Ben leaned in.

"Did he say something?" Janice asked.

Tears came to Ben's eyes. He flashed a smile to those present. "Do it to me one more time."

Shane and Jay laughed, knowing where that came from. Janice and Petey were confused. Ben slid his finger beneath Jack's gown and poked him in a particular spot in the ribs. The boy giggled and lifted his eyelids.

"What's going on?" Jack asked and the room came to life.

A rush to his bedside and Janice hugged her son. She tried to explain everything to a very bewildered boy. Shane retrieved a nurse, who called the doctor. A quick examination of the patient and, though Jack's reactions and responses were sluggish, the doctor gave assurance that this was typical and full recovery may well take days to weeks. He wanted Jack to stay awake as long as possible now, and part of that job would be left for the family.

Soft foods and conversation lasted for several hours. Not a word was mentioned about his father's demise. Petey was fascinated with his brother's catheter sticking out from his penis, while Jay just kept holding his brother's hand. What they had was special between brothers. Two hours in conversation about New York City to the ranch, Jack's words were becoming more pronounced, his memory clearer.

"Dad died, didn't he?" Jack asked.

Janice gave her son a most amazing stare. "Yes, he did. How do you know that?"

"He told me goodbye. I saw him and he appeared happy. I'm not mad at him anymore."

Ben nodded and Janice couldn't help but cry again.










Chapter Eleven


The return to the ranch in the early morning was a lot more exciting than their departure. Jack would have weeks of recovery, maybe even therapy. Fall weather had crept in but that didn't stop Shane and Jay from golfing. Tony had a new trainee on Tilt Junior. A little different from his brother Jack, Petey had boy on the brain and didn't care if he did everything in the nude. His penis had developed from a prepubescent to an adults almost overnight. His balls expanded and pubic hair was quite evident. From clear liquid to a white substance, masturbation was something he wanted to do every hour on the hour.

Given his sisters' experiences over the past week they all but reinforced Petey's sexual awareness. Luke was fascinated with his brother's new physicality. Tony was there to educate and allow Petey to discover the world of intercourse as both a top and bottom. He didn't mind playing the bottom in order to make sure Petey was in his bed every night.

Eleven-year old Luke was sort of tossed to the wolves for the time being. Not that Luke minded, he spent a great deal of time at the academy playing baseball or other sports with a whole team of new friends.

Nudity was so prevalent and boys with raging hard-ons that Janice put her girls under birth control. A little too late for one of them Janice would be a grandmother in eight months.

The Houston Astros had to play a one-game playoff with Tampa Bay for the last wild card slot. They won as Shane came in as a reliever to secure a five to four victory. Off to Detroit for a best of three series baseball had taken center stage despite football being underway. The nation was gradually forgetting that Shane Colter was the league's first openly gay baseball player. All over America twelve-year old boys were wearing Colter jerseys.

Never too old to learn, Ben could appreciate even more a parent's position with their children. Though he had never married or even had a biological child he loved being a father to Tony. Having boys to love was a blessing that had both positives and the precarious nuances of danger if discovered. Social Services and a civil lawsuit from a mother of a boy who had participated in his camp were thorns to his side. The boy who was in his camp for the summer didn't exactly snitch on Ben. He simply asked his mother why more adults couldn't be as cool as Mr. Barkley and see nothing wrong with boys having sex together. Ben not only didn't mind, he bought lube, enemas, and had shown a comical movie of his pool recordings with several boys having sex on the deck. This time Ben had maybe bit off more than he could chew.

Joe Barkley had offered the woman a settlement, but she wanted the ranch closed and Ben Barkley brought to justice.

Janice did not encourage her kids to think they are—or need to be—special. Her children were intelligent, but they weren't miniature pros in training either. They all had this glimmer of being special, just like Austin and Shane, but few kids rise to be stars. Janice had allowed her kids to fail, to experience life from many different viewpoints and to learn from their participation. They were allowed to find a passion, to do something for no other reason than because they loved it, even if they're not that good.

She had resolved her worries and concerns by watching her children enjoy a fifty-meter swimming pool. The kids were in total freedom without clothes on. At first there was a sexual element, but to her children they were totally comfortable in their own skin. Sex was discreet, yet she saw the boys with their erections caused by natural attractions.

Though Janice could discuss almost any subject with Ben, she held her own sexual wonts to herself. She was, after all, still young at 34, and the reality of seeing Cheet's, Scooter's, and other boys' stiffened members had an excitement to it. To see her daughters' smile, fondle, and know how to please boys their age had a certain satisfaction to it that secrets between her children and their mother were now rare.

Janice's daughters were privately doing their own matchmaking between Red and their mother. Despite the age difference Red thought Janice was very attractive and appealing.

Because Detroit had the better record the series would start on their home park. Ben had to miss the first game because of his hearing with Social Services. He could still make the game, but it would be tight to make it back to the ranch to fly out on his private jet. His helicopter would be necessary, but Red wasn't sure the bird would be ready in time.

Shane had flown to Detroit after inviting Nate to accompany him. The young man had been odd-boy out for a few weeks and this was Shane's way of making up for lost time. Nate's foster parents were more than pleased that Nate had found someone to look up to, especially the hottest professional player in the league.

Always a gentleman and easily passing for sixteen Nate was accepted as Shane's boyfriend. Nate accepted the role with humility and didn't allow interviews or answer any question about himself or Shane.

To Shane, Nate was a lovable teenager who was great in bed. There wasn't any dynamic chemistry or undying love; yet, Shane loved the boy as someone he trusted, cared for, and enjoyed as a traveling companion. He could spend an hour on the phone with Chip, while Nate rested his head against Shane's shoulders and watched television. If Nate had his way, he wanted Shane and Chip to get married and then be adopted by these two who he respected and loved immensely.

In Austin, Ben walked in to this conference room with Janice's arm entwined in his. Even Joe couldn't sit in for him this one. Janice came to the rescue and wouldn't think of letting Ben take the heat for this one. An hour of having his ass chewed out by this Social Services' director, the agency knew how big Ben Barkley was. With a pointed finger the director knew that Ben Barkley had pulled the wool over the agency's eyes by allowing his adopted son to pretend he was the injured youth. Too many other problems had all but made the man a hero. There was no way the director could rationalize any punishments without having mud on his face. For lack of conclusive evidence that Ben meant harm, the case was dismissed in the interests of justice. One hurdle successfully completed but a pissed-off mother was still in the wings.

With permission Red had landed the helicopter on the roof of a local bank that wouldn't dare say no with the amount of money that Ben had in his account. He wasn't pleased with the repairs being rushed, but his boss wanted the helicopter ready on a minute's notice. It was.

While Janice beamed with the success of the meeting, Ben turned his mind to the game in Detroit. What a great chance for the Astros to be able to play the league championship—if they won. They first had to get by Detroit.

The helicopter lifted off and veered toward the ranch. The trip would take but a few minutes. Red felt the vibration, but had flown choppers in Nam in worse shape. Sometimes those army whirlybirds felt like they were put together by Scotch Tape and rubber bands.

Red didn't want to alarm his boss, but when the oil pressure gauge lit up it meant a possible crisis. "Buckle up you two! I'm not going to make the ranch." Red put in a distress call and began to settle the bird lower. The engine cut and the bird began to drop like a rock.

Jack had slept in, the entire bed to himself. His legs spread wide he brought himself to orgasm while his left hand was tucked under his balls. A middle finger had encircled his anus and he wished Ben was there to satisfy this itch. No more had the nerves relaxed, his leg spasms diminished then his eyes shot open. Something was wrong.

Up he sprang and dashed out to the main living quarters. Izzy wasn't shocked, but definitely surprised to see the teenager with half an erection running out the front door. There in the distance was a puff of black smoke above the tree line. Jack hauled ass as fast as he could run.

His second crash landing in a month's time Red found himself thrown from the cockpit. The helicopter had come down hard on its rudders and out of control. On the ground he searched for Ben or Janice. No one. Billowing smoke and fire encased the helicopter. Though shook to his very core Red raced back to the bay to swing open the door.

Janice was leaned forward after being thrown forward. Her head gashed, she was woozy but conscious. Red unbuckled her seatbelt and swung her out of the helicopter and onto the ground. Back in the smoke and the ever present danger of an explosion his hands found Ben Barkley. The Texan was slumped over, unconscious and completely incapacitated. A difficult extraction, Red always carried a pocket knife. Barely able to breathe he cut the belt holding Ben's body and then dragged the lifeless form from the helicopter.

Three adults were crumpled to the earth, coughing, sputtering for air, they lay next to a smoldering machine that was never quite ready to fly after its last miraculous landing.

Red was able to scan the area. They'd missed the woods by a mere forty yards. A cornfield that hadn't been plowed under became their surroundings. What seemed like hours was only fifteen minutes until sirens were heard. Men in yellow slicks ran up and nearly tripped over the survivors. While Red held Janice within his arms to assure her she'd be okay, they watched as Ben Barkley was put on a stretcher with an oxygen mask over his face. He was totally unresponsive.

Sweaty and out of breath, Jack came out of that cornfield like a horror movie extra. The firefighters and paramedics there assumed he was one of the victims, as well. They began to administer Jack aide until the teenager pushed them away. Sperm drippings moved down his stomach like miniature streams and into his pubic hair. The boy smelled like post-sex.

"Ben?! Mom?!" Jack yelled and searched with frantic eyes until he saw his mother being attended to. He saw a stretcher being carried away and sprinted to this survivor.

Jack held Ben's hand all the way until they were in the paramedic truck.

"Is this your father?" one paramedic asked.

"Yes," Jack answered quickly and jumped in before the guy could deny him. The paramedic gave Jack a towel to put around himself.

The Astros had a 2-0 lead in the fifth when the Astros' manager received word of the crash. Initial reporting was that Ben Barkley was killed. The pilot was treated and released, while Janice Autrey was in the hospital with a concussion and facial lacerations.

At the hospital there had gathered a quick collection of reporters. Many snapped pictures of a near-naked teenager leaping from the paramedics' vehicle to follow the stretcher that was rolled into the emergency room. Questions and assumptions were quickly assumed to be accurate and to create more sensationalism than the story merited. As one lady reporter spoke to her television audience the truths were already evident.

"Ben Barkley, billionaire oil man and philanthropist, has arrived at Austin Memorial Hospital. His condition is not known at this time. Along with Mr. Barkley was a naked teenager, who was inside the helicopter when it crashed. It doesn't appear that the teenager was hurt, so the only question left is, why was he naked?" She went on to describe the ranch that Ben ran, including the number of gay boys in attendance. Also that there have been rumors and accusations made against Ben Barkley for questionable nudity and behavior noticed by those visiting. The reporter didn't elaborate but mentioned a recent hearing with Social Services and how the investigation is still continuing. Obviously she assumed this and was given more smut by her research team that Ben had been sued by a Mrs. Demetre from Savannah, Georgia.

Her son, Stu, was only thirteen. He had played on the all-star Little League team that had gone to Williamsport under the direction of Mr. Colter. When he arrived home Stu had pleaded with his mother to return to the ranch because he was treated better there than at home. He also wasn't bullied like at his own school and he loved being around other gay boys. Stu thought he was reinforcing his reasons to return by admitting that Ben had allowed them full access to condoms for safe sex, educational movies, and they were allowed to be themselves, which included swimming naked. To Mrs. Demetre, this meant that Mr. Barkley was encouraging the boys to have sex, giving them access to adult movies, and for them to swim naked in his presence. She thought this impeded upon their religious beliefs and parental expectations of a so-called baseball camp for gay children. This reporter even had a way of creating more hysteria.

"There is a pending lawsuit and potential criminal prosecution of Mr. Barkley supplying sexual toys for these young children at his ranch and allowing them to view explicit sexual films while he watched. The ranch is apparently a nudist haven for children and a sexual commune for adults. This will likely bankrupt the man if he has survived this tragedy."

Tom Hicks had a decision to be made. He knew the connection between Shane Colter and Ben Barkley, just not how close a connection. Not that he cared, his salary was more important than any judgment of his boss. Out of respect he moseyed over and sat next to Shane.

"Shane, there's been an accident. I don't have all the details, but Mr. Barkley was in the helicopter when it went down."

Shane nearly burst into tears. His entire body went to jelly and he was near faint. Tom had no idea that his news would be so devastating. His best pitcher, possibly the league's MVP, tried to hold it together. Even as Shane walked to the mound the worry would not disappear.

A line drive single, double off the wall, and a following homerun, Tom Hicks knew he had sunk his own ship. He pulled Shane within the minute.

Waiting for the relief pitcher to come in from the bullpen Shane tried to apologize. He began to cry and the television cameras were too sophisticated not to catch this reaction. Practically no one in Detroit knew what had happened a thousand miles away. Only as Shane walked by to the dugout did the heckling begin. To thousands they saw a big cry baby because Detroit had hit him like few others had. They heckled Shane Colter unmercifully.

Shane immediately headed for the locker room. Within the hour he was on his way back to Austin. Just as quickly he was next to Ben's bedside after a two-hour surgery had repaired a punctured lung, broken hip, six busted ribs, and an amputation of a shattered leg that was beyond repair. Unconscious because of head injuries, the immediate cat scans showed no internal bleeding in the cranium.

Six hours flew by and Shane refused to leave. No one dared tell their Houston Astro star that he couldn't stay.

By morning Janice insisted that Shane get some rest and shower. She would keep watch, as she put it. Chip Carver arrived early morning, after putting off two speaking engagements. As he entered the lobby Shane was departing. They fell into each other's arms and had another cry.

Janice offered to get them both a cup of coffee when Chip was left with Ben. In those few minutes only someone with a Top Secret security clearance (and then some) would know what transpired.

Mrs. Autrey returned with two cups and saw a far more relaxed congressman than when she left him. Certainly something must have happened, but it was just a feeling she had. Odd though, the newspaper that Chip had stuffed in his pocket was now spread out over the lap of Ben, yet the man was still unconscious. Her eyes went to Chip's, then Ben's.

"Ah, were you reading to Ben?" Janice asked.

"Just in case he wakes up. One of those weird instances where a man can read about his own death." Chip laughed but he thought it was a good answer.

"I hate to have Ben read about what that reporter wrote. And to think she said that on the air. It's pure slander. I hope Ben sues her ass."

Chip smiled. "Trouble with reporters, they can always retract their statements and claim they were given false information. Don't worry, this will all go away."

Janice wasn't all that convinced. "I don't know, Chip, they will put Ben under oath and grill him with all these sightings. He can't deny being present with so many boys being nude and doing what you expect gay boys to do. I've heard that one investigator that Pete had hired has damaging photos. And my sons are going to have to lie. I know they love Ben immensely, but there's been intimacy, you can't tell me different. I've taught them to tell the truth, but I'm going to have to rescind that teaching to save Ben here. I will not have him prosecuted for something my own sons feel comfortable with."

Chip stood up and hugged this woman he barely knew. Everything she had said was true, but it had been remedied. Just how, was nobody's business for the moment.

There was a parade of boys through Ben's room, two at a time after lunch. Janice expected tears and sadness from the boys' faces as they departed. There was only a gleam of hope from each of their expressions. Shane had been the first to arrive at noon and had spent a few minutes with Chip before seeing Ben. The change in the teen's attitude was sunshine compared to dismal failure to protect this man he loved so much.

Jack had also met with Chip. His grief had lessened though he was ready to be Ben's nurse for as long as it took.

Tony had been too anxious to see his dad and hadn't really comprehended the reality of the moment. Only after Shane and Chip wrangled their mischievous brother of Crusade reputation did the boy's energies restore to where he was old Tony again.

Janice allowed the Colter's to visit, then Joe, and finally several people from the ranch, including Izzy and her husband. She hadn't really seen or heard of Ben being awake until Mrs. Colter hugged her new friend.

"At least he's come out of the coma. Time will tell."

Janice rushed in and saw that this hero in her life was sitting up in his bed. He had this vague look on his face of non-recognition. Janice held the man's hand.

"Ben, it's me, Janice. How do you feel? You've been through a great deal."

"I have?" Ben answered. "And you are?"




















Chapter Eleven


Though Ben had the best doctors and rehab, all the professionals in the field of medicine could hope for was that Ben would eventually remember the crash and who he was—one of the more popular characters in Texas' history.

Not exactly a vegetable by any means Tony and Jack were by the man's side from the moment he left the hospital until he sat foot back at the ranch, a ranch he was pleased to see because he had no idea he actually owned it. Of course Izzy wanted to wait on the man hand and foot, but the boys beat her to it. Janice was always available to her assistance, but her sons often shooed her away. She often listened on the other side of Ben's bedroom door, only to hear his laughter. Obviously the best medicine was what Ben enjoyed most, the presence of handsome boys.

Unfortunately the doctor recommended that Ben be given ample time to get his memory back and adjust to a prosthesis. He might well have anger problems or post-surgical reactions. It was not recommended for anyone to share his bed for awhile. Jack often slept at the foot of the bed as if to be there for Ben's every need.

That night Janice often checked on Ben before she went to bed. There, straddling Ben's chest, was her son, Jack. The boy was naked with his penis shoved into Ben's mouth.

"Jack Millhouse Autry! How dare you take advantage of Ben in his condition!"

Jack pulled out. "Mom, I'm only helping Ben get back his memory."

Ben busted up and came clean to this woman he so much admired. Janice eyed them both, giggled her precious laugh, and left those two to do whatever reincarnated people do.

The Houston Astros lost their series to Pittsburgh. Their fans were already believing that the following year with Shane Colter there from spring training would be their first World Series in ages.

Shane immediately bought a condo in Houston to serve as his off-season getaway. So many interviews, dinner speeches, and required appearances Shane didn't want people to come to the ranch or have Ben bothered by constant attention. The ranch had bought a new Bell helicopter and Ray was prepared to fly Shane back and forth as necessary to see Ben.

Rumors abounded, what with Ben's amnesia, that the team would be sold. Shane assured them that this was not the case. The Astros' association didn't like being without a rudder. Joe Barkley entered the picture and announced that his brother had well prepared his ranch for any inevitable and he would soon announce what Ben had so instructed given his incapacities to perform. Many sportswriters thought that Shane Colter may well not only be the team's franchise player but its owner, as well. An unheard of paradox that the league probably wouldn't approve. A seventeen-year old just doesn't own a Major League baseball franchise.

Shane was at a baseball card show, signing autographs, when Chip called. Shane excused himself because there were few more important people. "Hey, my favorite Astro, how about a house-warming for your new place?"

Shane readily agreed. He wasn't too sure what a house-warming was, but he liked the sound. Chip said he was flying in the next morning and they'd plan their day together.

When Shane unlocked his door to his high-rise condominium that night he was quickly engulfed by chloroform held over his mouth. When he did come to he was spread-eagled over the top of his bed and completely nude and blindfolded. His feet and hands were spread and strapped to assure complete compliance. A figure leaped on the bed and straddled over him.

"I'm going to teach you a lesson you will never forget," a garbled voice said. "You will never pitch another perfect game against my team."

A slapping of the face to whips inside his thighs, Shane began squirming and mumbling through the rubber ball shoved in his mouth. He'd experienced this once but saw his tormentors and was almost assured of his survival. Physical torture might have been easier to tolerate than the tickling of leather inside his legs up to his balls. Fingers poked into his ribs, pinched his nipples, and then knuckles to his sides had more wiggles and begging than fingernail pulling.

"Ahhhgggggggg! Mmmmmggggggg!" were moans that said, "Not the feet!"

A lone feather over his feet caused more agony than Shane had ever endured. He fought for release, his ass bounced and a hard-on raged after his dick was pumped up being put in some type of inflator. A clamp around his balls wasn't painful, just uncomfortable. Then the vibrating dildo was shoved up his ass as it whined like a heavy duty mixer.

Slapped, his nose was held shut as he was kissed passionately and hard. One leg was released before his body was twisted and contorted to expose his ass. This, too, was slapped repeatedly, his anus tickled, licked, and slapped some more. The penetration was done in one swoop. Pounding and thrusting the fuck was both invigorating and an endurance contest of pulsations.

Now the loud moans were pleas of lust, a licentious surge that had Shane's dick dripping and throbbing to experience all the roughness this guy wished to shell out.

Balls squeezed, hair pulled back, Shane might have been screaming and red-faced, but he was surrendering to this sex that he desired over gentle lovemaking.

When his cock was gripped Shane knew he wouldn't last long. Sounds of skin smacking skin erupted in his bedroom of blue. The protruding dick was thrusted to its very base over and over until the last ram froze in its delivery. Shane's own cock expanded and exploded cum all over the sheet with lines of liquid.

In the throes of orgasm both males released their vocal acceptance. Their bodies caved to the acceptance of spent energy, to the ultimate sexual experience that had its own exclamation point of bells and whistles and vibrations and jerking muscles. The attacker sank into the curves of an elongated back, his cock still encased in this slippery sheath of a teenager.

A reach upward and two straps were unhooked to release the binds of Shane's arms. The long, lightweight limbs surrounded his tormentor and hung on as a thank you.

"You were magnificent," Shane muttered as Chip took out the ball and raised the blindfold.

"And you like that, huh? I'd like to do that to a few politicians who are a pain in the ass. I'm not sure I'm cut out to arrange a stage like this all the time," Chip replied.

Shane kissed Chip tenderly. "Perhaps once a year to keep me happy. Next time pretend you're a baseball executive and you want to change teams of my contract. Of course you have to torture me to agree."

Chip drew out his sword. He brought his lover chest to chest where he grinded his cock into the moist frame. A reach over on the nightstand and he opened a small box in front of Shane's eyes.

The lid was opened and there was a magnificent diamond ring. "Will you marry me?"

Shane smiled. "Shouldn't you tie me back up and threaten me if I don't?"

Chip frowned. "I want this decision to be without coerce. You should have been my first pick."

Shane brought up his hand as the ring was slid over a finger. "I suppose I should confess that I've wanted your heart since the day I laid eyes on you. Why it took you this long is beyond me. Ben will be pleased."

As if there hadn't been enough surprises, Tony and Jack wheeled Ben into the bedroom with Jay and Janice coming in behind the wheelchair. Between the straps, blindfold, rubber ball, dildo, and assorted clamps the boys and Janice laughed hysterically. The limp dicks pretty much said it all.

Ben and Janice had kept the boys from invading this special occasion until he was sure the moans and agony had stopped. There had been so much laughter in the other bedroom Ben was sure they'd been heard. Shane was only slightly embarrassed that everyone there knew he liked the S&M scene.

"So you knew?" Shane asked Ben while he held up his ring finger.

"Absolutely!" Ben said, his amnesia put aside for the moment. "Your future husband and I have been planning this for months. Of course he had to ask for my permission."

"And the other thing?" Shane asked.

Chip sprang off the bed, not the least uncomfortable with having a woman present. He brought over some forms for Shane to sign. "He's ours. As for the surrogates, they have agreed to Ben's terms and those will be our children."

Shane beamed with happiness. "Jay wants to live with us so he can be with Nate."

Jay smiled. He couldn't have his first love, but he had fallen head over heels for Nate, and vice-versa."

"When?" Shane asked.

"Nate will be delivered within the hour by his former foster parents. He's very excited."

"Excellent. He understands, right?"

Chip knew what that questioned meant. There would be no more sex between parents and their adopted son. For an obvious reason they knew Jay would take care of that aspect.

Ben had his own papers stuffed in his pocket. He brought out a pen and watched as Chip signed the forms. He was now the new owner of the Houston Astros. Tony and Austin were given equal shares of the ranch, and Jack would have a lifetime job as the ranch's manager when he finished college.

Shane became Ben's legal guardian, the recipient of a billion dollars put in trust. Ben's nephews would each receive their own billion, while the Autrey's were welcome to stay as long as they wanted. Being that one of them was pregnant that would be a long time.

The ranch needed a mother, and what with Red and Janice becoming closer by the day, this was a given.

Shane wrapped his arms around Jay and Tony as they sat on the bed. "I'm thinking we'll have a pretty good season next year. But was Ben's sperm enough?"

Ben wheeled himself over. His problems had disappeared. After all, he couldn't remember anything. Even the woman from Georgia had given up. "This old bull has the sperm of derby winner. That pretty cowgirl from U of T has a belly that's just starting to fill out with your man's foal. I had a geneticist assure me the boy would be gay. Nothing like a little gene selection."

Those in the room had their laughs and Janice squeezed her own hero with acceptance. Jack's arm was still draped around his man's neck.

Chip kissed his man-to-be and they both bounced on their knees to the side of the bed to hold Ben's hands.

"We've decided," Chip started.

"We have the name already planned for your son, Ben. How's Ben Junior sound?"

Tony and the boys clapped and knew that was perfect.

Ben thought about it for a second. "I often call Tony, Junior. He acts way too close to his old man. Would Benjamin Arthur Barkley the Second be too much to ask?"


The End



















The author welcomes input from readers:


Note: The trilogy: Kings Academy, The Hyacinthus Project, and The Art of Loyalty will be available on August 15th, 2015 from the author for $15. All PDF


Other books by Alan Stroup:


A Blue & Gray Perspective By A Boy Soldier (LGBT Award Winner) (Amazon or Kindle)

The '39 DiMaggio (Amazon or Kindle)

Trilogy: The President's Son, The Crusade, Bend The Curve (Nifty)

The Tennis Kouros

The Huckleberry Pirates

XY Minus Three

The Neurokid

On Second Thought

The Last Castrati

Whispers In An Italian Restaurant

Age of Dissension (Nifty)

Director's Cut (Nifty)

Kings Academy II Saving the Planet

Time Bomb


(Many of these books I will put on Nifty or Amazon sin the near future)