Date: Sun, 28 May 2017 03:26:30 +0000 (UTC)
From: jim ford <sojourn1950@yahoo.com>
Subject: Change of Heart chapter twenty-five

I believe readership has diminished greatly based on the reduction in
received emails. If you're still reading this let me know.

Jim Ford

Sojourn1950@yahoo.com


This story is fiction.

The characters are adults in adult situations.

Warnings: The only person you can ever hope to truly know is yourself.
Trust no one; use condoms.

If you are not of legal age or in a jurisdiction in which this document is
illegal, go way.

This is my story. Please respect the copyright. If you enjoy it, let me
know.


Please donate to Nifty. Surely these tales are worth, at least... OK! let's
face it. If you're unwilling to simply email a writer who's work you enjoy,
what are the chances you're going to actually send money to the
organization that allows that writer to propagate his stories online. I
have actually had one reader say he had given to Nifty because of my
story. That was years ago. One reader!  I figure, looking at another story
site, I figure less than one percent of readers actually email a
writer. Extrapolating that figure, (no mathematician here.) I would guess
that less than one in ten thousand readers actually contribute to Nifty. I
have a friend who empties his pocket change into a jar and collects
hundreds of dollars a year. Pocket change! For god's sake. It's a large
jar, emptied several times a year.

I have read many stories, on many sites. I have yet to find a single site
that does what Nifty does. Nifty gives a platform for an aspiring author,
of any skill level, to post what he/she considers a worthy tale. No other
site does that. Those other sites want to say "the best gay fiction on the
web" or "favorites" or "gathered selected author's". They don't have the
variety of genres. They certainly don't have 235,000 documents.

Nifty doesn't ask for your credit card number, or your mailing address, or
your email address. Nifty only requires you be able to use a computer or a
smart phone and be able to type in or say the words, "nifty.org". (Just
tried it on Siri. Surprise! It worked. Personally, I hate the bitch. I
think she's passive/aggressive.)

Nifty is like your old familiar dominant hand. (Mustn't piss off the odd
lefty. They tend to have more disposable income.) you know, the one your
jerk off with. What if you woke up someday and it didn't work anymore? It
could happen. Now think of the numerous safe, secure and anonymous ways you
can give to Nifty without your wife, children, mother, father, friends,
sister, girlfriend, coworkers or dog, Ranger, your cat, canary or reptile
finding out about it. Then DONATE! Only then can you rest assured that you
have done your part to keep your dominant hand properly before
exercised. And at the same time you are ensuring your favorite appendage is
provided adequate stimulation. Use it or lose it! Contribute or lose it!

http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html



Author's Note:I have noticed a significant decrease in emails. I don't know
about you, but the implication is that people have begun to lose interest.
What would you think?

Jim Fordsojourn1950@yahoo.com

Chapter twenty-five

With fury in his eyes, Raymond bounded down the steps with Daniel right
behind him. His voice was almost at a normal volume now, but clearly
projected so that everyone in the crowd could hear. "Just remember, dear
mother, I have stayed out of your life, even avoided you and yours. It is
you who have falsely accused, maligned, and assaulted my real family. You
brought this upon yourself, you have no one else to blame.

"You talk about degenerates! How about your sanctimonious husband who
enjoyed literally getting fucked in the ass by the old Sheriff and sucking
cocks at the same time. I have received an email that is to be sent to
every member of your congregation with that video attached. They will also
see the video of Fire chief Bumpkis sharing with your husband and bragging
about the money they stole from the needy children of this community, some
were even members of his own congregation. Jeffrey Adams has never met your
husband, let alone handed him money. But, I have met him, dear mother, I
have. Do these blind followers of his and yours not suspect he has been
skimming from their offerings. Do they not know that the missionaries they
support in Ethiopia, don't even exist? How about his offshore bank account
that has more of the church's building fund money in it, than the actual
building fund account itself. Do they know that he laughs his ass off at
how easily fooled they have been all these years? Do they not find it
strange that he feigns poverty, yet drives a nicer car and lives in a
better neighborhood than anyone in the congregation? I do, yes dear mother,
I do.

"And you, my dear, sainted, mother have you told them why I went to live
with the Adams? The real reason? Or did you lie to them as well. You didn't
want them to know that bastard was angry because I refused his sexual
advances. When he learned I was gay, he decided to send me to a camp in
Idaho that starved, beat and psychologically tortured children, just
because they were different. He made sure I understood what was facing
me. Oh, he made it clear, dear mother, if I had sex with him he would be
happy for me to stay.

"Do these fine people know that he married you only to hide his own
so-called deviant activities. He had been spotted coming out of a gay bar
in Dallas. He married you to quell those rumors. Just ask some of the older
congregants. Why didn't you have more children after you married him?
Because you were frigid. Because a teenage pregnancy left you distrustful
of and despising all men. Yes, I know you got pregnant. I know you found
out after my sperm donor broke up with you. You told no one of your shame,
graduated high school and moved to California to live with a widowed
Aunt. You met a young lawyer. You convinced him you were pregnant with his
child. I was born "premature" at 8 pounds, 7 ounces, a chunky little premi,
wouldn't you agree? Oh and just so you know, my father knew I wasn't
his. He knew he was sterile long before he met you. I have copies of all
his medical records. I learned the truth through DNA tests in law
school. He married you so he could have a child and I thank god he did. You
were a cold hearted bitch to both of us. A cow that won't tend her calf is
sent to slaughter and dear mother you should have been. My father loved me
and I loved, and still love him dearly. You never cared for either of us. I
am sure the preacher appreciated the fact that you and he had separate
bedrooms from the beginning. God knows he tried more than once to get me
into his. I suspect he likes women even less than you like men. Before you
ask why I didn't tell you, it was clear to me, even as a child, dear
mother, you wouldn't have cared. Oh yes, clutch your bosom as if all this
is news to you and is so hurtful. Put on a show for these fine folks, maybe
they'll believe it, but I won't, no I won't, you miserable fucking excuse
for a human being."

The woman was at first shocked as anyone to see and hear her son express
such contempt and in such foul language. As he drew nearer and began to
speak, her whole world began to crumble. Her inner most secrets were laid
bare. Even as he spoke she could see the misspelled placards that had been
enthusiastically dancing in the air began to lower as if deflated. The
people who had rallied to offer her moral support, now were distancing
themselves physically as well as mentally. Those that stood ready to cheer
her courageous stand against these faggots, were now looking at her as if
seeing some abhorrent creature. They looked at her as if she were the
sinner, the unclean, the faggot.

Her anger rose again to the fore. The hand that had clutched her bosom in
despair reached out to slap her offending, even now, burdensome
child. Unlike the Adams faggot this one did not attempt to block her
assault.

In fact, he laughed loudly. "You stupid fucking bitch! Do you think you can
really hurt me more than you did as a cold hearted fish of a mother?
"This." Raymond rubbed the red handprint on his cheek. "This is nothing
compared to the pain I suffered, as a child, trying to figure out what I
had done to be unworthy of even my own mother's love."

Raymond had not reacted, but Sheriff Lovan did. "Deputy Jones, arrest this
woman for attempted assault of a high and aggravated nature, an attempted
simple assault and one count of simple assault."

Deputy Jones stepped forward and puffed his chest out. "I ain't about to
arrest her, she's my preacher's wife. It'd be going against God. Besides,
you ain't gonna be acting Sheriff for long. The preacher and the Mayor both
done told me they was backing me for Sheriff in the next election. You
ain't no kind of Sheriff. Since you ain't in uniform, you don't even look
to be a Deputy."

Daniel extended his hand palm up. "Fine, give me your handcuffs, keys,
badge and gun. If that man is still your preacher after what you heard here
just now, you don't have the brains to be a Deputy, much less
Sheriff. Consider yourself fired."

In a last act of defiance, the now former Deputy, Jones dropped the
requested items at the Sheriff's feet. Only after the little man turned his
back and walked away did Daniel retrieve the items. He then handcuff the
woman, announced the charges she faced, recited the Miranda warning and
turned her over to another Deputy. He then took Raymond by the arm and
said, "You need to come with me, Mr. Cargill".

Before heading back inside with Daniel, Raymond scanned the faces of his
family. Jeff was clearly in a state of shock. Joe and Mellie both, for some
reason, appeared to be genuinely happy. Paul vacillated between a smugly
satisfied smile and serious concern for Jeff. Raymond thought it could have
gone better.

Soon the two were safely locked in Daniel's office. Daniel had given
directions they were not to be disturbed. He knelt beside Raymond who was
seated in one of two fake leather chairs, in front of Daniel's desk. He
gently touched Raymond's still red cheek. "Are you ok"?

Raymond took a deep breath. "I will be. I just, when I saw her attack Jeff,
it brought back memories. I guess I wanted to protect him from all the pain
she had caused me all those years. I should have told you, I would have
told you. I just, the time wasn't right. I want you to know all my
secrets. I didn't want you or anybody to find out like that.

"Uncle Joe insisted I start seeing a therapist soon after I moved in with
them. She helped a lot. She always insisted I deserved the chance to
confront them both, the preacher and my mother. God, I still want to gag
when I use that honorific toward her. She, the therapist, helped me realize
a lot of things were wrong in my life. Once I had the resources and learned
the particulars, I loved my father even more. Today it all came out. I feel
like I just ran a marathon and the endorphins are all sparking in my brain
at once."

Daniel grasped Raymond's bicep and met his eye. "It is a surprise, but not
a shock. I mean the eyes and sometimes you and Jeff make the same face. You
really do look like brothers, of course you are more handsome and sexy..."

They we're interrupted by someone pounding on the door and a rather loud
feminine voice demanded, "Daniel Lovan, you open this door
immediately. That boy needs his family, er, uh, the rest of his family. Let
us in there now, or I'll take my gun and shoot the lock off." This was
followed by a loud shuffling noise from the outer office. Daniel figured it
was his staff taking cover.

"Ok, Aunt Mellie, I'm coming, don't shoot." He unlocked the door and
immediately his office was filled with members of the Adams
family. Everyone was determined to reassure Raymond, all at the same
time. The cacophonous din that resulted showed no sign of diminishing until
Uncle Joe put his fingers to his lips and blew an ear piercing
whistle. Silence echoed around the room just as everyone's chatter had
moments before.

Joe grinned as he approached Raymond. "I always wanted to do that
inside. Daddy would have strapped my beehind and Mellie would have me
sleeping in a guest room, if not the bunkhouse. Another thing I wanted to
do for years is to hug my nephew. Come here son." Raymond stepped into his
Uncle's warm embrace. "We've known for years. We didn't want to stain the
memories of your real father. I am certain my brother never knew. David
would have been proud to call you son. I should know. He praised you often
enough in my presence. Mellie and I got to talking years ago when we were
reviewing our wills. We felt you were as much family, to us, as Jeff
was. What with the eyes and a few traits peculiar to the Adams, that you
just happen to share, well, we decided to do a DNA test. I knew David had
dated your mother but as close as we were, we never would "kiss and
tell". Not even to tell each other. I sent the samples from your's and
David's hairbrushes.

Joe turned to his younger nephew, "Jeff, son, we have left personal letters
explaining what we knew. One for each of you. We hoped that you two would
celebrate you brotherhood." Turning back to Raymond he added, "We figured,
the way you revered you Daddy, you didn't know. We spent many sleepless
nights before we decided you needed to understand why we were leaving you
just as much of our estate as Jeff was getting. We figured, if we didn't
acknowledge your lineage, you would reject any bequest you felt should have
gone to blood kin. I wish we had all been more upfront with the truth. I've
really glad we're here at last."

Raymond was summarily pulled from Joe's arms and into a smaller, but just
as welcoming hug. "My boy, I was so afraid I would die, never being able to
tell what a very real and deserving member of this family you are. I am
insisting that you have your children call me grandma. As soon as I leave
here I am going to Jeff's and stay until our little Maria also knows I am
grandma from now on. Y'all can decide who Joe is on your own. Just know I
will consider it my right as matron of this family to be called grandma by
one and all." Releasing Raymond she turned to Joe. "You can call me grandma
too, except in the bedroom. I can't see myself getting frisky as a
grandma. So unless you want to be left to your own devices, best not be
sweet talking me and calling me grandma at the same time."

Joe opened his arms in invitation. "Ah, Honey Bun, you know in my eye you
haven't aged a day since we first met in grade school." Everyone watched as
Mellie melted into Joe's embrace after hearing his sincere sweet talk. As
their lips met Joe's hand slid down and cupped her ample ass cheek.

Mellie pushed him away, "I suwannee, Josephus Septimus Adams, you will
never change. You horney old devil." The uproarious laughter that
accompanied their exchange let those in the outer office it was ok to
finally relax.

>From the time of Raymond's revelation until now Paul had a hold, in some
way, of his mate. He had watched him go from utter shock to dazed and
confused to simply questioning. Now, he freed him and gave him a gentle
nudge toward his brother. Jeff took the hint and moved to Raymond. Jeff
took a deep shuddering breath. With his hands stuffed into his pockets he
searched Raymond's face. "You know I always looked up to you. So many times
Dad would use you as an example of not letting circumstances determine the
kind of man I would become. He made it easy to look up to you as my
Uncle. It was just natural to love and respect you. Right now, my mind is
racing, digging up all the little clues and tells that should have marked
you as an Adams, as my brother.  Truth is, you've always been an Adams. And
you've always been my brother. Today is like the universe is confirming
what I've known to be true for years. I love you big brother". They
embraced tightly in an effort to become as physically close to each other
as they felt in their hearts.

By this time every man in the room was choked up and had moisture in their
eyes. Even Mellie had to reach in her purse, push her pistol aside and
withdraw a tissue.

Once the statements had been documented, everyone reconvened, over bad
coffee, in the Sheriff's office. Once assembled, Daniel, having been
advised of Jone's unprofessional conduct, made sure that no one had had an
unpleasant experience in providing their statements.

Joe was the last to enter, with coffee in hand. He took a sip and got a
look of disgust on his face. "Raymond you got to get your man a decent
coffee maker. This stuff will eat his guts out before he hits thirty." He
quickly sat the cup on a nearby credenza and just as quickly forgot it.

Joe cleared his throat and began speaking, "As head of the Adams family..."
At which point Daniel and Paul went, Snap, snap... Snap, snap. Joe snarled,
"If you two weren't already family members, I'd have you both adopted
out. Now knock that sh.. stuff. Knock that stuff off. We should have a
celebration dinner welcoming Raymond as a certified blood member of the
Ad.., of the, er, uh our family. And we will, at our place tomorrow
night. Right now, I'm feeling rather peckish and I know your grandma is. So
let's all meet over at the diner for a celebratory lunch, as a family. My
treat. The idea met with immediate and unanimous approval. Daniel insisted
Raymond ride with him in his patrol car. Raymond's security duo, rather
than ride locked in the backseat, followed closely behind.

Jeff, Paul, Sam, with Dave driving brought up the rear of the caravan. Jeff
turned to his partner, "You weren't really surprised were you, I mean that
Unc..., I mean Raymond and I are brothers"?

"I suspected a biological relationship from the moment I saw he had the
same green eyes as you and Uncle Joe. I decided, I would bide my time and
once I got to know Uncle Raymond, er, I mean Raymond, I was going to
discuss the rarity of that particular shade of green. Green is actually the
most uncommon eye color. The distinctive shade y'all share must surely have
common genetic link."

"It's pretty well accepted that the Adams men have all had that same eye
color all the way back to Winston Adams' father. I think women find it
attractive, my mother said it was my best feature."

"I mean no offense to your mother but anyone can see you are handsome, hot
and hung. Well, I don't want everyone to see that you're hung, but the rest
is, just plain obvious. Your green eyes are just icing on the cake. And you
cowboy, are my own private slice of beefcake."

Jeff's face took on a serious expression. Paul asked, what's the matter?
Have I got something on my face? "No, no. It's just that I figured your
lips would naturally have a really tight pucker after they passed that much
bullshit."

Sam and Dave guffawed at Jeff's jibe. Jeff chuckled right along with
them. Paul glared at them all, in turn. "I don't think that was a damn bit
funny. It'll be a cold day in hell before I pay you another compliment
Mr. Adams. And I won't forget that you two up there was busting a gut at my
expense. Just remember payback's a bitch. Where I come from, we don't get
even we get ahead."

Jeff, still snickering, tried to take Paul's hand. Paul rebuffed him by
folding his arms across his chest. "Keep your hands to yourself. Right now
you should be afraid, be very afraid. I could, as professional, I have a
license to conduct a none too gentle testicular examination on you before
you even had time to cross your legs and beg for mercy."

The front seat occupants got suddenly quiet. They weren't sure if they were
about to witness an assault or foreplay. Jeff raised his hands in front of
his face and made his fingers shake. With a frightened look, he insisted,
"I'm askeered Doctor Wilson. I'm werwy askeered. I'm plumb near skeered ta
deaf. The last time y'all done that ta me sir, I cum so hard I thought the
head of my cock was gonna blow plum off. No tellin what would happen if'n
you do that agin, sir."

Sam leaned over and whispered in Dave's ear. Dave simply nodded.

Like a hungry copperhead striking at his supper, Paul's hand was crushing
Jeff's balls in a fraction of a second. Jeff's response whether
intentionally slower or not, allowed Paul to get a werwy, werwy firm
grip. His hands wrapped around Paul's forearm, but he was suddenly afraid
to push the offending limb away. He wasn't sure his balls wouldn't go with
the hand. Paul's grip grew tighter. "What do you say now Mr. Adams?" A
little tighter. "Are you enjoying the examination"?

The first response was honest, "Yes, werwy much"! But, an obvious
mistake... in hindsight.

Paul's grip crushed Jeff's balls even harder. "Are we still having fun,
Mr. Adams? Before you answer, I suggest you lose the accent. You sound like
Elmer Fudd on acid." A firm squeeze, then a slight relaxation of the
grip. "Well, are you still enjoying the examination."

Jeff knew, damn good and well, Paul could see his rock hard cock stretched
alongside his left leg. But, in his normal, yet, pained voice he played
along. "No sir Doc. It stopped being fun a squeeze or two ago. Please let
go of my balls. You know I was kidding. And besides, I love both your
puckers, don't I prove that to you every day and every night? I swear, I'll
make sweet love to both of them tonight, anyway you want."

"You'll agree to be my sex slave once we're in our bedroom tonight"?

"I can't do that. You could make me do anything... YEEOUUCH! I mean, Yes
sir! Doc, I'll do anything. Just don't crush my balls no more." Jeff could
feel his cock spit out a gob of precum with that last squeeze. He hoped
Paul would release him soon. He was werwy close to cumming.

"Now, say you're sorry for not just accepting my sincere compliment."

Jeff didn't dare risk one more squeeze. But, it actually took him a moment
to recall what had started this seriously fucking HOT! ballplay. He could
feel Paul beginning to really crush his nutz. "NO! NO! I mean, YES! I will
accept your compliments, without making a joke. I promise! Honest! No lie!
I cross my heart and hope to die! Anything! Just let go my nutz. Please!"

"Tonight, when I tell you to, you will go shave, take a shower and wait for
me nekkid in our bedroom. You will be on your knees, on the goatskin rug,
with your hands clasped behind your back. Is that clear"?

Jeff felt one more gob of cum spit forth. He was tempted to argue, just so
he could cum now. But, tonight would be so much better if he waited. If, he
could wait! "Yes Sir"! He barked.

Paul reluctantly released, what was quickly becoming his second most
favorite and third most favorite toys. He hoped his erection wasn't as
obvious as his lover's. He glanced at his own crotch. `Damn! They looked
like twins'.

It was too late to do anything but think unsexy thoughts. Both men
tried... both men failed. As they gathered at the front of Paul's new
Tahoe, Dave offered the only possible solution, as he handed Sam a twenty
dollar bill. "You guys need to hold your jackets in front of yourselves
until the swelling goes down. And for future reference, we're
professionally trained not to look into the backseat when we hear heavy
breathing or moaning unless, `precipitated by or accompanied by
gunshots'". Sam cracked up at his partner's joke. Jeff and Paul laughed
along nervously. Each man wondering if there would come a day in which they
tested that facet of Sam and Dave's professional training. If it was
real. They dutifully held their jackets in front of their crotches.

Raymond met them at the front door as he was returning from the men's
room. He took one look at the two and asked, sotto voce, "Were you two
playing with each other on the drive over? Little brother, how many times
do I have to tell you. The grownups, in the front seat, are gonna catch
you." He directed his next comment to Sam and Dave. "I know you boys are
professionally trained to not look back when things get heavy. But, as your
boss's, boss, I hereby authorize the use of cold water to separate these
two dogs in heat so they don't get knotted. Especially, if they are going
to appear in public. You can easily explain a water stain. But, nobody
wants to have to explain an accidental cum stain." Raymond burst out
laughing and Sam and Dave heartily joined in. Suddenly, playing games in
the backseat didn't seem as alluring to Jeff and Paul.

As the guys made their way through the diner, they couldn't help but notice
the, intended to be surreptitious, glances. They were surprised to see
several smart phones and a couple of tablets brazenly displaying some gay
porn as if it were an everyday occurrence. Jeff pulled Raymond to his side
and said, "Cowboy up big brother, this ain't no hill for a climber. Me and
Paul, your brothers, are right beside you. We aren't about to let nothing
get you down, if we can help it. You've always been there for me when I
needed you, just like a good big brother should be. Just like you came to
my rescue this morning. I know you did all that to protect me and I love
you more for having done it. Now, lean on your little brothers if you need
to. I swear you can count on us."

Raymond returned his little brother's hug. "You know I actually feel like a
real weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I don't mind the stares.
They're just curious. There much more interested in the gay porn starring
the Sheriff and the preacher. Besides, I feel ten years younger. My real
regrets are concerning you, Uncle Joe and Aunt Mellie. I found out you were
my brother when I was in law school. I felt it would be a betrayal of all
my father did for me if I said anything to anyone. It was like I couldn't
tell my real family without destroying the loving, adopted family I was
blessed to have had. Now, I know I can gave both."

The free flowing light hearted conversation around the central table belied
the tumultuous exchange they had all witnessed, earlier in the day. Melissa
waited on the family table and immediately asked about Maria.

The flanking security force tables had separate waiters. No one questioned
Ilya and Tink's presence at the family table. Ilya made sure his two
soldaty watching the vehicles were well fed also.

Miss Julie came by to offer her congratulations to Raymond for putting to
rest demons that had plagued him for years. "Hon, I am truly happy for
you. You grew up a lot today. You've found that love can realize its full
potential without leaving anyone behind. You'll soon be starting your own
branch of the Adams family tree."

A harsh glance at Daniel and Paul immediately quelled any thoughts of
snapping fingers. "I think Raymond Cargill Adams Junior is waiting to
become the first of several siblings. Little RC is only too happy to lord
it over his cousin JG that he is always going to be the oldest."

Raymond mused about having a son and giving that son his name. Accepting
his father's surname as his middle name seemed like the perfect idea. Both
families would be represented. He certainly would not object to being
called "R. C. Adams". It certainly sounded like a strong, trustworthy
name... especially for his son. He stared at his mate. He was simply lost
in those warm brown eyes until a thought solidified in his mind and
established permanent residence, `our son'.


Author's Note:I hurried this chapter because like you I hate
cliffhangers. Email if you are actually still reading. Thanks Nathan for
catching those typos. But, lay off those double shotted Bloody
Marys. (you're right the plural looks weird even without alchohol.)

Sojourn1950@yahoo.com