by
Mark 'Ponyboy' Peters
Chapter Twenty-Six
As I drove home sometime later, the image of Raffa leaning over me, his face just millimetres from mine, as I felt his hardness piston in and out of me while my knees were pulled up around my ears, was all I could think of.
I will be the first to admit that my level of sexual experience was still somewhat limited, but this was the most amazing thing I had ever experienced. I hadn't even touched myself, yet we both came at the same time, Raffa deep inside me, while I splattered my chest and abdomen, firing off shot after shot between our writhing bodies. I'm sure that Chase would have been proud of us!
When I pulled into the driveway and parked beside my parents’ cars it was only a little after ten o'clock, so unsurprisingly the lights were still on in the house. I locked my car and started for the back door, while whistling some mindless and current pop hit, that was now stuck in my head after hearing it on the radio. When I finally entered the kitchen I stopped short when I found my father sitting at the table with a coffee mug in front of him.
'Sounds like someone had a good night,' he said to me, while offering a rather tired smile.
Despite the fact our relationship had recently been something of a rocky one, I found it impossible to be upset with my father, especially give his own revelations. Somehow we had been given another chance to connect, and despite the recent past I didn't want to blow it.
'Errr . . . yeah, I did. Thank you. But more importantly, how are you?'
'Oh, I'm getting by. I have some adjustments to make and a few things to get my head around, but I'll be okay.'
For what seemed like quite a long time he looked up at me, as if he was studying me, not quite sure what to say next. I pulled a chair out and sat down opposite him.
'I'm sorry you had to go through what you did. And I'm sorry for how I've acted recently,' I said to him.
'You've got nothing to be sorry for, mate. It was a long time ago, and it's all on me. There's more to the story and now that it has all been dredged up again, I guess I'm just trying to come to terms with it again myself . . . but maybe that's for another time.'
'Whenever you feel ready,' I replied. Dad simply gave me a nod.
'So, Olly tells me I missed out on meeting your friend tonight. Is that where you've been? With him?'
'Yeah, his name is Rafael de Silva. Because I had mum's car today, I got him to drive my car back here after work. You were asleep when we got here. Afterwards I drove him back to our work so he could pick up his motor bike, then we went over to his place where we ended up having dinner with his parents.'
He nodded as he took that all in.
'I'm sorry that I missed him. Seems he made quite an impression on your brother. Is he likely to come around again sometime?'
'Oh yeah. For sure. Mum told him she wanted him to come for dinner one night, so you will be able to meet him then.'
'So . . . so it's real, then? Something serious?'
'I think so. I hope you can understand that, or deal with that?'
'Yes. I can deal with that. He’d better be a decent guy.'
'He is, and his parents are really great too. His dad owns a real estate agency.'
'Right. The name rings a bell.'
The silence between us stretched out for a few moments, with the only sound we could hear being that of the clock on the wall. I was surprised that I couldn't even hear the television.
'Is anyone else still up?' I asked.
'No. They've both gone to bed. Until you got home it was just me sitting here alone with my thoughts.'
I got up and went to the sink and turned on the kettle, then found a mug and added a tea bag and some sugar while I waited for the water to boil.
'You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. You do know that don't you?' I said to him.
'I know that . . . and I know times have changed . . . but there's always this gnawing feeling in the back of my head that says otherwise. I was brought up in a household where anything, or anyone, that was even remotely associated with homosexuality was to be shunned, rejected, ostracised, or whatever you want to call it. Being gay was the lowest of the low, and the fact that I did nothing back then, that first time, or any time after that . . . because it wasn't just a one off . . . what did that make me?
'He didn't hurt me, and because of that, maybe I even enjoyed it a little . . . I mean, just between us guys, what teenage boy doesn't enjoy getting his rocks off whenever he can, one way or another? But then, after every time it happened, I would feel like I was nothing but filth and be wracked with guilt and swear to never let him do it again . . . but I always did, didn't I? And that's why I'm now feeling so much shame.'
As I heard the kettle switch off I knew that I needed to sort out in my own mind the things he had just told me, so to give myself a little time I poured the boiling water into my mug and started stirring.
I was suddenly struck by a series of thoughts. Firstly, just what was my father saying? What was he telling me? That he was a willing participant? That he was a typical, horny, seventeen-year-old kid who was being taken advantage of, but seeing as he liked getting off, he just kept letting it happen?
So, what's so wrong with that?
It also hit me that this was probably the longest conversation I'd had with my father in months, or possibly even years. The question was, what should I be saying to him?
'Aren't you going to say anything?' I eventually heard him ask. 'You should at least be pissed off with me for being such a hypocrite all these years!'
I turned and looked at him, then I crossed to the table and sat back down opposite him.
'Maybe I have a right to be pissed off with you, but I'm not,' I said. 'I'd never in all my life thought I would be talking to my father about this sort of shit, but there you go. We're all different and we all react to what we feel in different ways. So what if you were a horny seventeen-year-old and didn't do anything to stop it. It doesn't mean that you are gay. Just goes to show you're human . . . and for a while there I was actually beginning to have my doubts about that.'
For the first time in a while I saw a glimmer of a smile cross his face.
'Have you told any of this to mum?'
'No . . . I don't think I can really. It's not going to serve any purpose.'
I simply shrugged, then said, 'Probably not, but wouldn't getting everything out in the open help you, and mum as well, to deal with it and help put it behind you? Just talking about things is a help . . . you can trust me on that one. And mum is a good listener.'
'Oh, I'm sure I can trust you on that. It's just that it's not an easy thing for me to do. Your mum has made some enquiries, so hopefully I'll be able to get some help and talk through some of my issues with them first.'
'Yeah, I know,' I said, before taking a sip from my mug.
The clock continued to tick away as the silence lengthened before another thought struck me.
'Can I ask you something?'
'Of course. Anything.'
'Well, it's about Uncle Bryan. You've always been down on him, always appeared to dislike him. Does that have to do with what happened to you, or is there some other reason? He's been a rock for me these past few weeks, but I noticed when he was here the two of you were, let's just say, very cool with each other. And thinking back, it has almost always been like that as far as I can remember.'
Dad offered a smile at that comment.
'Seems like there's not much that gets past you, eh.'
'Some things are a bit hard to miss.'
'I'm pleased that you've had Bryan to lean on, because sure as hell I've been no fucking help to you. I guess my main problem with Bryan has always been the fact that he is openly gay, I mean, like you say, it's a bit hard to miss, isn't it? I’ve just naturally tried to steer clear of anyone who was gay, for obvious reasons. I’ve also had an inbuilt distrust of anyone who might be like that. I've just never been able to get my head around being able to separate those things, so as a result I could never find myself liking the guy, even if he was your mother's brother.'
'And now? Now that you've been enlightened?'
'Now? I guess I owe him an apology, for starters.'
I could only nod in agreement at that one.
'Then after that, I sure have some bridges to build. But that will have to wait for another day, because right now I'm totally beat,' he said, as he pushed his chair away from the table and stood up, yawning as he did so.
I stood also, then walked around to his side of the table. Without saying a word I wrapped my arms around my father and hugged him. I can't recall how long it had been since I had done that, and I think at first, he was shocked, but after a few moments I felt his arms slowly wrap around me and then he hugged me back. I heard him give a little sniffle as he buried his head into the crook of my neck, then he stepped back and rubbed a hand over his eyes, which I could see were damp with the remnants of a tear.
'You're a good kid, Grayson Porter. And even if I have trouble showing you sometimes, I want you to know I'm proud of you. I'm just sorry I've been such a shit of a father. I promise you I'm going to make it up to you.'
'We'll get over this . . . all of us will.'
'Yeah. We will.'
With that he turned and disappeared into the hallway. I knew that there was so much more that I wanted to ask him, and talk to him about, but like he said, everything else will have to wait for another day. It had been a day of experiences I would never forget, but right now I was also running on empty. I needed sleep.
I gathered up our mugs from the table and placed them in the kitchen sink, then headed for my bedroom, making sure that I flicked off the kitchen light as I went.
* * * * *
After what had been a day filled with events I hadn't counted on, I was totally beat and after stripping off and climbing into my bed naked I was asleep almost as soon as my head had hit the pillow.
My night was soon filled with images of the people in my life; family members who have always been around, along with those who are more recent additions to my inner circle. For the most part the scenes were happy and loving, and in places they were intimate and erotic, but all the while I could see there were shadows lurking, dark tendrils of haze which blurred the edges of my dreams. I didn't know what this meant, and I could see no direct threats to my happiness amongst these shadows, but all the same my senses somehow knew that my future happiness depended on keeping these wraiths at bay.
At one point I dreamed of snuggling up against a warm body, but with the mists that surrounded us I was unable to see just who it was. Were they a friend or foe?
My arms were wrapped around this person as I spooned with them. I could smell their body, clean and fresh and inviting, yet there was no hint of anything sexual, just two beings who have found themselves in an embrace, comfortable with each other, one keeping the other safe from whatever it was that was swirling around them.
Was it Raffa I was holding onto so tight? Or somebody else? I tried to open my eyes, but they were welded shut. But then I moved, squirming around a little and I felt something within me stir.
'Oh, no. Why? Why now?' I thought.
My companion moved also, as if trying to get away from me, but I held them tight, not wanting whoever it was to escape my hold and be swallowed by the swirling mists that I knew surrounded us, even if I could not see that threat just at this moment.
'Gray . . . don't!' a voice mumbled, and in an instant my eyes were open and I was wide awake, holding tight to my kid brother, Olly.
'Oh, fuck,' I whispered in shock, as I immediately loosened my grip and wriggled back slightly, so that our bodies were no longer touching, my hardness no longer nestled between the cleft created by the join of his legs and buttocks.
He must have come and climbed into bed with me sometime after I had fallen asleep, which he has done on more than one occasion. As Olly continued to sleep, I reached out and gently stroked his hair as I thought about what had just happened.
I was confused by what this all meant. Did I somehow know that it was Olly, or did I think it was someone else I was holding so tight? Was I simply trying to keep this person safe? Did I perhaps have other motives? Or was this all just a jumble of random images, with our close contact triggering a purely physical reaction on my part?
I guess I'll never know just what that was all about, but I did know that it had left me shaking.
There was no way I would ever try anything like that with my brother. That was just so wrong on so many levels. And after hearing what our father had experienced as a teenager, what had just happened only compounded the shock of knowing what the consequences could have been if I hadn't been woken by his protests.
To be continued . . .
Authors Note:
Hi there. It has been a while since I have posted anything new on Nifty. I guess life gets in the way sometimes.
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