Date: Fri, 18 Oct 2013 13:23:41 -0500 From: Harrison Westbourne Subject: Daryl's Enlightenment 1 AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a fantasy involving consensual gay sex between young and older men, as well as love among men. The people in the story do not use protection because diseases do not exist here. In real life, PLEASE USE PROTECTIONN WHEN ENGAGING IN SEXUA ACTIVITY. Also, if this sort of material offends you, is illegal where you live, or you are under 18 years of age, PLEASE LEAVE THIS SITE NOW! This story is copyrighted by Robert VanWerven. It can ONLY be downloaded for personal enjoyment, NOT for republication or sale and distribution. If you wish to provide feedback, comments, or suggestions, please feel free to contact me, using the story title as the subject line, at harrisonwestbourne@yahoo.com In order to keep this site free, please consider a donation by using this URL: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html DARYL'S ENLIGHTENMENT 1 1967 in Chicago was an eventful year all around. In January, one of the city's famous blizzards swept through paralyzing everything for several days. That April, a tornado tore up the southwest suburbs, leaving a path of destruction and mayhem behind it. Most importantly, June began with my birth on the city`s south side. I know that may not be an event to everyone, but it means something special to me. My parents were typical, middle class, financially stable, and loving. Mom stayed home to raise me and my two sisters, Louise and Rose. Dad worked for a large technology business downtown since he was 18. When I was born, we lived in a mobile home, but moved to our suburban home, which was my Dad's late Grandma Lillian's, after a year. My sister Louise came in `69 and Rose followed in `71. Although my mom did try for another, the long-awaited brother didn't survive. His name was Harrison and I still feel him with me today. After that, my parents decided our family was big enough. I grew up an attractive child; chestnut hair with flakes of auburn and gold, fair complexion, impish smile, lean swimmer's build, and emerald green eyes that sparkle in certain light. Now this description comes from a biased source, but most people agree that my looks are above average. While I was active in school, I did not particularly enjoy athletics. I stayed in shape by swimming and cycling. Sports bored me so I concentrated on my studies. Art and nature appealed to me, which is probably the cause of my career today. Since I was a quiet and pretty solitary child, my father gave me a black leather-bound diary for my 10th birthday. He said every boy should have secrets only they know. Life seemed perfect until the summer of 1980. I was at my favorite lakeside park, drawing, when a police car came up to get me. Confused, scared, and somewhat irritated, I entered my home to find that my life had changed forever. Mom had been driving out to visit her mother when a semi truck flipped over in front of her car. She lingered for a week until Dad gave her permission to move on. The following wake, funeral and grieving was a blur to me then; I remember every detail now. Two of my best friends, Deena and Kirk, were there through everything. We knew each other since kindergarten and never let one another wallow in self-pity or loneliness. Kirk was about 5 ft 11in., with a muscular frame from wrestling. He has deep black hair with stunning bluish highlights, a full, kissable mouth, and the deepest, clearest, bluest eyes I have ever seen. Deena was our best girl. She had flaming auburn hair with hazel eyes, a pouty face, and statuesque figure. As the year dragged on, our friendship helped me cope. Around Christmas, I made two discoveries that changed my entire existence. The first revelation occurred while cleaning out my bedroom closet one Saturday, I discovered a hidden niche under the stairs leading to the attic. Inside was a small, well-worn leather diary, a small paisley-covered photo album, and a stack of old letters wrapped with a royal blue satin ribbon. I assumed these belonged to my Mom so I put the aside to read later. Boy was I wrong! The second revelation concerned my friend Kirk. Although I had begun to suspect that I was homosexual, I was unsure of anyone else in my life. Heck, my earliest memory was watching Barbra Streisand wins the Oscar for "FUNNY GIRL." Kirk was staying over while his Mom went into the hospital for back surgery. He and I were watching a cheesy, old movie when he leaned over and kissed me. I was stunned but thrilled. From the look on his face, Kirk thought he had made a HUGE mistake. I smiled and kissed him back while rolling on top of his trim, muscular frame. When we broke apart, he just smiled and I knew things would never be the same. No words were spoken as I began to kiss Kirk's neck, as he moaned erotically. Moving down, I removed his shirt so I could caress his sculpted chest and abs with my hands and tongue. Reaching his left nipple, I began to tease it and slid my hand down to undo his pants. Kirk's breathing was becoming ragged and I could feel his heartbeat quicken. Slowly, I unzipped his pants and reached my hand into his briefs. There waited the first cock I ever held, other than my own. It was about 7 inches, thick and veiny, dripping with precum and throbbing with anticipation. As I began to inch my face towards his waiting pole, Kirk stopped and said he want to do that together. I rolled onto my back as Kirk tormented me until we were both naked and lying in a 69 position. Soon, we both were sucking each other with wild abandon. Although it seemed like hours, my 7 inches reached its boiling point as did Kirk's. Both of us increased our action until we emptied into each other's eager throats. In the afterglow, I confessed that he was my first and found out I was his. This is how my sexual life began. Christmas arrived but I didn't feel like celebrating. My sisters seemed to be coping better than I was. Dad looked tired and stressed. His mom, Nana Josephine, moved in to help take care of us while my Dad worked. Nana Jo and I got along like two old friends and she even taught me to knit and crochet. It was kind of fun having her around all the time and I hoped that she would accept me for the man I was. To this very day, I miss our chats and sitting around working on our handcrafts together. Dad had a little too much to drink and was soon snoring on the couch. Nana Jo asked Kirk and I to help put him to bed while she tackled the girls. I stood on Dad's right; Kirk on his left. We managed to get him upstairs to his bed. I was embarrassed but Kirk said he understood, hugged me, and helped me to undress my father for bed.. As Dad lay there, we took off his shoes, belt and tie, removed his shirt and slacks. As his pants slid down his muscular thighs, we realized that my father had gone commando that day. His thick, sleeping cock appeared surrounded by a thick patch of hair. He was HUGE. It had to be 7 inches soft and very thick. Absent-mindedly, I licked my lips. Kirk blushed a deep crimson, stuttered something about how handsome and sexy Dad was, and quickly kissed me and ran home. When I went to put his tie tack back in his jewelry box, I accidentally opened a drawer I had never seen. Inside, there was an envelope marked Michael. Intrigued, I wanted to look at it but my Dad moved so I closed the drawer and left. As I was leaving, I thought, "Gee, my Dad is really gorgeous!" That night I had the weirdest dream ever. I was at my favorite drawing vista when I saw my Dad approaching. He was dressed in skin-tight jeans, white sneakers, and a flaming red short-sleeved shirt, looking more handsome than usual. Standing 6 feet 2 inches, he was trim and defined, with long muscular legs. His chocolate brown hair glowed around his slightly tanned face, while his amber eyes sparkled with an erotic energy. At one point, he stopped and turned his broad back to me, revealing his perfect symmetry flowing down to the finest ass I could ever imagine. I woke up in a cold sweat, hard as a rock, not understanding what I was feeling. Looking at my clock, it was just after 3 am and I knew I wouldn't get a good night's sleep. I decided to get up and look through the treasures I found in my closet. After a quick bathroom visit and a run for some soda, I turned on my radio to the local oldies station, like my Mom did whenever she would comfort me after a bad dream. Putting my small reading lamp on the headboard, I piled up my pillows, covered myself with a blanket, and prepared to read. What I soon discovered was shocking. I chose the diary first. The brass lock was tarnished and easily opened with a paper clip. My first surprise was to find that it belonged to my Dad. He started this journal when he was only 10 years old. Most of the time he wrote about school, his friends, troubles he was having; all typical kid stuff. He spent a great deal of time with his Uncle Jeremy, who taught his photography as a hobby. Dad loved taking and developing his own pictures. For the next couple of hours, I plodded through stories of summer vacations, holidays, and school dramas. All of a sudden, I came across an item that took an unexpected direction. This particular entry was dated June 10, 1953 and read as follows: "Dear Diary, My name is Randolph Matthews and I am now 14 years old. You are my safety box for my deepest secrets. Today something happened that changed me from a boy to a man but has also confused me thoroughly. I had my birthday party this afternoon and it was really fun. All my friends and family were there; I got some wonderful presents. One gift threw me and I don't know what to do about it. My favorite uncle, Jeremy, came up to me before he left and pulled me into the coat closet. He told me he had a secret present and then he pulled me close and passionately kissed me. I was stunned! My body began reacting in a way I didn't understand but didn't want to end. After what seemed like forever, he let go and said he would see me tomorrow when he babysat me for my parents. I couldn't even speak so I nodded and went upstairs to my room. Well I guess I'll have to wait and see what that meant. For now, I have to get some sleep as I am bushed. Talk to you later." Taped just below the passage was Uncle Jeremy's picture. He looked very dashing in his tight slacks, long-sleeved dress shirt and tie, and wing-tipped shoes. It was black-and-white so couldn't describe the colors. I just know he looked hot. His dark, shoulder-length hair curled sexily behind his ears. He sported a trim VanDyke style beard that accented his accented his strong chin. Both the shirt and slacks were stretched tautly over what appeared to be a lean, muscular frame. His package was slightly obvious due to the pose he had struck. It looked rather large and possibly hard. My mouth began to water as my mind imagined what was behind the zipper. Now my thoughts were reeling. What did this all mean? I knew Uncle Jeremy was gay but my Dad? No, it couldn't be. Yawning, I decided to read more tomorrow after Dad went to work. Secretly, I plotted to get another chance at the jewelry box too. I feel asleep wondering who the Michael from the jewelry box was. His name hadn't been mentioned in the diary as yet. Tomorrow, I would discover the answers for myself. To be continued...