Date: Wed, 03 Sep 2003 19:18:22 +0000 From: Guy Jameson Subject: The Sons of JJ Jameson Chapter 10 My thanks go to my best female non-gay friend, Dee, for her encouragement and help in these stories. However, you should know that pressures from her job and university work has forced her to fall way behind my writing. Therefore, all the errors in grammar, spelling and continuity in recent submissions have been my own. I also want to thank those of you who have read this story and have responded to what you've read. I am open to receive comments and answer questions about the story. If you see areas for improvement, feel free to respond. DISCLAIMER: Remember that male2male sex covers a lot of ground. It takes some people longer than others to develop their sexual appetites. This is especially true about the people described in this continuing story. There may even be a few of you who are too young or live in an area where reading something that is even the slightest bit erotic is not legal. I will not share responsibility if reading these chapters gets you into trouble with members of your family (particularly with parents) or with the legal authorities. I live in Oklahoma so I can sympathize with you. Maybe we should move to a more accepting environment. ANOTHER DISCLAIMER: There is no school named West Texas Marine Institute. The descriptions of life in this series are not intended to reflect on any of the fine military schools that exist in the U.S. JJ attended a military school during his high school years. It was a good school and fairly liberal in the way instructors dealt with student problems-however, it wasn't so liberal as to allow students to fuck their nights away in the barracks. This story belongs to me and as such is copyrighted according to the terms laid down by Nifty. Any similarity with persons living or not is purely coincidental. I hope you enjoy. Feel free to send comments to me at guyjameson@hotmail.com THE SONS OF JJ JAMESON CHAPTER SIX: I MEET FRANK I left Sgt. Flood's office that day before my senior year began feeling better than I had any day since Jasper died. Though I knew I'd never forget him, I believed Flood's treatment had worked. After all I didn't want to go through life living in mourning for Jasper and I knew he would neither expect me to nor want me to. As the old saying goes, "life goes on". The best thing I could for Jasper was to live it. My senior year at WTMI was a great year. I was elected Cadet Corps Commander and tried to perform in a way that Jasper would have approved. After all if he were still with us, that post would have gone to him. I'm positive of that. Near the end of the year recruiters from all the services descended on the Institute determined to meet their quotas. I'm proud to say most of us ended up in the United States Marine Corps. Graduation was a grand affair, including some activities that were like no other school in the country. We didn't have a prom-why bother? Many of the boys hadn't seen a female, other than members of their own families, and that only on rare visitors' days, for four years. Some hadn't been around females for longer than that. And you can guess other reasons for yourself. Instead the Institute Instructors threw a beer blast for the graduates. While imbibing the suds, we also participated in a variety of games and sports which we'd played as part of our PT work. Any one who is or ever was a Marine may remember a game called "Grab Ass". At least that's what we called it. There were two teams who attempted to score with a ball that was about five feet in diameter. It required lots of teamwork to move the ball from one end of the field to the other. That was especially true when the teams were about half drunk. The origin of the game's name was never explained to us. But need it have been? The graduation ceremony itself was held two days after the bust, allowing us to get our uniforms ship-shape and to sleep off the results of a day spent in the sun getting plastered. After all for most of us drinking beer was a new experience and we didn't feel terribly good after the day was over. The ceremonies began with a full out Mass conducted by Father Mike. We had music, provided by the Institute chorus and band, bells, incense, banners-the whole nine yards. Mass was followed by a parade, speeches and reception held for parents and families for those boys who had real families. We had all been given invitations to send home. I sent one to Victor, expecting he wouldn't show up. He didn't. I don't know if that was because Barry intercepted the letter or because Victor wasn't allowed to come or even if he wanted to come. It had been almost a year since I'd had any news from him anyway. I certainly didn't spend any time looking for him. During the reception I went up to the cemetery to visit Jasper. What occurred during that visit is way too personal to describe here. Suffice it to say there were tears and a loving "good-bye". When I returned to my barracks, I was informed that Sgt. Flood wanted to see me. Upon arriving at his "house", I knocked, requested permission to enter and reported in my sharpest military style. He told me to sit at ease. This was the only time outside of class I'd ever sat in his presence. "JJ, I'm very proud of the way you conducted yourself as the Corps Commander. You did a splendid job." "Thank you, Sir." "When do you report to San Diego?" "Not for a month, Sir." "What do you plan to do until then?" "I really haven't planned anything, Sir. I'd like to go back to Tulsa to visit my mother's grave and maybe see if my stepbrother is around. He should have also graduated this month and I'd like to see him if I can get him away from his dad." "Well, you should have enough money to do that. You have received your stipend from the Institute haven't you?" "Yes, Sir. I never knew we'd get any money from here. In fact until last week when the money was distributed, I was pretty worried about what I would do until going to Boot." "We don't tell anyone, including the families of our cadets that the money will be available. If nothing else, knowing they'll receive $1000 upon graduation could cause some families to get greedy. Do you know what I mean?" "Yes, Sir." "Well, I guess this is good-bye for now, young man. Good luck on your trip and let me know how you make out in Boot. When you get a chance, come visit us." "I will, Sir. And thank you for what you did. I don't think I would have made it this through this year without your therepy. I also know what a sacrifice you made in that session. Doc and I talked about it several times and he explained how you felt. Thank you, Sir." I stood up and prepared to leave the office. Sgt. Flood put out his hand to shake mine, but when I took hold of him, he pulled me into a tight embrace. "JJ, you don't know how close I came to . . . well, you know." "Yes, Sir. I know. Thanks." I came to attention and gave the Master Gunnery Sergeant the sharpest salute I could, turned and left the office as he returned the gesture. The next day I was on the Greyhound headed for Tulsa. I hadn't been beyond the gates of the Institute by myself in four years. The civilians I saw were a real letdown. A poor excuse for humanity, I thought. I arrived in Tulsa late in the evening of the same day. It's about an eight-hour drive, including the time needed to stop at different towns to unload and load passengers, from Amarillo to Tulsa, but it sure seemed to be longer. I got my seabag from the driver, hefted it on my shoulder and headed out to find someplace to stay. The bus driver gave me a few recommendations. There weren't many choices of places to stay in what I considered to be my price range, but I did find a downtown motel that at least appeared clean. The room I was assigned would never have passed one of Flood's inspections but I figured for the price it would do. Not having handled money for so long, I thought I'd better be very careful with what the Institute had given me. I had a month before the Marines would take over my living expenses. Next on the agenda was chow. I stored my gear in the room and headed out to find someplace that didn't look too fancy or too expensive. I was in the Institute uniform which was designed remarkably close the Marine Corps. Really the only difference was the patches on the sleeve-at least to the uninitiated observer. There were several choices of places to eat. I finally decided on pizza. I placed my order, which included a beer. Beer served in most pizza parlors was 3.2% and it was possible to get beer at eighteen, if you looked older. I found a table and prepared to settle in for a while. I certainly didn't want to return to my room too soon and I didn't have wheels to get around the city. I figured I'd get a cab tomorrow to take me around. Maybe I could find one that wasn't too expensive. I received my order after a short wait and began eating. It was a good pizza-much better than what passed for that dish at the Institute. The beer tasted particularly good, if a little watery. I watched people come and go. One of the customers was a man, well-dressed in Levi's and a collared shirt that caught my eye. He was good looking maybe six feet tall, trim, and athletic looking. Only the gray at his temples indicated his age. I guessed him to be in his early to mid-forties. But it had been so long since I'd seen a civilian, I couldn't be sure. I was beginning to feel that "they" were from a distant planet or something. Maybe I was the one out place. There were several empty tables but when the man got his beer, he headed straight for mine. "May I sit with you, soldier? I hate eating alone and you appear to be by your self." "Sure, help yourself. I'm not fond of eating alone either." "What service are you in? The uniform looks Marine but I don't recognize your patches." "Actually, sir, I just graduated from a military school in Texas. Now I'm waiting until it's time to report to Marine Boot Camp." "You certainly look older than having just graduated from high school." "Most people take me for being older than I am, sir." "What brings you to Tulsa? It's sort of the wrong direction if you're going from Texas to San Diego. Or are you off to Paris Island?" "No sir, I'm going to San Diego. I used to live here. I just thought I'd try to look up some old friends." Man, what a liar I could be. The only friends I had here were mom and Victor and mom was dead. I pretty well knew where I'd find her. "Have you contacted any of your friends, yet?" "No sir, I just arrived about an hour ago. It seems too late to call anyone at this point." It was 10:00 after all. "So do you have any plans for what's left of the evening?" "No, not really. I figured I'd eat and go back to my motel. It was a long ride from Amarillo." I was beginning to become a little suspicious of this guy. He was too friendly and wanted to know too much about me. 'Was this guy trying to pick me up?' I wondered. 'If he was, would I let him?' "You mean you don't plan on finding a girl to spend the night with you? Or hit any of the bars in town?" "Umm, no I don't think so." "It would be a shame not to do something your first night in town. We do have some pretty nice places to go." "Really?" I asked. "I don't remember much of anything to do when I lived here before." "How long have you been away?" "Four years." "You haven't been here in all that time." "No sir." I couldn't figure out how this conversation was going to end. The guy was certainly attractive enough. I was horny enough. A romp in the sack would not be an unpleasant thing. But of course I had no idea what this guy would be into, if he was gay. I could be getting in over my head. "Do you have a car? The public transportation system here hasn't improved any in four years. Cabs are expensive. Unless your friends have a way to get you around, you're going to be pretty well stuck." "No car. And I'm not sure my friends have cars either, for that matter. The ones I really want to see may not even still live here. I haven't heard from them in a while." "Where are you staying?" I gave him the name of the motel "That dump! If the bugs don't carry you away, the thieves and addicts will. I have an idea . . ." I kind of figured he might. "Let's go get your shit. You can stay with me tonight and tomorrow I'll drive you where you want to go." OK, that did it. This guy was definitely interested in doing more than being a good Samaritan and talking to a lonely service man. I wondered how many times he had pulled this approach. Now all I had to do was decide whether he would be successful with me. I looked the man over again. He was probably old enough to be my father. He appeared to be in good shape. He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, pulling his shirt tighter against his chest. It was a good chest, obviously muscular. His abdomen looked tight and firm. I thought he was trying to entice me with the sight of his body. It was working. There was definite movement in the crotch of my trousers. A man had never picked me up before. When I lived here, my only sexual experiences had been with my fist. There was never the opportunity to get picked up while I was away. I adjusted my hardening dick in my trousers. Even without wearing skivvies, it was getting awfully bunched up down there. The man seemed to notice my discomfort and smiled. If he'd been Black, his smile would have rivaled either Raphe's or Jasper's. It was a great smile. "Thank you for the offer, Sir. But I'd hate to impose on you. After all we've not been formally introduced," I said in my best Southern Belle imitation. I even batted my eyes at him. "You're right. We haven't been, have we. My name is Philip Shirley." I reached out my right hand to shake with him. "I'm JJ Robinson . . . Not meaning to be rude, Sir, but is your last name really Shirley?" "It shirley is, young man," he said laughing at his joke. I could feel my cheeks growing pink with embarrassment. "Don't be embarrassed, I get that question or one quite like it all the time." "Well JJ, now that the introductions are over, though perhaps not in the best southern manner," he said in an equally good Southern Belle style, "But I doubt we have any mutual friend to make it formal. Will you take me up on my offer?" "Yes, Sir. And I thank you. That motel just barely beats living on the street." "Good. If you're finished eating, we can go." I let Philip start to lead the way out of the shop to his car. That way I could get a better look at his ass as it moved against his tight Levi's. 'It was a nice view,' I mused. His walking posture was erect, as if at one time he had been in the military, possibly even the Marines. But I thought it strange he hadn't mentioned that fact earlier while trying to seduce me. We didn't have far to walk before reaching Philip's car. He unlocked the passenger door, opened it and ushered me in. He walked around the front to get into the driver's seat. His body showed off nicely against the overhead streetlight. Philip's car was not brand new, but was a very well cared for late model Buick. For some reason the thought came to me that he was not a poor man, but probably not one of the great oil barons that still populated Tulsa. Not that his money would have anything to do with me, of course. It was just an observation. After stopping at my motel to retrieve my sea-bag and checking me out, we drove without conversation out of the downtown area north into what had at one time been an exclusive Tulsa neighborhood. Now the area was generally run down with only a few of the houses falling into the 'well-cared for' category. Just as I expected, the house beside the driveway we drove into, was one of those 'well- cared for'. We went into the house. It was a beautiful, very comfortable two-story bungalow. The wood floors and trims gleamed when Philip turned on the lights. "Follow me, I'll show you to your room." 'OK', I thought. 'Why do I rate a room? Maybe he wants me to have a place to sleep after he has his will with me. But why not in his bed?' I followed Philip up the stairs to a room with a dormer overlooking the street. There was a double four poster bed, dresser, and a chest where people would hang clothes. There was no closet. "The bathroom is down the hall, first door on the left. I'll put out a towel for you. Make yourself home and don't worry about breakfast. We'll eat whenever you get up. I'm an early riser but I'll try to be quiet and not wake you." I looked over at Philip, surprise written all over my face. He looked at me. Smiled his infectious smile. Then laughed softly. "What's wrong JJ? Is there a problem?" "I . . . I . . . don't . . . uh . . . I don't . . . uh." "Cat got your tongue?" "Uh, sir?" Philip laughed again. Then a look of understanding came across his brow. Now I understood the light bulb appearing over a person's head in the cartoons. "JJ, did you expect I asked you here for some reason other than offering you a bed?" "Uh, sir . . . Yeah I guess I did. I'm beginning to feel really embarrassed right now, sir." "You thought I was trying to pick you up for sex?" "Uh . . . Yes, sir. Weren't you?" "JJ, you are a very attractive young man and yes I am gay. But I don't make a habit of trying to score with every attractive man I meet. All I'm offering is a place to stay while you are in Tulsa and a car to get you in touch with your friends-if you want it. Besides it's late and as I said, I'm an early riser. I don't think I'd have the energy right now to do what I might otherwise want to do with you. Go to bed; get a good night's sleep and we'll talk tomorrow." "Thank you, sir," I said while the color burned in my cheeks and down my neck. Philip left the room, closing the door behind him. As I began to undress for a shower and bed, I looked more closely around the room. 'I really must learn to be more observant, more quickly,' I thought. On the wall opposite the bed there hung a crucifix. On the other walls were several paintings, all abstract. One in particular attracted my attention. It was in a plain wood frame. I walked over to it, but on close examination, couldn't see much to it. I backed away. It appeared that right in the center was a naked torso. Above that a black swatch-could be a man's head-bowed. Yes, there are his arms, legs. On the torso was a red splotch right where his side should be. I looked at the crucifix and back at the painting. 'That's an abstract of the crucifixion!' I realized. 'What had I gotten myself into?' Leaving just my trousers on, I walked down the hall and found the bathroom. Entering, I secured the latch. More than anything I needed to piss-which I did. I dropped my trousers, turned on the shower and climbed in. The water felt so good running down my body, but for some reason, even though I'd been horny enough earlier in the evening to go to bed with the first man that offered, I couldn't even get it up for a quick jack-off session. I finished the shower, dried, wrapped the towel around my waist. The house was totally quiet but there were some lights on downstairs. I walked down, expecting to see Philip. There was no one there. Feeling a little foolish at my suspicions, I looked through all the rooms downstairs. I was all alone. Nothing out of order anywhere. I returned upstairs, bare feet padding on the floor and checked out what I could see there. Nothing out of the ordinary. I began to suspect that Philip was what he appeared to be-just a good Samaritan. I returned to the guestroom, hung up my uniform and exhausted, lay down to sleep. I slept well all night. The next morning, I woke, feeling very rested, took care of my business in the bathroom, dressed in trousers, shoes and undershirt and went down stairs. There was the smell of breakfast wafting from the kitchen. I entered to find an older woman standing in front of the stove. It took a minute to realize she wasn't white-she was either a very light colored Black woman or perhaps Mexican. She turned toward me. "Good Morning, honey. I'll bet you're hungry for a really good meal. Sit yourself down and I'll pour you some coffee. Do you have any preference what to eat or will a pile of wheat cakes and sausage be OK?" "Good Morning, ma'am. Thank you. That sounds fine with me." I sat down as the woman poured my coffee and brought it to the table. There were two places set on the table and a pitcher of cream. "Father Philip will be with us pretty soon. I'm sure he's still at his prayers. Now where did he find you?" 'OH, shit.' I thought. 'I accused a priest of trying to pick me up? I guess he really is a good Samaritan.' "Thank you, ma'am. This coffee is very good." She served my food and busied herself with whatever tasks I'd interrupted when I came in. She didn't press for an answer to her question. I didn't offer to tell the story. About that time, Philip entered the room. He was dressed much the same as the night before-Levi's and an open collared shirt. "Mornin', JJ. Did you sleep well?" I stood up as he entered. "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." "Oh, I see Gloria has revealed my secret." "Yes, Sir. Sir about last night, I . . . I . . . didn't." "Son, don't be embarrassed. It was a natural mistake-maybe one I encouraged. Now sit down and eat your breakfast. Gloria hates to have her food get cold . . . Don't you Gloria?" "Father, you know that cold food ain't worth eating. Now you sit down and I'll get your eggs." "Thank you, Gloria." I sat there like a bump and just stared at this man. What the hell had happened last night? Why was I here? What did he want with or from me? Philip began to eat, noticed I was still staring at him with my mouth hanging open. "JJ, eat up. Then we'll get to finding those friends of yours." I ate, still a little shocked at the morning's events. When I finished I asked him to excuse me and went up to the bedroom. I finished dressing and picked up my seabag. I figured it was about time for me to get out of here. But as I came downstairs, Philip was sitting in the living room. He saw my bag. "Whoa, JJ. Where do you think you're going?" "Sir, I made a terrible mistake last night. Don't you want me to go?" "Not at all. Besides I made two offers last night-a bed and a car. If you're ready, we'll get about your business." I left my seabag on the floor by the door and we left. Philip started the engine of the Buick, backed out of the driveway and turned toward downtown. "Now, JJ, where shall we begin? Where do you want to go first?" "I'd like to visit my mother. She's at Rose Hill Cemetery. Do you know . . . of course you know where that is . . ." "JJ quit being so nervous. As delicious as you look, I'm not going to eat you." "But, Sir, I don't understand. You're a priest but you don't dress like one. I could have sworn you were coming on to me last night-the way you'd stretch yourself, displaying your perfect body. Then you don't want to have sex. That's when I first saw the crucifix and the painting. Could you explain what's going on?" "Of course. I'm being terribly rude and secretive and there's no reason why I should be. I guess I'm just missing some of the mysteries in life . . . You're right I am a priest-an Episcopal priest. I'm also gay and I thought that the easiest way to get you out of danger was to come onto you. That place you planned to stay is a den of thieves and cutthroats. I was surprised your seabag was still in your room when we picked it up. If you'd stayed there, the chances were pretty good you wouldn't wake up today and no one would ever know you were here. OK?" "Yes, Sir." "Now to the rest of it. I was in the Chaplain Corps of the Navy and spent a number of years with the Marines. I have a tender spot for Marines and even would-be Marines. Unfortunately, the service discovered my sexual secret and discharged me with a less than honorable. I lost my benefits and a letter was sent to my bishop. So far I've not been able to be hired by a parish. So I'm a priest on leave of absence until the bishop decides what to do with me, if anything." "So you pick up lonely Marines and take them home with you. Right?" Philip laughed. "I guess that's about it. And you did look lonely, not to mention a little overwhelmed by being out in civilian life again. Now tell me what we're doing today and why. I have a feeling you may not have been perfectly honest with me last night." I looked a bit sheepish. "My mother died two years ago. My step-dad refused to let me come home for the funeral. First I want to visit her grave." "OK. A good move. Then what?" "I want to look up my step brother." "Not your step-dad?" "Hell, no . . . Excuse me Sir. That is the one thing I'd never want to do unless it was to strangle the life out of him." "OK. Then that's our itinerary." After a few minutes we arrived at the cemetery where I was sure mother was buried. However, I had no idea where in the cemetery the grave was located so we had to stop at the office. It took a few minutes for the office secretary to find the proper entry and send us on our way. I paid my respects and promised her I would return later. The presence of Philip may have hampered my visit and maybe that was good. But I at least had been here and done something toward settling my peace with her. Barry had placed a nice monument on the grave but added insult with the notation, "Mother of her beloved Victor". For a few minutes I saw red, to say the least. Philip placed a hand on my shoulder to calm me. His touch had the desired effect. Philip then drove me to our old house. It was NOT in one of the more fashionable sections of town. As I've said, I was born on the wrong side of the tracks. Without thinking carefully of what we were doing, I directed Philip to the house by the shortest route possible, which took us by Barry's church. I was shocked when I saw and recognized the building and even more so when I saw the sign out front. "CHURCH OF THE HOLY GHOST -- WHERE THE BIBLE IS TAUGHT THE WAY IT WAS WRITTEN--PASTOR, Barry Reingold" "Holy Shit! Goddamn it to Hell." That man had taken control of the church. I screamed my frustration and pounded on the dashboard of Philip's Buick. He placed his hand on the back of my neck. "JJ, do you know that man?" "Yes Sir, he's my step-father. How could that son of a bitch ever become a pastor? He doesn't understand the meaning of love-much less the Love of God! How could he be a minister?" "I don't know that JJ. All I can tell you is that Barry Reingold is the greatest bigot I've ever known." "You know him? How. . .? "How do I know him? He's made quite a name for himself in the whole eastern half of Oklahoma. Even though I've not had a parish in Tulsa for a long time and don't have an assignment now, I've worked with the InterChurch Council of Ministers. He opposes everything that he believes is ungodly change. He opposes everything in the community that smacks of change-everything from increasing racial integration of the schools to allowing woman pastors to join the Council. "The city council created a human and civil rights committee. He's opposed that group in everything. The last mayor proposed a change in the civil service that would forbid discrimination against gays working for the city. Your step dad brought such pressure from his congregation, through the press-even TV that the mayor was defeated in the next election and the proposal was shelved-indefinitely. I don't think he and I serve the same god at all, JJ. I can see why you might want to strangle him. I've had the same urge several times." I told Philip what happened between Barry, Victor and me-leaving out the more erotic details, of course. After all the man is a priest! "But you want to find Victor?" "Yes, Sir, if that's possible . . . If you'll turn left here, we'll be on my street." Philip drove slowly down my block. The neighborhood looked more run down than I remembered it. That included my house. It needed paint. The grass wasn't mowed. It was showing signs of serious neglect. "Sir, we never had a great house and this was never a great neighborhood. But there's no reason for that house looking that way." I sobbed quietly, remembering the care mother always took with our home. Barry had done a number on her, even in her death. We stopped in front of the house. I just sat there staring, not making a move toward getting out of the car. "Are you going to see if Victor is home?" "Sir, I don't think I can," I said with tears flowing down my cheeks. "Would you like me to?" "I . . .I . . .don't know." "JJ, we have to do something about that stutter," Philip teased. "I'd be happy to go to the door. If Victor is here, we'll arrange a visit if that's possible. If he's not, maybe his dad will tell me where he is. He might not tell you." "Thank you Sir. I'd appreciate that." Philip went to the door and knocked. After a few minutes, the door opened. It was Victor! My God! But he looked great! I started to open the door and go up to the house. Philip looked back at me and held up a hand as if telling me to stay in the car. I waited. My brother and the priest talked for a few minutes. Victor shut the door behind him and walked toward me. "JJ! God I'm glad to see you." "Me too Victor. It's been so long." Victor climbed in the back seat of the car, Philip behind the wheel. He pulled the car away from the curb as quickly as possible. "Dad is home, JJ. I didn't want him to see you here. I don't know how but he could cause problems for you." "I'm going to take you two boys to my house," Philip explained. "Then you can have a nice talk and decide what if anything else you want to do." Even before getting to Philip's place, we began sharing our news. I'm sure the priest was getting an ear full. We went into his house; Gloria fixed us coffee and eventually fed us both lunch and later, dinner. Victor and I had a lot to talk about. He told me about Tom Matthews; I told him about Jasper. He told me about the wrestling team; I described life in the Institute. Philip hung around for a while and then left on some of his own errands. It was a great day! By 11:00 we were exhausted-even Philip. "Victor," he said, "Can you arrange to stay over tonight? I'd hate to see you two have to break up this meeting and run the risk of not getting back together." "Sure Sir. I'm sure dad's had some kind of meeting at church to attend this evening. He'll never notice I'm not there. He's pretty used to me leaving without telling him where I'm going or when I'll be back. He'd prefer me to leave and just never come back, I'm sure." "Then JJ will show you the room he is using. You two can continue your reunion-however you want to." Philip looked at me and winked. "Whatever you two want, just make yourselves at home." Victor and I went up the stairs, undressed and I suggested we might want to shower. "JJ, I'd rather wait until in the morning, if that's OK with you. Go ahead if you want." "No, morning will be fine with me too, Victor. I'm sure we'll have time." We crawled into bed. I reached around Victor's shoulders and pulled him close to me. "JJ, we can't. He's a priest, for god's sake." "Victor, he's a gay priest and he told us to make ourselves at home. For four years I've wanted to hold you in bed again. If it hadn't been for Raphe and Jasper I would have gone crazy moping over you." "You loved Jasper, didn't you JJ?" "With all my heart. And I still do. Maybe I always will. But I love you too Vicky. It's a different kind of love. But I love you too." Holding Victor in my arms brought back the memories of Jasper and me lying in bed, especially after having sex. Even when we just went to sleep the closeness of our bodies had given me a feeling of peace and contentment that can only come from love. And now holding Victor . . . He was the first man or boy that had been this close to me in over a year. It felt strange. It felt . . . Geez, I don't know how I can describe how it felt. It just felt damned good. I tried unsuccessfully to hold back my tears. I was lying on my back. Victor cuddled closer to me, pressing his body against my side. I cold feel the hardness of cock against my leg. Victor pulled me into a tight hug. His head was lying on my shoulder, his fingers trailing along my chest. "JJ I've never felt about any one the way you loved Jasper. Not even you-even in my dreams-and I've dreamed about you a lot. So far when I've been with a guy, it's just been basically to get off my rocks." I pulled him closer to me. "JJ have you been with anyone since Jasper died?" "Just Sgt. Flood". I told Victor about Flood's sexual therapy. "Otherwise its just been me and me." Victor laughed softly at me. "JJ, are you sure you want to do this?" "Do what?" "You know, have . . ." "Sex? Yes I want to have sex. I want to do it with you brother." "But it's not because you love me, is it? Not the way you loved Jasper. You just need a body." "I don't know, Vic. I do love you, bro. But . . ." "Yeah, I know, JJ. You still have some healing to do." "I just need some time, Victor. Is it OK with you if we just lie here like this? This feels awfully good." "It's fine with me, bro. It feels good to me too." Eventually we fell to sleep, not waking until after 9:00. We showered, separately, went downstairs where Gloria fixed us a grand breakfast of omelet's and biscuits with piles of butter. Philip joined us there. Victor and I were discussing immediate plans. My plans were pretty well set in concrete-I'd be leaving shortly for San Diego and MCRD. Until then I was fluid. Victor explained, "I have a wrestling scholarship to UCLA. I'll be going there in about two months. Until then I pretty well have to stick it out with dad--unless he kicks me out first. My eighteenth birthday is next week. He's said I'd only have a place with him until then. After that I'm strictly on my own." Philip asked him, "Do you have any place to stay if he does kick you out?" "No, not really. Tom has offered to put me up until I leave. His folks have plenty of room but I'd not feel right mooching off them for two months. He said not to worry about that, though because I can join him in his dad's construction business as a temporary employee. I'd make some money to get to LA as well as have money to live on until I leave. After that I have to find a job. That's one reason I want to get out there before school starts." "Would you want to stay here until JJ leaves? It would give you two a chance to get to know each other again." "Sir, that would be great," we answered in unison. "Then that part is settled. Victor how much do you need to pack before you leave Barry's house?" "Just some clothes, my computer, a few odds and ends. It'll take me about an hour." "How would your dad feel if you left before he kicked you out? I mean you may move over today as far as I'm concerned." "I think," Victor said thoughtfully, "He would be overjoyed. He'd see it as a sign from heaven that he'd made the right decision in letting me stay in his house only as long as was legally necessary. However, he might try to make things difficult for you Philip if he knew where I was going. Dad has expressed a lot of anger at home about the InterChurch Council letting a fag into the membership." "We don't have to worry about what he might do to me, Victor. You're the one who is important here. There's no way your father can hurt me any more than my own Church has done. Don't make a decision based on my account. Besides, it is only temporary." "Sir could we do it now?" I asked. "I see no reason not to. Do you Victor? Think we can get you out today?" "Without question. Even if dad is home, I'll just tell him I'm leaving. He'll probably throw a celebration-make my leaving day a High Holy Day in his calendar." We laughed at that, but I wondered if things would go as smoothly as Victor thought. As it turned out, getting Victor's stuff out of Barry's house went without a hitch. Barry wasn't there. Philip made sure Victor left a note for Barry telling him he was OK and that Barry no longer needed to be concerned that Victor would reappear on his doorstep. I thought that move was more than Barry deserved. Gloria made a wonderful dinner for us that night, which she had left in the warming oven. The woman did have a life to lead besides caring for two boys and a suspended priest. We enjoyed the time together in a mood of celebration. Victor and I trooped off to bed. As the night before, we undressed and climbed in together, both naked. Victor curled up in my arms and fell asleep. I lay awake for a while, marveling at the friendship being shown by Philip and the reunion with my brother. The days and nights passed as they have a habit of doing-without monumental events. We just gloried in being alive. Victor and I developed a stronger bond than we'd had time to do before I was sent away. We heard nothing from Barry or about him. The time was spent comfortably. We did have one visitor that I hadn't expected. Victor contacted Tom and confirmed that he would be moving in with him for a short time (after I left). Tom came around a couple of times. At first I was probably distant from my tormentor but eventually warmed to him. He wasn't such a bad guy after all. It was getting close to the time I had to leave for MCRD. In fact I had two more days before catching the Greyhound. Victor and I had slept together for three weeks, always curled into the other's body, but as brothers-not as lovers. Victor was lying against me on his side. I was on my back. He raised up on one elbow, looked at me and began to stroke my chest, ever so lightly with just his finger tips. "JJ you haven't had sex with anyone since Jasper died" "No, just my hand," laughing lightly. "Is that what you intend doing for the rest of your life? Bro, it's been more than a year. It's time for you to start playing in the pool again, don't you think?" "No . . ." "Don't you like having sex with another guy? You know, not making love; just having good old sex?" "I don't know, Victor. Come to think of it I've only had any kind of sex with you and Jasper. That bit of therapy with Flood doesn't really count, does it?" "Not if you don't want it to, I guess. But you mean you've never been turned on enough to just meet a guy and have a romp with him?" "I thought that was going to happen when Philip picked me up. But I wasn't sure I could go through with it. I think I was actually relieved when it didn't." "There wasn't one boy at the Institute who wanted you in his bed-even for one night?" "I guess there were a couple of guys who were willing. I just couldn't get excited about them." "Then you probably missed some really great opportunities. Bro, you're not a monk. You're a Marine, or at least soon will be. You can't go through life without at least finding someone to give you release." I could feel Victor's hard meat pressing against my leg. My piece was getting stiffer. Victor had begun to strum a nipple-just the way Jasper would when he wanted to make love. It was having the same impact on that fellow between my legs. "Bro, that's not normal. You have to hook with someone sometime. Otherwise how are you going to know when you find Mr. Right again? After all there has to be more than just one man out there for you. I know there has to be several for me. I just haven't found him yet." Victor kept playing with my nip. We hadn't turned off the lights yet and obviously he could see the effect he was having on me. I wrapped my arm around Victor's shoulders. "What do you have in mind, brother?" "You're getting ready to leave and I've wanted to be with you all this time. I think it's time for us." He bent his head down to my face, locked onto my lips and kissed me applying increasing pressure. His tongue slipped into my mouth and began working itself around my tongue. "Oh Vic . . ." I said wrapping my other arm around him and pulling him onto me. "Yes it's time. I want you so badly." Victor broke our kiss and began licking my cheeks, feeling the day's growth of stubble. He proceeded down my neck, nibbling me and sucking on me as he went. He sucked hard enough I was sure there would be a hickey-one, if not several, that would be visible above my shirt collar. Vic continued to kiss and lick down to my chest where he attacked a nipple, nibbling with some force-just enough to cause a little pain, not hard enough to really hurt. All the while he stroked my cock, bringing it to full hardness. "JJ, I want you inside of me. I want you to fuck me. Please, JJ. My ass wants the feel of your cock inside-inside of me. Please." "Ohhh, yes Vicky, I want to fuck your butt. I guess I've wanted it since the day we met. I just never recognized what I wanted." I remembered what Raphe had said-"But you wanted to fuck him didn't you?" I pushed Victor onto his back and lifted his legs over his head. His cock was already producing large amounts of pre- cum. I could feel my lube dripping between my legs; afraid I'd cum before I could mount him. He wrapped his legs around my ass pulling me into him. I lubed his ass with my pre-cum, added some spit and placed my cock against his hole. Slowly I applied pressure against his opening, forcing it to open. Victor moaned loudly as I breached his muscle and found my way inside of him. I applied more spit to where I had entered him and pulled out of him far enough to collect the natural lube. The inside of his body was warm and wet, anticipating the fuck that was coming to him. Victor stroked his cock in rhythm to my fucking motions. His body thrashed against me, rising as I pushed in and lowering himself as I pulled out. We both were moaning, joining in an erotic song of two men who were finding release. "Vicky, I'm cumming. I'm sorry I can't hold back any longer. I'M CUMMING!" "Go with it JJ, I'm cumming too. Fuck me to make me cum. Fuck my bitch ass!" Our orgasms came as close to the same time as any two boys could. His splattered against my chest with such force it dripped from me onto him. My load coated the insides of his tunnel, filling him completely. Some dribbled out of his hole, sliding onto my testicles and dripping onto the bed between us. For the next couple of days we enjoyed each other's company, feeling a certain sadness in our imminent separation. Our nights included some form of sex. Victor never tried to fuck me as I had him. I'm not sure whether he didn't want to and found my cock in his ass sufficient or that he felt my fear or my reluctance in taking him. That's just the way it was I guess. Our last day together, Tom came over to help Victor get his stuff together and move it to his house to live until both boys would head out for college. The three of them, Philip, Tom and Victor took me to the bus terminal and watched as the bus pulled away. I watched them out the window. Tom wrapped an arm around Victor's shoulders in a comforting way. It looked as if Victor might be crying. Tom was pulling Vic into a closer hug as the bus turned down the street leading to Interstate 44. I was on my way to becoming a real Marine. Twelve weeks of Boot Camp was a terrible experience for most of the guys in my platoon. But I had already experienced everything Boot Camp could deliver. Sgt. Flood andWTMI had prepared me well. No matter what else the instructors there did they saw to it that we were ready for any of the services after leaving the Institute. But my Boot Camp platoon included none of my old friends. Most of the guys had already reported and were several weeks ahead of me. But in my platoon, I was the cock-of-the-walk and left Boot with a free set of dress blues and my first stripe. It was during ICT (Individual Combat Training) that I met Frank Jameson. Frank was a Navy corpsman attached to the Marines at Camp Pendelton and just one of several corpsmen who gave us our physicals as we entered this second phase of our Marine training. But he stood out among all the others. Of course, at the time I knew only his last name, embroidered on his tunic-"Jameson". I wouldn't know his first name until a couple of weeks later. In many ways this corpsman reminded me of Doc Russell. Frank was younger than Doc, but still fifteen years older than me. He was wearing the standard white uniform of a corpsman-tight white tunic or blouse and white trousers that hid very little of what was obviously a nice piece of meat. He was, in short, a hot looking man! As the physical progressed, I found myself wishing I would be able to get to know him very well-and very soon. There I was in a company of one hundred other men; all naked waiting for our physicals and the only one who struck my fancy was wearing a white uniform with Marine Corps chevrons on his sleeve. He was also older than any other man in the room. He was old enough to be my father; if I'd ever had one. That night, after lights out, I stroked my cock using Frank as the basis of my fantasy and remembered his touch on my genitals as he checked for a hernia. I had actually come very close to throwing a boner when he touched me. Later as we were examined for hemorrhoids I spread my ass extra wide because Frank was in charge of that inspection too. In my fantasy, Frank was performing his inspection for hernia on me. "Turn your head," he said. "Cough". I had thrown a rod every time Doc Russell had performed this examination. But I was just a horny teenaged male. Fortunately in Frank's real inspection I had been able to control that impulse. But fantasies are made for exploration and in mine both corpsmen were giving the inspection. I could feel my cock growing hard. I did as he said, turned and coughed, but also let out a small whimper. He pulled the skin back from my cock head. My cock grew harder. He pulled the skin back over the glans. My cock grew still harder. Frank then began to stroke my cock in a slow easy rhythm, my cock growing harder with each stroke. His other hand played with my nuts, pulling on their sack, twisting them until they hurt. But the hurt felt good, pleasurable, much more so than when I did it to myself. Then he pulled my cock into his mouth and began to suck. His hands reached behind my ass and pulled me closer to him. A finger slipped into my hole and he began to finger-fuck me in time to his sucking motions. It didn't take long before I was roaring with pleasure as my cum shot from me into Frank's waiting mouth. One, two, three, four big shots of cum spilled out of my cock and down his throat. My screams of pleasure increased in volume and ferocity with each shot. Suddenly there was laughter all around me. The barracks lights came on as everyone hooted and hollered at my exhibition. Then applause. The second weekend of ICT arrived and I took liberty in San Diego. It was the first liberty I'd had since entering Boot Camp and I wanted to go to the docks and watch the ships come in and depart. I wanted to be alone. I was dressed in civvies, but it was pretty obvious I was a Marine. My walk, my haircut, even the way I stood gave me away immediately. I noticed other men strolling along the walk. Several of whom spoke, "Hello" or "Good Morning", but I wasn't interested. I was there to see the ships and maybe, just maybe catch sight of that very HOT corpsman. I have no idea why I thought he might be on the docks-except that he was a sailor. Where else would a sailor be on a beautiful Saturday morning? I had been cruising the docks for about an hour when I hit pay dirt. There was Frank, dressed in civvies, short Marine style haircut, sitting on a piling looking out to sea. I walked up to him. "Good Morning, Doc", I said. Frank looked over at me, flashed a smile, and said, "Good Morning, Marine". This chance meeting convinced me that there is validity in signs. I wanted to see him naked. I wanted to feel his body. Without question, I wanted this man! I sat on the piling next to him, looking at the ships moored in the harbor. We exchanged pleasantries. He asked where I was from. "Tulsa, Oklahoma. I lived there all my life until I was sent to WTMI." Frank had heard of the school, even knew a few men who had attended there. "I'm from Stillwater. Do you know where that is?" "Of course. Lots of my teachers were from OSU." He offered me a cigarette, which I took. I'd tried cigarettes when I was about ten years old but beyond making me cough and want to puke they'd not done much for me. I hadn't tried them since; not even wanting to try them. But this man offered, I accepted. Looking back on that experience, I guess I would have accepted anything he gave me. Having found some common ground besides the Marines we talked, sitting on our respective pilings, for a couple of hours. He was an easy man to talk to. We discussed our decisions to enter the service, why I was sent to WTMI, my mother, his parents. We seemed to explore every topic of conversation two men could have. Except we never discussed football, something every good Okie is supposed to know about. Frank had wrestled in high school and at the university. I told him my brother was at UCLA on a wrestling scholarship. We sat and talked, filling periods of silence by pulling smoke into our lungs and watching it drift out to sea. That is all I remember of the conversation. By the time we left the dock the sun was over the yardarm and Frank offered to buy me a beer. I was only eighteen, but that didn't bother the bar keep at the dingy little place Frank picked out. The bar was not full, but there was a good crowd, all men, most were shirtless, wearing only tight fitting Levis or Wranglers. Frank pulled off his top as we waited for our drinks. Not to be out done and to prove I'd had experience in what was obviously a gay bar, I stripped to the waist as well. It was then that I noticed Frank had a ring through his left nipple. Not a big ring, about 5/8 inches in diameter. As we drank, Frank pulled the ring, deep in thought. He turned to me, reached over and around my body. He ran his hand lightly across my back. He pulled me closer, reached around my body and began to run his finger across my nip. Without question, that was the right move to seduce me. Immediately my cock went hard and began to push against the hard denim of the Wranglers I'd bought at the Base Exchange just that week. My hard-on was very obvious. Frank pulled me closer to him and kissed me, a hard kiss on my mouth, his tongue pushing past my lips and far down my throat. He pressed our bodies together, bare chest to bare chest, pelvis and hard-on pressed to hard-on. "Lets go to my apartment", he whispered in my ear. All I could do was pant a very soft, "Yes, Sir". I knew at that moment I was in love. Well at least I was in lust and for the moment that was close enough. Arriving at his off base apartment, Frank immediately kicked off his boots and pulled down his jeans, revealing his beautiful cut cock, already hard, with a drop of pre-cum glistening on the tip. He ripped at my jeans pulling the fly open without bothering to pull down the zipper. There was a rip and I was equally naked. Frank grabbed me by my shoulders and pushed me to my knees. His cock looked enormous from this viewpoint. We had been outside almost all day and though it never gets hot in San Diego the way it does in Oklahoma or the Texas Panhandle, it had been a warm day. Being so close to Frank's cock, I could smell the perfumes rising out of his crotch. It was a divine mixture of smells. I took Frank's cock into my mouth, hoping that a quick blowjob was not all this sailor was looking for. I knew I was going to want a lot more. I sucked him into my mouth all the way to his pubic hair. I tightened my mouth and throat around his dick and began to suck. His cock tasted as good as his crotch smelled. The taste was better than any "real food" I'd ever tasted. The thought crossed my mind that Marines and gay men always called sailors `sea food'; but believe me, Frank tasted nothing like fish. His dick was not what one could describe as being huge. After all some men have to be average sized or else what would be the attraction of the porn industry. (And yes I had managed to see a few porn flicks over the last four years.) But Frank couldn't be called average either-about a nice 6 1/2 or 7 inches of very solid, very thick cock. But his nuts!! My god, they were huge. No wonder he showed such a big basket in his whites. I played with those low hangers with one hand while sucking his cock. The odors from his body intensified. There was now the smell of a man in rut, a strong smell, rising from his body, not just his crotch; it emanated from every pore. They say most of taste has to do with smell and his cock had to be the most delicious piece of meat I'd ever find. But his nuts lay in their sack waiting to be eaten and I love nuts. I replaced my mouth with a hand, continuing to stroke his lube-slicked dick as I dove for one of his orbs. One was all I could take into my mouth at a time and I had to open wide to get it. Frank moaned loudly as I attacked his ball. It was covered with a thick growth of hair, which held his enticing scents close to my nose. When I had run my tongue over his sack enough to clean it of its tastes, I went after the other nut in that sack. It was equally delicious. Frank thrust his body into my hand trying to drive himself to orgasm. But a hand job wasn't going to fill the bill. Frank was getting too close if I was going to get his seed. I took his cock back into my mouth just as he let loose with a cannon shot. He blew hard blasts that hit the back of my throat; I pulled back just a bit to catch the next shots on my tongue. There were several more bursts of cream, which I caught and savored before swallowing. At the last minute I remembered how much I enjoyed receiving my cum from Jasper's tongue. I saved the last blast to give back to Frank. As his orgasm ended I crawled to a standing position, to his mouth and gave him a deep tongue. He sucked his cum from my tongue, moaning loudly as he did. Frank took my hand and led me into his bedroom, pushing me flat on my back onto the bed. He spread my knees apart and closed in on my cock. His touch was so gentle; I hardly realized what he was doing, at first. He kissed the tip of my exposed cock, at the same time pulling my foreskin back, moaning as the scent of fresh cheese hit his nose. Frank's tongue entered the slit; then his mouth closed down on me and without moving his head, just tightening and relaxing his throat muscles, he began to suck. He dropped his mouth's attention to my balls, taking one, then both into his mouth. His saliva rained down my balls, to that area behind them that led to my ass hole. He grabbed my ankles and forced me to lift my legs over my head. Frank stopped sucking and began licking up his spit, moving closer and closer to my very excited hole. My ass trench was exposed to him. He licked down the trench, bypassing the hole until I thought he had forgotten all about it. I growled loudly, "Give me your tongue Frank. Fuck my hole with your tongue." His tongue entered me. He fucked my ass with his tongue, then with a finger. My cock jumped anticipating the reception of his cock in my ass. Sometimes I have a hair trigger on my cock and it fires at the most inconvenient times. Frank's sucking my ass and exploring my ass with his fingers hit the button, causing me to shoot a stream of hot fluid over his head, onto his back. Frank didn't pause in what he was doing. He continued finger fucking me, playing with my balls with his other hand, keeping my cock from ever going soft. He climbed onto the bed, forced me over onto my stomach, pulled me into a kneeling position and began to give me the most exciting rim job I would ever experience. He pushed two fingers into my hole, working them in and out, massaging my prostate I kept pushing back onto his hand. I wanted more. I wanted his hard cock to fill my virgin hole. I was not to be disappointed. "Turn over, JJ. I want to watch your face as I fuck you." I turned onto my back and Frank entered my body with one forceful push. "FRANK!" I screamed as he entered me. "Frank, it hurts! Stop, Frank! I can't do this . . .Aww, FUC . . . Frank that feels GOOD. DON'T STOP. FUCK ME FRANK. DON'T EVER STOP. FUCK MY MAN CUNT! FUCK IT GOOD!" There was no gentleness in his fuck. He'd opened me up just enough with his fingers to get his cock inside me and once there, he fucked as if the world depended on his fuck to continue rotating. Without stopping he quickly established a rhythm-in and out feeling like he was pulling my insides out and then forcing them back in. His thrusts were hard, brutal, knocking the bed against the wall each time he entered me. I was on cloud nine. I'd never been fucked; thinking it would be dirty, nasty. But nothing that felt this good could possibly be anything but heaven. The smell of Frank's body, the look on his face as he rammed himself into me reduced me to a gibbering idiot. All I could see, all I could feel was centered around my ass and Frank's power driving thrusts into my very soul. I wanted to be here forever, the object of his lust. The object of his love? Maybe. But for now this fuck was the center of my world. Frank was pounding my body as if he had not cum in months, instead of just a few minutes before. I wasn't in any better shape. I joined his fucking motions by thrusting into his lunges. He was hitting by button hard, forcefully. There was no slowing him. He was hell bent for leather to join our bodies together. "FRANK, I'M CUMMMMMMMMMING. I'M CUMMMMMMMMMMING." He joined my chorus with a loud bull like voice. My spunk shot from the head of my cock, spraying between our bodies, gluing us tightly together. I could feel the hot liquid of his cum filling my body. It spilled out of my ass as he pulled back and forced himself back into me-pumping his cum into my body and then sucking it out again. The hot cream coated my insides and the outside of my ass. He collapsed on top of me, lying without movement except for our joint heavy breathing. The stench of hot men surrounded our bodies as we lay panting for breath. His cock softened as our breathing came under control and slipped out of my ass, leaving a snail's trail of lava as it fell out. He lowered his face to mine. We kissed softly, tenderly, passion spent but not wanting to break all of our body connections. After a few minutes, Frank rolled off of me, lying on his side next to me, facing me. "That was the fuck of a century, JJ. I've never felt that way with any man I've known. It was wonderful." "I never dreamed it could be like that. It was the most incredible thing that has ever happened to me. Can we do it again?" Frank laughed at me. "Sure, Sport. As often as you want. But not right now!" He looked into my face, "That was your first fuck wasn't it?" "Yes, Sir", was all I could say. "Then Marine, your ass belongs to me. No matter how many dicks find they're way inside your body, and I'm sure there will be many, you'll always remember I was the first." At that moment, I wanted him to be the only man to ever enter my ass. We slept that night, Frank lying against my back, one arm across my shoulders and around my chest. My dreams were peaceful, recalling my first fuck. Several times I woke feeling his body protecting me, cuddling me as if I were his lover-not just a one-night trick. That idea was most appealing. I woke the next morning feeling Frank's cock pressed against my ass-just as so many mornings at WMTI, I woke with Jasper's cock in the same position. For a moment I forgot where I was and what had happened to that first love. Hot tears trailed down my cheek. I guess we never forget our first loves but I also knew I had found someone who could take away the hurt of that memory. "Good Morning, Love," Frank whispered in my ear. "Did you sleep OK?" "Hmm, yes, Frank, I slept great. Are you going to use that piece of meat I feel pressed against my ass? Or may I have it?" Frank laughed gently. "You think you can take another round this soon?" "Just try me!" I responded turning onto my stomach to give him full access to my well-used ass. Frank leaned across me to get the KY from the drawer in the bed table, squirted a glob into my crack as I spread my cheeks for him. He massaged the lube into my hole, opening it with first one then two, then three fingers. "Fuck me Frank. I'm ready. I want you inside of me." This morning's fuck was nothing like the one the night before. Frank was gentle as he lowered his body onto mine, easily inserting his hard meat into my hole. He began his rhythm, slowly, easily, bringing us both to climax. He lay on my back until he softened and slipped out of my man cunt. "Come on, boy," he whispered in my ear. "I need to piss and then we'll have something to eat. I'm sure you need it." We took our turns in the bathroom. Frank fixed omelets, coffee and biscuits-good southern biscuits. We chatted easily as we ate, giving each other short glimpses of our life before the service. When it was time for me to return to base, we found that the zipper of my jeans was beyond use and we had both left our shirts at the bar. I wore a pair of his Navy dungarees and a black tee shirt back to the base. We rarely saw each other on base, but every weekend, if I could get liberty, I headed for the docks, found Frank and we spent our two days away from the macho, hetero-centered world of the Marine Corps fucking ourselves silly. Two years passed two gloriously, wonderful, perfect years. We spent all our free time together. We were in love. One Saturday morning, as we lay in bed in the afterglow of a good morning fuck, Frank announced he was going to leave the Navy. He could retire with a half pension, having spent his twenty years and was ready for something else. He was thirty-seven years old. "But we'll continue to see each other", he said, "I'm staying in Dego. I'm going to finish my master's degree and begin working on a doctorate. I want to teach. I'll be here, until your enlistment is up. If you want to stay in, we can keep the apartment. If you want to go back to Oklahoma, I'll come with you." "Aye, Aye, Sir", I answered. "Whatever you think is best." "Maybe when you get out, you'll use your GI benefits and go to college, too. I might even be your professor," he laughed. "It'd be an easy 'A'". I completed my term of duty, never leaving Camp Pendelton. I was made an instructor at ICT and saw many young men head out to Viet-Nam. Fortunately I never had to go. When my enlistment was up, we moved to Tulsa, Oklahoma where Frank went to work for the university as a graduate assistant while he completed his doctorate. I enrolled as a freshman, also majoring in history. Frank found us a boarding house a couple of miles from campus. Close enough to be able to get to the university, but far enough away to give us the privacy we needed. A sweet, matronly woman who lived on the main floor with her daughter, owned the house. It never seemed to bother them that two men were sharing a room and that sometimes tell- tale noises could be heard, even through the thick walls of the old place. Frank had barely begun his work/study program when a problem began to develop. Some of the local religious zealots, led by Barry Reingold, began to accuse the private university of promoting the "homosexual life-style" by hiring gay and lesbian professors and teachers. Also a story had broken in the local papers that police had arrested several male students having sex in the Library ower. The accusations and denials made big news in both of the Tulsa newspapers. I'm sure their circulation increased greatly. They wouldn't let the story go. The witch-hunt on campus began. Frank wanted nothing more than to become a full professor in history. He knew, however, that the way things were, he wouldn't be hired. The university had always been a liberal institution. There was an active gay/lesbian group on campus. There were several gay instructors. Barry made sure the issue couldn't die. Andrea, our landlady, fully understood our situation and Frank's dilemma. She suggested the best way to divert attention from Frank would be for him to get married. She was an attractive woman, in a matronly way and was not in the least bit interested in having sex with Frank. Andrea had come to like the two of us and she wanted a companion. Frank needed a "beard". Andrea was a devout "cradle" Episcopalian. Her grandfather had helped found the large cathedral type church in downtown Tulsa and had left it a rather large endowment when he died. Her father had helped establish one of the smaller missions of that parish in the eastern part of the city. Andrea continued to support that smaller parish. She wanted to be married in that church. So she and Frank began the counseling that is required by the Episcopal Canon. In the evenings, at home, Frank openly discussed what he had learned. He'd never been associated with any church before entering the Navy and would never have gone if it hadn't been required in the Navy Boot Camp, just as it was at MCRD. So nearly everything he learned was new to him. It was Father Phil, this and Father Phil, that. I wondered whether this could have been Philip Shirley but decided that was not possible. He was gay and had been a suspended priest when I had known him almost five years before. Frank began going to church with Andrea--he though it would make a good impression on the priest who would marry them. Naturally, he eventually insisted that I accompany them, along with Phyllis. I finally agreed to go. We were seated in our pew. The music and procession began and I could have been knocked over with a feather. Bringing up the rear of the procession was indeed MY Father Philip. I could hardly wait for the service to end to tell Frank he was attending a church with GAY priest. "Yeah, I know, JJ. Andrea told me when we began counseling. He was suspended for about two years. But there was a shortage of priests. Holy Cross needed one. She had met Fr. Phil while doing some volunteer work for the diocese, liked him and insisted he be called for her parish. Considering her family's ties, the bishop had little choice. . . . But how do you know him?" I told Frank about meeting Philip those years before. The wedding was held at Holy Cross. A gay man, trying to escape the persecution by homophobic pastor, marrying an older straight woman by a gay priest. It made my head swirl. Of course it was a beautiful wedding. With those two faggots, how could it have been anything else. Being married began to give Frank ideas. Our relationship hadn't really developed into a Daddy/Son relationship but I was always sensitive to what he wanted. Now, having married Andrea, Frank's examination of his life and his own mortality made him decide he wanted a son. A child he could love, nurture and help raise as if it came from his own loins. The idea of adopting a child was never considered. Gay men had not yet broached the idea they could have children through adoption, it being widely accepted that no agency would countenance such an arrangement. To solve the problem, Frank decided that I needed a wife so he could have grandchildren. He talked the situation over with Andrea, who talked to Phyllis and in two months I also was married-to Frank's stepdaughter. With the help of a judge at Holy Cross, I also changed my name to Frank's-he was after all the closest man I'd ever known to being my father and I had little desire to carry on my mother's name. Phyllis and I became Mr. and Mrs. James Joseph Jameson. My job now was to finish university and produce an heir for Frank and Andrea. Surprisingly I didn't find having sex with Phyllis all that bad. It certainly wasn't as dramatic as sex had been with Frank, but it was tolerable. Before long-about two months, in fact, we were able to announce we were pregnant. After I had done my duty to Andrea and Frank, my mind and my cock began to stray. Granted sex with a female was OK, but it wasn't the same as with a man. There were times when Frank and I could get away from our wives and enjoy the pleasures we could give each other. But there were also times, when I would go out by myself and pick up a trick or two at a local bar. So life was good. Even though I was definitely breaking the marriage vow and often felt guilty because of my wanderings, I tried to be discreet. I figured the men I met were actually good for our marriage. Phyllis wouldn't know and I could let my hair down periodically. Our first son, Joe, arrived March 10, 1979 to be followed fifteen months later by Jason-May 20, 1981. So I was performing my husbandly duties. As far as I knew Phyllis never suspected that I was leading a double life. Both boys were baptized at the proper times by Philip with grandma holding them. Frank and Andrea were both happy with our family's growth. Andrea could be mother hen and Frank saw his name being carried into the next generation, even if the boys were not biologically his descendents. He loved playing granddad. But it wasn't all a bed of roses. Andrea died shortly after Jason, the second boy, was born. Frank truly mourned her. She had never put restrictions on his life as long as he was a good companion when she wanted one. I don't believe they ever had a sexual marriage. She seemed totally happy to have a man to care for and to take care of her. The grandchildren had added another joy to her life. Andrea's first husband had been in charge of all their finances increasing the wealth his father had created as an officer in the oil industry. She was frugal with what had been left her and by the time she died, she was a very wealthy woman. It wasn't until her death that Frank discovered how well off she was. He could retire and live quite comfortably for the rest of his life without ever having to worry about money. Thinking his presence might be too much of a burden on Phyllis and me, Frank moved to the house in Jefferson, Texas that Andrea had left him. There was also a farm-actually a small ranch east of Tulsa that Frank also inherited. He wasn't interested in farming or running cattle so he allowed me to handle leasing it to tenants. As long as the lease money was paid, Frank was happy. Andrea left the family property in town-the house we were living in at the time of her death-to Phyllis. Phyllis loved that old house. Her paternal grandfather, beginning in the late teens had built it. It was a large comfortable home near the most fashionable part of old Tulsa. There was an acre of land with a large garden and plenty of trees. It was a beautiful house in every way. Our third son, Ron was born April 13, 1982, on his grandfather's birthday. About a month before Ron was born, Phyllis discovered she had a case of crabs. I tried the old ploy that I'd caught them by using one of the public toilets at the university. but But she wasn't buying any story about toilet seats. Phyllis knew I was gay when we married. She believed she could reform me with marriage and until that moment believed she had. Phyllis was hurt and angry but after I confessed and demonstrated sufficient penance and promised not to do it again, she forgave me and said we could go on as before. However, she took her revenge. She had Ron circumcised totally against my wishes. It would be a reminder, she said later, of my promise to be faithful. Our fourth son, Rob, was born in May two years later, to be followed by David in 1986. I had been faithful to Phyllis for most of that time but I wandered at exactly the wrong time. Phyllis caught me with another man two days before Dave was born. She swore I'd never see her again and if she could arrange it, I'd not see my sons either. Phyllis was not able to arrange the latter idea, but she did the former. When Dave was less than two days old, she slipped out of the hospital and has neither been seen or heard from again. Frank moved back into our home and our lives on a full time basis. His move was supposed to be temporary, but except for occasional trips he makes back to Jefferson, it has become permanent. Thank all the gods he was ther! I had five sons to raise, one being an infant. I don't think I could have made it without Frank's help. He not only made a good grandfather for the boys, he was a great surrogate mother. Whenever the boys got into trouble with me, they ran to granddad. He didn't interfere with the way I was raising the boys, but he did comfort them. He had a knack for healing hurt feelings, scratches on the knees, sore bottoms from a paternal spanking, anything that caused the boy to be upset. He cuddled them, providing them with the physical contact I was afraid to give. Ron was perhaps the closest to his grandfather. I'd often find him curled up in Frank's arms, both of them sound asleep. It was Ron who, for some unfathomable reason began calling his grandfather "Guy". The name stuck. Frank went through his own name change. In a house of boys and men, Guy and I became careless about the way we dressed, or rather didn't dress at home. I guess we didn't realize how much adult male nudity the boys were exposed to until the older ones started running around naked too. After several long conversations, Guy and I decided there was no harm by our nudity or the boys'. Besides it would allow them to grow up without any of the shame or bad feelings about their bodies that was so common in our own generations. The older boys quit wearing underwear or anything to bed. It wasn't long until the whole house was naked. Even Dave, when he came out of diapers was running around the house bare assed. Having the boys sit on our laps did upon occasion create some embarrassment for us. The boys never sat still, causing some serious problems to arise. There wasn't anything sexual about any of this, it just happened. Being natural was becoming a way of life within the family circle. As the boys grew up, hard-ons became a common sight. I'm certain that the three older boys began to experiment sexually with each other as soon as Joe reached puberty. Jason and Ron frequently ribbed Joe about his newfound talent of jacking off and reaching orgasm. But they were close enough in age to him that they soon learned his talent was not unique and practiced their own version of his habit. Neither Guy nor I were ever intimate around the boys beyond being constantly naked. I suppose it happened that one or the other of them saw us kiss or hug, especially early in the morning when Guy was preparing breakfast. I'd often come into the room, hug him from behind, pressing my crotch into his ass. My resulting hard on, though, was never a topic of conversation. In the meantime, it began to appear that all of my boys had the potential for being gay. I know that the three older boys had begun to fool around with each other-going beyond jack off sessions. They never went into detail, but the jokes and banter that went on between them provided plenty of evidence that they had tried oral and possibly anal sex. As I was later to discover, the frequency and passion of their sex lives together far exceeded anything I ever suspected. Guy and I accepted it all. We often worried we were too accepting, but neither of us wanted to be like our so-called fathers had been. No one we knew could be of much help in determining the middle path we should follow. All of our gay friends had horrible experiences with fathers who were afraid of their homosexuality and had treated them accordingly. So we accepted. THERE IS MORE TO COME. WE STILL HAVEN'T GOTTEN TO THE "SONS" PART OF THIS SERIES. THAT COMES NEXT. I know this was a long chapter and the explanation of JJ's and my relationship a bit hurried. I apologize for that, if you didn't like it. But sometimes it seems necessary to move the story along or else this series could exceed the Encyclopedia Britannica for length. I don't see that as a benefit. Thank you for reading all that has passed so far. As we said-many pages ago-comments are welcome. In case you've forgotten my e-mail, it is guyjameson@hotmail.com.