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

Copyright © 2015 by Dennis Milholland – All rights reserved. Other than for private, not-for-profit use, no part of this work may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in any form or by any means, other than that intended by the author, without written permission from the copyright holder.

Careful! This is a work of fiction containing graphic descriptions of sex between males and critiques of religion and governments. And last but not least, Nifty would like your donations.

Farewell, Uncle Ho

by Dennis Milholland

questions and comments are welcome. www.milholland.eu / dennis@milholland.eu

Chapter 48(Sat., March 4)

Gerry and I actually managed to sleep until just after 12 noon. And when I started sucking his hard cock, he interrupted me, because he had to piss. Can't say why, it was just a whim, but I suggested that we both get into the bathtub and piss on each other. As always, he got that cute, naughty grin, with the deep dimples, which told me that he would meet the challenge.

"Have you ever done this, before?" He wanted to know, prior to letting himself agree to anything.

I shook my head, and my cock almost started to ache at the thought. "Not really." My breathing was becoming labored. "I let my childhood friend, Lonnie, piss up my ass once." He looked shocked. "But our biology teacher in high school told us that urine is sterile, so there's no real danger."

His cock looked as if it could explode any moment, and it was leaking something, but I couldn't tell if it was seminal fluid or piss. We hurried into the tub and stood facing each other. Although we each had a major hard-on, the warm stream of morning piss flowed effortlessly. I was the first to taste a sample of his. It was like herbal vinegar with a sweet edge to it.

Not to be outdone, Gerry bent over and put his face into my stream, then stood up. "Not bad." He licked his lips and nodded. My Gerry would never be approved for a security clearance; everything he thought could be read off his face. He was placing a mental checkmark next to a list of 'things to try'.

He drew the curtain closed, and I started the shower. We both waited for it to warm up. Once it was the right temperature he picked up the small piece of Ivory soap, which the hotel provided, and licked each part of my body before lathering it.

It was a quarter to one by the time we'd finished, and there was a knock at the door. Gerry, wearing only his boxers and a still unbuttoned uniform shirt, opened to find Moffett looking rather pleased with himself. "Hi, come in." Gerry returned to the closet to get his trousers.

"Did you go to confession and mass today?" I inquired offhandedly.

"Yes, and I had a long talk with a priest, over at St. Pat's." He sat on the bed, where he'd been deflowered. "And he told me to tell you thanks."

"For what?" I stopped getting dressed and looked at him, since I had literally no idea what he was talking about.

"He said that I should be grateful for what you did by not letting me be tempted twice." Moffett was sitting piously straight on the edge of the bed, which reminded me of Mrs. Morrison, my high-school drama teacher. Only, she'd been in a car wreck and had had to wear a corset.

"Well, you're welcome." I looked at Gerry who was behind Moffett and crossed himself then grinned sarcastically. I forcefully suppressed my urge to laugh, resulting in a weird grin, and I continued dressing.

"So what are you doing, today?" Moffett sounded the cheeriest he'd been in a couple of days.

"We're going down to the Village to see Drill Specialist and Sergeant Hernandez, so Ben can get his things he'd left there." Gerry finished tying his low-quarters and stood up, shaking his legs to smooth wrinkles out of his uniform trousers and to get his cock and balls in their proper position. "That is if they're home."

"Mind if I tag along?" Moffett sounded meek, as if afraid we'd say no.

"Not in the least." I smiled at him in the dresser's mirror for reassurance, while I tied my black tie. I turned to face him. "We haven't rejected you as a friend, Alvin. It's just not good for you to have sex with us."

His pious rigidity slackened. "Is that why last night you said I was horning in on your relationship?"

I nodded and thought for a second. "Yeah, and that was unfair of me. I realize that you're lonely." Gerry, now tying his tie, looked at me in the mirror, and shook his head slowly, warning me not to get Moffett started again. "It's just," I winked at my guy. "I don't feel like sharing him with anybody." The look on Gerry's face in the mirror was priceless.

***

When the elevator operator announced 'Lobby', I came out of my contemplations of what I was going to tell Haruki and Sean. But I wanted my things back, and they'd failed to put them into storage. I approached the desk. "I'd like to make a local call."

"The number, please?" The switchboard operator was a pleasant enough sort of guy, just a bit too predatory, for my tastes.

"Spring 7-3004." He was looking me up and down as he used the switchboard, obviously recognizing a Washington Square exchange. His approach reminded me of the old joke: 'There are only two types of men, living in Greenwich Village. There are painters and then there are Queers, and I don't see you carrying any brushes.'

"Good afternoon, you have a call from Hotel President, please hold the line." He pointed to the row of dark-brown wooden phone booths with beveled glass in the folding doors along the far wall. "That'll be booth number two." He let the bell ring to tell me which booth was number two.

Haruki wasn't terribly enthused to hear my voice. I told him that I just wanted to collect my two bags, and we wouldn't stay. He was trying to feed me a line about Sean's not feeling well, which I knew was bullshit because I could clearly hear Sean playing with Barney in the background.

"Look, god-damn it," I decided to use my bark. "we're in town until tomorrow afternoon, and there are things in those cases I need today. Like civilian clothes." I took a breath. "And since you couldn't get your shit together long enough to put the things in storage, you're going to answer the fucking door and give me my belongings. Understand?"

Haruki acquiesced, but the soundproofing must not have been very good, because Gerry came rushing over and opened the door a crack, making the overhead light go out. He asked me if everything was alright. "Yeah, I'll be out in a minute, mein Schatz."

The look on Gerry's face alone made me almost go hard. But when he let his hand gently glide down the side of my face, I felt a charge of energy travel through my body. Of a sudden, I knew that I was his.

"Are you still there?" Haruki's annoyed voice came through the line.

"Yes, and we'll be down in about an hour to collect my shit. Bye." And before he could object, I hung up.

I passed by the desk and paid for the call. And when I looked at Gerry, he was still at my side, still excited. "How do you know what 'mein Schatz' means?" His question was a mixture between a pant and a whisper.

"I have no idea as to what it means." He looked bewildered. "That's what you called me early this morning, when you turned over in your sleep." I chuckled and raised my volume slightly for the benefit of the peanut gallery, listening in from behind. "And since you stuck your dick up my ass when you said it, I thought it must be something good." I glanced over my shoulder to see the switchboard operator and the desk clerk, who'd both been eavesdropping, turned beet red, and tried to appear to be busying themselves with anything within reach. I took hold of Gerry's arm and made our way to the door. "Do you mind if I call you that?"

He shook his head. "Not in the least, mein Schatz." When we left the hotel, his smile competed with the sunshine for lighting up Broadway.

***

We surfaced from the subway at 6th Avenue and West 3rd Street, of course that's why they named the station West 4th Street. We walked the two blocks up Sixth, known to tourists and Moffett as Avenue of the Americas, and turned onto Washington Place. The granite stairs of Haruki's townhouse looked much more inviting without the Christmas snow covering them. I climbed them, leaving Gerry and Moffett on the sidewalk. I rang the bell and Barney was at the door immediately, Sean yelled at him to quit, then opened the door.

Of the three, Barney seemed the happiest to see me. Sean and Haruki looked like shit. And even the dog seemed to be more out of control than when I was last here. "Wanna come in?" Haruki finally asked, as an odd stench came wafting out the door.

"No, I want my bags." I stated with the amount of friendliness I thought they deserved. "We're on a three-day pass and wouldn't want to take up your time." My sarcasm was definitely not lost on Haruki, but I wasn't sure about Sean.

Haruki went into the living room next to the front door and brought out my two suitcases. He set them down on the stoop. "Look, Ben, I'm sorry--"

"--no you're not. You got your white guy, and everything's okay, isn't it? The ugly Chūgokujin can crawl back into the woodwork." I swore that I would not break down. And I didn't.

"Do you think that this is all about Sean being white?" I knew where it hurt, and he was hurting, albeit because of the truth. All three of us, Haruki, Sean and I, knew that Sean was a trophy.

"I know for sure he'll be more acceptable to your mother." I picked up my suitcases and walked deliberately down these front steps, knowing it was for the last time, as I heard the door slam behind me.

***

We spent the afternoon rummaging through my stuff. I wanted to see if there was anything missing, which there wasn't. Gerry and I were stripped down to our skivvies, trying on clothes for our last night out. Moffett was in uniform, sitting on the other bed, mooning over my degree certificates. He returned them to their folder and laid them carefully on the bed, next to him. "So, run through this again. You were living with Haruki, who used to be heterosexual. And then you introduced him to Sean, who's also straight--"

"--Moffett!" That got his attention, and Gerry snickered. "Haruki claimed to be straight throughout our school years. But his problem is that pussy, the actual vagina, scares him, so he tried having sex with me. And he found out that he wasn't afraid of assholes.

"When I went to City College with Sean, he was straight and lived with his girlfriend, Janet. Apparently, in Vietnam he fell in love with his Crew Chief, who was killed in action. So, these two mishaps, waiting to happen, are now living together in Haruki's townhouse, and don't appear to be very happy." I sat on our bed and lit a cigarette, Gerry lit one off mine.

He sat next to me and seemed to go into an emotional tailspin. Gerry was lousy at hiding anything. "Are you with me, because I'm white?"

"Oh, for Shit's sake." I had to laugh and pulled Gerry into a sloppy kiss. "You're not even my type."

Of course, that was something that no one wants to hear. When he said: "What do you mean?" his hurt was not only audible.

"Not what you think, mein Schatz." I still didn't know what 'mein Schatz' meant, but I loved the effect it had on Gerry. He calmed. "Physically, I'm not terribly attracted to Caucasians, particularly not blond Caucasians." I could see that he was again almost in tears, so I shortened things. "But the first time I laid eyes on you, there was something else, something in your personality, that I fell ass-over-tin-cup in love with. But believe me, not because you're white."

"Are you racially prejudiced?" Moffett snapped out of his daze.

"Of course," I admitted. "just like everyone else."

"I try to be colorblind." Moffett tried this vogue definition of himself on for size.

"Okay, now be truthful." He nodded that he would. "When you look at me, what do you see, someone from China or someone from Ireland?"

"What do you mean from Ireland?" Moffett was confused.

"That's just it." I was proud of myself for not going into pedantic obsessiveness. "My dad's family is made up of virtually pure Irish Celts, although they've lived in France for several hundred years. So, I'm exactly fifty percent Irish and fifty percent Chinese. Which one do you see?"

Moffett looked at me and then at Gerry, then back at me, nodding his head. "Point taken, Ben. Nobody sees that you're Irish, like no one can tell that Gerry's Jewish."