Date: Tue, 14 May 2019 10:49:50 +0000
From: Simon Mohr
Subject: This One Might Be Different: Different-Chapter 6

This story is a work of complete fiction. Any resemblance of characters to
real persons and reality is a coincidence. This story eventually includes
descriptions of sex between adult males. If you are a minor, if this
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This One Might Be Different: Different-Chapter 6

        The next few months after 'the great raid' by 'burly dude and
Janie' were not as dramatic, however I think we grew up in some ways.

        Chris went off to boarding school. We saw him frequently and his
bodyguards sent us some pictures snapped at crucial moments. One such 'CM'
was the Associated Student banquet with a cute girl at his side in a long
gown and a corsage on her wrist. She looked very happy and so did he.

        This school was a little on the conservative side but didn't force
it down anybody's throat. Most of the kids came from one particular
religious denomination.

        We had mentioned it to Paolo once and he laughed.  My
great-grandmother belonged to that group...I don't remember her, but she
was the undisputed matriarch in any number of ways in the Schuyler family
and her values came clear on down to me in some ways. Work hard, respect
others, be faithful to who you are, do for others what you can do, change
the world to be a better place after you, clean up your own messes...

        "You won't have any trouble with those people," said Paolo. "Chris
will get a good education for life from people who care about those
values."

         Chris came home that first fall break and acted embarrassed to be
there and acted shamed, in particular, of all of us. He had discovered
another world and like the typical teen perhaps wanted to be his own
person. We weren't impressed by his lack of tolerance. We had hoped his
education would produce a guy that exuded confidence, acceptance, love and
especially tolerance.

        Charley designated himself to confront Chris about his feelings and
how much we loved him.  Chris was polite but firm about what he felt was a
dysfunctional bunch of fags (not the term he used) on an isolated ranch in
rural Oregon. He looked at Theresa's house. He'd seen it before and really
wasn't interested.

        That night in bed, Charley and Greg were beside themselves, seeing
their dreams for Chris evaporating right in front of them.  As a physician,
I knew that the only constant in life is change.  I gathered my husbands in
my arms and told them I loved them dearly, but to get their heads out of
their asses.  "Chris hasn't finished life yet and neither have you," I
said. "He's in transition to adulthood and he's been raised with love and
tolerance and all the things we modeled for him. He won't forget that at
age 21."

        Turned out that I was slightly off.  Chris was 23 years-old when he
returned to the ranch again, a brand-new software engineer, his degree
obtained at a well-regarded engineering school at a university near Walla
Walla, great job at Microsoft and a wife who adored every his every last
freckle. She was already pregnant and Greg, for one, was over the moon to
see his son again, family in tow, at the ranch.

        Karen, his wife, was sweet, tolerant, and a kind person. She was
just right for Chris. She kept him humble and wasn't a bit afraid of
him. She didn't need to be and besides, when he got a little tedious or got
full of himself, she had needles to deflate him nicely.

        She was already at the "I remember when you..." stage and he would
stop, grin and reboot his speech or attitude quickly. She had an even, shy
way about her and the temperature in the room would soar or cool as
needed. I kept waiting for a character flaw for Karen to demonstrate, a
wait doomed to failure.

        She wasn't impressed by his property or prospects. She prayed for
him and our family, their unborn and for all I know, with him. We all just
knew that Chris was back...... and it felt good. Karen visited Chris' mom
in prison... a visit that impressed the hell out of us dads.

        We had been prepared to let her rot, preferred not to think about
her, and still resented her. Karen rejected that approach and we came to
appreciate her quick rejection of anger and her embrace of the concept of
forgiveness. We dads came to understand the universal truth that living
with anger is exhausting. We all were slightly better people for knowing
her.

        At some level, I think Chris realized that raising a child on
Theresa's property with their grandfathers next door could be a good
thing. We certainly thought so but might have been blatantly biased.

        After our grandson was born, one healthy new specimen of humanity
named Michael Gregory Blockwelder, we learned how to dote, kind of a fun
bonding thing which could have taken up a lot of time, but we rationed our
doting time, mainly because we had to make a living and because we had
competition with hundreds of workers on the ranch, not to mention Chris and
Karen herself.

        Charley and I hatched up a plan to share our wealth with Greg. We'd
talked about it over the years.
        My trust had produced enough income for me to save a good deal of
money and Charley had more money than sense, so he came up with $300
million and I came up with $75 million and we opened a trust for Greg. We
figured that with a yearly return of 10% he'd have $37 million a year to
spend or save.


        The first installment of income of about $3 million per month went
to a bank account in his name. We all were in the computer room one Sunday
afternoon. 'Doting' time was over, and we'd returned to our A-frame near
the woods to play and nap afterward. Charley handed an envelope to Greg.
"Open this, buddy."

        Inside the envelope was a card which said that we loved him,
thanked him for making us grandfathers and told him that the value that he
brought to our lives couldn't be measured. We asked him in so many words to
continue to grow older with us on his journey through life. Another small
card had a web URL to access.

        On the web page was a link to the account and an initial password
along with a no-limit, platinum American Express card for him to access his
money.

        His response was epic, involving all of three of us, a good deal of
touching and body fluids: blood, sweat, semen, and tears.



        Alain Industries had studied energy for many years as an isolated
general topic to help the company understand its future. Petroleum was
subject to a finite supply and transportation and refining costs, but was
popular for auto and aircraft needs, not to mention the oil by-products for
manufacturing. Some grades of the oil barrel were also energy-dense.

        Wind partially depended on geographical considerations, storage
solutions, and weather in general. Maintenance was also an issue for
turbines.

        Solar had the advantage of unlimited supply in some areas, but
storage was an issue.

        Nuclear energy wasn't popular with a section of the public who
remembered some reactor disasters and had definite drawbacks. The plants
were very expensive to build and maintain; they did, however, provide a lot
of energy over time and seemed to have unlimited energy density. The
nuclear waste problem hadn't been solved yet.

        A task force at the company had gathered everything known about
nuclear fusion, studied it to death, and since the big science guys hadn't
figured out how to make it happen and happen safely, that project was
shelved. Charley became fascinated with fusion.


        The supply of hydrogen was unlimited, relatively cheap being
obtained from the two atoms of hydrogen to one atom of oxygen in water
molecules. When hydrogen atoms under intense heat and pressure merged to
become helium, they shed electrons (electricity basically) in enormous
quantities. The heat and pressure had to be contained inside of something
to protect the process and the things and people close by. The only reason
that the earth survived was that the sun, whose energy sustained life, was
also far enough away to not unduly harm the earth from its basic fusion
chemistry.

        Small amounts of fusion had happened for very small fractions of
time in very expensive laboratories around the world, but not in the
quantity required nor in a sustainable, continuous way necessary for power
production.

        That advances in fusion had occurred wasn't debated. A lot of money
and facilities and time had been thrown at the process without success yet.


        Another enormous source of energy was the moon's twice daily effect
on the world's oceans.  As the tides rolled in and out every twelve hours
or so, enormous amounts of energy drove the water to move elsewhere.

        Alain Industries had the patent for a series of gates with rollers
submerged in tidal waters which harnessed strong tidal energy. They had
tested the devices and held them for the future.

 Another patent held by the company was for a bicycle that produced
electricity, measured the amount made with a small chip which noted who was
riding the bike, how long they pedaled, how much electricity was generated
and transmitted that record wirelessly to a computer that kept track. The
intended energy producers were prisoners.

        If the 2.3 million prisoners in the United States alone could work
eight hours a day comfortably riding a bike, they could make enough
electricity to power the prisons, pay for their food and all other prison
costs, estimated at more than $75 billion per year in the United
States. The prisoners would be in better health for the exercise and less
likely at the end of the day to have the energy to cause trouble.

        Some money would be left over for their families as well, a
population group which traditionally cost the government twice as much to
house, treat, feed and otherwise support. Charley figured there was a
nearly inexhaustible supply of workers. He talked to the wardens of the
state penitentiaries in California, Oregon, and Washington and arranged for
pilot projects starting in the minimum-security areas. His company built
tens of thousands of energy-producing bicycles, designed the computers and
software that managed the system, setup the accounting systems and trained
the guards.  The prisons recruited volunteers at first.

        Simon had read stories about ships that sailed around the globe
filled with health-care professionals that treated people who didn't have
access to modern healthcare. One such system did eye operations; another
repaired cleft palates, etc. An idea sprang to his mind one day and he
passed it by Greg and Charley.

        "If I could one of our Senators to pry loose a ship from the fleet,
and if Congress would invest one of those $75 billion dollars they saved on
prison expenses and retrofit that ship as a hospital ship, we could help a
lot of people live better lives around the world. What are the chances,
guys?"

        Charley and Greg were in immediately. "I'll call our Senators in
Texas," replied Charley. "Our industry funds their election and they ought
to listen." After inheriting Alain Industries, Charley had not been slow to
make himself known in Texas political circles.

        Greg volunteered to organize the information for the project and to
ask Chris to write software that kept track of the project's progress. I
volunteered to chair the medical group that would plan services and recruit
the medical staff. Someone would need to preside over decisions about
medical equipment and supplies for the ship.


        I called Joseph in New York at the Schuyler Museum and explained
our project. "Would you be willing to contact the New York senators and get
them on board?"  He said he'd be happy to do so and asked if our project
had money for operations. "Have you considered fuel, food, salaries,
insurance, communications in your plans?" Joseph asked. If not, count the
Trust in for a billion dollars to start. We'll do the usual and invest the
donation and give the dividends and capital gains toward your project...it
ought to pay about $100 million toward operations each year, close to $12.5
million dollars each month. I'll send the first month's income as an
advance this week."

        I must have been overwhelmed for a moment. I swallowed and thanked
him.

        Charley contacted the Oregon senators who signed on quickly. They
knew us as generous campaign contributors and representatives of one of
their more progressive constituencies in Oregon.

        We didn't get a ship from the Fleet. Congress voted to build a new
ship built at the Pascagoula Shipyard in Mississippi. It was built to
modern hospital specifications, was a secure ship, and had long-range
cruising capabilities, a superb kitchen facility for several hundred crew
and passengers, comfortable living quarters for crew, ten fully equipped
operating rooms including central services storage area, a clean
sterilizing room. Best of all, the small nuclear power plant negated the
need to obtain diesel fuel, providing clean energy for the ship as well.

        A Go Fund Me campaign raised money for medications. Recruiting for
crew and medical specialists began. The medical personnel were recruited
for time slots of three months minimum. Most volunteered their time and
salary.

        The dedication of the ship, which we named 'Project Courage', at
completion required someone to smash the champagne on the bow...we invited
all of the senator's wives/partners to participate and the resultant splash
and tinkle of glass was satisfying in the extreme.

        The captain of the ship was appointed by a committee of Charley,
Joseph, Greg, and I.  It turned out that we already knew and trusted a
captain of long experience. John Merton had captained the 'Thomas Gratz',
Liam's ship for many years. He and his partner were happy to assume the
responsibility. They left immediately for Mississippi to join the sea
trials. Ethan and Ryan, Liam's cooks, volunteered to be the first executive
chefs on Project Courage.

        The first long voyage was to the three main coasts of the African
continent, treating HIV, performing the orthopedic surgeries to repair dead
bone chunks resulting from sickle cell disease, treating trauma victims,
infectious diseases including polio, various worm diseases, trichinosis
from poorly cooked pork, cysticercosis and a host of other diseases not
usually encountered at home. The operating rooms always had a waiting list
for cataract surgeries in the elderly and our optometrists and
ophthalmologists nearly worked themselves to death.

        Greg's organization skills and Chris' software turned out to be
critical in keeping personnel on the ship and working. We were able to
visit the ship when we wished, participate, plan and Charley kept a small
satellite in low-orbit over the ship's general location to provide
broadband internet including streaming video both ways. He produced some
YouTube videos to advertise our services and hosted seminars to attract
volunteers. His fund-raising skills in Texas and Oregon were a sight to
see.

        The first time that Greg, Charley and I rode the train à grande
vitesse or TGV trains in Europe, we were nearly struck dumb to find that if
a train was scheduled to leave at, say, 6:14 pm, one had best be standing
or sitting in the train at 6:14 on the dot, because the train began to move
then more likely than not. The trains were clean, the food decent, and the
overnight trains were fun. We had been passengers on Amtrak exactly once
and the slow, old, less than totally clean train had discouraged further
Amtrak travel for us.

        Alain Industries tackled the national problem in the United States,
the ownership of the majority of track miles by freight companies and the
resultant priorities of those freight companies to the exclusion of fast
trains in the US for the most part.

        Charley's political influence in Washington brought Congress to
study SNCF, the state-owned railway of France. That agency had planned the
high-speed rail network for France. Those trains or variations of them
operated in many countries, but not the US.

        Congress decided to purchase land for separate trackage geared to
high-speed rail only, purchased the technology for the trains in China, and
built the railways and the train cars in the US. This network began to
serve the top 20 metropolitan areas with ultra-rapid on-time service. 'US
Rail' was a howling success. The division of Alain Industries that made the
trains did rather well.

        That spring, in May, Charley took his husbands to a vacation. The
vacation went well as a bicycle tour in the vineyards might be expected
until the last day when a drunk driver slammed into the side of Greg's
bicycle. He was killed instantly, and chaos became a real word for Charley
and I. Chris and Karen were devastated. Little Michael was too young to
comprehend the loss. We flew Greg home to Oregon. He was buried on the
ranch he loved near the garden in a small cemetery set aside. It took a
long time for Charley and me to begin again. I was uncertain how I was
doing or even where I was for a while. I'm not sure what would have
happened to me if Charley hadn't been my rock, my guy to listen and hold
me.

        I couldn't very well explain to Chris that I missed his dad's much
high-school-maligned cock in my ass, the familiar, comforting smell of his
semen on my face, in my mouth, leaking out my ass, its taste and warmth a
reminder of a guy that loved me dearly. Charley made Greg's absence easier
to bear and I hope the same was true of me for Charley.

        We didn't vacation again any time soon. When we finally did, we
visited the spring cherry blossoms in bloom in Tokyo. The Gulfstream
whisked us over in comfort. We stayed at a little inn in the mountains, an
onsen, a bathhouse. The second night of our stay in the inn, a waiter
brought us a light supper in our room, spread out our tatami mats and
pillows, and adjusted the lights. He turned to leave, we thought, then we
saw his robe drop to the floor and he turned his 25-year-old naked body
toward us and joined us on the mat. His cock and balls weren't as big as
Greg's had been and his accent was British, but he was well-built, muscled
and as warm as a heater. He snuggled in between Charley and I, hugged both
of us formally and all three of us slept.

        The next morning my eyes opened to see Charley's arm over Luke's
chest, still asleep. Charley's face was peaceful, happier than I'd seen him
in months, even in sleep. I could tell that Charley was having a good dream
or to be accurate, I inferred it because of his pelvis rubbing against
Luke's ass.

        Quietly, I arose, emptied my bladder, inspected my junk a little,
washed my hands and saw frost coating the window. It was warm as toast in
the room and getting warmer by the minute. Luke opened his eyes and took a
second or two to get his bearings, then smiled at me with a show of his
perfect white teeth. "I will brush my teeth and return," he said. As Luke
padded off to the bathroom, I inhaled sharply. His ass was as perfect as
Greg's had been, a sight to see.  I looked over at Charley. He had morphed
into an awake person and was eyeing my face which had been ogling Luke.
His eyes laughed at me.

        "Do I detect lust on your face? That's an ass for the ages, buddy?"

        "It's odd to find an Englishman here in a remote onsen in the
mountains of Japan, don't you think?"

        "Sometimes odd is good, but we could ask him."

        When Luke returned from the bathroom, his junk swinging freely
above low-hangers, perfect knees and calves, muscular chest, blonde hair
and inviting blue eyes, Charley asked him why we found him there.

        "I'm an escort here. The inn pays me to escort men (always safely)
and I get tested every two months. I charge for my escort services and a
per cent of that goes to the inn for my room and board and clothing. It
works for the inn because Japanese men and other tourists who are in the
know like the service and are more likely to return and more often. There
are twenty of us Europeans on call here now."

        "My fee is $150 USD per hour in advance for anything you desire. By
the way, there was no charge for last night's warm-up. I appreciated the
chance to cuddle with you both during the night and stay warm. I hoped you
would find me your caliber of guy to play with. I would appreciate your
business and I won't reject tips."

        "Charley had his wallet out and he counted three hundred dollar
bills out and handed them to Luke. "You are a pleasure to look at and from
Simon's open mouth, I think he wouldn't mind if you worked your cock into
it."

        A wave of pure lust swept over me and I set about to drain Luke
dry, my own cock hard as marble. My entire body shivered as I looked up to
Luke's face. He appeared to like what my mouth was doing. I saw Charley's
hands come from behind Luke to caress Luke's nipples and chest.  Luke
brought his cock out for a minute and laid me on my back. Up went my knees
and in went his cock inside me, a stunning fullness. He wasn't rough or
mean. He just filled me right up and wasted no time giving me an energetic
fuck.

        I saw Charley standing over my head. He inserted his cock into
Luke's open mouth and Charley was off in another world. Luke knew his
craft. He took us to the edge but not over the cliff, bringing us back to
the edge time after time until Charley and I were just desperate for
relief. I couldn't believe that two hours had passed when Luke finally went
over into a swirling pit of feeling and boiling semen with us. We all were
bone-dry and deliriously sated, happy to be alive. Luke kissed us deeply,
thanked us, slid the bamboo door open, stepped out, and was gone.

        We next saw Luke in a noodle shop in the village, sitting with a
good-looking guy his age and build slurping noodles, expertly tossing
chopsticks around as if he'd grown up with them.

        When he saw us walk in, he stood with his friend and introduced us
as his clients from the inn that he had mentioned earlier. Instead of being
shocked or being awkward, his friend smiled, and extended his hand to shake
ours. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Colin. Luke enjoyed
your company earlier. This noodle shop has a nice back room. Would you like
to relax in the bath in that back room?"

        The near-freezing weather outside, the prospect of great sex again,
the memory of fantastic sex away from our usual cues almost answered 'yes'
for us...we did say 'yes' and after the noodles were finished the
proprietor motioned us to a door I hadn't noticed, unlocked it and we
stepped into a different world. A large room with a good-sized hot tub,
wisps of steam rising from the calm surface of the water, smooth rocks
outlining the graceful curves of that pool, an obsidian-black small
obelisk-like statue rising from the rocks in a phallic representation,
mushroom headed, veins of rock down one side, an opening carved into the
rock on top, small like an impossible dildo. Benches with thick leather
covered cushions around the edge of the room, bamboo floor, bamboo walls, a
hanging lantern, and a ceramic heater in the corner, blazing away next to a
copper shelf full of condoms and wash cloths, a big bowl of warm fresh
water, expensive spray cologne samples, a cinnamon flavored mouthwash.

        Colin and Luke removed their clothes first. My first impression was
'sex on a stick'. Charley ripped off our clothes and we watched Colin and
Luke embrace and kiss. Their cocks got hard rapidly, fully erect,
resembling the statue in vital ways. Charley hugged me and I noted that his
package was stirring also. I was already there, imagining what might happen
in that room. "Do you want to do this, Simon?"

        "I guess if I'm forced to join you...," I replied, tongue in
cheek. "When in Rome... but take some mental notes for our resort back
home, Charley. That way we can call this a business trip for our taxes."

        After a soak in the hot tub waters (around 102 degrees F) we saw
Colin and Luke help each other climb out and from the tub watched blazing
hot sex between the two. Colin topped Luke, then they flipped. The
writhing, oiled muscles of their ass powering their thrusts were
exciting. I wondered if I had ever looked that good at their age.

        Charley watched intently, fingering my ass, herding me into a
corner of the pool and at some crucial minute bringing his hard cock with
its soft skin surging into my asshole from behind, a thrilling husband
indeed.

        It was at that moment and not fully before then that I realized
that life would go on without Greg. I would always love him; his memory
wouldn't dominate me or make me unhappy ever again as long as I had Charley
to love and love me back.

        I took off my black mourning dress, as the poet once said, and came
back to the morning itself.

        Charley and I assumed that the law in Japan was different somehow
from Oregon when it came to escorting. It wasn't that different, we found
out. The advantage to a gay resort is that one takes one's place on
vacation in a community of like-minded men; men who enjoy sex with other
men. If you are older or lack good looks or come late to the party or have
some other disadvantage, you may not get laid.

        Successful resorts try to level the playing field, so their client
goes home happy and eager to return for more.

        How they do that varies. Great food, a great variety of men by age,
looks, wealth...opportunities to socialize and meet others like barbecues,
picnics, hikes, tournaments, seminars...competitions like best shorts or
best butt or longest cock or...plentiful booze, good booze, 'exercise'
rooms, grottoes at the end of the pool, free condoms, free lube, free porn
TV, free CD porn to watch...whatever it takes to do business.

        Gay resorts with escorts are not plentiful and charges of
prostitution are frequently leveled by plain-clothes cops at both the
offender and the owner of the resort, an unwanted situation obviously.

        Charley was the first, back at the onsen, to tell me that if a
resort paid for the escort, there would be no selling of sex, no
prostitution, just more fun, more business, better regulated health for
escort and client, more frequent and rigorous testing, etc.

        Before much time had elapsed, Luke served us again one morning.
Charley spoke to him about a gay resort he was building in Oregon and his
idea for escorts working on salary with great benefits, the choice to
refuse a client (always a plus) and an invitation to Luke and Colin to
design and direct the escort program. Luke liked the idea, had some
questions and asked when we wanted him, and would he be able to continue to
sleep with the owners?

        "I think we will have to practice one more time this morning before
making that decision," replied Charley, "unless Simon wants to take a walk
outside in the freezing cold."

        Simon didn't. Want. To. Take. A. Walk. Simon wanted to play too.

        This time I forked over the $300 USD and began the age-old dance of
sex with another guy. I watched while Charley got his rocks off, while Luke
emptied his balls into Charley's mouth, felt Luke's cock in my ass and came
like a jet rocket when Luke shot his load all over Charley.

        "Our contract with the onsen owners lasts for 4 weeks at a time and
is renewable by mutual consent."

        "May I ask Colin to join us and get his decision?"

        "Sure...I should have invited him in while we talked."





        "We would require a 6 month commitment and include private jet
service to the US, all testing, all supplies, room and board, an brand new
car, health insurance coverage of all meds for any reason, a 401-K fully
matched, sex with the owners if both are present, no exceptions, and a
swimsuit wardrobe and clothing allowance."

        "Offering salary of $100K per annum. For you and Colin each."