My Father, My Son
by: Tom Borden

© 2000-2008 by the author


The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...


Josiah sighed, "It doesn't look like it. My penis is getting pretty soft."

"That's okay," said Brian. "We've got a lot more nights ahead of us. Let's try fucking each other tomorrow night. Okay?"


Both Josiah and Brian wrapped their arms around each other and were soon sound asleep.


Chapter 24 


In the middle of the night, Brian awoke and suddenly feared that what he and Josiah had earlier experienced had merely been a dream. Turning on the small light on the bed table, he saw Josiah lying next to him, in the flesh, so to speak. Brian rarely smoked, but he took one of the English cigarettes from the small pack that Karl had given him as a sort of coming home gift, and stepped outside. Sitting on the verandah, he lit up and watched the smoke as it swirled away, illuminated by the bright moonlight. He sat on the bench with his legs spread apart so the cool breeze would blow over his balls and penis. Looking down he could see the hair in his pubic bush rustling as the wind blew through it.

Brian found it hard to grasp what was happening. The old Brian, with his meaningless and hapless life, was gone. It seemed as though it were in another lifetime when he would go off to the Nest Bar night after night and sit in the dark where he couldn't be recognized and watch all the gay men and boys. Fantasy and painful yearning was all he knew then. But today—it was a new Brian who now occupied his body. He now looked at himself as a vital sexual person, with a profound sense of love and caring for another person, as well as for himself. Earlier in the evening, he had stopped to look at his own naked body in the mirror and admire it. He had never done that before. He had always regarded his body as so much baggage that served only as an embarrassment and an inconvenience to others. Now he knew that someone loved him and yearned for his body, just as he loved his dear Josiah. A feeling of rapture and bliss swept over Brian, and tears of pure joy rolled down his cheeks. It was a joy he never knew could exist. Could life be more beautiful than this? Never!

Brian went back to bed, but soon awoke when the rising sun began to beam in through the window. It reflected back from a large mirror on the back wall onto Josiah's face with an almost spiritual glow. Brian propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Josiah's face. A short stubble of blond beard was beginning to appear and it glistened like gold sparkle in the sun light. As he continued to watch Josiah's slow steady breathing, Josiah stirred and opened his eyes. He looked at Brian with the sweetest childlike smile Brian had ever seen. Leaning over, he kissed Josiah on the lips as Josiah put his arms around Brian's neck and pulled him closer. Both of them were now stiff with their usual morning erections. It was only a few minutes before the covers were thrown off and they were both once again in that wonderful sixty-nine position they had tried the night before. They sucked and licked each other's penises slowly. There wasn't that desperate rush to get each other's sperm in their mouths this time. They now knew that would come without rushing.

As Brian licked around the head of Josiah's penis and ran his tongue down over his ball sack, he glided his hand lightly over the hair on Josiah's slender legs. It tickled, and Josiah began to moan with pleasure. Even though each of them massaged the other's penis and balls very slowly and gently with his tongue, the level of their passion rose, and they each could feel his orgasm beginning. Because of the stiffening of their cocks, they could each tell when the other was about to cum. They came together, moaning and bucking their hips, and pouring their hot sperm into each other's mouth.

Josiah and Brian lay there for a long time, hugging and kissing, and were soon asleep again. It was noon when Josiah finally woke up having to pee so badly he could hardly get to the bathroom. As he got to the toilet, Brian woke up and could hear Josiah peeing. To him, it sounded like a fire hose going off in the toilet. Brian joined him and peed with just as much force as Josiah. Trying to cross their streams, they both began giggling. They were soon laughing so hard that they lost control of their penises and pee was being sprayed all over the floor and wall and on their legs and feet. They just didn't care. They both jumped into the shower and had an erotic time soaping each other up and running their hands all over each other's body. They tried to jack each other off again, but it just wasn't there. Maybe later, they thought.

When the sober truth came over them that the urine needed to be cleaned up off the bathroom floor, they did it, and they left the room spotless. Then there was the question as to whether it would be breakfast or lunch. Maggie had put a boiled fresh beef tongue in the refrigerator with instructions to slice it and eat it cold with a little horseradish in a sandwich made with her homemade sourdough bread. That they did and, with a can of cold beer, it hit the spot.

Both Josiah and Brian had been instructed to follow a certain exercise routine each day to aid in their total recovery. Long walks were a major part of that routine. So after lunch, they set out for a walk across the range to the banks of a small stream shaded by Mesquite Trees. When they arrived, they rested by the stream and spent the rest of the afternoon talking about the future.

Michael and Karl continued drawing up plans for new buildings to replace the old, as well as putting into place more efficient work procedures. Since many of the natural gas wells had been uncapped and gas was now flowing north in the pipeline, income had increased substantially, providing considerably more cash to feed the operating budget, as well as the wherewithal to make a good many improvements. The old combination latrine and bathhouse had been torn down and the bunkhouse had been re-built. Several ramshackle sheds had been razed, and the rather messy looking chicken yard and pigpens were moved to the other side of the barn, out of sight from the house.

It was decided that the open space behind the house that had once held several buildings, now gone, should be beautified and landscaped. Maggie suggested that Michael and Karl contact a landscape architect she knew in San Antonio by the name of Flip Titwell. Karl found it difficult getting past this person's name. He had once known a bar waitress in New York who was a rather bouncy bosomy woman. And she was known by most of her customers by the endearing name of "Flip-Tits." Could he face Mr. Flip Titwell, he wondered, without thinking of old Flip- Tits and embarrassing himself by impolitely breaking down in laughter?

Flip Titwell was, nevertheless, invited down to make an assessment of the job and come up with a proposal. He arrived in a red Lexus convertible, wearing tight silver lamé pants and a green and white striped over-blouse, ruffled at the neck and wrists, and open in the front to reveal a large mat of blond chest hair. A row of rings lined the edge of each ear, and his hair was done in a spiked do and dyed a very unappealing orange color. Flip, who was all of fifty if he was a day, was quite short and slender and wore woven leather sandals with two inch heals.

As he emerged from his car, he moved quickly with tiny little rapid steps toward Maggie who had just come out to greet him. They screamed their hellos in falsetto voices.

Then referring to Michael and Karl, Flip shouted, "Where are these two adorable persons who I will be working with?"

Just then Michael and Karl stepped out onto the verandah. Holding his hand over his mouth and speaking quietly to Maggie, Flip said, "Oh, I see what you mean! They're gorgeous. Either one of them can sit on my face anytime they wish!"

"Hush, queen," Maggie whispered. "I know there is no way I could ask you to act straight, but try not to be so fucking obvious, will you?"

"Oh, honey," replied Flip. "I can be as butch as you want me to be. Just watch me!"

Flip walked up to Karl and said in a fake macho voice, "Hi! My name is Flip."

As they shook hands, Flip moved his other hand up along the muscles on Karl's arm, saying, "Ooooooo! I've heard a lot about you. I'm sooooooo glad to meet you."

Karl felt that uncontrollable urge to break out laughing rising up inside of him, and he could feel the blood rushing to his face as he did his best to stifle himself. But it was no use. The vision of Flip-Tits popped into his mind, and the laughter just poured out of him.

Flip Titwell suddenly lurched backward. "Oh, my! Is it something I said?"

Still laughing, Karl blurted out, "No, no! Nothing you said!" By this time, Michael was also doubled over in laughter.

Maggie finally said, "Come on, now, you people. Let's all sit down here and have some coffee and some cookies. The coffee's fresh and the cookies just came out of the oven." Then cupping her hand over her mouth, Maggie growled to Flip, "Now behave yourself, queen! And where the hell did you get that fucking orange hair dye? You always did look like a fucking whore. But that hair makes you look like a piece of trash from another planet."

Flip growled back, "Oh, shut your hole, girl!"

As Michael, Karl, and Flip looked out over the space behind the house, Flip verbalized some of her ideas as to where some trees should be planted and where flower beds should be placed. He envisioned a grand yellow-brick "road" winding through the plantings, a large spurting fountain and a gazebo. He also suggested that the side of the barn that faced the area should be painted with a lovely mountain scene, or perhaps a range scene of cattle being driven by none other than handsome cowboys."

Both Michael and Karl were very impressed with Flip Titwell's ideas—eccentric though they be—if not his looks, and asked if he would draw up a formal plan on paper and present it to them the following week, along with an estimate of the cost. Michael noticed Flip's obvious glances at each of their crotches while he was speaking. Michael couldn't resist subtly rubbing his cock just to get Flip more turned on. When Karl saw this, he started doing the same.

Flip finally said, "My God, you two are just too much for TV!"

Michael stopped and said, "Oh, I'm sorry, Flip. I didn't mean to distract you. What were you saying?"

Flip just fanned his face with his hand and got up. "I think I had better go before I embarrass myself."

"What do you mean, Flip," said Karl.

"Oh, never mind!" Flip moved quickly off the verandah. When he reached his car, Maggie was there to say goodbye."

"Maggie, I don't know how you keep your sanity here. Those two were rubbing their cocks! Did you see them? I wonder if they'd let me suck them off. I know you've told me they're lovers. But do you think they'd take someone else to bed with them for just a little change in the action?"

"I'm afraid not," answered Maggie. "The only other one they let climb in bed with them is Micahel's son, Jeff."

"What!" screamed Flip. "His own son? Oh, my God. I'm going to explode! I'm just going to explode right here! Did you say his own son? Oh, my God, Maggie! He sucks his own son's cock? He fucks his own son? Oh, my God, Maggie! I'm dying! I think I'm having the vapors! Have you ever seen them together?"

"Yeah, I've seen them doing it a few times through the years."

"Oh, my God, Maggie. I'm dying."

"Well, don't die here! Just go on and draw up the plan they want and come back next week."

Flip finally drove off, leaving Michael and Karl rolling with laughter on the verandah. Maggie couldn't help but start laughing also, and said, "Flip's a real pissy queen, I know. But she's a really great landscape designer."

After her last visit to Homer Kesselring, Maggie informed the director of Meals-on-Wheels that she would never go back there. They pleaded with her, but she refused, saying that her mind was made up. Finally, Mr. Kesselring's delivery was put on the route of another volunteer, this time a Ms. Roach, a retired nurse who had worked for years in the County Hospital and had a reputation of being able to handle difficult patients.

When Ms. Roach arrived at Mr. Kesselring's apartment, Homer howled, "Who the hell are you! Where's Peterson?"

Ms. Roach simply walked over to the table and dropped the unopened carton of food on the table and turned to leave.

"Wait a minute. Where's Peterson?" shouted Homer.

"I don't know."

"Christ! Would you roll me up to the table and open that carton for me?"

"Listen, old man. I don't get paid no more to be nobody's nursemaid. I just volunteer to ruin my own dinner hour by spending it delivering this food. If you ain't able to roll yourself up to the table, you belong in a nursing home where they can coddle people like you. Now I got to go. I got more deliveries to make."

As Ms. Roach left, slamming the door behind her, Homer sat with his mouth literally hanging open and staring at the door. Going to the phone, he called the Meals-on-Wheels office and screamed, "This is Kesselring. I don't want that goddamned Roach woman coming into my place again. Where's Peterson?"

"Well, Mr. Kesselring, Mr. Peterson will no longer be going to your apartment to deliver your food to you. I'm sure he will not be back."

"What d'ya mean he's never comin' back here? He's the only one that I want here. He does the job right. I mean . . . he does the job right!"

"Mr. Kesselring, I'm very sorry, but you are no longer on Mr. Peterson's route."

"Well, can't you order him to start comin' here again?"

"I don't think so, Mr. Kesselring."

Homer paused and took a deep breath. "Well, would you give Peterson a message for me? Would you just tell him . . . 'I'm sorry.' And tell him . . . well, just tell him 'I'm sorry.'"

"Yes, Mr. Kesselring, I'll tell him."

When Maggie heard that Homer had offered a slight sign of contrition, her heart began to soften. She told the director that she wished to think about it for a day or so before she would give her answer as to whether or not she would resume her visits to the old man.

Several days later, Maggie found herself outside of Homer's door, with his food in hand, and hesitating before she knocked, still contemplating whether or not she was doing the right thing. As she entered, Homer was in his wheelchair facing the door. It was the first time Maggie had ever seen a smile on Homer's face. She thought to herself, "I think maybe there's hope for this man after all."

Setting the food carton down on the table, Maggie said, "I got your message, Homer. I guess I'm sorry, too. That was a pretty shitty thing to do, to throw your food in your lap. But could I ask something of you?"

Homer nodded vigorously.

"Could I ask you never to call me a queer or a fairy anymore? I guess you and I both know what I am. I'm a homosexual. You know it, and I know it. There's not very much I can do about that. But it's not very nice to call me a queer or a fairy. Those aren't nice names. And it makes me feel bad."

Homer held out his hand and took Maggie's hand in his. Looking up into Maggie's eyes, he said, "I'm sorry for all the things I said, Peterson. I was very upset. I wasn't upset at you. But when you told me about your sister's suicide, and about your blaming yourself, it dug into my heart like a knife. And for a few minutes there I just went crazy."

Maggie pulled up a footstool and sat in front of Homer. "Why would my telling you about that upset you so much that you had to say such things to me?"

"Maggie . . . can I call you Maggie?"

"Of course."

"Maggie, it was my son, Roman."

"Oh, Homer, Mrs. Johnson next door told me about his death. I'm so sorry."

"I guess it was just like your sister, Maggie. He died because I wasn't there to help him." Homer turned to look out of the window. His hand began shaking almost uncontrollably. Maggie held it tightly.

"He was walking home one night after a lesson at the music school, and a bunch of bad characters killed him and took his violin."

"Oh, Homer." Then looking across the room, Maggie asked. "Is that his violin lying over there on the chair?"

"Yes. The police found it in an alley."

"Why do you blame yourself, Homer."

"He called me before he left the school and told me that there were men following him and taunting him on the previous night, and he was afraid of them. He asked me to drive over to the school so he could ride home with me. But . . . ."

Homer looked away again and gripped Maggie's hand more tightly. "But I told him I was too tired to get dressed and go out again to pick him up. I told him not to be afraid and just walk home. They just killed him and they threw his violin away."

With tears running down her cheeks, Maggie said, "Homer, I'm so sorry. Would you let me hold his violin for a few minutes?"

Homer nodded. As Maggie rose and went over to the chair and gently picked up the violin and the bow, she said, "You know, I used to play the violin. I took lessons for several years until one of Mum's boyfriends couldn't stand to hear it one night and came into my room and smashed it. Would you mind, Homer, if I played a few notes on it?"

"No. Please play something. There hasn't been a sound come from that instrument since Roman died. Please. Play something."

Maggie couldn't remember any of the music she had once learned, but she ran the bow over the strings and played only the C major scale. The mere sound of the violin, as badly out of tune as the instrument was, seemed to bring Roman back into the room. Homer, with his eyes closed, could see Roman and hear the sweetness of his playing.

Maggie put the violin down and knelt by Homer's side. Putting her arm around him, she said softly, "Homer, we've both had something happen to someone we loved. And it's changed our lives. It's changed both our lives. And it's that overwhelming and never-ending guilt that hurts so much. It's something that kind of brings us close together, doesn't it?"

Homer reached his arm around behind Maggie, but hesitated and held it out away from Maggie's back.

"Come on, Homer. You can touch me. You can hug me. You don't have to worry. I won't contaminate you. And I'll never breathe it to a soul that you hugged a homosexual!"

As hard as Homer tried to avoid it, a smile crept across his face as he gently placed his arm around Maggie's back.

"Now squeeze me tight, Homer. Homosexuals aren't delicate, you know. We're not made of glass. Give me a real hug now!"

They both laughed and hugged tightly. Then Maggie whispered in Homer's ear, "Now, how about some good tuna salad for supper!"

"What!" Homer said, pulling away from Maggie. "I've had their damned tuna salad before. It's nothing but crap. Can't you do something to it to make it good? Can you work your magic on it?"

"I anticipated that, Homer. I brought some onions and pickles and celery to mix with it, and I'm going to put some eggs on to boil. Cut-up hard boiled egg is also good with it. And I brought some of my own homemade potato bread to eat with it. How does that sound?"

Homer looked at Maggie, but found himself unable to speak. He felt a terrible lump in his throat. His lonely life—his lonely house had for so long been so hard to bear. It had been so many years since anyone had hugged him. Now there was a cheerful voice calling to him from the kitchen. He buried his face in his hands, his eyes felt hot, and tears ran down over his fingers.

When Maggie left Homer's apartment after they had both eaten, she sat in her car and started to cry. She felt so badly for Homer and the terrible guilt he was feeling. She understood so well and could feel what he must be going through. She had thought of asking to see a picture of Homer's son, Roman. But she thought Homer was feeling enough pain at that moment, and looking at Roman's picture would be doubly hard for him. But there would be other visits. She really wanted to play something nice on the violin for Homer. Such a stupid, feeble effort she had made. After her own violin had been destroyed, she had picked up a cheap used one. It was now in storage with some of her other things at Rhapsody's apartment in San Antonio. She thought she would get the violin back and start practicing again so that she could play some things for Homer on Roman's violin—when she'd first picked it up, she'd looked through the "f hole" (or "sound hole" as it is referred to sometimes) and had seen a faded label which read "Antonius Stradivarius Cremonensis Faciebat Anno 1769" and under it, "Czechoslovakia." It was indeed a superb instrument, but she recognized it as only a reproduction of the famous originals. Still, she thought Homer would like to hear some good music coming from his son's beautiful violin. Maggie's greatest reward in her life was when she could do things that would bring pleasure to others.

Adriano had just finished up his last class of the day, and was correcting some papers in his office when the phone rang. It was Charlie.

"Charlie! It's great to hear your voice. When can we get together again, you big gorgeous thing?"

Charlie sounded full of eagerness. "Adriano, I'm here in Austin. I got really horny this morning and couldn't get you off my mind. So this afternoon I just hopped in the car and drove on over here, just taking a chance you'd be able to see me."

'Oh, my God,' thought Adriano. 'My dad's staying with me. What am I going to do?'

"Are you there, Adriano?"

"Oh, yeah, Charlie. Sorry. Ah, Charlie, my dad is here from Italy and he'll be staying with me for the next week or so."

"Oh, great, Adriano. I'd love to meet your dad."

"Well, Charlie, I'm thinking about where you can stay. He's staying at my apartment and . . . ."

"That's okay, Adriano, I can sleep on the floor, and maybe once we know he's asleep, I can sneak in and we can do a little something."

"You don't understand, Charlie. I've got only one bed, and he has to sleep with me."


"Charlie, I'll leave the office right now and meet you somewhere so we can talk. Where are you?"

"I'm out at the edge of town at the Lone Star Café & Lounge on the Old San Antonio Road. I'll have another beer and wait for you here."

When Adriano arrived, he joined Charlie in a booth and ordered a bottle of his favorite Pearl beer.

"Charlie, I can't tell you how good it is to see you. I keep thinking about that wild day we spent together. And when I jack off at night, it's you and that great body of yours that occupies my fantasy. I hope you don't mind my telling you that. I suppose I should really act more blasé and kind of act only moderately interested in you so you won't take me for granted."

Charlie laughed, reached under the table, and squeezed Adriano's thigh. "You mean you'd torture me like that? You think treating me like that would keep me interested? I don't play mind games with people, Adriano. I'm really stuck on you. If you're really stuck on me, I don't expect you to play coy with me. You gotta be straight with me, Adriano. Just like you were a few minutes ago. I don't want none of that 'blasé' stuff. Okay?"

"Okay, Charlie, none of that blasé stuff. But I've got to be straight with you about something else now. You know my father is staying with me in my apartment for another week. And you know I've only got the one bed."

"I know," said Charlie. "You already explained that. Maybe I ought to just drive on back home."

"Well, Charlie, there's something else you need to know," said Adriano. "I just don't know how to say this, but . . . Charlie . . . my dad and I . . . you know . . . my dad and I . . . are . . . you know . . . intimate with each other."

Charlie responded, "You love each other very much, right?"

"Well, yes. But not just in the way you think. My dad and I do love each other, yes . . . but . . . you know . . . we sleep together when he's here. You know what I mean?"

Charlie stared at Adriano with his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. Then he stammered, "You mean you do stuff together?"

"Yeah, Charlie. If you want to get up and just leave now, I'll understand completely."

Charlie, still staring intently into Adriano's eyes, said, "Shit no! I got a hard-on right here. Christ! You do it with your own dad? Wow!"

"As I said, Charlie, if knowing I do that turns you off, I'll understand if you want to have me out of your sight."

"Hey, little buddy," whispered Charlie. "You set my pants on fire here. So you're telling me I can't see you while your dad's here? I got my sleeping bag in the car. Why can't I just sleep in another room of your apartment and just leave you and your dad alone in your bedroom? I won't bother you."

"But Charlie, you came up here to be with me. Sleeping on the floor in another room isn't what you came here for."

"I don't care. Just knowing you two will be getting it on in the next room really pushes my buttons. Tell me, little buddy, do you get to fuck your dad in the butt hole, and do you suck his cock?"

"Charlie, I don't really want to go into all that. I'll go home now and tell my dad you're coming for dinner at about six o'clock. I've already told him about you, and he said he's anxious to meet you."

Charlie, with a big smile on his face, said, "He is? Wow!"

As they got up to leave, Adriano shook his head and said, "I don't know if this is going to work, Charlie. I'm not sure what he'll think of having you in the next room."

Charlie thought to himself, 'Well, maybe then he'll invite me to join them!'

Dinner consisted mainly of a salmon casserole that Adriano had made the previous day and had it "seasoning," as he put it, in the refrigerator overnight. Table conversation was light, with Mario asking Charlie to describe motorcycles in general and to tell him all about his motorcycle club. Conversation continued in the living room after the meal was finished and the dishes were done.

Eventually, Adriano knew that the dreaded moment had finally arrived when the agreed upon sleeping arrangements had to be effected.

"Well, Charlie," began Adriano. "It's getting pretty late, and I suppose you should go out and get your sleeping bag from your car. You can sleep right here on the sofa."

As he was speaking, it suddenly dawned on Adriano that the bathroom was connected to the bedroom and Charlie would have to walk through the bedroom to get to it. 'Oh shit! Why didn't I think of that,' he murmured to himself.

When Charlie returned with his sleeping bag, Adriano said, "Charlie, why don't you go on into the bathroom and do whatever you need to do—take a shower, brush your teeth, or whatever, and pee. And then once you're in the sack, Dad and I will use the bathroom and go to bed. Okay?"

When Charlie was finished with his shower and his other ablutions, he marched out of the bathroom totally naked and passed by both Adriano and Mario, who were still fully dressed. Adriano thought, 'He did that on purpose. I could tell by the look on his face.'

Soon goodnights were said all around and Adriano and Mario were now in bed with the bedroom door closed. Mario rolled over and pressed his naked body against his son's body and kissed him on the lips. "Adriano," he said, "I feel badly that Charlie came all this way to see you and I'm here to mess things up."

"That's okay, Dad, I can be with him another time."

Mario threw off the covers and sat up looking over his son's slender naked body. As he moved his tongue down over Adriano's chin, his neck, and chest, he said, "When I'm home, I dream of doing just this—touching and tasting your beautiful smooth, moist skin, Adriano."

Then, as Mario brought his tongue down over the soft furry hair on Adriano's forearm, there came a very light knock on the door. "Yes, what is it?" called Adriano.

A faint voice from the other side said, "I hate to bother you, but I have to pee again."

Adriano threw the sheet back up over Mario. "Okay, Charlie. Come on in and use the bathroom if you have to."

Charlie walked through, looking over at the bed to see what he could see. Adriano could see that Charlie's penis was rigid and pointing up at a forty-five degree angle. The sight of it made Adriano's own penis jump several times. Soon, Charlie went back through, saying, "Sorry, guys. It's all the beer you fed me tonight."

When the door was finally closed, Adriano threw back the sheet, and Mario resumed giving his son a thorough tongue bath. Mario then lifted Adriano's legs in the air, exposing Adriano's asshole. Mario crouched down in front of him and worked his tongue down through the thick hair that filled Adriano's crack until it found the pucker. Adriano relaxed his asshole as much as he could so that his father's tongue could slip into his rectum as far as possible. As Adriano stroked his penis and began to moan with the pleasurable feel of his dad's tongue in his rectum, there came another little knock on the door, and a soft little voice saying, "I have to pee again."

Adriano said, "Oh, my God, Dad, pull the cover back up!"

Mario said, "No. We're not doing anything that he hasn't already done himself. Let him walk through and see us if he wants to."

Adriano shouted, "Okay, Charlie, you can come in."

Charlie opened the door and stood there as though he was paralyzed at the sight before him. There was Mario, with his own ass up in the air and his face buried in his son's ass crack. Charlie proceeded into the bathroom and pretended to pee.

When Charlie came back into the room, Mario raised his head and said, "Charlie, come on over here and lie down on the bed if you want to. There's no point in you having to run back and forth like this to the bathroom. Would it bother you to lie here with us?"

Charlie stuttered, "Shit no! I mean, No, sir. I'd love to do that. Where should I lie?"

Adriano smiled and motioned to Charlie to come over to the bed. "Okay, Charlie, just climb in and lie next to me and give me a big kiss."

Charlie thought his penis was about to explode as he climbed in.

As Mario brought his face back down into Adriano's ass crack, he said. "Go ahead, Charlie, and kiss him like he said. Don't be shy."

As Charlie and Adriano kissed deeply, Adriano reached down and clutched Charlie's penis, now slimy with dripping semen. "Crouch over my chest, Charlie, and push that beautiful cock into my mouth. I want to taste it."

As Charlie moved into position, Mario pulled his face out of Adriano's crack and, as he brought his head up, there was Charlie's luscious round ass right there in his face. Leaning over slightly, Mario was able to force his tongue into Charlie's ass trench and swirl it over his hard puckered asshole. Charlie growled with pleasure while his penis was being sucked by Adriano, and his asshole was being tongue fucked by Adriano's father.

"Oh, my God, you guys!" cried Charlie. "I'm gonna cum. Ooooooooooooh!"

As Charlie's penis pulsated and throbbed, sending glob after glob of hot sperm into Adriano's mouth, Mario could feel on his tongue the powerful clenching of Charlie's asshole at each surge of his orgasm. Mario now had only one thing on his mind—to plunge his hard cock into that tight asshole that he had discovered between Charlie's ass cheeks. Positioning Charlie on his hands and knees over the prostrate body of his son, Adriano, so that Charlie could take Adriano's penis into his mouth, Mario got on his knees and prepared to fuck Charlie from behind by flooding his asshole with his saliva.

As Mario teased Charlie by just brushing his asshole with the tip of his penis, Charlie began to wiggle his ass as though he was trying to suck Mario's hard cock into his hole. Then Mario pushed his penis against Charlie's hole, very gently at first, and then harder and harder until Mario's mushroom head popped in through the hole and into Charlie's rectum. Charlie let out a grunt of pleasure. Then with one great thrust, Mario buried the whole length of his throbbing cock shaft into the depths of Charlie's rectum. Charlie continued to swirl his ass around in an effort to get Mario's seven-inch rod even deeper.

Adriano, lying on his back could clearly watch his hard penis being devoured by Charlie, as well as the intense look on his father's face and the flexing and rippling of his father's chest and arm muscles as his slim torso swayed in and out, pushing and pulling his cock in and out of Charlie's tight asshole.

Very soon, Adriano could see sweat begin to stream down his father's face. The muscles and veins in his neck began to stand out, his jaw tightened, and his eyes began to squint. He could tell that a powerful orgasm was beginning to overtake his father's entire body. The violent pounding of Charlie's ass became harder and faster. Adriano watched as his father opened his mouth wide and let out a roar of agonizing pleasure as his sperm surged up his cock shaft and flooded Charlie's rectum with his thick hot cream.

The sight of his own father totally abandoning himself like a helpless animal to his own orgasm brought Adriano to the brink. As Charlie felt Mario's hot sperm pouring into his rectum with each powerful throb of Mario's cock, he also felt the surging pulsation of Adriano's hard rod in his mouth, spewing his thick sperm down his throat.

As Mario rolled over on his back, exhausted, and Mario lay next to him breathing heavily, Charlie felt his own penis regaining its stiffness. Sitting on his haunches, looking down at both Mario and Adriano lying with their cheeks together, Charlie began slowly stroking his penis. It took him only several minutes to bring himself close to orgasm. When Mario and Adriano opened their eyes, they saw what he was doing and raised their heads, still with their cheeks pressed together, and opened their mouths wide.

Adriano said, "Charlie, try to feed some of it to each of us. Come down close and aim good so we each get some of that nice hot cream of yours."

Charlie moved in such a way as to bring the head of his penis about three inches from their faces. As he started shooting his cum, he was able to get some of it in each of their mouths, but most of it splattered all over their faces. He then leaned over and licked their faces clean with his tongue.

Charlie said, "Mario, your face tastes so good with your salty sweat mixed in with my sperm."

Having said that, Charlie rolled over onto the bed and the three of them, with their warm moist bodies pressed together, were soon sound asleep.

Adriano's alarm clock went off at six the next morning. Mario and Charlie stirred slightly, but did not completely awaken. Adriano was due at the lab by 7:30 a.m. He showered, shaved, and dressed without waking the other two. As he quietly left the apartment, Mario and Charlie were still asleep. Adriano, on one hand, didn't want to awaken them but, on the other, was a little concerned about leaving them in bed together. "Oh, well," he thought, "the two of them couldn't do anything together now that they hadn't already done the night before." He worried, though, that Charlie might find his father more to his liking than him. That would never do.

As it happened, when Mario and Charlie did awaken, they were both reluctant to have any more sexual activity with each other in Adriano's absence. Adriano was the key to all of this, they thought, and without him, it just wouldn't be right to do anything with each other. Charlie quickly dressed, picked up his sleeping bag, and departed after saying his polite thank-yous and good-byes.

Enrique had now been back with Jake for three days. He had not realized how much he had missed the feeling of security he once had until he was at last back in Jake's bed in the warmth of Jake's arms. Jake was solid. Jake could always make everything right. No matter how raging the storm around them, Enrique would always be secure in the protection of Jake's arms. While he welcomed his Ricky back and gave him the tender love that he craved, Jake had been strangely pensive and unlike himself.

It was late Friday afternoon. Work for the day had come to an end. It was still two hours, however, before supper time. Enrique was worried that Jake was having second thoughts about their getting back together again. He pleaded with Jake to ride out with him on their horses to the small river where they had once had so much fun together. Jake agreed that getting out and away from the bunkhouse and the other hands for a little bit would be a welcome change.

Enrique challenged Jake to a race as they rode toward the river. Jake had always clearly been the best horseman on the ranch. None of the other ranch hands matched his expert handling of horses. But whenever Enrique had wanted to race him, Jake purposely lost the race in Enrique's favor. He loved to see the joy on Ricky's face when he thought he had beaten Jake. Jake had always thought that Enrique had missed out on a lot in his life, never having had any other children to grow up with. Enrique was born and raised in an adult world, and never knew the joys and innocence of childhood. He never had a chance to compete with and win against boys his own age. He never had a chance to be first in anything, or even second. He was always the kid trying to live up to the adults around him.

The race once again ended with Enrique pulling up to the river just ahead of Jake.

"Goddammit, Ricky," shouted Jake. "I jist can't beat ya! Yer jist too fast fer me!"

They tied their horses to a limb of a Mesquite Tree and sat down on the grassy riverbank.

As Jake looked off to the western horizon, Enrique pulled up close and rested his head on Jake's shoulder. After a few minutes, Enrique said, "Jake, are you sorry you let me come back to you?"

"Why no, Ricky," said Jake. "What makes ya ask such a question."

"Well, you haven't been smiling too much, and you go to bed early and go to sleep right away, and you just kind of walk slow and look sad. Sometimes I think you don't want me to be around or you don't want me to bother you."

Putting his arm around Enrique's shoulder and kissing him on the top of his head, Jake said, "Aw, Ricky, it ain't got nothin' to do with you, ya little fucker. To tell ya the truth, I've jist been havin' some fuckin' pains in my chest lately. And I feel better when I don't move too fast and when I lay down. That's all it is, Ricky. It ain't nothin' to worry about."

Enrique quietly slipped his hand in between the buttons of Jake's shirt and gently ran his fingers through Jake's thick bush of chest hair. "I don't want you to be sick, Jake. I don't want you to feel bad." Then after a few moments, Enrique looked into Jake's face and said, "I don't want you to die, Jake."

"Aw, come on, Ricky! I ain't gonna die. Old men like me git pains. It ain't nothin' unusual. Anyway, let's git off of that. I was thinkin'. They tell me yer tutorin' has come along so well, that yer gonna be able to start school in the tenth grade in January. And then ya can be with kids yer own age. You'll be a regular school boy for the first time in yer life!"

"I don't wanna go to school, Jake. Can't you just keep me going to those old ladies in Goliad who've been teaching me right along?"

"Fraid not. It's time you got off this fuckin' ranch and out in the world with real people. And there's no use arguin' about it. I'll take ya in and pick ya up every day. And then we'll do yer homework every night. Jist you and me."

"Jake, I'm glad you're happy I'm living with you again. But I don't like you to feel bad with your pains and all that."

"I'm gonna be fine, little fucker. Now I think we better git back fer supper or Maggie'll have our fuckin' hide!"

The last day of Josiah's and Brian's stay at the little house in the Cottonwoods had finally come. They had spent the week walking, sitting and talking, eating, playing board games, watching television, and just lying around loving each other's company. This was the first love either of them had ever felt, and it was like a beautiful dream that never seemed to end. On their last night, they sat on the verandah watching the developing sunset in the west, and letting the breeze blow over their naked bodies. Brian sat with his arm around Josiah, while Josiah rested his head on Brian's chest, sucking lightly his chest hair as he always loved to do.

Josiah finally said, "Brian, before we leave, there's one thing I want. And I think you want it, too."

"Yeah," replied Brian. "I do. And I know what you're talking about. I really want you inside of me, Josiah. I really want you badly. I want you so badly, if I could suck your whole body inside of me, I would do it."

"I know," said Josiah. "I have to have you inside of me, too. I wonder if it will hurt. Your finger didn't hurt me."

"Me neither," said Brian. "But if we do it with our penises, they're much bigger and longer. I don't know if we can do it. But I know we have to try. It's just something I've got to have."

"Me, too, Brian. I love you, Brian."

Brian and Josiah sat with their naked bodies pressed together and their arms wrapped tightly around each other. As they watched the sun go lower and lower below the horizon, Brian could feel Josiah's warm breath on his cheek, while Josiah could feel Brian's fingers feeling their way between his legs, and gently cupping his balls.

As the sun finally disappeared and the sky was filled with brilliant red and orange streaks, Brian and Josiah slowly got up, still holding on to each other. They went inside and lay down on Ol' Ben's big iron bed for the last time.

Josiah sat on his haunches, looking down at Brian's handsome, masculine body stretched out full length, punctuated in its center with its large, luxurious package of black pubic hair, long thick penis standing straight up, and two delicate balls hanging loosely in its soft sack. Leaning over, Josiah ran his tongue over the hair that covered Brian's balls, and then down on the soft hair along the fleshy part of Brian's upper inner thighs.

With his face still down between Brian's legs, Josiah looked up at Brian, who had his arms folded beneath his head. Josiah said, "Do you want to go first, or should I. I mean, do you want to put your penis in me first, or should I stick mine in you first."

"Oh, I don't know," replied Brian. "What do you want to do."

Josiah thought a minute. "Well, do you want to try pushing your penis into me first?"

Brian answered, "Okay."

Josiah stretched out flat on his back, while Brian retrieved the tube of KY that someone had thoughtfully placed in the bedside table drawer. Brian took hold of Josiah's legs under the knees and slowly pushed them up so that Josiah's thighs were pressed flat against his stomach and chest. Brian could see Josiah's little pink puckered asshole clenching and unclenching in anticipation of what was coming. Brian squeezed a large amount of KY onto Josiah's asshole and rubbed it around and inside of the hole. Then spreading KY on his own penis, he leaned over Josiah and touched his hard penis on Josiah's hole.

"Josiah," said Brian, "I'm going to try to push it in now."

"Okay. Ow! That hurts!" growled Josiah.

"Well, I have to push it, Josiah. Otherwise, it won't go in. Does it really hurt?"

"Yeah. But go ahead and push as hard as you want until I tell you to stop."

Brian pushed harder. Josiah clenched his jaw and grimaced his face. "I'm pushing, but it won't go in. Can you try to relax your hole a little bit, Josiah?

"I'll try. It's really hurting, but keep pushing."

Brian began pushing so hard that it felt like his hard penis might jack-knife in the middle. Josiah was beginning to sweat and was grunting with pain. Then suddenly, the large gorged head of Brian's penis broke through Josiah's asshole and into his rectum, and Josiah let out a yelp. Brian just stopped there and didn't move his penis at all.

Josiah said, "Okay, Brian, it doesn't feel bad now. But just hold it there for a minute or two. I kind of have that feeling like I might have to shit."

Soon Josiah said, "Okay, Brian, push it in farther." As Brian's penis sank deeper into Josiah's rectum, Josiah said, "Oh, keep going Brian. It really feels good. Go ahead and push it as hard as you can, all the way in."

Brian had never felt anything like it. To feel his penis encased in the warm wet cavern of Josiah's rectum was almost more than he could bear.

Then Josiah said, "Keep pushing harder, Brian. In and out. Harder! Faster! Oh, my God. You're inside of me. I want all of you inside of me. Harder! Oh, God, I wish you could squeeze your whole body into me, my beautiful Brian!

Brian's penis was now sliding in and out of Josiah's asshole with ease, and Brian was pounding his hips against Josiah's ass as hard as he could. Josiah's body was being lurched forward and back with every plunge of Brian's cock. Josiah could see sweat rolling off of Brian's forehead. Sweat also glistened on Brian's chest, highlighting the contour of his breasts and nipples.

Breathing harder and harder, Brian said, "I just can't hold it any longer. I'm gonna cum. My God, I'm gonna cum!"

Josiah shouted, "Go ahead, Brian, fill my hole with your hot thick sperm!"

Brian threw his head back and called out, "Ahhhhhhhh!" Josiah felt every throb of Brian's pulsating penis as stream after stream of Brian's hot cream shot into his rectum.

As Brian pulled his hard penis out of Josiah's asshole, it made a loud slurping noise. They lay next to each other, kissing gently and trying to catch their breath.

Brian said, "How did it feel, Josiah? Did it feel good?"

"I can't describe it, Brian. To think it was you, Brian, who was inside of me, was almost more than I could bear. I hope you'll like it as much as I did."

Brian pulled his legs up against his chest and said, "Well, I can't wait to find out. There's the KY, Josiah. Be sure to poke a lot of it inside my asshole."

Josiah applied the lubricant to both Brian's asshole and his own penis and leaned over, preparing to push his hard cock into Brian's hole.

"Now take it slow, Josiah," warned Brian. "It might hurt like you did."

Josiah touched the tip of his penis to Brian's pucker and just held it there.

"Josiah," said Brian, "You can push a little harder to see if it goes in."

Josiah pushed harder and then said, "Brian, I don't think it's going to go in."

"Well, push harder."

"Okay, but I don't want to hurt you."

"That's okay."

Josiah started pushing even harder, but then Brian shouted, "Ow! Hold it! That really hurts. I don't know if I can take it, Josiah."

Josiah pushed even harder, but tears started rolling down Brian's cheeks. It suddenly dawned on Brian that maybe he wouldn't be able to do it. It was the one thing sexually that he wanted the very most with Josiah, and the thought that he couldn't do it panicked him into tears.

Josiah said, "Don't cry, Brian, please. We'll just rest here for a few minutes and we'll try again." Josiah leaned over and kissed the salty tears off of Brian's cheeks.

With his eyes full of tears, Brian shouted, "No, no! Keep pushing. Don't stop. We've got to do it!"

As Josiah started pushing again, Brian's face was contorted with pain, and kept saying between clenched teeth, "Keep going, Josiah! Please!"

Josiah couldn't bear to see Brian hurting so much. But just when he decided he would stop pushing, his penis head popped into Brian's rectum. Brian, his eyes still brimming with tears, looked up at Josiah with a smile.

"Oh, Josiah, you did it! It doesn't hurt anymore now. You can push it in deeper."

Josiah lowered his hips all the way down onto Brian's ass cheeks, driving his hard penis all the way into Brian's rectum. Brian grabbed Josiah's shoulders and said, "Oh, Josiah! Fuck me now. Just fuck me and fuck me and fuck me. It feels like a telephone pole is inside of me. It's so wonderful!"

"Brian, I can't go much longer. I can feel my orgasm coming. I have to shoot now! "Ohhhhhhhh!" Josiah's whole body wrenched violently at every surge of sperm that shot out of his penis into Brian's rectum. When his orgasm had finally spent itself, he lowered himself flat onto Brian's stomach. Brian reached around and took hold of each of Josiah's ass cheeks and squeezed them. Running his fingers through Josiah's ass crack, he could feel the sperm that he had shot into Josiah as it oozed out of Josiah's asshole. Raising his sperm-covered fingers, both Brian and Josiah licked them clean.

After a long while, Brian spoke. "Josiah, Isn't fucking and getting fucked like this what people do to get their marriages consummated?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Well, then we just got ourselves consummated, Josiah."

"Brian, I thought consummate was that clear beef broth that Maggie gives us."

"No, Josiah, you're thinking of Maggie's cumsummate, that thick, white creamy soup she makes."

Josiah and Brian started getting the giggles.

"Josiah, haven't you watched Maggie when she was standing at the stove stirring her cream soup. That ain't 'stirring' you see her arm doing. Where do you think that nice thick cream comes from that makes her soup taste so good?"

More giggles.

Then Josiah said, "And yeah, I guess old Jake knows what he's talking about when he says 'Please pass the fuckin' cream of mushroom soup!'"

The joking got to be such nonsense and the giggling became so uncontrolled that neither could hardly speak from laughing so hard. Both Josiah and Brian soon tired and collapsed in each other's arms ready for sleep.

To be continued...


Posted: 09/05/08