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...


As Jeff gently rubbed his dad's back, he said, "Dad, before Jason told us about it the other night, did you know that this is how a blind person sees another person? With his hands? Just like this, moving his fingers slowly over every inch of his body."

There was no reply from Michael. Jeff looked closely and saw that his dad had fallen sound asleep. Jeff smiled and whispered in Michael's ear, "I love you, Dad. Just being like this with you is all I need."


Chapter 58 


A bright sunny morning dawned in San Antonio as Michael and Jeff awoke after a good night's sleep. Michael was lying on his back and, as he woke up, he saw Jeff propped up on one elbow, running his fingers lightly over the hair on his father's chest and stomach.

"How do you feel this morning, Dad," asked Jeff.

"I feel really good, Jeff," said Michael. "My leg is a little stiff, but there's no pain. I really slept the sleep of the dead last night. How about you?"

"Same here, Dad," said Jeff as he reached down and lightly tickled the underside of his dad's balls. "I like to do this, Dad, and watch that limp little penis of yours slowly rise up to attention. To watch your penis growing slowly in size like this is so hot!"

"I see your wearing a pretty big boner this morning, yourself!" noted Michael.

Jeff leaned over and took his dad's gorged penis into his mouth. Then, as he held the entire rod between his lips, he switched his position so that his own penis could be easily taken by Michael. Michael rolled over on his side and took the hint. They both began furiously running each other's hard penises in and out of their mouths. Having long ago perfected a system of coordinating their orgasms with each other, they both knew when the other was about to cum, and would fill each other's mouths with their cum at precisely the same time. As they each went into an orgasmic frenzy, their bodies began bouncing around and slamming into each other.

As they both pulled off and settled down, Michael said, "That was a great breakfast. Speaking of which, I have to tell you about one time when I was in college. One of the young professors I had took me home one night for a good time. When we got up in the morning, we went down to his kitchen for some breakfast. We were both still naked and still a little horny. When the toast popped up, he slathered butter on each of our pieces. Then he stood next to the table and proceeded to jack off onto my piece of buttered toast. And I did the same. Then we ate it. Talk about erotic! After that we often talked about the 'buttered cum' we had for breakfast that day. Cum and butter really made a great combination . . . especially since his cum was so nice and sweet."

"Oh, Dad, please!" said Jeff with a bit of a grimace. "Did you really do that?"

"We sure did. It sounds crazy to me now, though. Don't think I'll ever do it again."

"Well, Dad, I'm sure he enjoyed your buttered cum, too, because yours is nice and sweet, too. That's a wild story. Are you sure that really happened?"

"Sure it happened. I wouldn't make it up!"

Michael and Jeff got dressed quickly and went down to the dining room for a proper breakfast. Michael said, "Before we head back to the ranch, Jeff, I want to go back to the hospital and see what's happening with Jumper."

"Oh, dad, you're not still thinking you want to have anything to do with that kid, are you?"

Michael put a serious look on his face and said, "Of course, I am, Jeff. We can use him as vending machine. Put a five dollar bill in his mouth and then stick our cock up his ass whenever we get horny!"

"Dad! You're getting awfully crude in your old age!"

"Oh, Jeff, I'm just kidding. You know that. If I don't do something, he'll just go on back to some rest stop and keep getting fucked by a bunch of truck drivers for the rest of his life."

"Well, what's wrong with that, Dad?" said Jeff impatiently. "That's his life. There's no reason for you to get yourself all involved with him. What in God's name would you do with him if you took him down to the ranch? Is it that you've got some sort of an attraction to him? After all that fucking he gets, he's probably full of disease. Maybe AIDS."

"That doesn't mean that someone shouldn't help him if he can."

"What if he doesn't want your help? He's probably perfectly happy the way he is."

"I'm not going to argue with you, Jeff," said Michael. "I know what I want to do."

"You've always been so damned stubborn. Sometimes you just don't want to listen to reason."

After arriving at the hospital, Michael and Jeff walked into Jumper's room. He had now been moved to a regular hospital room. There they found a small woman with glasses that looked like bottle bottoms and holding a clipboard. She was questioning Jumper.

The woman looked up and looked at Michael. She said, "Good morning. And you are . . .?

"I'm Michael Walker, and this is my son, Jeff. We're here to see Jumper."

"And you are his father?" she asked.


"What relation are you?"

"We're not related," responded Michael. "I'm just a friend. I would like to see about taking him with me when he's recovered."

The woman said, "Are you his legal guardian?"

"No, just a friend."

"Well, in that case, we won't be able to turn him over to you. I'm a counselor from the agency, and it's up to the agency as to the disposition of this boy."

"Why, in God's name, is it up the agency what happens to him?" said Michael. "He's done nothing wrong. He can go with whomever he wishes."

The woman put her clip board down on the bed and turned to face Michael. "Mr. Walker, this boy is an indigent. His disposition needs to come under the rules of the Agency."

"Bullshit!" said Michael, who rarely used such words in public. "I'm going to see about this!"

Michael left the room and went to a public phone located in the waiting room and called Caleb. He wanted to find out exactly what were the legalities of this situation. He explained to Caleb how they had met the boy and the misfortune that had befallen him.

"Caleb," Michael began, "I want to take this boy back to the ranch to see if we can give him a new start."

Caleb asked, "Is that what the boy wants to do?"

"I don't know, Caleb. We haven't really talked to him about it yet."

"Are you sure this is something you want to do, Michael?" asked Caleb. "To me, it doesn't sound like a very good idea."

Michael said, "It's not up for discussion, Caleb. I just want to know what I can do legally."

"Well, Michael," said Caleb. "You need to find out some things about this lad. If he had once been in a foster home and ran away from it, it is definitely the Agency's business to see that he is returned or at least placed in another approved foster home."

"I'll find out," said Michael.

"And furthermore, Michael, you will need to know if this boy has ever committed a crime of any kind. If he has a record, or if he's wanted by the authorities for some reason, you'd better keep your hands off."

"Okay, Caleb," said Michael. "If none of that is true and he's just a kid out on his own, am I clear to take him?"

"Well, if none of that is true, Michael, you still need to consider that his parents may be looking for him. And he might be listed as a missing person with the police. And I don't know if you want to harbor a kid whose parents are out there somewhere worried about him. You could be accused sometime down the line of kidnapping."

"Well Caleb," said Michael. "I'll go and talk with him to see what's what with him and call you back."

Going back and finding that the woman from the agency had left, Michael looked at Jumper, who was now sitting up in bed and looking much improved. Michael said, "Jumper, do you have a mom and dad, or have you been in a foster home?"

"No," said Jumper. "I've never been in a foster home. But my old man kicked me out of the house when I turned sixteen. He'd started coming into my room when I was about fifteen and was fucking me almost every night. One night I told him I didn't want him to do that to me, and we got into a terrible fight. The next morning, we were still fighting and he threw me out of the house and told me he never wanted to see me again."

"Well, how about your mother, Jumper?"

"She didn't give a shit. She knew the old man was fucking me, and didn't give a shit. In fact, she'd be in her room almost every afternoon fucking some other man I didn't know while the old man wasn't home. So I was glad to get away from there."

"How have you been living out on your own at your age?" asked Michael.

"Oh, it wasn't hard. I'd steal food from the 7-Eleven and sleep in the woods behind the store."

"How about school?"

"I left when I was in sixth grade and never went back to that fuckin' place. I was failing anyway and was glad to get my ass out of there."

Michael said, "How did you end up spending all your time at the rest area?"

"Well, I was hitch hiking one day, and a trucker stopped and picked me up. We drove for a little while and then pulled into that rest area. He said he'd give me five bucks if I'd let him fuck me. I didn't give a shit. I'd been fucked so much by my old man, I didn't care. And then the other truckers found out that I was putting out, and that's how it started. It was the only fuckin' thing I knew how to do to make money."

"Do you enjoy getting fucked by all those trucker?" asked Michael.

"Not really anymore. But I make money at it, and that's all that matters."

Michael said, "Jumper, did you know that that woman who was here will probably try to put you in a foster home?"

"Yeah, but I'm not going. All I want to do is get out of this fuckin' place."

"What would you say if Jeff and I were to take you down to our ranch to live when they let you out?"

"What can I do there?" asked Jumper. "I need to get out and get back to some rest area where I can make some money."

"Jumper, if you don't come with us, you won't be able to find yourself a new rest area. You'll probably be put in a foster home, and you'll never know what kind of a life you'll have there."

Jumper sat quietly and thought about what Michael had said. Soon, he just shrugged his shoulders, indicating that he did understand what Michael was saying.

Michael said, "You think about it, Jumper. I'll be right back."

Going back to the phone, Michael called Caleb again. He said, "Caleb, he's never been in a foster home. But he was kicked out of the house by his mom and dad, who are very likely not looking for him. The social worker told me that the Agency checked the boy out with the police as to any possible criminal activity, and found that there had been none."

Caleb said, "Well, Michael, under those circumstances, I don't think there would be anything from a legal standpoint that would prevent you from taking the boy under your wing and having him live down at the ranch. But I wish you'd think long and hard about doing anything like that. You may be in for some trouble. That boy sounds to me like a wild one. Just think about it, Michael, before you do anything."

When Michael returned to Jumper's room, he found both the social worker and her supervisor. He explained to the supervisor what he learned from Caleb. She simply shook her head and said, "Mr. Walker, it's true that you're legally within your rights to have the boy live with you, and we'll have no objection to it. Just between you and me, we are so overloaded with case work, it will be just one more we won't have to deal with."

After they left, Michael said, "Okay, Jumper. You heard her. When you get ready to leave here, would you be willing to come down to the ranch and live with us?"

"I don't know."

"And if you don't like it, there will be nothing stopping you from leaving and going to find yourself another rest stop. How would that be?"

"Okay," said Jumper. "All I want right now is to get out of this fuckin' place."

Michael walked closer to the bed and brushed Jumper's blond hair off of his forehead and said, "Okay, Jumper, we'll stay in touch with you and the hospital, and when you get discharged, we'll drive you down to the ranch."

Michael and Jeff drove back to the ranch in silence most of the way. Jeff finally said, "Okay, Dad, Karl is probably going to be coming back, and you'll have that relationship to try to get back on track. Then you'll have this kid on your hands, which will likely be nothing but headaches. And on top of that you'll probably have Jared living with you. You'll have to deal with that, and God knows what shape he'll be in. Okay, Dad. It's your ballgame. I know that no one can tell you what to do."

After driving further without speaking, Jeff said, "I love you, Dad. But you're so God-damned stubborn sometimes."

While Michael and Jeff were gone, Jake had cleared an area on the other side of the horse barn to make a small basketball court, just big enough to shoot baskets. At regulation height, he attached to the side of the barn a basket that he had purchased at a sporting goods store in Goliad. Enrique and Noah had both taken a liking to playing basketball in their physical education classes at school, and had been talking to Jake about how much they would like to practice shooting baskets at home. Jake was glad to do the set-up for them, and was out there shooting baskets with Enrique and Noah when Michael and Jeff drove into the yard.

The three of them ran over to meet Michael and Jeff as they arrived. "How was yer little vacation?" shouted Jake.

Jeff said, "It couldn't have been better. We had a great time, except for Dad, here, having a little accident falling down some steps."

Michael was dressed in shorts, and the bandaged area on his calf was clearly visible.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Michael," said Jake. "I hope it doesn't hurt too bad."

"I'm okay, Jake. Thanks," said Michael, looking over toward the horse barn. "Hey, I see something new has been added!"

Enrique said, "Yeah, Jake fixed that up for us. Noah and I love to play basketball at school, and now we can practice at home, too."

Michael tousled both Enrique's and Noah's hair with a loving hand and walked inside with Jeff.

As they collapsed in chairs at the kitchen table where Tony had poured them each a cup of coffee, Michael put his hand on Jeff's arm and said, "I understand what you're saying about all that, Jeff. I do understand the risks. But there are some things one just feels he has to do, or at least try to do. It may not work out, but I think that boy, like any of us, deserves a chance at life. Okay?"

Jeff turned and smiled at Michael. "I have to admit, Dad, that I am proud of you. As dumb as I think this is, I am proud of you. I really would have expected no less of you. You're a good human being. Misguided at times! But you're a good human being. And I'll always love you for that."

Josiah had been given several novels by one of his teachers to read over the summer, just for recreational reading. One of them was Oliver Twist, not an American novel as he had hoped, but one that interested him nonetheless. As he read about this boy, he saw similarities in his own life. After telling Brian about it, Brian once again urged Josiah to try writing about his life.

Josiah had been enormously encouraged by the complimentary remarks that had been uttered by his teachers. He also realized that writing came easily to him and that it was an enjoyable thing to do. But he liked novelistic writing most of all. He had written several very simple short stories in one of his classes, and they were well received. Furthermore, he did not find that reading non-fiction autobiographies were nearly as interesting as novels. He really didn't want to write about himself, but would be more interested in a story about someone like him . . . someone he could invent, whose life he would create out of his own mind. He wouldn't need to stick to the cold and miserable facts. He could write a story using his imagination and bring all his fantasies about good and evil to bear. After all, he spent so many years of his young unhappy life fantasizing and dreaming and longing for the things he didn't have. He had invented imaginary friends and imaginary villains. And in his mind he even reconstructed himself into the person he wished he could be.

One of his teachers had told him that all writing, including fictional writing, is autobiographical. Even in fiction, whether consciously or unconsciously, the author always puts himself into the story. It's impossible for any author to avoid putting his own emotions and feelings, his own hopes and dreams, as well as his life's experiences, good or bad, into his story. Whatever story a persons reads, he will always see the author revealed to some extent.

That was it. Josiah made up his mind. He would write a short story, or maybe a novel. He didn't have to write about himself, because he knew he would be there in the story somehow.

Josiah was still interested, however, in practicing his swimming. He still went to the University pool at least three afternoons each week. He had a great desire to make it on the Varsity swim team, at least by his senior year. He was glad that the swimming instructor was as encouraging about his progress as were all his other teachers. Brian hated the water, but often came down to the pool to watch Josiah practice.

One afternoon, the swimming instructor, dressed in his swimming suit, came out of his office to watch Josiah practice. He approached Brian and said, "I've noticed you here a number of times watching Josiah work out. Are you a friend of his?"

"Yes I am," replied Brian. "I'm a very good friend."

"My name's Jack Morgan. I'm his instructor. And you . . . .?"

"My name is Brian. Nice to meet you."

"He's good, isn't he?" said the instructor. "I mean, he's improved so much. He's developed good form, and he's got a nice slim body that's good for speed. I've noticed that he tires more easily than he should. In time, he'll build up his arm muscles, which will help."

As Brian was sitting in a chair against the wall, the instructor had lowered himself down to a stooping position next to him. As they both watched Josiah doing his laps, Brian could not help noticing that Jack was running his hand gently over the ample package between his legs. Jack had one of those swimmer's builds, with those typical smooth, rolling swimmer's muscles that covered his body.

Then Jack shouted at Josiah, "Josiah, lift those hands completely out of the water as you stroke. You're losing speed when you drag your hands across the water like that." Then turning to Brian, he said, "Josiah learns fast, but he needs more muscle in his arms. When he begins to tire, he looks as though he can hardly lift those arms. He has nice slender arms. I wouldn't want to see them bulging with muscles, but I think I'm going to recommend that he do some working out on the apparatus in the gym."

Josiah climbed out of the pool and said, "Whew! I think that's enough for today!"

As Josiah headed for the showers, Jack and Brian followed. Brian sat on a bench to wait for Josiah, while Jack removed his suit and walked into the shower room with Josiah. As they stood under separate shower heads, Brian could see Jack facing Josiah and very deliberately lathering up and washing his penis and balls. It was almost as though he were fondling them and showing them off, rather than washing them. And as he did so, Brian could see Jack's penis grow through the suds into a fully erect hard-on. Then he turned around with his back to Josiah and began to back up, bumping Josiah with his butt as though he had done so by mistake.

Jack whirled around and said, "Oh, I'm sorry, Josiah! I didn't realize I was so close!"

Jack had managed to get himself so close to Josiah, that his hard penis rubbed across Josiah's pubic hair. Josiah glanced out into the locker room and saw Brian watching all this with a big smile.

As they dressed, Jack said to Josiah, "You're beginning to develop a really nice swimmer's physique, Josiah. Keep going like you are, and you'll make the team for sure. Josiah, if you're not going to be busy on Saturday evening, why don't you stop by my place. I've got my own pool, and I can give you some no-charge private instruction. What d'ya say?

"Well, Mr. Morgan, that would be nice," said Josiah. "But I don't usually go anywhere without my partner, Brian, along."

Jack glanced over at Brian with a hint of a frown on his face and said, "Your partner, eh?" Then with a big smile, he. "Well, sure, Brian. You're welcome to come along, too."

"I don't do any swimming," said Brian. "I'm not much for the water."

"Well, in that case . . . ." began Jack.

"In that case!" Josiah interrupted, "Brian can be there and watch while you give me some pointers. But I'm afraid we can't make it this coming weekend. We've been invited to a housewarming party at someone's new house out in the Hill Country. Thanks, anyway. Maybe some other time."

"Yeah. We'll make it another time, for sure."

Brian had been coming down with a cold, and by the time he and Josiah got home in the late afternoon, the cold was full blown with coughing, sneezing, and runny nose. He went right to bed with a severe headache. He wanted nothing for supper and told Josiah to go ahead and eat. Josiah brought some aspirin and water to Brian and sat by the bed until Brian drifted off to sleep.

Josiah took a pillow and some sheets and made up the sofa where he could sleep without disturbing Brian. He made a cold chicken sandwich and sat down to watch the local six o'clock news. When he turned it on, it was in the middle of a video report about an automobile accident. The driver had been severely injured and was rushed to the hospital. The report from the hospital was that the driver was in grave condition and was not expected to live. Police identified the injured man as Jack Morgan, a University of Texas swimming teacher and coach. It took Josiah a few seconds to realize what was being said. The commentator went on to say that he had no next of kin.

Josiah stared at the screen, at first shocked, but then with a strange and overwhelming feeling that he should go to the hospital immediately. He went into the bedroom and gently woke Brian to tell him what had happened and that he was going to drive to the hospital.

Brian said, "Josiah, why? There's nothing you can do."

"Maybe not," said Josiah. "But something tells me I have to be there."

When Josiah arrived at the emergency room, he identified himself as a close friend, and was allowed to see Jack. When he entered the cubicle, there were several technicians and nurses and a doctor hovering around him.

When the doctor was told that Josiah was a friend, he said, "We could locate no next-of-kin. But I'm glad you came down. I'm afraid there's no hope. We can't stabilize him. He's in a deep coma and his vital signs are failing rapidly. I think we've lost him."

Josiah stepped close to the gurney on which Jack was lying and took his hand in both of his. Holding Jack's hand tightly, it felt cold and dry. Leaning down close to Jack's ear, Josiah said, "Can you hear me, Mr. Morgan? You're going to be okay. You're here at Austin General, and they're doing everything they can. You're going to be okay."

Josiah held Jack's hand in one hand, and with the other, gently brushed Jack's hair back off of his forehead with the other. He sat in a chair next to the gurney for at least an hour, still holding Jack's hand. Everyone had left the cubicle, except for one technician, who kept an eye on the monitor. Finally the technician slowly stood up and said he needed to report something to the doctor. In a few minutes, he and the doctor walked back into the cubicle.

The technician said, "Doctor, look at the monitor. It seems as though this man's heart rate is improving. And doesn't it seem to you that his pulse seems to be getting stronger?"

Soon, Jack's eyes began to flutter. "I think you're right." said the doctor.

Jack looked up at Josiah's face briefly and closed his eyes again. The technicians said, "I think he might be out of his coma and is just sleeping normally, All his vital signs seem to be coming back, according to the monitor.

"Yes, that's good news" said the doctor thoughtfully. As they all watched the signs slowly improve, the doctor finally said, "This man was practically dead. His whole body is bruised and bloodied. He has broken bones, but at this rate, I think his life will be out of danger before long. It's hard to believe."

Turning to Josiah, the doctor said, "You can stay with him if you'd like. But we'll watch him for a couple of more hours. Then, if improvement continues as it seems to be going, I think we'll transfer him up to a regular hospital room where we'll continue to monitor him." The doctor looked down at Jack and shook his head, saying, "Somehow, this man miraculously and literally came back from the dead. I'm baffled. There is no way he could have survived in the condition he was when he was brought in here."

Josiah said, "I'm really relieved. It sure was a close call wasn't it? I need to get back home now. My partner is down with a really bad cold, and I want to be with him. I'll check tomorrow to see how Mr. Morgan is doing"

"That's fine, young man," said the doctor. "You go on home. It looks as though Mr. Morgan's going to pull through this, except, of course, for all his bruises and cuts and broken bones."

When Josiah arrived home, he found Brian sound asleep. After putting a second pillow under Brian's head to keep it propped up, Josiah got ready for bed. The sofa was not very comfortable, and he had a hard time trying to get to sleep as he thought about poor Mr. Morgan.

Getting up, he walked out onto their long narrow balcony that hung out over the sidewalk on their street. Sitting down, he found the street oddly quiet. There were no cars and no pedestrians. Of course, it was two o'clock in the morning. Sitting there with a pleasant breeze blowing over him, he finally felt himself beginning to doze off.

Suddenly, he noticed a dark figure standing at the other end of the balcony. "Who's there?"

"Don't be alarmed, Josiah. I think we need to talk."

"Who are you?"

"It doesn't matter. Not right now, anyway."

"Why do we need to talk?" said Josiah.

"I'll get right to the point, my boy. It's come to my attention that you are confused about where you came from. And probably the time has come for you to know the truth."

"What are you talking about? Why don't you let me see you?"

The dark figure laughed. "You don't need to see me, Josiah. We can talk just as we are."

"What do you mean . . . I should know the truth?"

"You were thinking of writing your life's story, weren't you? And it upset you that you thought you were a foundling . . .abandoned by your mother."

"How do you know about my writing my life's story?"

The dark figure sighed, "In due time, my boy, you'll understand. For now, you need to know the truth about who you are and where you came from. You weren't a foundling. You came here from somewhere else. You were given certain powers that few others have."

Josiah said, "I don't have any powers. I'm no different from anyone else!"

The dark figure laughed and said, "Of course, why would we take the risk of giving you knowledge of your powers. Like other humans, you would abuse them. If you were aware of them, you would use your powers in ways we didn't intend."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Josiah. "I don't have any powers. And what do you mean, 'we?' Who are you, anyway?"

"Of course you have powers. Think about it my boy. You saved your friend Jake's life twice. One time, you appeared before him as he was about to take his own life. He looked up at you. And do you remember what he thought you were?

"An angel," replied Josiah.

"Precisely. And when you took the bullet that was intended for Jake, do you remember what made you cover his body with yours?

"No, I . . . ."

"No, of course you don't. It was just something that was in you that made you do it. Saving the life of that young friend of yours at the University pool was another example. And then, of course, we can't forget about how both you and Brian lost your lives . . . temporarily, of course . . . in that dreadful automobile accident."

Josiah said, "We did lose our lives. But we came back to life. We had to come back to life."

Laughing again, the dark figure said, "What did I tell you about . . . your powers, eh? Remember when you were beaten up and tied to a tree? The young man who did it went insane over it. Do you know why? Blood was pouring out of your eyes and mouth and down onto the ground. You weren't aware that was happening, but it was made to happen while he stood before you as punishment for his attack on you.

"I don't believe that!" shouted Josiah. "There was no blood at all when they found me!"

"Believe me, Josiah. There was blood for that young man to see. You'll understand someday about these things."

"You're crazy! There wasn't any blood!"

"Then tonight. Ah, tonight! Why did you think your friend, Jack Morgan, suddenly cheated death as you were holding his hand and speaking into his ear?"

"I don't know. I haven't thought about it."

"Perhaps you should, my boy!"

"I . . . ." Josiah began. Then he said, "Please, come over here and let me see you. Please tell me who you are."

"I'm a friend, Josiah. We'll leave it at that for the time being. But I want to ask only one thing of you for now. Don't try to write your life's story. What a waste of time! Because whatever you write would be false. Your life is yet to be written, my friend. I'll be back, and we'll talk some more."

Just then, Brian looked out the door to the balcony. "What's the matter, Josiah? I got up to go the bathroom, and noticed that you were sitting out here."

"Look over there, Bryan!" said Josiah. "Look at that person standing there!"

"There's no one there, Josiah," said Bryan.

Josiah could see that the dark figure had disappeared. He got up and walked over to where the figure was standing. There was nothing, except a feeling of warmth that seemed to radiate from nowhere. Josiah walked Brian back to his bed.

"Brian," Josiah said. "It was the strangest thing. I could have sworn there was someone standing at the end of the balcony. He talked to me."

"There'd be no way anyone could get out on that balcony, except through the one door into our living room," said Brian. "Maybe you were just dreaming."

"Maybe." Said Josiah. "Brian, do you think I have . . . you know . . . powers?'


"Yes. Like unnatural powers to help people?"

Brian laughed and said, "Oh, yes! You've got those powers alright!"

Josiah looked at Brian and took his hand in his. He leaned in close to Brian's ear and said, "Brian, you're going to be okay. You'll get a good night's sleep. And then you'll be okay."

Josiah held Brian's hand until he fell asleep and then went back out to the balcony to see if the dark figure had returned. Seeing no one, he walked back to the sofa where he quickly fell asleep.

The next morning, Josiah awoke and opened his eyes to find Brian, fully dressed, standing over him.

"Are you waking up, sleepy head?" said Brian with a smile.

"Yeah, I think so," said Josiah. "How are you feeling?"

"Well, it must have been just a temporary thing. As you said, all I must have needed was a good night's sleep. I feel just fine this morning."

"No headache? No runny nose?" asked Josiah.

"Nope. I feel great."

For the rest of the day, Josiah thought about the dark figure he had seen the night before. Surely, it had to be a dream. But it seemed so real! The thing that ran through his head all day was the dark figure's statement that he was not a foundling and that he came from "somewhere else." That was impossible. It had to be a dream.

Steve was settling in comfortably at Caleb's condo, and he felt that he was the luckiest man on the face of the Earth, as Lou Gehrig once said. They had spent the night literally wrapped in each other's arms. How could his life, that had been so full of doubt and uncertainty, Steve thought, have turned out so blissful, yet so exhilarating. When Steve awoke, he propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Caleb, who was still sound asleep. Steve thought, "Oh, Caleb. Love me forever. Please. Don't let this dream die. I will do everything in my power to make you want to love me forever."

Steve ran his hand down over the soft hair that covered Caleb's thigh, and then up to his balls, which lay limply on one of his thighs. He held them gently in one hand and then leaned over kissing them and running his tongue over them lightly.

"Steve?" Caleb had awakened and put his hand on Steve's head as a signal not to stop. Slowly, Caleb's penis began to rise and inflate like a great elongated balloon. Steve brought his tongue up along the underside of Caleb's hard penis until it reached the head, where he gently tried to push the tip of his tongue into Caleb's pee hole at the tip of it.

Caleb groaned. "What a wonderful way to wake up! I dreamt about you last night, Steve. I dreamt that you and I had built a little house up on the top of mountain in the Swiss Alps. Funny, I've never been to Switzerland, but there we were. There was no road that led to our house. We were there all alone. It was cold and snowing and we made love on the floor in front of a roaring fire in the fireplace. And now to wake up and find your face on my body! I must have cum at least five times in my dream that night by the fire. I want to cum again, Steve. Okay? I want to feel you lips and tongue gliding over my penis."

Steve slowly sucked the full length of Caleb's hard rod into his mouth. Caleb threw his head back and moaned in sort of a delirious ecstasy. Reaching up, Steve ran his fingers over Caleb's nipples as he pumped his lips over Caleb's penis. As Steve tasted Caleb's pre-cum, sweet and sticky, he could very quickly feel on his tongue the veins running around Caleb's penis begin to bulge and harden. The head became enlarged. Caleb began to buck and jerk his hips as he felt his body stiffening and being overtaken by what he thought was the mother of all orgasms, and as he felt his sperm surging up the length of his cock.

Steve felt every throb of Caleb's penis as each powerful stream of cum shot into his mouth and throat. Caleb was rolling his head back and forth on the pillow and grunting loudly with each shot of cum that spewed out of him. Soon Steve could feel Caleb's body beginning to relax. It was over. Without taking his lips off of Caleb's penis, Steve held Caleb's cum in his mouth and let it seep slowly down his throat.

"It's truly like the nectar of life," said Steve, as he pulled off. "Your sperm gives me life, just as it did for Noah!"

Caleb reached down and put his hands under Steve's shoulders and pulled him up. They kissed deeply for awhile. Then Steve said, "I'm aching to get inside of you, dearest Caleb. Please."

Caleb said, as he pulled his thighs up against his chest. "You don't ever have to say 'please,' Steve. You can take whatever you want whenever you want it. Whatever I have is yours."

Steve lost no time in going down and flooding Caleb's ass crack with saliva. He then mounted Caleb, thrusting his own hard penis into Caleb's asshole.

"Fuck me really hard, Steve," growled Caleb. I want you to really pound me, just like you did over and over in my dream."

As they were now face to face and looked into each others eyes as Steve vigorously started to fuck Caleb, they reveled in the look of pure love and desire on their faces. The arousal and passion that Steve felt was so overwhelming that he couldn't hold back his orgasm. He could feel Caleb's asshole snapping wildly onto his penis as it sunk over and over into the warm wetness of Caleb's rectum.

Caleb could feel the flood of warmth as Steve's sperm filled his rectum. Sweat ran off of Steve's face onto Caleb's belly, which intensified Caleb's erotic feelings in such a way that he shot another load of cum onto his stomach.

Soon, Steve collapsed onto Caleb and they lay there gasping to catch their breath. Finally, Steve rolled off, and lying side by side, the two fell back into sleep. When they eventually re-awoke, Steve sat up and said, "Why don't you let me fix breakfast for us this morning."

"That would be nice," said Caleb. They both knew that Caleb hardly knew how to boil water. "Steve, I'd like that, but I really don't have anything in the house to cook, except some corn flakes and Cheerios."

Steve went and took a shower, put on a robe, and went into the kitchen to see what he could find. He found some bread, not very fresh, but he imagined it would do as toast. He also found four eggs in the refrigerator and a few slices of bacon stuck away in the freezer beneath a stack of frozen pizzas. He found one tomato, which was on the verge of being over ripe. He decided to fry several slices of it with parmesan cheese sprinkled on them. He'd seen Tony do that and figured that it was something that Texans liked. Soon, Caleb wandered into the kitchen in his robe and found a couple of scrambled eggs, two slices of bacon, very crisp, and two slices of fried tomato waiting for him at his place on the table.

When Steve poured the coffee, he sat down with Caleb and smiled. "Are you hungry, Caleb. This is all I could find."

Caleb said, "Where did you find the bacon. I didn't know I had any. Also, is that the tomato I had sitting in the fridge for several weeks? I love fried tomato with cheese. But I don't know how to fry anything."

"Yup," said Steve. "That's the very tomato. It's a little mushy, but it's still good. Caleb, if you don't mind, I'm going to go to the store later and stock up our refrigerator with some good stuff. I know you're pretty good at warming up frozen pizza, but maybe we can have something else once in awhile. I love to cook. Will you let me do it?"

"Of course," said Caleb. "This is your house, too. You're paying half the mortgage payments. And if you want to do the cooking, I will be eternally grateful. I haven't been getting much of a balanced diet anyway. I don't know how much food value pizza has."

When they finished eating, Caleb and Steve took their coffee out on the small balcony. Caleb sat with his legs stretched out in front of him, allowing his robe to fall away on each side, revealing a healthy hard-on pointing straight up. Steve laughed and said, "One of the many things I like about you, my love, is that you're always on the ready! But how do you expect an old guy like me to keep up with you?"

Caleb looked at Steve and said, "Are you still worried about that? You're not an old guy. You've got to get over that kind of thinking. We're both still vibrant adults sexually, Steve. To me there is no age difference between us. I love you, Steve, and I don't ever want to hear you talk that way again."

"I promise," said Steve, still unbelieving that he and Caleb were at last together as partners and as lovers.

Caleb said, "Well, Steve, as soon as we get dressed, I'm taking you over to see old Angie Sorrensen. She's the widow who wants to sell their Wine and Cheese shop I told you about. Are you still interested?"

"I'm more than interested!" shouted Steve, as they both headed inside to get dressed.

Josiah had been thinking all day about the dark figure that had appeared to him on the balcony. He was determined to find the answer to the question of where he came from. If he had not been a foundling, what was he? The next day he and Brian drove down to Goliad to visit the local agency office that had placed him in the string of foster homes where he had grown up.

When they arrived, the clerk said, "It is our policy not to reveal the biological parentage of those we have placed in foster care."

"I'm not looking for my parents," said Josiah. "All I want to know is the name of the foster family who first took me in. The earliest I can remember is when I was about four years old, and I believe I was then with my second or third foster family."

The clerk told Josiah and Brian to leave and come back after lunch to give him a chance to search out the information. When they returned to the agency, the clerk told Josiah that their records showed his first foster family to be a Mr. and Mrs. Henry Doaks. The record showed that he was placed there when Josiah was almost two years old.

Josiah said impatiently, "They can't be my first foster family. Who had me during my first two years?"

The clerk scratched his head and began flipping through all the papers in Josiah's file. "Ah, yes," he said. "Here's something. This form says that the agency did not get involved until you were remanded to the care of Mr. and Mrs. Doaks. It says that prior to that time, you were with a Mr. and Mrs. Forbes. Joseph and Millie Forbes here in Goliad. They were probably your biological parents." The clerk put his hand to his mouth suddenly and said, "Oops! I'm not supposed to give out that information."

"Well, you don't know that they are Josiah's parents," said Brian. "So you're not breaking any law."

Josiah said, "Do you have an address for the Forbes?"

"Oh, my, no," said the clerk. "We only have a name."

Josiah and Brian headed next to the Goliad County Court House. After inquiring at several offices, they were able to find the name Millie Forbes, who resided at the Shady Palms Nursing Home in town. When they arrived at the nursing home, they were led into Millie Forbes' room. There in the dim with the curtains drawn sat an old woman in a wheel chair with her head bowed. One arm shook uncontrollably with palsy, and the thin bracelet she wore on her wrist rattled nosily against the metal arm of her chair.

"Mrs. Forbes? May I talk to you for a few minutes?" said Josiah politely.

"What do you want?" came the reply.

"Mrs. Forbes, my name is Josiah. Do you remember me?"

The woman looked up into Josiah's face. "I don't know."

"I lived with you as a baby before you turned me over to a foster home. Do you remember? My name is Josiah."

The old woman's eyes grew large as she stared into Josiah's face. "You are Josiah? The little child who came from Heaven?"

Josiah knelt down in front of her and took her hand. "Yes. It's me. I'm Josiah. Where did you find me and how did I come to be with you?"

The woman lifted one hand and placed it gently on Josiah's cheek. "My dear Josiah. It's really you?"

"Yes. I'm Josiah. Please tell me."

"It was all very strange," Mrs. Forbes began. "My husband and I awoke one morning, and there at the foot of our bed was a large box. And in it was a tiny baby wrapped in the most beautiful linen cloth. I think I still have it somewhere. He must have just been born minutes before. And on top of him was a small printed note in very strange handwriting, and I can still remember exactly the words on it. It said, 'This is Josiah, a gift to all who shall come to know him.'"

Brian gasped, catching his breath suddenly and putting his hand over his mouth.

"Do you know where I came from or who put me there in your house?" asked Josiah.

"No, dear. We never knew. Our house had been locked tight, and we had no idea how anyone could have gotten in that night. We made inquiries, but there were no answers. We kept you and loved you as our own until about two years later, when my husband, Joseph, died of a heart attack. And very shortly after that I suffered a stroke that had me bedridden for a long time. I've been in this wheel chair ever since. I was advised by well-meaning people that the thing I should do for you, dear Josiah, would be to have the agency find a good foster home for you."

Tears filled Millie Forbes eyes as she said, "I always loved you, son, but I had become unable to care for you. And none of your foster families would allow me to visit you. I felt so badly . . . not knowing how you were."

Josiah rose up on his knees with tears running down his cheeks and put his arms around the woman. They both wept quietly while Brian fought back his own tears.

To be continued...


Posted: 09/26/08