Finding Tim
A Fourth Alternate Reality

 by: Charlie

© 2005-2010

 

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

 

Episode 131  

Romance

 

 

At the Archery Trials in St.  Louis I (Jody here, again) said something like this to my roommate, Jimmy: “I may be the only straight man you’ll ever meet who hasn’t had a straight sexual relationship but has had a gay relationship.”  It wasn’t long after that conversation that I lost my virginity, vis-a-vis another male, to Hal.  I’d had a number of sexual relationships with men, but my experience with women was quite circumscribed.  Yet, I was quite sure that I was straight.  That is, straight as Tim defined it: substantially preferring opposite sex partners, but not eschewing same sex ones.  If I’d had  a lot more gay sex in my life it was random circumstance, not preference–not that I hadn’t enjoyed it. 

 

Now I found myself a freshman at the University of North Dakota.  My parents had urged me to live in a dorm rather than at home and I’d agreed; and so I moved in with a friendly roommate in September of 1988, just a few days before I was heading to Korea for the Olympics.  Upon my return, almost a month later, my roommate had paired up with another friend and had moved out of the room.  The housing office told me that I would either have to find a roommate, or they would assign one from their waiting list.  I went right to Bernie, who was in about the same situation that I was.  His roommate had enjoyed having a room to himself for a month, and wasn’t unhappy to have Bernie move in with me.  It wouldn’t be long before he would be told to find a roommate or take the top of the waiting list!  In any case, Bernie and I found ourselves roommates by the middle of October. 

 

Very early on we talked about sex.  As part of the Gang that was easy for me, and after his conversations with Jimmy, Bernie found it so as well.  I think that Bernie found my bisexuality more startling than Jimmy’s homosexuality!  He asked me, “You really enjoyed having sex with men, and are still looking for a girlfriend and want to get married?”

 

“Yes.  That’s exactly right.  A few years ago I would’ve been upset at the idea of sex with a boy or man.  But in my running I found a number of people that I loved, and that loved me, and sex seemed the most natural thing in the world.”

 

“I’m going to have to think on that a while,” Bernie responded.

 

I told him that I wasn’t looking for sex with him, but I assured him that if and when he wanted to experiment I would be willing to talk.  He’d told me that he’d had no interest in Jimmy, and I didn’t expect any in me.

 

But I was interested in girls.  I dated several girls in my freshman year, and none of them were as forward or as pushy as some that I’d experienced in high school.  In the second semester I found myself in chemistry class with Gayle Peterson.  She was pretty enough, but not a knockout; however the thing that stood out for me was that she was just over six feet tall.  When you’re six-eight, that kind of height is a blessing in a girl, not a curse!  I sought her out the second day of class and invited her to the coffee shop for a snack.  She readily agreed and we talked for an hour over coffee.  Then we both had to go to our next class.  We agreed to meet for lunch in the dining hall.  I spent my next lecture thinking about Gayle and the things that I’d learned about her in the past hour.  She was intelligent, having gotten an A in chemistry in the first semester.  She would be glad to be my lab partner this semester, after having a very bad experience with a dolt of a partner in the first semester.  However, before she agreed to the partnership, she quizzed me on my grades, specifically in chemistry.  After I’d admitted to all As, she did the same!  We both confessed that our high school experiences had been such that we were reluctant to talk about our grades with a lot of our classmates!

 

Lunch led to studying together for a while in the library, and a dinner date for Saturday evening, Friday evening being blocked by a basketball game.  Friday she was in the front row at the game and was waiting for me as I came out of the locker room.  “Coffee or something?  My treat,” she’d said.

 

We became good friends.  Very good friends.  Steady dates.  Well, you get the picture.  What pleased me was that we got through that semester without sex becoming an issue.  She didn’t raise the subject and neither did I.  I learned later that her perspective on our relationship was about the same as mine: glad that sex hadn’t raised its head too soon.

 

Gayle was from Billings, Montana, and was a perfect example of the success Tim was having in presenting UND as the premier university of the Northern Tier.  Gayle was aware of our football successes, the talk about a super collider, our law centers, and our generally growing reputation.  I was startled to hear a college freshman talking about the law centers–I certainly wouldn’t have known about them except for having known Charlie–but her senior project had involved Indian law, and she’d read about the work of the Center for Native American Law.

 

She had been her class valedictorian and could probably have gone anywhere she wanted.  Even though Billings was almost 700 miles from Grand Forks, considering the distances in that part of the country it still felt like she wasn’t far from home.  She could get home in two hops in two different ways: She could take a bus, or get a ride, to Fargo and get a direct flight to Billings, or she could take a plane to Bismarck and change to a second flight to Billings.  Either way it wasn’t difficult to get back and forth from home.

 

She spent the summer after our freshman year working at a drug store in Billings, and we wrote post cards or notes almost every day.  When she came back to Grand Forks in the fall, we were ready to continue our relationship, and both of us were ready to carry it to a new level.

 

Interestingly enough, so was Bernie.  Bernie’d had a succession of girls that he dated during his freshman year.  He’d tell me of his sexual adventures, which included losing his virginity toward the end of the year.  But he and the girl had broken up soon after.  Bernie had concluded that the break up probably came because they both pushed the sex too far and too fast.  That fall, on about the second or third night we were back, Bernie had opened a conversation as we lay in bed ready to turn out the lights.  “Jody?”

 

“What’s up, Bernie?”

 

“I know that once we talked about experimenting with gay sex.”

 

“Yep!”

 

“You said that you’d be willing if I was interested.”

 

“I think I did say that.”

 

“I think I’m interested.”

 

“Why now, Bernie?”

 

“You know that last year I pushed it with several girls.  Nancy let me fuck her; oh Hell, she really wanted me to fuck her.  I wanted to as well.  But it wasn’t right.  We broke up.  You know the story.  I don’t think I’m gay, but the more I think about it, the more I think it’s an experience that I should have.  You’ve had gay experiences, have they helped or hindered your relationship with Gayle?”

 

“I don’t know, Bernie.  We haven’t talked about sex, and haven’t done anything about it, either, as you know.  It’s going to make that talk a lot harder, because my gay sexual relationships are a lot of baggage.”

 

“You’d talk about that up front with Gayle?”

 

“Absolutely.  Secrets get you in trouble.  I wouldn’t do anything with Gayle unless she knew my sexual history and could accept it.  Would you want to have a gay sexual history that you had to talk about with your next serious girlfriend?”

 

“I’m going to have to think about that.”

 

“Good night, Bernie.”

 

“Good night.”

 

But it wasn’t good night.  In about ten minutes Bernie came over and slipped into bed with me.  I always slept nude, but Bernie, I knew, always wore his boxers.  That night his boxers lay in the middle of the floor and he was in bed with me, naked as the day he was born.

 

Bernie said, “I know you say talk first.  Have we talked enough, or do we need to talk more?”

 

I lay there a while, thinking about the situation I found myself in.  I wasn’t certain of Bernie’s motives; certainly not of his potential honesty with his next female fling–but that really wasn’t my concern.  Or was it?  I wasn’t certain about that.  I knew that I was about ready to take my relationship with Gayle to a new level.  I also knew that I would very much enjoy “messing around” with Bernie.  I wished that it’d happened in Seoul, not here and not now.

 

Bernie hadn’t moved.  Clearly he’d opened the door by climbing into my bed.  The next move was mine.  I could move my hand over to his dick, I could roll over and ignore him, or I could nicely tell him that he should go back to his own bed.

 

Oh, Hell.  I’d made no commitment to Gayle–yet.  I was horny.  Bernie was in my bed and eager.  Why not?  I lay over on my side, facing Bernie who was lying on his back.  My hand slipped around his balls and I began tickling them very gently.  His response was electric.  His body shuddered, his prick danced, his balls tensed, and his hands squeezed into fists.  He said, “Oh, God, Jody.  That’s wonderful.”  And all I’d done was lightly tickle his balls.  There’s nothing like a first time.

 

I leaned over and kissed him.  I’d known Bernie for a little over a year, and we had the wonderful shared experience of the Olympic Games, as well as having shared a room for a year.  We’d become good friends and had almost no quarrels or falling outs.  Kissing him and a physical relationship was neither premature nor inappropriate–just unexpected.  I wondered how Bernie would react to being kissed by a man.  If he was simply thinking about sexual gratification, the kiss probably wouldn’t turn him on; in fact, it might turn him off.  On the other hand, if this physical relationship was growing out of a mutual friendship and respect (too soon for the word love), then he ought to respond positively to being kissed.  OK, I’ll admit it, it was sort of a test.

 

Bernie passed.  He kissed me back, carefully and thoughtfully.  It wasn’t a physical response with driving tongues and bumping teeth.  Rather, it was a slow process of coming closer and closer together, ending with an exchange of tongues that said, if not “I love you,” at least, “I like you and I’m glad to be with you.” 

 

At first I’d thought that I’d limit myself to using my hands, but his loving response to my kiss inspired me to move my head down his body, kissing him as I went.  I ended up kissing his penis, and then surrounding it with my lips and tongue.  First time’s the charm, and he was spurting in my mouth very quickly.  Then he had to decide how to reciprocate.  I wasn’t new to gay sex, but he was.  Masturbation makes you used to the idea of a penis ejaculating in your hand.  Having one come in your mouth is a quite different experience, and one that’s very off putting to newcomers.  Bernie had the good sense to open his mouth and talk to me about his mental block about using his mouth on my dick.

 

I said, “Bernie, use your hand.  I’ll come; I’ll enjoy it.  I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

 

“You won’t mind that I don’t suck you?”

 

“No Bernie, honest, I won’t mind.”

 

He used his hand for a while, and I was relaxing and enjoying it.  Then he paused and kissed me on the mouth, long, and deep; repeating my action of a while before.  Then I felt him kissing my nipples while he fingered my belly button.  Then he was kissing my belly button as he fingered my balls.  Then, without moving his hand from my balls, he started sucking my dick.  It felt wonderful, but I had to ask him, “Are you doing this because you think I want you to, or because you want to?”

 

His response was, “Mpfphhh.”  Then something like, “Likudfp.”  This was followed by an effort to get my dick even farther into his mouth, but he was already down hard against my pelvic bone and couldn’t go any further.  Soon I was warning him that I was about to come and he might want to back off.  I got another, “Mpfphhh.” Then I came.  I expected him to back off and spit out my cum, but he didn’t.  He stayed on me till I went soft.  He swallowed a lot and then kissed me.

 

I said, “I thought you were uncomfortable about oral sex.”

 

“I was.”

 

“But you aren’t now?”

 

“That was then.  Then we were kissing and I lost it.  It was wonderful.  You aren’t upset, are you?”

 

“Of course not; just surprised.”

 

“No more surprised than I am.  Jody, am I gay?”

 

“Oh, shit.  Don’t think like that.  You’re no more gay than I am.  And I’m falling in love with a wonderful girl.  I’d better not be gay.”

 

“Oh, Jody.  You’re falling in love with Gayle and having sex with me.  That’s not right.  I shouldn’t have....”

 

“Shhhh.  I knew what I was doing, and I thought about it.  Gayle and I have no commitment, no obligations–yet.  Tonight doesn’t speak for our future, Bernie; just for tonight.”

 

“Tonight was wonderful, Jody.  Thank you.  In the future, we’ll talk.  That’s probably all we’ll do.”

 

It wasn’t.  By the next night Bernie and I were finding out that gay sex beat masturbation, hands down.  (Oh, sorry, pardon the pun–it was terrible.)  We never did anything much different than what we did the first night, but we did it fairly regularly.

 

And I was falling in love with Gayle.  And Gayle was falling in love with me.  It was largely unspoken, but by early October (1989) I decided that it was time to have a serious conversation.  I invited her to drive down to Fargo with me for a nice dinner in the Prairie Room of the Hotel Fargo–the nicest place to eat that I knew of in the area.  Gayle was no dummy, and easily picked up on the reason for the special meal.  We ordered a nice meal, beginning with a crab appetizer.  As we stuck our forks into really wonderful lump crabmeat, Gayle said, “I presume that the conversation of the evening will center on our future.  Am I right?”

 

“You sure are.  I guess I wasn’t too subtle, was I?”

 

“Not really.  But I agree that it’s time to talk.  We’ve sort of danced around the subject of where-do-we-go-from-here and I think it’s time to stop dancing.  So.  Where do we go from here?”

 

“Where would you like it to go?”

 

“Oh, Jody, you aren’t getting off that easy.  It’s your nickel.  You start the conversation.”

 

“Gayle, I’m falling in love with you.  And I think, well, I hope, that you’re falling in love with me.  Do I dare hope that?”

 

“Of course, silly.  I’m head over heels in love with you, Jody.  You’re tall, handsome, wonderfully built, sexy.  Why wouldn’t a girl fall in love with that?”

 

That kind of startled me.  I’d hoped, dreamed?, all those things were true, but I certainly hoped that she saw more in me than that.  Gayle sensed my unease at her response.

 

“Oh, Jody, don’t be worried.  You’re all those things, but they don’t really make a bit of difference.  You’re smart, loving, kind to me, kind to everyone.  Jody you’re a real treasure.  I’m falling in love with every part of it.”

 

“Gayle I feel the same about you.  You’re all of those things.  I’ve fallen in love with all of your parts.”

 

“So.  Where do we go from here.  To bed?”

 

“It’s that simple, is it?  We’ve never talked about sex.  And now, off to bed.  Shall we get a room here in the hotel for the night?  We easily could, you know.”

 

“Oh, Jody, it would be so easy, and so wonderful, to just say, ‘Yes,’ to that.  But I think we have a lot of ground to cover before that.”

 

“You were the one to talk about going to bed.  I was just following up.”

 

“I know.  I was being funny, I guess.  But I really was getting at a very important issue that we have to face if we are in love.  How soon, and what?  Or do we wait until we’re married?  Are we talking about getting married?”

 

“Wait a minute.  It’s my job to ask you to marry me.”

 

“Oh, no.  If you’re going to buy into the standard male/female role stereotypes, it’s all off.  But I know you; you aren’t into that shit.  I’ll just assume that you were being funny about that ‘your job’ business.”

 

“I’m going to have to watch what I say with you, aren’t I?”

 

“No.  It’s attitude that counts.  When language slips, we can talk.  When attitude and belief are wrong, it’s a lot harder to fix.”

 

“Go ahead, propose to me.  I won’t be offended.”

 

“We aren’t at that stage yet, are we, Jody?”

 

“Not yet.  Since we haven’t talked about sex, there’s a lot that we don’t know about each other.  Important stuff.”

 

“Are you going to start the conversation, Jody?”

 

“No, you are.  I know that I have a lot more baggage in this area than you do.  You need to start.”

 

“There isn’t much to tell.  In high school I dated a number of boys.  I got serious with one in my senior year.  He got his hands in my pants often enough.  He pulled my hands into his.  He came in his pants in the car a couple of times, but I wouldn’t go further.  Then there was a pretty nasty incident at school.  A gay kid was outed by someone.  He got beat up.  His family supported him and they left town.  I don’t know where they went.  My boyfriend got talking about it one night and said, ‘God, I’m glad that queer’s gone.’”

 

“How did you react to that?”

 

“In shock.  I couldn’t believe the hate I was hearing, and from a boy that I thought was capable of loving me.  We talked a little about it, and he was as shocked at my attitude as I was at his.  I told him to take me home, and he did, with alacrity.  End of that relationship; I was so glad that it had never gone further than it had.  That’s the real background about why I never pushed for sex last year, Jody.  I wanted to know you really well.”

 

“And now you do.  Or at least you think you do.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Well, I’m comforted by your story.  But I have a lot to tell you.  I hope that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t end our relationship.  But if it does, it’s important that it come now, not later.”

 

“What on earth are you going to tell me, Jody?  You have deep, dark secrets?”

 

“I don’t think they’re deep, or dark, or really secrets.  But there are some things about of me that aren’t painted on my forehead.  They’re reserved for those I know and love.”

 

“I think I fit that category, Jody.”

 

“Yes, you do.  It’s a long story.  Bear with me.”

 

“Take your time.”

 

“Where to start.  I can either tell you some basic facts right up front, or tell long stories that end up where I need to go.”

 

“Out with it, Jody.  I’m a big girl.  And I’ll be glad to listen all night to your stories and explanations.”

 

“OK.  There are three sexual facts about me that are different, and which it’s only fair that you know clearly before we get physically involved, or more deeply involved emotionally.”

 

“OK, three things.  One, two, three.”

 

“One, and this is the strangest of all, and in many ways the most wonderful.”

 

“You’re beating around the bush, Jody.”

 

“No, because there isn’t a simple word or phrase to tell you this.  Since I was very young I’ve slept in the same bed with my parents.  It’s a huge California king and there’s plenty of room.  Generally they avoid sex while I’m in the bed, and I masturbate in my room, usually in the afternoon after school.  But I’ve watched my parents have sex, and they’ve watched me masturbate.  We’ve been very open about it.”

 

“Wow.  I wasn’t looking for that one.  I could start asking questions, but why don’t you go on to two and three?

 

“OK, Two.  I’m bisexual.  While I’ve had practically no sex with women, I have had with some men.  I like it; I don’t apologize for it, but I am more strongly attracted to women.”

 

“I can’t say, ‘Wow,’ to that.  I’m not surprised.  I know you’re very close to Bernie and some of the others involved in the trip to the Olympics.  What’s three?  Are we playing, ‘Can you top this?’”

 

“Three is a little more complicated.  There’s a group of us, both sexes, a wide range of ages, but no children, that are extremely close.  We offer each other total love and support.  Without their support I would never have made it to the Olympics, much less won a medal.  There is active sexual activity within that group.  I’m fairly new to the group, but I am a part.  That group will welcome whomever I love.  I’d want whomever I love to feel the love and support that I do from that group.”

 

“Wow, again.  I know you want to give me a lot of background.  Suppose we order a dessert first, and we can sit here over dessert and coffee all night.  The tables aren’t full, and the restaurant stays open till midnight.”

 

“They call themselves the Gang.  No, we call ourselves the Gang.  It all started years ago when eight boys found themselves together at a summer camp in Michigan.  One of the eight was the counselor of the other seven.  In the group, two pairs fell in love.  The others stayed closely involved, and brought their lovers into the fold.  One of those people was Hal Bruder.  When I started having some doubts about basketball the athletic director at Central High School got me in touch with Tim....”

 

“You mean President Tim?  You’re on a first name basis with him?”

 

“Everybody is.”

 

She giggled and said, “I guess you got me there.”

 

“Tim put me in touch with Hal Bruder, the marathoner.”

 

“What did that have to do with basketball?”

 

“It’s complicated.  But in essence they were telling me that I had to either skip the whole thing or pour my heart and soul into it.  Running is wonderful exercise.  At first there was no thought of my being a marathoner, just running with Hal for training and conditioning.”

 

“But the relationship with Hal deepened, led to the Olympics, and this Gang.  Have I got that right?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“How big is this Gang?”

 

“Well, I’m number 59.  My parents are numbers 60 and 61.  One number is retired because of a death.  So there are 60 of us.”

 

“Your parents?  Does that mean you have sex with your parents?”

 

“No.  There are a lot of parents and children in the Gang, but they don’t relate sexually.”

 

“Tell me about your being bisexual, Jody.”

 

“I fell head over heels in love with Hal.  Not a romantic love, but love nevertheless.  As we moved toward my being a marathoner, going to Boston....”

 

“Wait a minute.  Boston?”

 

“I ran in the Boston Marathons in 1988 and again in 1989.  You knew I was gone for that week last spring.”

 

“Oh, yes, I remember.  One of the things I love about you Jody is that you don’t blow your own horn.  I remember your going to Boston, and you did well.  But you didn’t make any kind of a big deal out of it.  How did you do?”

 

“In 1988 I came in fourth, right behind Hal.  Last spring I came in second, and Hal was fourth.”

 

“You can beat Hal?”

 

“The first race that I ever passed him in was the Olympic run in Seoul.  Since then when we’ve run together we both let loose at mile 14.  I usually pass him somewhere around mile 18.  It’s sort of sad; he was the premier runner of his time, but that time has passed.  He knows it, and he insists it doesn’t bother him, that he’s fulfilled in watching my success.  It was really hard to pass him in the Olympics, but people I really love told me that I had to do my best.  Hal and I had an agreement: We would both do our damnest, but under no circumstances would we come in third and fourth.  Neither of us would accept a medal without the other.  Thank God it didn’t come to that.”

 

“What about getting second and fourth, could you have accepted that?”

 

“Yes.  We never talked, but I think we both knew that if the leader between us passed number two, then it was up to the other to do the same.  Besides, turning around to look that close to the finish line is likely to cost you your position.  I just wouldn’t have crossed third if Hal had been at my heels.”

 

“Jody, it’s no wonder I love you.  That kind of friendship and love is so rare.  And to think you’re willing to share it with me.”

 

“I am, you know.”

 

“We were talking about your being bisexual.”

 

“Hal wouldn’t touch me before I was 18.  The Gang is adamant about that.  Much as I would’ve given to have sex with Hal before that, it simply wasn’t going to happen.  At the New York Marathon, where we did so well and finally knew we had a good shot at the Olympic team, Hal made me a promise.  Our relationship would move onto the physical level.  It happened soon after, at my folks house.  Hal’s wife was there.   Everyone knew what was going to happen in advance–except me.  Hal took me up to our guest room where he and my mom had made everything perfect.  We had sex for the first time.  Gayle, it was wonderful.  I don’t apologize for it one bit.  It was one of the best experiences of my life.  It’ll rank right up there with the time I lose my virginity–with you, I hope.   I hope you can accept that.”

 

“Jody, it isn’t your bisexuality that bothers me.  Everybody comes into a relationship with a sexual history.  That fact that yours is with men, not women, doesn’t make a difference.”

 

“To you.  To a lot of people it would be a serious relationship killer.”

 

“I’m me.  I can only talk for me.  Homosexuality, bisexuality, it doesn’t make a difference.  People love who they love.  But this Gang of yours doesn’t see any problem with the relationships all going on at once.  Their marriages and partnerships aren’t exclusive.  And I pretty much assume that that would be your expectation for ours.”

 

I couldn’t duck this issue.  I couldn’t make promises that I couldn’t keep unless I was to be very unhappy.  The idea of running with Hal, competing with Hal, and never again touching him where I wanted to was something that I really wasn’t ready for.  I said, “Gayle, the Gang is quite willing to accept me, and you, without any expectations of sex.  Their induction ceremony–that’s too formal a word–gets a little raunchy, and would involve your pulling down your pants.  But no sex.  And sex isn’t a condition of membership.  But I have to be honest.  I’m not sure that I could accept the loss of the sexual relationships that I’ve developed in the Gang, especially with Hal.”

 

“Is sex with Hal based on the bond between you that running has created?”

 

“Yes.  But it isn’t only that.  Bernie and I use our hands on each other’s genitals.  It’s pure fun.  I can’t take the idea of pleasure and fun out of my attitude toward sex.  That’s part of who the Gang is.”

 

“Jody, I can’t tell you how wonderful it is that you’ve been so honest with me.”  She looked at her watch.  “My goodness, it’s almost midnight.  We have to head home.”

 

I’d already paid the check and tipped our waiter well.  We headed out to the car.  I held the door for Gayle and she got in.  When I got in she said, “Take the long way home through Minnesota.  I need to think, and I want you around for a while to answer questions.  But unless I ask a question, please don’t talk.”

 

We were at least half way home before the first word came from Gayle.  “Jody, if you had your druthers, and I were willing.  No, let’s not say willing, let’s say enthusiastic.  If I were enthusiastic, how many of the Gang would you have sex with?  How often?”

 

“The first question is easy.  All of them, except my parents.”

 

“I keep forgetting your parents are part of the Gang.  That’s mind boggling.”

 

“It is to me too.  They’re quite something.  Remind me to tell you their story sometime.  I only recently heard all of the details.  They’ve been having some form of sex together since before puberty.”

 

I went on, “How often is a more complicated question.  I can only answer, ‘I don’t know.’  Honestly, I would expect that most of the time we’d live alone together, and that would describe our sex life.  A vacation with some of the Gang might mean sex play every night, sometimes with you involved, sometimes you’d be with others.  I can’t imagine me going off and having sex with someone and you being left behind.  And let me make one thing absolutely clear.  The Gang never has sex behind anyone’s back.  Wives, husbands, partners, parents all know what’s going on.  No secrets.”

 

“So you can imagine taking a cruise, say, with two other couples, and having sex in various combinations every night.”

 

“And maybe every afternoon.  We’re a horny lot, and I can’t imagine going on a cruise for any other reason that having an opportunity for sex.  Cruises are supposed to be romantic.”

 

Gayle didn’t speak again till we were rolling into East Grand Forks.  “Jody, it’s very late.  If you take me to the dorm I’ll disturb people coming in and my roommate will be full of questions that I really don’t want to answer–certainly not tonight.  Could we go to a motel or somewhere and spend the night?”

 

“That wasn’t what I expected to hear from you this evening, Gayle.”

 

“I know.  And I’m not sure just what I’m suggesting.  But I’d like to spend the night with you, Jody.”

 

“I have the perfect place.”

 

“Where?”

 

“The Hideout.”

 

“The Hideout?  What’s that?  It must be related to the Gang.”

 

“It’s a big old house not far from the University.  Tim and Charlie lived in it when they were students here.  Well, I guess they lived in it until Tim became President and moved into Dakota House.  I think that a few others may have lived there for a while.  In any case, it’s now called The Hideout, and it’s specifically for the children of members of the Gang to use to play together.  It has bedrooms, and we can spend the night there.”

 

“Just like that, you can spend the night in Tim and Charlie’s house?”

 

“It’s the Gang’s house, and I’m a member of the Gang.  And, I’m not that far removed from being a kid–and that’s who it’s really for.”

 

“And it’s OK to take your girlfriend there, and sleep with her?”

 

“This is the Gang; you haven’t got the picture yet, have you?”

 

“I think I’m getting it.  Can younger teens take their girls there for sex?”

 

“It’s an axiom of the Gang that teens will do what they will do, regardless of their parents.  With cars, fields, dorm rooms, and the like available, and especially in an era of families with both parents working, teens have no trouble find a place for sex, if that’s what they want.  The job of their parents is to provide good advice, create an environment in which the kids might actually listen to good advice, and do their best to make sure that their kids are safe.  The Hideout is safe.  It’s next door to The Roundhouse, and someone is almost always at home there.”

 

“The Roundhouse?  I’m getting overwhelmed.”

 

“The Roundhouse is owned by The Circle, a group of 8 men and 1 woman who live pretty much communally.  They are their own unit, but they’re also part of The Gang.”

 

“This is an awful lot for a poor girl in one evening.”

 

“Well, we’re here.  That’s The Roundhouse on your right and The Hideout on your left.”

 

“They’re big houses.  This is like a parking lot back here.”

 

“The two houses are managed together, by two members of the Circle–that’s the group that lives in The Roundhouse.”  We got out and went to the back door of The Hideout.  I knew the combination, so I could let us in with no trouble.  I showed her around the house, ending in the master bedroom upstairs.

 

She asked, “Is this where we’re going to sleep?  It’s a beautiful room, and that’s a huge bed.  It looks wonderful.”

 

“I’ve never been in it, but I’m sure that it’s a great bed.  But wait till you see the shower.  It isn’t clear just what’s going to happen tonight, and I promise that I won’t push.  It’s up to you.  But you might really want to consider showering with me; you’ll love the shower.”

 

Gayle didn’t answer quickly.  She stood, looked around the room, and seemed to be in deep thought.  Then she said, “OK, I knew when I suggested that we spend the night together that we were going to lose our clothes.  But this’ll be the first time I’ve ever been naked in front of a man–except for my father.  How about you?”

 

“I’m part of the Gang.  A number of Gang members have seen me naked.  Well, I guess most of them after the shower incident when my parents and I joined.”

 

“Are you going to tell me about that, Jody?”

 

“Someday.  Not now.  Let’s just say that I’ve been naked in front of girls and boys.”

 

“Then you lead tonight.”

 

“Trapped.  OK.”  I may have thought that I could easily remove my clothes in front of Gayle.  It wasn’t that simple.  This was a girl I’d dated for  most of a year, but we hadn’t had any sex.  Now I was going to show off my genitals, which were both large and very hard.  Gayle was patient, and eventually my clothes were on a chair and I was standing naked, facing Gayle.  “You may touch if you like,” I said.

 

“Sometime I’m sure I will.  Right now I’ll take my clothes off.”

 

She slipped out of her clothes, seemingly without embarrassment, setting her clothes on the same chair as mine.  “Now show me the shower.”

 

“Oh, my God, Jody, this is wonderful.”  We turned on four of the shower heads and let the warm water flow all over us.  Then I picked up one of the heads on the end of a hose and turned it on.  I sprayed myself, and then her.  Then back to my dick and balls, and then to her tits and genitals.  It really made her dance.  I started to put that shower head down when she said, “Oh, God, Jody, don’t stop.  That was fabulous.”  Soon she had the second loose head and we were really arousing each other.

 

Eventually we turned to the soap and she let me soap her all over, and she soaped me.  She seemed very eager to make sure that my balls and dick were very clean.  I think she liked the idea that she had an excuse for handling me other than pure arousal.  But who was kidding whom?  Rinsing with the hoses was again quite special.  As was drying each other.  I was really surprised at how far Gayle had been eager to go.

 

We came back into the bedroom and I asked Gayle, “Do you want to sleep naked, or would you rather put on underwear?”

 

“How do you usually sleep?”

 

“Naked.”

 

“Naked it is.”

 

“Do you want anything to happen, or are we going to just go to sleep?”

 

“I’m embarrassed to ask this.”

 

“What?  I can’t imagine being embarrassed after that shower.”

 

“Earlier this evening you talked about masturbating.  No boy’s ever said that word to me before.  And I say boy because it was all those boys in high school that could’ve been talking about such a common activity, and they were all afraid to talk about it.”

 

“Did the girls talk about it much among themselves?”

 

“Not as much as they did it, and they did it in private.  As least as far as I ever knew they did it in private.”

 

“So what about masturbating?”

 

“Jody, can I watch you masturbate tonight?”

 

Well, I should’ve seen it coming, shouldn’t I?  But that caught me flatfooted.  Here I was, the sophisticated bisexual, with all that experience behind him, and he was afraid he’d be too shy to jack off in front of his girl.  I had to think a little before I could reply.

 

Gayle sensed my hesitation and she said, “Forget that, Jody.  That wasn’t a fair request.  You don’t have to masturbate for me.”

 

“No, no, that’s not it.  I was just caught off guard.  I could hardly tell you the stories I have this evening, suggesting that you and I should get married and then participate in those stories with the Gang, and then be too shy to jack off in front of you.”

 

“Jack off?”

 

“That’s one of many, many terms boys use for masturbating.  Jerk off is another common one.  The British say wank, which seems very strange to Americans.”

 

“So go ahead and jack off.”

 

I lay down on the bed and started to tickle my balls with my right hand.  Gayle sat in a chair, which she’d moved very near the bed, and watched intently.  I moved my right hand to encircle my dick and let my left hand take over tickling my balls.  I had my head on a firm pillow which allowed me to see what I was doing and watch Gayle watch me.  She didn’t move; she was fascinated by my activity.

 

I think that I could rub my dick forever and never come unless I starting thinking some kind of sexy thoughts.  Often I sort of work out some kind of fantasy story line before I start.  Well, I didn’t do that that night, but my mind started working as soon as my hand did.  Naturally Gayle figured in my fantasy.  I began by recreating our shower together; then imagining we were having oral sex.  Then I was fucking her.   Then–of all things–my father was fucking her.  Finally my mind settled on Tim fucking her.  You know, it’s really strange to be jacking off, fantasizing about a girl, and then be looking at the same girl as she watches you.  I found myself thinking, “I wonder if she can tell that I’m dreaming of Tim fucking her?”  The mind is a wonderful thing!  And right then it proved it by directing my balls to send a huge load out through my dick and up onto my chest and stomach.

 

Gayle burst out laughing.  “Good grief, Jody, it’s all over you.”

 

“That’s pretty normal.  Remember, most girls don’t see it from that perspective.  Now, do you want to have an organism, or are you content to go to sleep?”

 

“I’m content to go to sleep.  Would that be OK with you?”

 

“I told you, I’m not going to push for anything.  Of course, it would be all right with me.”  I got up and went into the shower to clean myself off.  Gayle followed me in, and did the cleaning for me.  She was careful to soap my penis very thoroughly!”

 

We headed back to bed, and she said, “Hold me, Jody.  Cuddle up to me and we’ll sleep.  We did, very peacefully.

 

The next morning Gayle woke before me and got up to get dressed.  I woke as she was just pulling on her panties, and I enjoyed watching the process.  Then it was my turn, and she seemed to be equally interested in watching me.  Once all our clothes were on we had only her handbag to carry, and off we went to the car and a diner for breakfast.  As we were eating she told me, “Jody, you’ve given me a lot to think about, as well as a most spectacular evening and night.  I honestly don’t know whether I can fit into the lifestyle that you’ve chosen for yourself.  Please give me time to think.”

 

“I’ll give you all the time you need.  Do you want to go on dating while you think, or would you rather we backed off.”

 

“No, no.  I want to go on dating.  I love you, Jody.  I just can’t say whether we can make it work.”

 

We continued to meet often for lunch and dinner.  Our lives continued pretty much unchanged.  Gayle said nothing about our night and its conversations.  Then I had an idea.  I told Gayle, “You know, there’s a couple in the Gang that I’d like you to meet.”

 

“Who’s that?”

 

“Sid and Cathy.”

 

“And they would be?”

 

“Sid Madison, the artist.”

 

“Is everybody important in this town part of your Gang?”

 

“Probably.”

 

“Why do I want to meet Sid and Cathy?”

 

“Sid came into the Gang much as I did.  He met Tim and Charlie as a boy of twelve, in the seventh grade.  He grew up with the love and support of the Gang.  Then he turned eighteen and explored sex with the Gang.  Just like with me, they were slow to think of him as an adult rather than as a child, but he made the transition.  Then he met Cathy.  He told her about his homosexual liaisons with some of the Gang and she could accept that.  Then he invited her to a big gathering of the Gang when they were talking about how they were going to handle sexual issues with their children.  She heard directly from the members of the Gang exactly what their sexual mores were, what they did do and would not do, and how they intended to communicate their sexual values to their children.  The conversations went on for a week, and by the end of the week Cathy really knew what the Gang stood for.”

 

“So when do I meet Sid and Cathy?”

 

“Tomorrow night at dinner at their house.”

 

“You were pretty sure of yourself.”

 

“I know that you’re struggling with the issue of the Gang.  This offers some insight into your concerns.  I was certain that you’d jump at the chance.  Sid and Cathy are delighted that they may help.”

 

“You’ve told them about my issues?”

 

“Of course.  Cathy, especially, completely understands.  But I’ll warn you in advance, Cathy is out to do a snow job on you.  She thinks she made the right decision and will want you to follow her.”

 

“I sort of assume that the entire Gang would join her if they had the chance.”

 

“Yes.  And that means that they trust my judgement in women.”

 

“I can agree with them on that much.  What on earth should I wear to Sid and Cathy’s?”

 

“Casual.  It won’t make much difference.  Sid’ll want to sketch you naked.”

 

“My God.  I guess I ought to thank you for the warning.”

 

“Take a good bath before you go.”

 

“You too.  If I’m going to be naked, you can bet your buttons you are too, buster.”

 

We were greeted at the door by 8-year old Auggie.  My goodness he was a charmer.  He seemed to have inherited all of the most handsome features of both of the races his parents represented.  Light brown in color, with piercing blue eyes and hair that was as black as any African’s and as straight as any Norwegian’s.  He opened his mouth in greeting, and he sounded pure North Dakota.  He followed his “Hi, there, Jody,” with “You must be Gayle.  No wonder Jody wants to marry you, you’re pretty.”  This was followed by a partially toothless grin and a motion to follow him into the house.

 

Gayle whispered to me as we walked through the living room toward the family room in the back, “I really am being ganged up on.  Even the 10-year olds are part of the conspiracy.”

 

I whispered back, “He’s only 8.”

 

Cathy came out and said, “Oh, Gayle, it’s so wonderful to meet you.  Jody’s been telling us how wonderful you are; it’ll be fun to compare his description to the reality.”

 

“I couldn’t possibly measure up.”

 

Cathy backed up and looked Gayle over.  “Oh, yes, you could.”

 

Sid came in, walked right up to Gayle and kissed her full on the mouth.  “Welcome to the Gang.  Now we just have to convince you that you want that welcome.”

 

Auggie said, “Jody says he showed you the Hideout.  Isn’t it neat?”

 

“It sure is.  But I don’t know your name, even though you know mine.”

 

Auggie stood up straight and said, “I am August Timothy Madison.  You may call me Auggie.  You’d better call me Auggie, I hate August–its too hot.”

 

Both Gayle and I burst out laughing.

 

“What’s so funny?  Did I say something funny?”  But he couldn’t hold a straight face, and burst out laughing with us.  I grabbed him, picked him up, and tossed him toward the sofa.  He landed with a bounce and came back saying, “Do that again.”  I did.

 

Gayle said, “Well, if nothing else the Gang seems to have wonderful children.”

 

Auggie smiled and said, “Thank you.”

 

Cathy said, “Auggie’s one of the youngest of the children of the Gang.  So he plays with older kids a lot.  It makes him act older than his years.”

 

Auggie grinned and said, “It’s also because I’m smart.”

 

Sid said, “We’ll send Auggie off to bed after dinner so that we can have the conversation I know you want.  For now, how about something to drink.”

 

Neither Gayle nor I would’ve turned down a glass of wine, but we didn’t want to put Sid and Cathy in an awkward position since we were both underage.  I said, “I think we’d both like ginger ale if you have it.”

 

Cathy said, “Wouldn’t you prefer wine?  We won’t tell the ATF.”

 

Gayle said, I’d prefer wine, but we’re going to have a serious conversation this evening and I wouldn’t want it in the least bit colored by alcohol.  Ginger ale would be fine.”

 

Auggie managed to be the center of attention for much of the cocktail hour.  He was smart, knew a lot of jokes that really were funny, and liked to tell them.  Then he said, “I know a lot of traveling salesman jokes too, but Dad won’t let me tell them.”

 

Galye asked, “Why on earth not?’

 

Auggie shot right back, “He was afraid you might not understand them.”  Eight years old!

 

Dinner was very nice, and Auggie caught his mother’s hint that he might have less to say.  It gave Sid and Cathy a chance to ask Gayle a lot of questions about her background, family, studies, and the like.  Auggie seemed as interested as did his parents.

 

After dinner Auggie was sent to his room to play on his computer.  He responded, “Aw, do I have to.”  He turned to Gayle and said, “When they send me to my room it means that the conversation is about to get interesting.”  He left smiling.

 

Gayle said, “That’s quite a young man.  I don’t think I’ve ever met that articulate an eight-year old.  He could be quite a handful for his teacher.”

 

Cathy said, “I think he is.  But he likes school and likes his teacher.  We had some long conversations with the school about moving him ahead grades.  We’d have let him skip third grade this year, except that his third grade teacher is the best teacher in the school.  We didn’t want him to miss her.  I think everybody is ready for him to skip next year.  We’re thinking that he might skip two grades.  That’d put him straight into middle school next year, at the same time that his new classmates would be changing schools.”

 

“Wow, nine years old in middle school?”

 

“His reading, math, and social studies scores are all high school level.  His teacher is even worried about his being bored in middle school.”

 

“Have you considered some kind of special school, or home schooling.”

 

“We want him to be as normal as possible.  Kids can grow up too fast.”

 

“He already has.”

 

“You may be right.  We just always treated him as a fully developed person right from the beginning.  Never any baby talk.  We never talked down to him.  That, of course, didn’t create a smart child, but it allowed the smart child to develop.  Jody, he needed that toss onto the sofa.  He likes to be a kid as well as an adult.  Thanks.”

 

Sid said, “Well, we have an agenda, don’t we?  Gayle, are you willing to be guided this evening, or do you want to ask a bunch a questions?”

 

“I’ve asked Jody all the questions.  I’ll let you be my guide this evening.  I’m here to learn, and Jody tells me that you two, Cathy especially, will be good mentors.”

 

Sid said, “Let’s go back to my studio.”

 

We followed Sid back into the studio area.  He gave us a tour of the wonderful facility, ending up in what looked like his inner sanctum.  Sid looked at Gayle and said, “I’d like to sketch you, may I?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Just sit in that chair and look at Jody.  That should give me just the perspective that I want.”

 

She did.  She looked me all over, and finally held still staring at my groin area.  Sid instantly noticed where her eyes had focused.  His sketch seemed to make her eagerness for my body leap off the paper.  In that moment, watching over his shoulder, I understood why people were willing to pay $15,000 for a session that he was now giving to Gayle.  Four minor pose changes and four sketches later he quickly clipped the sketches onto a wall display area and asked, “Which ones would you like to take with you?  Each of you can pick one.”

 

Before anyone could speak I said, “I’d like the first one.  It’s perfect.”  Gayle liked the third he had sketched.

 

Sid said, “I’ll fill in the background and flesh out the face a little.  Then I’ll frame them and get them to you.”

 

Gayle started to thank him, but he stopped her.  “First, young lady, I’d like to sketch you naked.  Would you be willing?”

 

Well, she couldn’t say I hadn’t warned her.  She was ready and said, “Sure.” 

 

She wasn’t ready for the fact that as she took off her clothes Sid took of his.  He said, “I hope it doesn’t bother you, but I always work naked with a naked model.”

 

Gayle said, “Jody warned me that you might ask me to strip for a sketch.  I told him that if I was going to strip, he was too.”  I already had my shirt off and was working on my shoes and socks.

 

Sid turned to Cathy, “You’re comfortable being the only person in the room with clothes on, are you?”

 

“I’m fine,” said Cathy, making no move to remove anything. 

 

Sid just shrugged and said to Gayle, “I’d like you to stand and give yourself a breast self-examination.  I think that might be an interesting compromise between the erotic and pretending that a nude portrait isn’t erotic.”

 

Gayle stood, raised her hands over her head and slowly lowered them to her breasts.  She carefully massaged and fingered each breast, carefully checking for irregularities or lumps.  She was amazingly thorough and careful.  It was clear that she’d  been instructed on how to do such an examination, and had probably done them regularly.  Amazingly, she didn’t seem embarrassed or self-conscious.  The whole thing took about eight minutes.  I was positioned where I could watch Sid as well as Gayle.  I counted his sketches.  He worked incredibly fast, just getting the key lines that shaped her moves.  At the end he had about three different images on each of eight or nine pages of his sketch pad.  I knew that they were all he’d need to complete Gayle’s Gangland portrait, if one would ever be needed.  Seeing how she handled the present situation, I couldn’t imagine that events wouldn’t lead to that portrait being needed.

 

Sid said, “OK, that’s it.  Thank you, Gayle.  Now let me introduce you to some of the Gang.”  Gayle moved toward her clothes, but Sid motioned her  over to the side of the room where he had a lot of portfolios stored.  “I think you’re appropriately dressed for this,” he said.  He pulled out a portfolio and turned a few sheets.  Then he showed her sketches of me, quite naked.  They were all test poses for me masturbating.  He hadn’t had a model of me masturbating, and that was part of the final portrait of me in Gangland.  So he’d  worked on a number of test poses before he did the final.  He said, “I got Toppy to pose those for me so that I could get it right.”

 

Gayle asked, “Right for what?”

 

“His Gang portrait.  When, or if, you join the Gang there’ll be one for you.  I suspect you’ll be doing a breast self-examination.”

 

“Oh, my God.”

 

“Well, Jody’s already a member and has his portrait–as you can see he’s jerking off in the portrait.  So you can’t be with him.  That seemed to be a nice solo pose.”

 

“Oh, my God.  Where’s it going to go?”

 

I said, “It’ll be very private, seen only by the Gang.  But we can’t tell you where until you’re a full member of the Gang.”

 

“Being a member of the Gang is very formal, isn’t it?  It’s not just saying, ‘Gee, I really like you guys; I guess I’ll fit in’.”

 

“That’s right.  And it means meeting the entire Gang, or at least all that live in Grand Forks.”

 

“They don’t all live in Grand Forks?”

 

“Most do, but we have...what, five?, in Michigan.  The two that were in Indiana have moved here.  I guess that’s all the non-residents.”

 

Cathy said, “I don’t think Willie is actually a formal Gang member yet.  So there are four in Michigan.”

 

Gayle sat down on a chair, still naked, and seemed to be lost in thought.  Cathy said, “I think it’s time to go and put Auggie to bed.  I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes.”

 

I went over and sat next to Gayle and held her, just lightly.  Sid didn’t leave, but busied himself with his charcoal and chalks.  About fifteen minutes later Cathy returned, along with Auggie who was as naked as everyone else in the room except Cathy.  He said, “Good night,” to each of us with a light kiss on the lips.  He didn’t seem to even notice the nudity in the room–his or ours.  Clearly, it was an easily accepted part of his life.  And with his maturity level his parents certainly weren’t worried about STS (Show and Tell Syndrome).  He left and headed for bed.

 

Something seemed to click for Gayle as Auggie came and went.  She looked at me and said, “Fuck me tonight, Jody, I’m ready.”  She turned to Cathy and asked, “You do have a bed we can use, don’t you?”  She paused a little and continued, “And will you watch and cheer us on?”

 

My God, what’d  happened to Gayle?  She’d  clearly turned a corner.  Cathy and Sid caught the message as well.  Sid came over and kissed her as Cathy stripped off her clothes.  She said, “I think we all need to be naked for this.  Am I right, both of you are about to lose your virginity?”

 

Gayle said, “That’s right.  And it’s going to be wonderful.”

 

To be continued...

 

Posted: 03/05/10