The Fourth of January by Hankster

The Fourth of January

by: Hankster

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The fourth of January has always been an important day in my life. For some reason anything significant that has ever happened to me, has occurred on the fourth day of January.

For instance, I was born on January 4th. Now, some people might not consider that to be a ‘significant’ event, but I sure do.

Then on my second birthday, my dad was hurrying home early from work to attend the tail end of my birthday party. His front tire hit a patch of black ice, and he spun out of control and right into a big old oak tree. He was killed instantly. Please don’t cry for me. I really don’t remember him at all. My mom married my father’s best friend a year later. Of course, it was on the anniversary of my father’s death, and on my third birthday on January 4^th. I’d label birthdays two and three pretty ‘significant.’ Wouldn’t you?

My adoptive father has always been the best father a guy could ever hope for. He never made me feel any different than the three half brothers he and my mom had together, and my brothers never let me feel like I was anything less than a full blooded brother either. The four of us were raised, nurtured, and sent through college equally. So, I repeat. No weeping for me, please.

At my tenth birthday party something really significant happened to me. It started as a whisper at the party, but in the days to come and in the years to come, it became a roar. Looking at pictures of me in my infancy and early childhood, I have to say that I was one of the cutest babies, I have ever seen. My hair was platinum blond, but it is now mousy brown. My eyes were a pale blue and still are. I had a tiny pug nose, and now I have a high bridge. My cheeks were puffy and rosy. They are neither puffy nor rosy now, and they usually have a day’s growth of stubble. People used to stop my mother when she had me out in my stroller, and they would pinch my cheeks while exclaiming how cute I was. Of course, that made my cheeks puffier and rosier than before. I’m afraid that the man did not live up to the promise of the child. I’m not bad looking, but I am far from the beauty I was.

Why do I digress from the events of my tenth birthday party to tell you how cute I was? Well, it’s important. You see, as each girl at the party handed me a birthday gift, they took the opportunity to kiss me. Some kissed me on my still rosy cheeks, but most chose to plant one on my lips. The boys, of course did no such thing. They just handed me a gift. One proper young man actually shook my hand. That was a definite first.

During the process, I became aware that I didn’t care much for the girls kissing me. In fact, it was rather yucky. I really wanted to kiss the boys, and have them kiss me back. Now, I may have been only ten years old, but I knew that something was not right with that sort of thinking. Even my younger brothers were trying to grab kisses from the much older girls at the party. You can bet that I thought about it a lot in the days and years to come. Just as I said, the little whisper in my ear became a roar in my brain.

By the time my fourteenth birthday was approaching, I had every reason to believe I was gay. By that time I was masturbating regularly, and I was fully aware that when I did it, I fantasized that I was with one of my boy class mates. Once, much to my horror, I fantasized that I was doing it with my dad. During the fantasy, we reached over and stroked each other. I was too young to envision oral or anal sex yet. After that, I diligently tried to confine my fantasies to boy friends. I was only partially successful, because when I would approach orgasm, my dad would pop into my head. I was mortified.

I tried very hard to hide my dirty little secret. There were at least two guys in my high school, who were openly gay, and I longed to approach one of them and seek advice, and maybe even sex, but I was too chicken. Instead I chose to date girls, and play high school sports. I avoided sex with my dates until one of them became very aggressive and I couldn’t see a way out. She even had condoms with her. Well, when you are a horny seventeen year old, a few delicate strokes and you are up for the task. She got me up for the task, and I had a good time, but I must admit I was fantasizing that I was with the star of our high school football team. Then as orgasm approached, I found myself fucking my father. When I came down from the glory of a great orgasm, I became horrified once again. What the hell was wrong with me?

On my eighteenth birthday, in my senior year of high school, I did what I did every day after school. I went down town to a local, privately owned drug store, where I had an after school job. I worked from 3 PM to 7 PM. Try to find a privately owned drug store today. I lament sometimes how things have changed since I was a kid.

Across the street from the drug store, there was an adult book store. Some of the churches had tried for years to close the store, but they were not successful, and apparently they had finally given up. I had decided that as a coming of age birthday gift to me, I was going to pay the store a visit after work. I knew that I would find magazines with pictures of naked men. I had no intention of buying, but I could certainly browse.

I could hardly wait for 7 PM to come around. I literally ran into the store, not for the reason you are thinking. It was dark now and bitter cold. I ran to get into a nice warm space. Once inside, I did a quick orientation. There were bookshelves after bookshelves of porn magazines and books, and bins and bins of porn DVDs and video tapes. There were three distinct sections of the store. The largest section contained straight porn. A smaller section contained gay porn, and that’s where I focused my attention. The smallest section contained Lesbian porn. Next to the check out register there were several bins containing sex paraphernalia including some pretty huge dildos. I was fascinated, and totally aroused.

I stood at the gay bookshelves and browsed as I had promised myself. It’s a good thing it was winter and I was wearing a heavy coat. My erection was ripping at my denim jeans. I don’t know why I looked up when I did. Maybe it’s because I heard two male voices laughing. I nearly died. My dad was entering the store, and he was with another man, who could not have been much older than I. I ducked behind a book shelf. My dad went straight to the bin containing GAY DVDs and videos. The younger man stood back. He made no attempt to help in the selection process. My dad pulled out a DVD and the two headed to the back of the store. They approached a doorway, which was covered by a curtain. They held the curtain open and went right in. As soon as they disappeared, I came out of hiding. I wanted to run and get out of there ASAP, but I was too curious. I needed to find out what was behind the curtain.

I was about to ask the guy at the cashier counter, but just then I heard a voice asking, “Hey handsome, do you come here often?” I turned to see a very good looking older man. He was about my father’s age, maybe forty.

“No,” I answered. “This is my first time. Today is my eighteenth birthday.”

“Well then,” the handsome stranger said, “would you like to join me in the back room? I’d love to give you a birthday present.” His head nodded toward the curtained mystery room.

“Exactly what’s back there?” I naively asked.

He realized that I actually didn’t know, so he answered me without laughing. “There are small rooms back there. You have to pay for the use of them. Two guys can watch films back there, and they have complete privacy to do whatever gets them going. I’d be glad to pay if you would like to play.”

I smiled at the man. “Truthfully, I would love to, but unfortunately I am not able to today. I promise to come back here. Maybe we’ll run into each other again.” I was pretty determined, at that point, to lose my virginity, and a handsome, experienced, older man seemed the right guy to take said virginity. I turned to leave, but he took my arm gently.

“It doesn’t have to be here,” he said as he handed me a business card. “I live alone and I’d love to have you for dinner sometime. Give me a call, OK?”

I nodded and ran out of the store, afraid that my father would come out of the back room. I wanted to go home, but I was more curious to see when my dad would get out of the store, and what he would do next. It was too cold to wait outside so I went into the drug store where I could see the front entrance of the book store. I called my mom from the pay phone in the store. At that time few people had cell phones yet. I told her I had to work late. She told me that my dad was working late too. Then I stationed myself near the front door where I could keep an eye on the book store entrance.

About a half hour later, my dad and his friend came outside. They hugged each other and went separate ways. My dad’s office building was a block away and I knew he was headed for the parking garage to get his car. I could have used a ride home, but I didn’t dare make my presence known. Instead I ran to the bus stop and waited for twenty minutes in the bitter cold.

When I got home, my mom made a late supper for my dad and me. He was in a very good mood, and was chattering away about some of the stuff that happened to him today. He neglected to mention the adult book store. I was very confused about everything, but when Dad asked me why I was being so quiet, I decided to try out some of the acting lessons I had learned in drama class. I immediately became as bubbly as my dad, and made some silly idle chatter.

When we were finished eating, Mom brought out a cake with one candle. The whole family sang “Happy Birthday” to me and we each had a piece of cake. It was pretty late by the time we finished, but we all watched television for an hour or so and then Dad announced that it was time for everyone to go to bed.

My mom asked me to come into my dad’s study for a minute. All the others scurried up the stairs and headed for their bedrooms. When we were alone, she pulled my head down to kiss me. I was now a good foot taller than she. “Happy birthday, son,” she said, and she looked at me proudly, I thought. “I have a different kind of present for you this year,” she said. She went over to a roll top desk. It was her desk and she kept it locked. She removed a chain that she wore around her neck, and I could see a small key dangling from the end. She opened the desk with the key, and removed a plain box about ten inches by four inches and about three inches tall. I could see that the box had a lock. She opened a small drawer in the desk and removed a tiny key. She handed me the box and key, and then she locked the desk, and returned the chain, with her key, to its place around her neck. I waited expectantly to hear what she had to say.

“This box belonged to your father, your birth father,” she corrected herself. “He kept it locked, and I knew that it was his secret little box, so I never questioned what was in it. After he died, I could have opened it, but I wanted to respect his privacy, so I never did. I figured that if he had wanted me to know the contents, he would have told me while he was alive. Now that you are an adult, I want you to have the box and the key. Do what you want with it. You can open it or destroy it without opening it. It’s your choice.” She kissed me again and left me alone in the study.

I wasn’t sure what I should do. I thought that maybe I should just sit on it for a few days. For sure, I wasn’t going to open the box in my bedroom. I shared a bedroom with one of my brothers and this was too private to share with him. We always shared our secrets with each other, and I didn’t want to give him a chance to wonder why I didn’t share this one. If the truth be told, I would have returned the box to the desk, but the desk was locked and the key hung around my mom’s neck.

I sat meditatively in my dad’s chair trying to make a decision. It didn’t take me long. Today was January 4^th. I had already learned that my dad probably watched a gay porno with a much younger man, and maybe they did more than just watch. That was significant, right? But it really was messing up my brain. I rationalized that if my birth dad had secrets too, they might be in this box. After all my two dads had been best friends. I took the key, inserted it into the lock and opened the box.

The box was stuffed with maybe thirty or forty photographs and about twenty letters. The letters were carefully bound with a rubber band. The band was so dry, it split the minute I touched it. I put the letters on my dad’s desk and started looking through the pictures. They were tied with a string, and the picture on top was of two cherubic four year old boys smiling at me, well, smiling at the camera. The pictures seemed to be in chronological order. I was happy about that.

I knew immediately that the boys in the pictures were my two dads. The early pictures seemed to be taken at different events, birthday parties, leaving for camp, at camp, etc. They were several pictures of the two boys in the nude. They were teenagers and they appeared separately, indicating that they were alone and took each other’s pictures. They appeared to be at some sort of swimming hole. What was significant were the activities of the two nudes. They each waved their obviously erect cocks at the camera; or they were seen masturbating. The final two pictures in the nude series, showed cum all over their abdomens. I really didn’t want to make too much out of this. It was, after all, typical teen age activity. They weren’t having sex or anything, at least not on camera.

But what if they did have sex off camera? I immediately pictured them playing sixty-nine and even fucking each other. The thought of my two dads doing that both revolted and aroused me. My brain seemed about to explode.

The very last picture was taken at my parents’ wedding. My mom is in the middle, looking out of this world gorgeous, and wearing a beautiful white wedding gown. She is smiling broadly. My birth dad is in tails on one side of her, and my adoptive dad is on the other side of her, wearing his best man’s tux. Neither of the two men is smiling. In fact they look more like they are at a funeral than a wedding.

I carefully retied the pictures and replaced them in the box. Then I turned to the letters on the desk. Each letter was still in an envelope which had been neatly slit open with a letter opener. I removed the earliest letter and read:

My dearest: Whatever possessed us to go to different colleges? My nights are sheer agony. I lie in bed with my fist wrapped around my cock, whacking off and dreaming of you. How I miss your tongue caressing my tongue, and then caressing my cock. How I miss cumming in your ass and lying inside of you until I am too soft to remain in the most wonderful place on this planet. I miss, even more, the feel of you inside of me, and the wonderful taste of you as you fuck my face with your amazing dick. I am counting every day until Thanksgiving when we will be together again.

The letter was unsigned, but the envelope bore a return address at Tulane University and my adoptive dad’s name. Anyway, I would know his handwriting anywhere. The letters continued to be expressions of love and most read like erotic gay stories, but with about four letters left, everything changed. Here are excerpts from the final few letters.

I hate to agree with you, but I know in my heart that you are right. We can never live together as a gay couple. Life would be too hard for us. Straight guys have it much easier. I am glad that you have met a woman who turns you on, and you can actually have sex with her. I haven’t been so lucky. Will you still have sex with me when we see each other this Christmas?

I’m glad you said yes to sex this Christmas. I have been dating women, but so far there isn’t even a stirring down there. I have a confession to make. The picture you sent me of your girl friend actually turned me on. Do you think she would want to share us? Just kidding!

Of course, I’ll be your best man. When I met your fiancée last Christmas, I became instantly jealous of you. You’re a lucky guy. I have another confession to make. So far I have not been successful with women in the sex department, but I have been enjoying one night stands with some of the guys here at Tulane. Forgive me for being unfaithful. Are we on for Easter vacation?

I’m sorry we didn’t get to enjoy our bodies this past Easter vacation. I can understand how busy you are with wedding plans and such. I also appreciate that you don’t want to cheat on your future wife, but I am grateful that you still want to be my best friend. It will be hard for me, but I heard a wise man say once: If you can’t have a loaf of bread, it is better to settle for crumbs than to go without. I’ll always love you.

That was the last letter. I put it in the box with the pictures. Then I placed the box with its contents in the kitchen garbage bag. I removed the bag from the can and put in a fresh one. I carried the garbage bag to the can outside the kitchen door. I removed two previously discarded garbage bags and threw the one with the letters and pictures to the bottom of the can. I replaced the other two garbage bags, effectively covering the incriminating evidence.

Finally I went to bed. My brother was already snoring a little too loudly in the other bed. I lay still in my bed knowing I would never sleep that night. I had plenty of time to think. So what were the significant events on this January 4^th, my eighteenth birthday?

First off, I learned that my two dads were closeted gays, and if that were not enough they were lovers. Secondly, my adoptive dad was covertly giving in to his homosexual desires. I was amazed that I wasn’t angry at him. I knew how hard his struggle was, and I felt sorry for him. I vowed to come out one day and not live a fraudulent life. Finally, after viewing the pictures, I learned that I was the spitting image of my dead father, more like a clone. My mom and dad had never mentioned it, and I could only wonder why. I figured that enough significant events had occurred this year to last for the next several January 4ths.

Also, lying there in bed, in a meditative state, I wondered what I was going to do with all this knowledge. I wondered if I should do anything at all. For sure, I knew that I wouldn’t do anything at all without a lot of thought.

I graduated high school that year and worked all summer in the drug store. I was so tempted to lose my virginity in the back room across the street, but I was just too scared. I thought of calling the nice gentleman whose card I still had in my wallet, but that was even scarier. So I did nothing, and let my fist work overtime, still fantasizing that I was doing it with my dad.

I never saw my dad go in the book store again. I had no doubt that he was meeting his friend there. I just never saw it again. I did notice that he worked late at least one night a week. One night, after I left work, I walked over to his office. He had told us that he was working late, and I thought that if he was still there, I could hitch a ride home. His office was dark and the door was locked. He had to be cheating somewhere else. I was about to turn and leave when I heard something. I leaned up against the door and although it was indistinct, I swear I heard my dad’s voice. “Fuck me harder,” he said. “It feels so good.”

I ran outside and tried to get my breath back. I was totally conflicted. I was jealous. I wanted to be the one who was fucking him. I wondered if he could sense that. Would I ever have the guts to tell him? Would he even want to hear such incestuous prattle? When I got my senses back, I ran to the bus stop.

I have not figured out the ‘why’ of it to this day, but I decided to come out to my parents before I started college. I was going to attend Boston University and I could easily commute to school. My dad wanted me to live on campus, but I knew how expensive room and board would be so I insisted on living at home. That’s why I have never figured out why I needed to come out at this time. Maybe it was because I knew about my dad’s secret life; both my dads’ secrets, in fact.

However, I planned to do it in stages. About a week before school was to begin, I got my three brothers together in my bedroom. I made no excuses; I didn’t make long speeches leading to nowhere; I simply stated, “Guys, before I start college, I need to tell you something. Before I do, I want you to know that I love all of you unconditionally, and I hope you feel the same way. Fellas, I’m gay.”

My two younger brothers said simultaneously, “No way!”

“Yes way,” I answered. My room mate brother, who was the oldest of the three, insisted that he suspected.

“In fact,” he said, “I was hoping you would live on campus before you brought some guy home and played around in our bedroom. I’m not sure that I could be very liberal about that.” He started to laugh, and then he threw his arms around me. “I was just kidding,” he confessed. I’ll always love you, bro.”

Then the other two embraced me also and the youngest kissed me on my lips.

“Please don’t say anything until I tell mom and dad myself, OK?’ They all nodded and the two youngest ran out of the bedroom to do their things as if my announcement was no big deal.

“Have you ever done anything with a guy yet?” my room mate brother wanted to know.

“Alas,” I answered. “Not yet.”

“Bummer,” he commented.

At my parents’ insistence, I gave up my job at the drug store. They wanted me to concentrate on my school work. They said that with the money they were saving on room and board, they could give me a generous amount of spending money. I reluctantly gave in to their request. On my last day of work, my dad said that he had to work late so I should meet him in the office, and he would drive me home. I guess he really was working late.

I got to his office about 7:15. My dad seemed ready to leave. He was talking to the young man whom I had seen in the book store with him. For some crazy reason, I felt a stirring between my legs. Now that I got a good look at him, I could see how handsome he was. My dad introduced him as one of his staff, and he left.

“I’ll lock up and we’ll leave,” Dad said.

I had planned on telling both my parents together, but driving home alone with my dad, I got the idea to tell him first. I knew he would be more than sympathetic and he could help me with my mother.

“Dad,” I started. “I need to tell you something, but I’m scared about how you’ll take it.”

“Nonsense, you can tell me anything. You’re my son.” He meant it. He adopted me right after he married my mom, and I bore his name.

I decided to come right out with it. “Dad, I’m gay.” It’s a good thing that it was past rush hour and the traffic was light, because he actually drifted into the adjoining lane. There was a small strip mall at the next corner. He pulled into it and parked the car. When he looked at me, I could see that he was crying.

“I’m sorry to be such a disappointment to you, Dad. I can’t help being who I am.”

“Are you sure? Have you ever….?”

I interrupted him. “I’m sure, Dad. It’s all I ever think about is being in some guy’s arms and making love to him. It hasn’t happened yet, but it will.”

“I know it will, son. I’m glad you told me, and we’ll tell mom together tonight when we get home. Promise me something. Promise me that you will always be true to yourself. Don’t try to live a life you can’t be happy with. Promise!”

“I promise, Dad.” I knew exactly what he meant. He leaned over the car console and gave me a hug. Before letting go, he kissed me on the lips.

“Does anyone else know?” he asked.

“I told my brothers and they’re cool with it.”

“Good,” he said.

My mother cried a little, but in the end, she kissed me and said philosophically, “Well I have plenty of other opportunities to be a grandmother.” Dad and I laughed with her, and life returned to normal except I could not stop lusting after my father.

I established a routine when school began. After my last class I went to the library to study and do homework. I took a bus to downtown Boston and got to my dad’s office just before six. He would close up and we would drive home together. We spoke easily to each other, mostly about my expectations for the future. His advice was always solid and I appreciated it.

When he “worked late” he gave me fair warning and I took two busses home. I knew what working late meant and I was unreasonably jealous.

One day driving home, I decided to open a sealed door. “Do you have any pictures of my birth dad?” I asked him.

“Sure I do. How come you never asked before?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m curious to find out if I look like him.” I knew that he had no idea about what was in the box my mom gave me on my eighteenth birthday.

“Trust me. You look just like him. Tell you what. Your mom is going to a meeting after dinner so we’ll go into my study and I’ll show you some pictures. I don’t want your mom to see some of them. We’re in the nude.” He broke out laughing.

“Cool!” was all I could think to say.

The top drawer of my dad’s desk was always locked. He unlocked it and took out a picture album. It looked like he had handled the album often. It was frayed all around, but especially at the corners. We sat side by side on the love seat in his den, and he turned to the first page. He was unaware that I had seen some of these pictures already, but he had more to show me.

“These were taken at my sixth birthday party and these were taken at your dad’s birthday,” and so it went. Finally we came to the nude pictures.

“We were sixteen here. You can see from these pictures how much you resemble your birth dad. We were junior counselors at sleep away camp. We had found this secluded place on the lake, and on parents’ day we snuck off there. The senior counselors were stuck with the parents. What fun we had as you can see.”

“I see you guys jerked off. Did you do each other?”

He looked at me and smiled. “We were teen agers, just kids. Why lie about it? There’s nothing to be ashamed of. We did whack each other off. It was fun and I loved your dad.”

I was getting aroused and I grew bolder.

“Dad,” I started. “You know that box that belonged to my birth dad, that Mom gave me on my last birthday? Well, I destroyed it along with what was in it, but I want to share the contents with you.” My dad turned ashen. I could hear him suck in his breath.

“There were letters in it that you had written to my birth dad during your college years. I know that you were lovers, but I’ll never reveal your secret. The two of you vowed to stay in the closet, and I and my three brothers are grateful, otherwise we wouldn’t be here, but I can’t say that you made the best choice.”

My dad was silent, but he was shaking his head sadly. “Dad, I continued, “I know that you are having sex with men. I saw you once going into the back room at the adult book store, and once I came to your office. It was dark and the lights were out, but I could hear you through the door.”

He was sobbing lightly now so I put my arms around him. “It’s OK,” I assured him. “I totally understand, and it remains between us. I just wanted you to know that I know and you can unburden yourself to me anytime. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said. “After your dad was killed, I was afraid that if your mother remarried I would never see you again. Truthfully, your mother was the only woman that ever turned either of us on. I decided to pursue her, and I begged her to marry me so I would never lose you. Also, marrying her gave me the opportunity to live a so called normal life. If you are truly gay, you know that the hunger never left me. I hate myself when I have sex with a man, but I can’t help it.” He started to sob harder so I began to hug him harder.

When he calmed down a little, he said, “I’m glad you know. It was a terrible burden to carry by myself. I was still holding him hard, and I was sure now that I felt his hard member pressing against me. I wondered if he could feel me pushing hard against him.

“Every time I look at you,” he said, “I see your father and I want to make love to you the way I made love to him.”

“I have never been with another man, but every time I dream of it, I am with you.” I wanted to let him know that the feeling was mutual. I had grown taller than he was, and he had to reach up to kiss me. Our lips parted and our tongues clashed. All my dreams and fantasies were coming true. He unraveled himself from me and locked the study door. My brothers were somewhere in the house. Seconds later we faced each other naked.

“Please do to me everything you did to my birth dad, and then I want to do it to you.”

The floor of his study was covered with a thick shag rug. We lay down on it and it was just as comfortable as a bed. He wrapped himself around me and we began to kiss. Our tongues reached hungrily deep within our mouths. Little by little, he slithered down my body. He sucked my ears, my tits, and my belly button, and somehow he finally started to suck my pubic hairs. He lingered there too long and I was desperate for him to finally take me.

“Please,” I mumbled. He knew what I meant, and I felt his warm mouth, lips and especially his tongue, envelope my jerking cock. I can’t describe the joy I felt as his tongue swabbed up and down the bottom of my shaft. I wanted to cry out loud, but I stifled my screams.

Over the next two hours, he taught me how to give head, how to rim, how to enter a man’s ass with the least pain, how to take it in the ass, and in general, how to give a partner the ultimate pleasure that two men can give each other. Reluctantly we started to dress. My mother would be home soon.

Before he unlocked the door, he said. “My dear son, this may never happen again, but if the opportunity arises, I’m not sure I can turn away from it. It’s important to me that you find a life partner and live the life that was denied to me and your birth father. It’s what I want for you more than anything else in the world.”

“I’m not afraid anymore, Dad. I’ll do what you ask. It’s what I want also. I have one more question to ask you, and I beg you to tell me the truth. Did you and my birth father have sex after he was married?”

My adoptive dad nodded his head sadly. “I’m not proud of it, but I’m not ashamed either. We loved each other so deeply that we just couldn’t resist each other. We made love at every opportunity. We would tell your mom that we were going to a ball game or to play golf, but we would take a hotel room and demonstrate our love. We needed each other so badly.” He started to cry.

“It’s OK, Dad,” I said. “I truly understand. I love both of you, more than I can put into words.”

I never did have sex with my dad again, but he was honest and he let me know that he still had to have sex with other men. He couldn’t help himself.

At the beginning of the second semester of my freshman year, on January 4th to be exact, I was paired with one of my fellow students in chemistry lab. I had seen him around campus, but we had never done more than nod at each other. Now we were going to work on a project together for at least six weeks. Needless to say, we became very good friends. How good? Before two weeks were over, we were frolicking in bed together. I taught him everything my dad had taught me. We have been frolicking together for many years now as a committed couple.

Every once in a while he says to me, “Sometimes I think your dad is gay. It’s the way he looks at me.” I just respond by hitting him in the head with a pillow. I’ll never tell.

Posted: 10/23/09