Loving Luiz
By:
Morris Henderson
(Copyright 2007 by the author)
 

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

PART 6

 Chapter 16

"A contest?" he asked, still confused but beginning to forget the lawyer's message.

 

"Here's the rules." I began, making up the rules as I spoke.  "We both get naked.  The first one to get hard loses the first round."

 

"That's no fair," he said, getting more and more into the game.  "You know I get hard quicker than you do."

 

"Wait.  There's more," I countered while mentally scrambling to make the challenge more appealing to him.  "First round is worth one point.  Second round is worth two points.  You can still beat me if you win the second round."

 

"And what's the second round?"

 

"Whoever takes less time to make the other one cum wins the second round."

 

"So who's going to keep time?" he asked.

 

"No need to keep time.  We'll suck each other simultaneously.  Then we'll both know who is the first to cum and loses the round."  Strangely, Luiz and I had never done a 69 and I had to explain it to him.

 

"It's still not fair," Luiz objected.  "I always cum fast.  It takes you longer.

 

I had to agree.  I had not thought out the rules thoroughly enough. "Okay, I said. "What would be more fair?"

 

Luiz thought for a while.  I was pleased that he was no longer concerned about the lawyer's message.  Eventually, he said, "I get to use my hands on you but you can only use your mouth."

 

"Deal!" I said.  "On the count of three, take all your clothes off. One.  Two.  Three."

 

Luiz began shedding his clothes immediately.  I also took off my clothes but deliberately focused my attention on his wonderfully trim body, his bushy pubes, and his gorgeous cock and balls.  I knew he would get hard before I did but I didn't want to be that far behind.  I imagined his stiff cock in my mouth, his hot juices filling my throat.  It seemed to have the result I wanted.  I got hard quickly but couldn't match the speed of his youthful erection.  "Winner of the first round: Jake," I announced.  "On to the second round."   We got into position on the bed, lying on our sides. "On the count of three," I announced.  "One.  Two.  Three.  Suck!"

 

Luiz attacked my cock like a cat seizing a mouse.  One hand stroked the base of my cock rapidly while his mouth was slavering it with saliva and his tongue was tickling the sensitive ring around its head.  Handicapped to using only my mouth, I worked his boner but with only enough enthusiasm that he would think I was seriously competing.  I focused my mind totally on the sensations I felt in my cock.

 

I felt a moist finger plunge into the crack of my ass, find its target, and deftly slip inside.  It was a complete surprise because Luiz had never done that and, in fact, had said it was gross.  However, his plunging and withdrawing finger in my pucker, his expert sucking and stroking of my cock, and my complete immersion into the sensations, brought me to the brink unbelievably fast.  I erupted in an orgasm that was so incredibly intense that I stopped sucking my young lover.  But not for long.  I wanted a mouthful of his cum and I knew I wouldn't have to work hard to get it. I resumed sucking and soon got what I wanted.

 

I switched positions to lay alongside him.  He grinned and said, "I won. That proves I'm better than you."  I chose not to mention my handicap but simply let him savor his victory.

 

The diversion of the sex contest wore off and Luiz began again to fret over why the lawyer wanted to see us so soon after meeting him.

 

We woke at just past 7:00.  After a long kiss, we emptied our bladders and returned to bed to snuggle together.  "Good morning, champ," I said.

 

"Champ?" he asked.

 

"Champion.  You won the sex contest last night, remember?"

 

I had opened the door for him to gloat but he was apparently not in the mood.  "Yeah," he said.  "But it wasn't a fair contest.  You didn't use your hands.  Besides, it was just sex.  There was no love in it.  Just like when Pepe was here.  It was just sex.  It's much better when we do it because we love each other."

 

"I have to agree," I replied.  "But sometimes, it's okay to juat have sex.  Even two people in love can do it just for the sex.  If that's all they do, then they have a problem but once in a while -- just to have fun -- what's the harm in that?"

 

Luiz thought about it for a few minutes and said, "I guess so.  It's just that last night was the first time we did it just for the sex.  It seemed...I don't know...it seemed kind of empty."

 

"Did you enjoy it?" I asked.  "Did you have fun?"

 

Again Luiz thought about it and then said, "Yes.  At the time.  But it just didn't seem right when I thought about it."

 

"Two people in love can have fun.  There's nothing wrong with doing things once in a while just because it's fun and sexually satisfying."

 

"I suppose you're right," he admitted.  "But it's still better when we do it because we love each other."

 

"And you're right about that.  We love each other and sex is better when we feel that love along with the physical sensations.  Want to have some loving sex now?"

 

Luiz's hesitation in answering surprised me because he had always been receptive to the suggestion and, more often than not, made the suggestion before I did.  His pensive look told me that something was bothering him. His question to me confirmed it.  "Suppose two people are in love.  Do they have to have sex?  I mean suppose one doesn't want to."

 

"That's very common," I replied.  "I suppose there are two ways to handle the situation.  The one who doesn't want to can say 'not now' or even 'I'd rather not'.  That's being honest and if the love between them is strong, the other person won't get angry but will understand.  The second way is for the person who doesn't want sex to agree to have sex.  That's doing something just to please his partner and that's okay, too."

 

"Which is better?" he asked.

 

"I don't think one is always better.  It depends on the situation. However, I think the first way is better most of the time.  Why?  Because the two people are being honest.  They are not afraid to tell the other how they feel.  In the long run, I think that strengthens the love between them."

 

Luiz again pondered what I had said.  Then he looked at me and said, "I love you, Jake.  But I'm not horny right now.  I just want to lie here and be close to you.  Is that all right?"

 

"Of course," I replied and gave him a big hug.

 

After several minutes, Luiz said, "I know what you did last night."

 

I couldn't imagine what he was referring to so I asked, "What was that?"

 

"The sex contest.  I know why you suggested it."

 

"Oh," I replied.  "You know, then, that I wanted to do a 69 and suck on your tasty sausage while you sucked mine."

 

"Jake!  I'm serious.  "You wanted to get my mind off the lawyer's message.  It worked.  For a while.  But I'm scared, Jake.  What if they say you can't adopt me?  What if they say I have to stay here in Mexico?  What if they send me to an orphanage?  The lawyer is applying for adoption.  The authorities will find out that I'm an orphan and that I'm in Mexico. They'll want to keep me here ... in an orphanage.  Why would he want to see us so soon unless it's because they want to put me in an orphanage here?"

 

 

"Luiz," I began.  "I'm going to tell you again.  And I'll keep reminding you if it's necessary because I really mean it.  I'll do anything it takes -- and I mean anything -- to keep you with me for as long as you want to be with me.  There's nothing -- nobody -- that will take you away from me.  Do you believe me?  Do you trust me?"

 

"Yes," he said, but only half-heartedly.  "But I'm still scared."

 

"We don't know what the lawyer has been able to do for us.  It may be bad news.  That just means we will keep trying.  But it may be good news. We will just have to wait and see what the lawyer says."

 

By the time we dressed, it was just past 8:00 when I hoped Delgado would be in his office.  I dialed his number and his secretary answered.  I asked to talk to Mr. Delgado but she gave a long reply in Spanish. Frustrated, I gave the phone to Luiz saying, "I need your Spanish skills. Talk to Delgado's secretary."

 

Luiz took the phone and started talking.  I had no idea what he was saying nor what he was hearing but the expression on Luiz's face was not one to indicate good news.  When he hung up the phone, he explained that Delgado was in court.  The secretary did not know -- or wouldn't say -- why he wanted to see us that afternoon.  All she would say is that he had asked her to contact us and request that we meet him.  We were left to wonder and worry.

 

The morning seemed like an eternity.  Luiz worried more than wondered what was in store for us.  I also worried but concealed it from Luiz who needed recurrent encouragement about our future together.  All my efforts to prop up his spirits (and mine) seemed minimally effective.  We walked to the park where we had spent time the day before.  I couldn't get him in a playful mood and stopped trying when he said, "I appreciate what you're doing, Jake, but I'm scared.  I'm sorry."

 

We walked back toward the hotel to freshen up and get a bite to eat although neither of us had much of an appetite.  On the way, we passed a small church.  Luiz asked if we could go inside and, of course, I agreed. I guessed at what he wanted and my guess was right.  While I stood at the back of the chapel, Luiz walked down to a pew near the altar, knelt down, and began to pray silently.  My heart ached because I knew how distraught he was.  A boy who had grown up in poverty, had lost his beloved mother at a very young age, had struggled with his father to make a new life in a strange country, had seen the body of his murdered father in the morgue, and had finally found happiness that was, he feared, in jeopardy.  I am not Catholic nor even religious but as I stood there, I prayed for this young man who deserved more than life had given him in the past.

 

Eventually, Luiz rose, crossed himself, and walked back to where I stood.  I tried to read his expression.  It was serious but not sad.  His gait was not energetic but neither was it the slouch of one who felt defeated.  When he reached my position, he said simply, "We can go now."

 

Outside, we resumed our walk back to the hotel.  About a hundred paces later, he asked, "Want to know what I prayed about?"

 

"Only if you want to tell me," I replied.

 

"Of course I prayed that the lawyer had good news.  But I also prayed for you in case they took me away.  I prayed for Papa to understand why I love you the way I do and how we share our love.  I prayed that he would be proud of me.  I didn't ask for forgiveness for being gay because I don't believe it's a sin.  And I put in a word for Pepe."

 

I was temporarily speechless.  How many 16 year old boys facing a crisis would pray for other people and not themselves?  When I found my voice, I said, "Luiz, you continue to amaze me.  I'm very proud of you.  Do you feel any better now?"

 

"Yes." he said thoughtfully.  "I'm still worried but I'm not scared. I've decided that even if they take me away, I can make it through three years until I'm an adult.  I worry about you, too, but you're already an adult and you're smart and strong.  I don't worry about Papa because I know he's all right but I just hope I can make him proud of me."

 

"Anybody who knows you like your Papa does and like I do can't help but be proud of you ... and love you."

 

We arrived at Delgado's office 15 minutes early only to find the office locked, which was not surprising since it was lunch time.  Luiz was still somewhat morose but thankfully not nervous or anxious.  Garcia's secretary arrived, unlocked the door, and ushered us into the reception area.  We sat and waited for fifteen long minutes after 1:00.  Luiz was growing visibly more anxious.  I tried to engage him in conversation but he only grunted brief replies, stared at the floor, and fidgeted.  Finally, Delgado arrived and apologized for being late.  With no indication in his expression that I could discern, he invited us into his office.  We sat while Garcia removed his suit coat and hung it up.

 

"I'm sure," he said, "that you would like to get right to the point.  I have good news for you.  The adoption has been approved."

 

Before Delgado could say any more, Luiz whooped.  He jumped up out of his chair, moved quickly toward me, and wrapped his arms around my neck.  I returned his embrace enthusiastically and only barely resisted giving his a kiss.  Luiz clung to me until it began to get awkward and embarrassing.  I gently broke our embrace.

 

Delgado waited until Luiz returned to his chair, beaming brightly, before continuing.  "I must say, it's a pleasure to see the affection you have for each other and I'm delighted to have helped.  There are some formalities to take care of."  He slid several papers toward me.  "If you sign these documents, Mr. Simpson, the adoption will be official.  Oh, and there's a blank on one of the documents in which you are to fill in Luiz's name.  I neglected to ask you before if Luiz would be taking your name or keeping his own."

 

"I hadn't anticipated that option," I said, "And therefore Luiz and I have not discussed it."  I turned to Luiz and asked, "Do you want to be Luiz Simpson or Luiz Loberto?"  Luiz, also being faced with having to make a significant decision quickly, seemed to be conflicted.  "For what it's worth, I said, "I think you should keep the name of Loberto.  To honor your Papa."

 

He smiled broadly because, I suspected, that would have been his choice but he didn't want to offend me.

 

"Loberto," he said to Garcia.  "Luiz Loberto."  Garcia smiled and wrote the name on two of the documents before giving them to me to sign.

 

Ignoring the fact that the documents were all in Spanish and I had no idea what they said, I signed in several places where Delgado indicated. When I had finished, the lawyer retrieved the documents and reviewed them, I assume to be sure that all was in order.  He then did something I thought was remarkable.  He said, "Mr. Loberto."  Luiz, partly owing to his euphoria and partly because he was unaccustomed to being called by that formal name, was taken by surprise.  "Although it is not legally required,"  Delgado continued, "I think you should sign also.  After all, this is a serious commitment from you as well as Mr. Simpson.  The law says that you are a child but in my brief meetings with you and from the information I have received, I recognize you as a responsible person and fully capable of entering into a legal agreement."  He pulled another document from a file folder and passed it to Luiz who, filled with pride, signed it.

 

Delgado then proceeded to tell me that it was a combination of good luck and his own hard work that had produced the desired result so quickly. He didn't mention the 'gratuities' that he had to pay nor did I ask but didn't shy away from emphasizing how hard he had worked.  I grew tired of his rambling and impatient to go celebrate with Luiz so I stood and said, "Mr. Delgado.  Luiz and I are extremely grateful for your help.  You have made us both very happy.  Perhaps there are other boys who need your expert help."  I pulled out my wallet, removed three hundred-dollar bills and laid them on his desk.  "I'm sure there is an agency here that provides help to people in a situation like ours -- boys who need parents and parents who want to take care of them.  Perhaps you can see that this donation is made to either an agency ... or an individual ...  who can use it."

 

Delgado replied, "That's very generous of you Mr. Simpson.  I can assure you that a boy and his new parents will benefit."

 

We gathered all the official documents, thanked Delgado once again, and left the office.  Outside the building, Luiz grabbed me for another hug.  "Thank you, Jake.  I'm so happy now.  We're together and nobody can take me away."

 

"I'm twice as happy as you are," I replied.  "First of all, I'm happy for me because I won't have to worry about losing you.  Second, I'm happy because you're happy and don't have to worry anymore.  Let's go home and celebrate."

 

On our walk to the hotel, Luiz said, "That was very nice of you to give Mr. Delgado more money."

 

"I wanted to show our appreciation.  And, I wanted to get out of there so we could celebrate."

 

"Do you think he will keep the money for himself?" he asked.

 

"Probably.  But that's okay.  The next time he's asked to help a boy in need, he'll be more likely to do it."

 

We hurried back to the hotel to pack but Luiz had another idea.  Upon entering the hotel room, Luiz said, "Jake.  I have a problem."

 

"What's the problem?" I asked.  "The lawyer took care of everything."

 

"I'm horny," he replied with an anxious look on his face.  "And I don't know what to do about it.  I used to have sex with my pretend uncle.  That was okay.  But my pretend uncle is now my dad.  Is it okay to have sex with my dad?"

 

Playing along with his joke, I said, "No.  I don't think that's a good idea.  Maybe I ought to call Pepe.  You and he can..."

 

"No!" he interrupted.  "I want you.  I want sex with love, not just sex."

 

We had been father and son for less than an hour but for the next hour we were two lovers eagerly fondling, exploring, and caressing each other.  It was as though it were the first time for both of us but without the inhibitions of first-time couples and enhanced by the familiarity of knowing just how to please the other.  Luiz seemed exceptionally energetic and it was a delight to know that his fears of the morning were behind him.

 

We packed our things, checked out of the hotel, and took a taxi to the border.  Luiz proudly showed the adoption papers to the border guard who, noticing the date on the papers, said, "Congratulations to you both," and waved us through.

 

On the drive home, Luiz read the documents we had signed.  There was a lot of legalese but he was able to tell me the gist of their contents. The last document, the one he had signed, made him laugh out loud.  "Listen to this," he squealed through his laughter.  The rough translation was that Luiz had promised to do assigned chores without complaining, to study and complete all homework assignments on time, not to play loud music, and, in the concluding paragraph, to love his new father even when he disagreed with his ideas.  We both laughed as he translated it for me. "That was nice of him to include me in the process," Luiz said.  "But if I had read it first, I don't think I would have signed it."

 

"I'm glad you did," I joked.  "Now you have to do everything I tell you."

 

"No I don't," he said emphatically.  "There's one part I didn't translate for you.  It's here somewhere."  Shuffling through the documents, he pulled out one. Pretending to read from the document, he resumed. "Jake Simpson promises to treat Luiz with respect.  He promises to help him with his Math.  He promises that he will not require his son to do work if the son is tired or has something more important to do.  He promises to serve his son breakfast in bed and that it must be a sausage, two meatballs, with lots of cream."

 

When we stopped laughing, I said, "If I had been able to read Spanish, I wouldn't have signed it.  It doesn't provide for sausage, meatballs, and cream except for breakfast.  Sometimes I want it for lunch, dinner, or just a snack."

 

Two joyful lovers, father and son, arrived home about 9:00 after having stopped for dinner at the restaurant where we celebrated Luiz's birthday. One of the messages on the answering machine was disturbing.

 

Chapter 17

 

I replayed the message to be sure I got it right.  "This is Mrs. White, principal of St. Francis School.  I need to talk to you about Luiz.  Please call me as soon as you can."  The message ended with her telephone number.  Luiz was nearby and heard the message so I asked, "Do you know what this is about?"

 

"No," he replied.  He looked puzzled, not guilty.  Moreover, Luiz had been consistently honest with me so I had no reason to think that his confusion was not genuine.

 

"Well," I said, "It may be some administrative detail.  We did tell her that I planned to become your guardian.  She probably just wants to find out if I had so she can check the right box on her records."  That was, of course, a possibility but if so, she should have said so in the message. Since she gave no reason to want to talk to me, I worried that it was a bigger problem.  However, I was not about to spoil our high spirits by speculating about what Mrs. White wanted to talk about.     Luiz, however, seemed to be concerned so I said, "I'm sure it's nothing to be concerned about.  Your grades are good.  You've never been in trouble at school because you would have told me if you had.  Let's just go to bed and I'll call her in the morning."

 

We showered and got into bed.  Neither of us suggested sex.  We just cuddled together, blissfully content that we were legally, as well as emotionally, a family unit and safe from any threats of separation or deportation.  Luiz fell asleep in my arms rather quickly but I laid awake for some time alternately being grateful for his coming into my life and wondering what Mrs. White wanted to see me about.

 

After breakfast the next morning, I called Mrs. White.  My concern increased when she declined to state the purpose of speaking to me and said only, "It's a rather delicate matter and I would appreciate it if you could stop by my office."  I told her that I was on vacation and could meet with her at any time.  She said, "I'll be in the office until noon.  Would some time this morning be convenient?"

 

"We'll be there in about 30 minutes." I said.

 

"We?" she said.  "Ah ... Mr. Simpson ..." she stuttered.  "There's no need to bring Luiz."

 

"Yes, I think there is.  We'll be there in 30 minutes." I said and hung up the phone.  Luiz, who had heard my side of the brief conversation, looked at me as if to ask what she had said.  "We're going to the school. She wouldn't say what it was about but maybe just wants me to sign some papers."

 

Perceptively, Luiz asked, "If that's all it is, why didn't she say so?"

 

"I don't know," I admitted.

 

On the drive to the school, Luiz said, "I've been thinking and thinking. I don't know why Mrs. White wants to see you.  Honest."

 

"I believe you.  I'm as puzzled as you are.  We'll just have to wait and see."

 

I parked in the nearly deserted parking lot and we entered the front door of the school.  Luiz pointed the way to the principal's office.  We entered to find a long counter where the school secretary normally worked and, just behind it, an open door through which I saw a matronly women at her desk.  She saw us, rose, and came to the door.  "Thank you for coming in," she began but her tone was more formal than friendly.  Turning to Luiz, she said in a patronizing tone, "Luiz dear, would you mind waiting here while Mr. Simpson and I talk?"

 

"No." I said assertively.  "You said you wanted to talk about my son." (I put emphasis on 'my son'.)  "If it concerns Luiz, he deserves to be present."

 

"But ..." she began rather conspiratorially,  "The matter is somewhat delicate."

 

Perhaps it was my paranoia over my relationship with Luiz being discovered or simply the fact that she was not likely to exclude Luiz for any lesser reason but I began to suspect that 'the matter' she spoke of was homosexuality.  "The matter may be 'delicate' but Luiz is not.  He's a young adult.  If you want to discuss Luiz, he deserves to be present.  I'm sure you know from his record that his courage and maturity to survive ... even to conquer ... some challenges that would devastate most children and many adults."

 

"But Mr. Simpson..." she began insistently before I cut her off.

 

"You can talk to both of us or neither of us."

 

"Very well," she conceded, "If you insist."

 

"I insist," I replied.  Although I was perhaps too assertive, I felt strongly that Luiz must be a part of the discussion and, moreover, that he would handle whatever came up admirably.  Mrs. White ushered us into her office and pointed to two chairs as she rounded here desk and sat, imperiously I thought, behind it.

 

"A parent has reported to me that ... your son ... I assume you have formally adopted him?"

 

"Yes," I replied.

 

"It seems that your son has told other children that ..." she glanced at Luiz who, more than me, was puzzled at what was coming.  "Well," she continued, "Your son has said ..."

 

Instantly, the memory of Luiz's outburst in the lawyer's office came to mind and before Luiz said it, I said, "My son has a name.  Luiz.  Luiz Loberto.  Please don't refer to him in the abstract third person."

 

"My, my," she said.  "There's no need to get angry."

 

"I'm not angry," I said in a calmer tone.  "I would just prefer that Luiz be regarded as a person as well as my son."

 

She was silent for just a moment before saying, "To continue, then.  It has been reported to me that your ... that Luiz has told other students that homosexuality should be tolerated.  Is that true?"  She continued to look at me and ignore Luiz, which irritated me further.

 

"Suppose you ask the person who would know best," I said as I returned her gaze.

 

I suppose I had finally thrown her off balance because she looked first confused and then nervous.  Finally, she turned to Luiz and said, "Is that true, Luiz?"

 

Luiz, by this time, had evidently recalled the incident in the lunch room and said, "Yes, ma'am.  But perhaps you didn't hear the whole story." He paused.  I didn't know whether he was trying to recall the details of his conversation, debating whether to tell his side of the story, or just wanted to force Mrs. White to ask him for the details.  "Two boys," he went on, "were insulting another boy who was not with us at the lunch table. They called him a fag.  I pointed out that fag was as insulting as nigger or spick.  They admitted that they didn't know for sure that he was gay but he sure acted like a fag.  I told them that even if he was gay, he was one of God's children and should be treated with respect and not insulted behind his back.  I told Jake about it -- he was Jake then, before he became my dad -- and Jake said I did the right thing.  He also said that there are a lot of bigots in the world and sometimes it's better to walk away because you'll just get them mad and not change their mind.  That's what the two boys did.  They walked away from me.  I think they are wrong. But they are God's children even if they are bigots.  If God loves all his children then he loves gays and bigots and all of us."

 

As much as I admired Luiz's intelligence and maturity, I was stunned both by what he had said and the way he had said it -- he was calm, deliberative, and persuasive.  He did not deny the accusation even though he knew Mrs. White, possibly a bigot herself, might punish him for what he had said to the two boys in the lunch room.  Mrs. White also appeared to be stunned.  I was sure that she was not accustomed to confronting such an articulate student.  I smiled at Luiz while resolving to compliment him more explicitly later.  He acknowledged my smile and we both looked at Mrs. White who was clearly at a loss for words.  I, for one, enjoyed her discomfort in the situation.

 

Pressured by the silent tension in the office, she said, "Luiz, I cannot fault you for pointing out that the other boys' insults were inappropriate. They were wrong to use that kind of language.  But I'm sure you recognize that homosexuality is a sin."

 

Luiz looked at me.  I knew what he wanted to say.  I nodded to give my approval for saying it.

 

"No, ma'am.  I don't recognize homosexuality as a sin.  I know that most churches teach that it is but I don't agree.  I also know that there are many good Christians who don't agree with some of their church's teachings. Many good Catholics use contraception.  They may feel that stem cell research is okay.  Some Catholics even question the need for celibacy in the clergy.  They are all good Catholics.  They pray to the same God. They lead good Christian lives.  Some are gay ... even in the priesthood. Why must we label them as sinners and persecute them?  Why can't we love them just as God loves them?"

 

Again, the silent tension in the room increased.  I don't know how Luiz felt but I admit that I enjoyed seeing Mrs. White's obvious discomfort. Finally, Mrs. White said, "Luiz, I admire your honesty, your thoughtfulness, and your ability to express your opinion."  She thought a few more moments before continuing.  "We will consider this matter closed if you will do one thing for me.  This is a parochial school and as such, we must abide by the church's teachings.  You will not get in trouble by opposing discrimination but I must ask you not to argue against the church's teachings, including the sin of homosexuality.  Will you do that for me?"

 

Luiz looked at me with a confused expression.  Unlike before, I had no idea of what he was thinking or wanted to say.  However, with full confidence in him, I nodded my permission to say whatever he wanted.

 

"If I understand you, ma'am," he said.  "You're telling me that it is all right to oppose discrimination but to ignore the church's discrimination against its gay minority."

 

Now it was Mrs. White's turn to be confused or, more likely, perplexed. Luiz had perceptively grasped the contradiction and deftly confronted the principal with it.  She had been caught in a web of her own making.  After thinking through Luiz's statement, she said, "Yes, Luiz.  That is exactly what I'm asking of you.  Will you do it for me?"

 

"Yes, ma'am." he replied.

 

With an audible sigh of relief, Mrs. White said, "Excellent.  The matter is closed."  She rose from her chair to signal that the meeting was over. Luiz and I also got up and turned to leave but Mrs. White came out from behind her desk and shook Luiz's hand, saying, "You are indeed a remarkable young man, Luiz.  I think you should consider a career as a trial lawyer. There's no doubt you have the intelligence and ability to be successful. I hope your new father will encourage you to go to law school."

 

Luiz beamed but, still smiling at Mrs. White, said, "My new father has a name.  Jake.  Jake Simpson."  I couldn't help it; I laughed, which triggered both Luiz and Mrs. White to laugh along with me.

 

We left the school and got into the car.  Before starting the car, I turned to Luiz and said, "I'm always proud of you Luiz but the way you handled Mrs. White was ... well ... simply incredible."

 

"It was, wasn't it?" he said immodestly.  "Every time I see her now, I will remember the look on her face when I asked her about discriminating against the gay minority."  We both laughed at recalling her expression. Then Luiz said, "Thanks for insisting that I be there.  It made me feel like I was somebody."

 

"You are, Luiz.  A remarkable somebody.  A somebody with a name. Luiz.  Luiz Loberto."  At that, we both laughed heartily.

 

The remainder of the week was spent assuring that the adoption was properly recorded with various bureaucracies in the U.S.  I also added Luiz as a dependent on my health insurance.  In spite of the time and hassle of doing all that, we found time to relax in Balboa Park, visit some museums, take in a matinee movie, and stroll along the beach where we exchanged sometimes lewd comments about the men and boys there. We also arranged for Luiz's registration into the city soccer league.  He still had reservations about his ability to play the game well enough but his enthusiasm about trying remained strong.  I was pleased that he would get healthy exercise and meet new friends of his own age.  We didn't know at the time that one of those friends would cause Luiz a problem.

 

Chapter 18

 

The registration fee for soccer included an amount for his jersey but we were given a list of other things to buy at the local sporting goods store that included a practice soccer ball, black shorts, shoes, padded socks, and a cup.  We went straight to the store to get Luiz properly outfitted.  Most of the items were selected with minimum discussion but I hadn't had the foresight to think that Luiz may be unfamiliar with the need for a cup.  The clerk asked Luiz if he already had a cup and Luiz looked first at the clerk and then at me with a quizzical expression. "No," I replied and the clerk went to another shelf to retrieve the cup.

 

"What's a cup?" Luiz asked me.

 

"It's something to wear under your shorts to protect you testicles from injury," I answered.   Just then the clerk returned with the cup and, to my surprise but not that of the clerk, Luiz's face turned red.  I looked at the package and, turning to the clerk and feeling playful, I said, "This is a large.  Do you have an extra large?"  Luiz's face turned almost crimson.

 

The clerk noticed Luiz's embarrassment and, taking a cue from my wink at him, said, "That would be a special order item, sir, for boys with ... ah ... special needs."  Then, turning to Luiz and showing him the cup with a photo on the box, he said, "Do you think this will be adequate, young man?"

 

Luiz just scowled at me and did not reply.  To alleviate his embarrassment, I said, "I think it will be fine.  You can put all of these things on my credit card."

 

Walking to the car outside the store, Luiz said, "That was mean, Jake. You could have told me before about the cup.  And talking to the clerk about my cock and balls was embarrassing."

 

"I'm sorry," I said.  "It just didn't occur to me that you didn't know what a cup was.  But the look on your face when I asked for an extra large was priceless."  I laughed.

 

"I don't think it's funny at all," Luiz grunted.

 

Luiz was grumpy as we drove home and further apologies from me didn't seem to raise his spirits.  Pulling into the parking lot of our aparment complex, however, he huffed, "I should have asked for the biggest one they make because my dad is a big asshole and my cock is the only one big enough to satisfy him."  I couldn't help but laugh and Luiz joined in.

 

Back in the apartment, Luiz took the shopping bag into his bedroom.  I followed him.  As he was putting the things away, I asked him whether he was going to try things on to see if they fit.  "I'm sure they will, he said as he continued to put things away.

 

"I'd like to be sure," I said.  "I'd hate for you to show up for the first practice if something doesn't fit."

 

"You're still making jokes about the cup, aren't you?" he grinned.  "Or do you just want to see me naked?"

 

"Do you blame me?" I asked.  "You're even more beautiful when you're naked and I like to admire what you've got."  Luiz chuckled and began to take off his clothes.  However, before he removed his boxers, he turned away.  His boxers fell to his ankles and he kicked them off.  The sight of his long, bronze, slightly fuzzy legs reaching up to the perfect orbs of his ass cheeks made my crotch tingle.  He just stood there, facing away from me, while he opened the package with the cup and I gazed at my boy beauty.  He put on the cup, adjusted it, and turned around to face me. I found the sight of his almost nude body with his private parts discreetly hidden from view was extremely erotic.  "My God, you are sexy," I heard myself say.

 

Luiz just grinned and asked, "You getting horny?"

 

"How could I not get horny looking at such a vision of masculine beauty?"  I said.  "I've seen you naked lots of times but right now you seem to be more sexy than ever.  It makes me want to grab you and take you to the heights of sensual delight."

 

Luiz grinned again and said, "Then maybe I'd better keep this cup on. You said it was to prevent injury to my testicles.  I don't want you to injure my testicles."

 

"What I have in mind will definitely not hurt them.  Take it off and I'll treat them just like the precious treasures they are."  He took off the cup and, once again, I admired his naked form.  I put my hands on his shoulders, gently pushed him onto his back on his bed, spread his legs, and climbed in between them for access to his gorgeous cock and balls.  Very quickly, he was erect and leaking.  As I mouthed his balls and cock, I moistened a finger and slipped it into the crack of his ass.  Luiz was on his way to the peak as I continued to moisten my finger and lubricate his hole.  Before long, my finger slipped inside.  I took Luiz's moans to be permission to proceed and gradually inserted more and more of my finger until it found its target.  I brushed against his prostate in rhythmic strokes that, as I expected, caused Luiz to moan more loudly.  His ball sack pulled taut, his cock expanded slightly, his hips thrust upwards, and he let out a groaning cry as his seed erupted in several volleys into my hungry mouth.

 

It took much longer for Luiz to recover from his intense orgasm than usual.  When he did, he looked at me at his side and said, "That was the best ever.  What did you do to my bum?"

 

I explained that it was his prostate that had heightened the sensation and then asked, "Does it still seem gross to you?"

 

"A little," he admitted.  "But I understand now why gay men do it.  It was wonderful."  Perhaps, I thought, I had taken Luiz one step closer to anal intercourse.

 

Ten days later, soccer practice began.  When I arrived home from work, Luiz was all suited up and eager to go.  At the soccer field, he met the coach and his team mates with enthusiasm.  I watched the coach take the 15 boys through a series of drills but most of my attention was, understandably, focused on Luiz.  He was far from the most skillful player since, I assumed, the other boys had played previous seasons but he made up for it in his concentration and drive.  He was a little discouraged over his play as we drove home.  Without contradicting him or artificially boosting his ego, I ventured the opinion that his play would improve with more experience.

 

After three practice days, Luiz had begun to close the gap between himself and the other boys on the team.  I didn't have to tell him that; he had noticed and even said, "I'm still not as good as the others but I think I'm getting better."  I agreed.

 

The first game was on a Thursday night.  Luiz didn't get as much time on the field as the other, more experienced boys but the coach did send him in during the each of the two halves.  While Luiz was on the sidelines, I noticed that another boy was always with Luiz.  On the drive home, I asked about it.  "Who's number 20?"

 

"20?  Oh, that's Robbie." he replied.  "The coach's son."

 

"He seems to be very friendly.  Is he?"

 

"He's nice.  Not a good player.  Doesn't like soccer much but his dad is the coach so he's there mostly to please his dad."

 

Over the next few practice sessions and games, Robbie and Luiz seemed always to be together when one or both were not on the field.  I was happy that Luiz seemed to have found a friend.  I never gave a serious thought to anything more than a friendship between them mostly because Luiz was still only too happy with our lovemaking.  I was soon to reconsider my thinking.  Over dinner one evening, Luiz said, "Jake, I need some advice."

 

"What about?" I asked.

 

"It's about Robbie.  I like him.  He's a good friend.  But he's started to talk dirty to me.  I don't know what to do."

 

"Sixteen year old boys often talk dirty around each other," I said.

 

"I know that," Luiz said indignantly.  "This is different.  At first he just pointed out another boy and said he was good looking.  I agreed with him.  Then he would say things like, 'I can't wait to get my cup off and hang out.'  I agreed again.  I think that was a mistake.  Today, he even asked me how often I jerked off.  I ignored his question but a little bit later, he asked if I wanted to do it together.   I asked him what and he said, 'jerk off together.'  I didn't know what to say.  I just walked away from him to talk to another boy.  The other boy asked if Robbie had come on to me yet.  I asked what he meant.  He said that Robbie was a fag and had tried to come on to other boys.  He said to stay away from him if I didn't want to be known as a queer fag.  I remembered what you said about having to ignore people's insults because you can't change their minds. But here's the problem.  Robbie is really a nice guy.  He's friendly, he's funny, he's smart.  I like him but I can't show it.  It will only encourage him to come on to me and the other boys will start calling me a queer fag. What can I do?"

 

"Yes," I agreed.  "That's a real problem.  Let me think about it for a moment."  I racked my brain but couldn't come up with a resolution to Luiz's dilemma.  Eventually, I said, "It's a difficult choice.  On the one hand, you would like to be friends with Robbie.  You could simply tell him you're not interested in any kind of sex play and you could say that firmly but in a way that would not hurt his feelings.  On the other hand, you want to avoid insults and discrimination from all the other boys who you also want as friends.  You have to choose.  It's either stay friends with Robbie and suffer the consequences or avoid Robbie and lose him as a friend."

 

Luiz apparently didn't like what I had said.  He had probably figured that much out for himself and was hoping for some magic formula from me. "But if I avoid Robbie," he began, "Isn't that discrimination?  He's probably gay like me and I would be siding with the bigots."

 

"Yes and no," I said.  "Avoiding him would be ignoring what he is ... if he is gay.  But you don't have to be a bigot.  You don't have to insult him in front of the other boys.  You could even point out to them, if you have a chance, that he's smart, he's funny, or even that he makes a good play on the field now and then.  That might do a little bit to humanize him in their eyes."

 

"I could try that," he grudgingly admitted.  "But it isn't fair, is it?"

 

"No.  Lots of things in life are not fair," I mused while realizing how trite my observation was.

 

After we had cleared the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher, I said, "Luiz, I had an idea.  I want to know what you think of it.  You've said that you like Robbie.  I assume that you would like to help him."

 

"Not like we helped Pepe," he said quite forcefully.

 

"That's not what I was thinking.  Imagine this.  You invite him to visit.  Without specifically saying anything, you could even let him believe that the visit could involve a little sex play.  However, when he gets here, we sit him down and explain how his comments and behavior are hurting him.  We don't challenge or judge, we simply point out that we're trying to help him.  He may be aware that his comments are causing him problems with the other boys.  If that's so, we've done him no harm. However, he may not fully realize the immediate and long-term consequences of his behavior.  In that case, we might just possibly have helped him.  What do you think?"

 

Luiz spent some time considering the idea and then said, "That would give me a chance to explain why I can't be friendly, wouldn't it?"

 

"Hadn't thought of that," I admitted, "but you're right."

 

"Would we talk to him together?" he asked. "That was my original thought but I'm confident that you could handle it yourself if you would prefer."

 

Luiz thought some more and said, "No.  I think we should both be there. I'm not as sure of myself as you are.  If you're there, he wouldn't be tempted to get sexy."

 

"Think it over some more," I suggested.  "I will, too.  Let's be sure we've thought through everything that might be wrong with the plan."

 

The next evening, Luiz said, "I've been thinking about talking to Robbie.  And about all the things you told me about being gay.  I think Robbie would listen to you more if he knew you are gay and understood the problems of a gay man.  But if you told him you're gay, he might tell others on the team.  I don't know if you want that."

 

"That could create some problems," I said.  "I don't announce to people that I'm gay but I don't deny it either.  I can handle the team -- and their parents and the coach -- knowing that I'm gay.  But you might also be teased and insulted for having a gay father.  I wouldn't like that at all."

 

"I thought about that, too," he said.  (Of course he had.  Luiz was nothing if not perceptive and bright.)  "And I can handle that.  If they tease me about it, I'll just say 'so what' and tell them what a great father you are.  If they insult you, I'll tell them to stop because it's mean and unfair."

 

"That sounds easy, Luiz.  But the reality is that it might get very ugly.  They could say things or do things that hurt.  You even have to face the possibility of losing their friendship.  Bigotry can be a powerful enemy."

 

"I don't care," he said.  "If they are that stupid, I don't want them as friends."

 

"We may be considering something that won't happen," I said.  "It's always good to consider possible consequences but if they're possible, we should be prepared.  Are you prepared to play on a team that teases you about your father and insults gays?  Are you prepared to give up soccer if the teasing hurts too much?"

 

Luiz apparently had not considered that result and he thought for a while before saying, "Yes.  I enjoy soccer.  It's fun.  I like most of the other boys on the team.  And I'm willing to put up with a lot to stay on the team.  But if it gets that ugly, it won't be fun anymore."

 

"If you're absolutely sure," I began, "then -- if I think it is necessary -- I'll tell Robbie that I'm gay.  But it might not even be necessary."

 

Luiz invited Robbie to come visit after Saturday's game, ostensibly to listen to some new CD's that Luiz had bought but, as Luiz explained to me, Robbie most likely assumed there would be a chance for a little sex play. He told Robbie that he could ride home from the game with us and that I would probably go grocery shopping while they changed out of their uniforms.  The potential of an empty apartment and changing clothes with Luiz was more than poor Robbie could resist.  His father, the coach, gave his permission if I would drive Robbie home in time for dinner.  Luiz and I planned out a scenario for the confrontation with Robbie, hoping for the best and dreading the worst.

To be continued...



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Posted: 07/20/07