Uncle Fred's Advice
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...

I was 11 when I leaned I had an uncle whom I had never met. I was watching TV with my older brother Dan, who was then 14. Near the end of a movie the leading character shot his horse that had won several races.

"Why'd he shoot him?" I asked.

"Cause he broke his leg. Weren't you watching?" he said in his typical tone of voice that seemed to say, you're stupid.

"Sure," I replied defiantly. "But people break their legs. They just wear a cast for a while and they heal. Why shoot the horse?"

"They always shoot horses who break a leg, dummy."

"Why?" I continued to probe.

Dan was irritated at my interrupting the movie and, it seemed, because he didn't know the answer. "Dunno," he admitted. "Betcha Uncle Fred would know."

"Who's Uncle Fred?"

"Shut up and watch the movie," he demanded. I knew better than to irritate him any more so I sat silently watching the end of the movie.

When the movie was over, I asked again, "Who's Uncle Fred?"

"Dad's black-sheep brother," Dan shot back. "But you'd better not even mention his name to Dad. And I'll beat the shit out of you if you tell him I said anything." With that, Dan went outside, got on his bike, and rode away, leaving me to ponder the mystery of Uncle Fred.

A week later, Dan was in one of his rare good moods and I dared to ask, "Tell me about Uncle Fred."

"He's got a farm down near Riverton," Dan explained. "I've never met him but I overheard Dad refer to his queer brother, Fred.

"What's so odd about him?" I asked innocently.

Dan proceeded to explain to me what a queer was and made it clear that being queer was abnormal and sinful. The entire family had disowned him. He moved, bought a farm about 100 miles away, and was never heard from in more than 10 years. That was all Dan was willing to say except that he repeated his warning never to mention it to anybody or he would beat the shit out of me. I knew that he would carry out his threat so Uncle Fred remained a mystery.

At age 12, I was aware that some men liked other men but my knowledge of homosexuality was pitifully sparse. Dan's explanation of Uncle Fred's "deviant" and "evil" behavior left no doubt that it was sick and dirty. The notion was reinforced when I overheard my father say some particularly foul things about queers.

I carried that attitude through the next year and a half as I progressed through puberty. The changes in my body were no surprise for I had watched Dan grow up. However, the changes in my interests became a constant source of shame and pain. Like the mysterious Uncle Fred, I developed a compelling interest in other boys. I had plenty of opportunity to see naked boys -- showering after gym class and changing in the locker room at the local pool -- and images of them kept popping into my mind, which created many embarrassing moments when I would get a hard-on.

At 14, I was masturbating frequently. Each time, it was a period of intense pleasure followed by feelings of guilt and shame. Over time, the pleasures continued -- even got better as I perfected my techniques -- but the regret diminished. I succeeded in rationalizing my behavior and convinced myself that it was acceptable as long as I didn't do anything with another boy.

When I was 16, my cousin, Shiela, got married. It was a big wedding with over a hundred people crammed into the chapel. I knew very few of the people but my parents seemed to pleasantly greet almost everyone on the bride's side of the chapel. It was unusual, therefore, that a man entered alone and my father immediately turned his back on him with a sour face. "Uncle Fred," my brother whispered to me. "He's got a lot of nerve showing up."

I watched as the mysterious Uncle Fred took a seat in one of the rear pews. He looked to be in his late 20's, much younger than my father but the family resemblance was clear. I couldn't see very clearly but my impression was that he was quite masculine and certainly didn't look like the stereotype I had formed of an effeminate man.

At the end of the ceremony, my Uncle Steve, father of the bride, whispered something to my dad who just scowled and nodded. Minutes later, my dad approached Uncle Fred and led him away from the crowd. I couldn't hear what was said but it was obvious they were arguing. Uncle Fred, clearly upset, left for the parking lot, got in his car, and drove off. He was, as far as I could tell, the only guest at the wedding who didn't attend the reception.

For the next several months, I frequently thought of Uncle Fred, the incident at the wedding, and how he had been isolated from a family that should love him. Concurrently, I wrestled with a growing realization that I was, like Uncle Fred, gay. I certainly didn't want to be cut off from my family -- even Dan was more likable at the time -- but I hated having to conceal my real identity. I gradually came to a decision that I had to meet Uncle Fred, get to know him, and perhaps learn from him how to cope with being gay.

The opportunity arose although it required some deception and a lot of persuasion. Finally, I convinced my parents to let me go on an overnight hike in a State Park about two hours away. My real intent was to find my mysterious uncle's farm and spend some time with him. My parents objected to my going off into the woods alone but I convinced them that there would be plenty of people doing the same thing, that I would not be alone, and it would be quite safe.

Early on Monday morning, I drove my old Honda Civic straight to Riverton. Only a few inquiries yielded directions to my uncle's farm and by 10 a.m. I was driving down a long dirt road to a small but well-kept farmhouse surrounded by fields that seemed to have been recently plowed and perhaps planted. A large barn and two other out-buildings sat behind the house. I parked the car, walked to the front door, and nervously rang the bell. No one came to the door. I should have phoned, I thought to myself, to let him know I was coming. I sat on the porch steps wondering whether to wait or leave. My eagerness to meet my uncle and my hopes that he could help me through my dilemma, however, convinced me to wait.

About half an hour later, a pickup truck came down the lane and stopped behind my Civic. Two men got out -- my Uncle Fred and another man who was nothing if not stunning. He had a squarish, tanned face, broad shoulders, and muscular arms and legs that were apparent even under his flannel shirt and jeans. Upon seeing me, my uncle gave a surprised expression but then walked to me, held out his hand, and said, "You're James, right? I saw you at Shiela's wedding with your dad. I'm delighted to see you." His expression confirmed that he was genuinely glad.

"Actually, it's Jim. Only my teachers call me James."

"Okay, Jim." Pointing to the other man, he said, "This is Curt. Curt, meet my nephew, Jim." Curt also shook my hand and, like Uncle Fred, seemed pleased to see me.

Curt said, "Fred, why don't you invite Jim in. I'll fetch the groceries from the truck and put them away. Maybe we can all have lunch together. You can stay for lunch, can't you, Jim?"

Uncle Fred led me into the comfortable and well-furnished living room and invited me to sit down. I sat on the sofa, he sat in a chair opposite, and asked, "Your father know you're here?"

"No," I replied. "He thinks I'm on a camping trip."

"Naughty boy -- lying to your father," he said but with a broad smile that let me know he was joking with me. "I'd be surprised if he let you come see me."

"I know," I said. "But I wanted to meet my uncle, to find out what you were like." I immediately regretted my phrasing because it might be interpreted as "What is a gay man like?"

He just chuckled but then said, "Well, let's start with what you already know about me. Then I'll tell you anything you don't know."

"Well," I began hesitantly, "I know that the family refuses to see you or even talk about you and I think that's a shame because you're family."

Uncle Fred thought a moment as though carefully phasing what to say. "Do you know why they don't like me?"

He was forcing the real purpose of my visit: to find out what it's like to be gay. I decided, however, that there was nothing to be gained by avoiding the topic so I replied, "Because you're gay."

He gave me a look that I couldn't interpret but said, "That's right. I am. I'm not ashamed of it but apparently the rest of the family is. Are you ashamed of having a gay uncle?"

"Of course not," I immediately replied. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Good. And I'm glad you're here. I'd like to get to know at least one member of my family."

For the next several minutes, Uncle Fred bombarded me with questions about my school work, my soccer team, and what the rest of the family was doing. Ultimately, he said, "I apologize. I've been asking all the questions. It's your turn if you have any."

I began tentatively, afraid to bring up the subject that most interested me. "What brought you to Riverton...to be a farmer?"

He laughed heartily before saying, "Well, for one, I wanted to get out of a town that didn't like me. For another, I really enjoy working outdoors. And then there's...well...you see, living out in the country affords a measure of privacy. Curt and I can be ourselves." He paused to let the last statement sink in.

"So you two are...ah...partners?"

He laughed and said, "Partners, lovers, bedmates, whatever term you want to use. Does that offend you?"

"No," I replied. "As a matter of fact..." I stopped in mid-sentence, suddenly afraid of admitting why I was there and that I was gay.

There was a long, awkward silence before Uncle Fred said, "You were about to say?" I stared at the floor, still unwilling to voice what was in my mind. Uncle Fred relieved the tension in the room by continuing, "You've taken a risk by coming here. You've driven a long way. I don't think it was just to say hello. Is there something you want to talk about?"

"Yes," I stammered, still staring at the floor. "I want to find out what it's like to be gay. I was hoping..." Again, I stopped short of admitting that I needed advice because I was gay.

"You were hoping what, Jim? I get the feeling that there's more than just learning about gays. I get the feeling that something is troubling you. I can't help if I don't know what it is."

I looked up, read his expression, and decided that he was genuinely concerned. I knew I needed help. I knew that Uncle Fred was about the only person who could understand and help me. "I was hoping," I began hesitantly, "that you could give me some advice on being gay."

"On being gay?" he asked. "Are you gay?"

I forced the answer out: "Yes." Somehow, my admission was strangely liberating. I had come out -- if only to a person who would understand and, just as importantly, keep it confidential.

"I recall," he began in a calm tone, "that I was about your age when I realized that my attraction to men was not going to go away...that I was, in fact, gay. I struggled with the conflict between my feelings and the expectations of others. I suspect that's what you're going through now, that's what brought you here to see me. Am I right?"

"Yes," I replied. "I know I'm gay and I know all too well what others would think of me if they knew. It's tearing me apart. What should I do?"

"I wish I could tell you," he said. "Unfortunately, it's something you'll have to decide for yourself. The decisions I made may not be right for you. My struggle went on for over four years before I came out. Did I wait too long? I don't know. Should I have kept it a secret longer? Maybe. But this much I can tell you. In spite of being cut off from my family and friends, I am happier now -- here with Curt -- than I ever thought possible."

"No pain, no gain?" I asked.

He laughed and said, "In a nutshell, I guess that's it."

Just then, Curt came into the room to announce that lunch was ready. We sat at the kitchen table to eat barbeque beef sandwiches, chips, and Coke. As we ate, Uncle Fred asked me if it was all right to tell Curt what we had talked about. Knowing that Curt would also likely understand, I agreed. I asked Curt if he had any advice for me.

"My story is different than Fred's," he began. "I dated a lot to disguise my real feelings. I even got married. But it soon became clear that neither my wife nor I were happy and we divorced. About two years later, I met Fred and, well, here we are." Curt and Uncle Fred gave each other a loving glance. "I don't know what Fred's advice would be," Curt continued, "but mine would be to seek happiness rather than conformity to others' expectations."

"Are you saying I should come out and live gay?" I asked.

"Not at all," Curt responded. "I said to seek happiness. You have to decide what will make you the happiest. If you choose to maintain a bond with your family and friends, you'll have to lead a straight life. If you want a loving relationship with a man, your family and friends may abandon or even torment you. I wish it were not so but that's the tough decision you have to make."

"I appreciate your honesty, Curt," I said. "But you haven't said anything that I didn't know already."

"I guess I'm a master of stating the obvious," Curt joked and we all chuckled.

"I've got an idea," Uncle Fred exclaimed as he turned to ask Curt, "Do you think it would help if Jim talked to Jason?"

"Splendid," Curt replied.

"Who's Jason?" I asked.

Uncle Fred explained. "Jason just graduated from high school. He lives about three miles down the road on John McKinley's farm. John had a stroke a few years ago and hired Jason to run the place. The point is, Jason is gay and Curt and I had several conversations with him a couple of years ago -- conversations very much like the one we've just had."

Curt added, "Jason is 18, closer to your age, and may be able to relate better to your situation."

"I think I'd like that," I said. "Not that you two are old or anything but it's encouraging to know that there are people like me around."

Uncle Fred called Jason, expecting to leave a message on his answering machine but found that he, too, was having lunch. Uncle Fred said, ambiguously I thought, "My nephew is visiting and I'm hoping that he could talk to you." From my Uncle Fred's side of the conversation, it was clear that Jason didn't ask why; he must have guessed. Upon hanging up the phone, Uncle Fred told me that Jason had done his work for the day and would be home all afternoon. He gave me instructions to Jason's apartment above the detached garage at the McKinley farm.

A few hours earlier, I had rigorously guarded my secret. Now, I was about to reveal it to a third person. However, I still maintained hope that I might get advice that could help me.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the driveway at the McKinley farm and immediately saw the stairway up to the second floor of the detached double garage. As I nervously climbed the stairs, I wondered what Jason would be like. When he answered the door, I was amazed. He was tall, slender but solid, and his welcoming smile did a lot to relieve my nervousness. He invited me in and we sat in a large room that had a kitchenette at one end and what appeared to be closet doors at the other.

We talked for about 15 minutes about nothing consequential -- just the customary get-acquainted chatter. I found it was extremely pleasant to chat with Jason. He had an easy-going charm that made me feel very welcome. At one point, I realized that he had an admirable body and habitually scolded myself for wondering what he would look like naked.

Eventually, Jason said, "Fred said you wanted to talk to me. What's on your mind?"

The abruptness of his question unnerved me and I was suddenly embarrassed about disclosing the purpose of my visit. "Well..." I stuttered. "I thought that you might...ah...give me some advice." I realized that my answer was ambiguous but I found it difficult to be more explicit. Jason just looked at me, waiting for me to clarify my answer. The silence, although momentary, was awkward as I realized that I would have to reveal the reason for my visit. Still disguising my reason, I said, "My uncle thought that you might help me with a problem I'm having since you're..." Somehow I couldn't complete the sentence.

"Gay?" Jason asked. "Yes, I am. Are you?"

"Yes," I answered. "Nobody knows, however. Except for my uncle, Curt, and now you. I'm afraid to let anyone else know. My dad would probably disown me. My mother would be hysterical. All my friends would torment me." My words were coming out like a torrent but something compelled me to get them out. "I know my life would be hell. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm gay. I've known it for years. I know I can't change...I won't change. I just don't know what to do." With that, I fell silent. I felt like crying but a 16-year-old boy doesn't cry, especially in front of a stranger.

Jason moved to join me on the sofa. He put one hand on my knee and said in a reassuring tone, "I know exactly what you're going through. I went through the same. In fact, I'm not completely through it. It's difficult. It hurts. It's frustrating. But you can get through it. You can do it."

I looked up at his face. His gentle expression told me that he understood. "How?" I exclaimed. "How can I do it?"

"With the support of understanding people," he replied as he put an arm around my shoulder and drew me toward him. I could almost feel his compassion flow through me. It destroyed my defenses and I buried my head into his shoulder and cried. He let me cry for a few minutes until I pulled away, thoroughly embarrassed, and apologized for my behavior.

"No apologies required," he assured me. "Believe me. I know how you feel. I felt the same way. I cried on your uncle's shoulder more than once. But you know what? I think it helped. Of course, your uncle's support and understanding helped even more. I owe him and Curt a lot. That's why I agreed to talk to you. Maybe I can pay them back by helping you...that is, if you'll let me."

Fighting to control the emotional storm that raged inside me, I said, "I'd appreciate it." Without any conscious thought, I put an arm around Jason's waist and laid my head back down on his shoulder. We sat in that position wordlessly for several minutes. I felt safe, comfortable with myself, and, for the first time, hopeful.

Then Jason lifted my head, looked into my eyes, and said, "Fred and Curt told me I had to make my own decisions. I didn't like hearing that but I later realized that they were right. You came looking for advice but I can't tell you what to do. There's no magic bullet or secret recipe. You'll have to make your own decisions, decisions based on what you value, what you want, and the price you're willing to pay. But don't for a minute think that you're alone. I'm sure your uncle will be there any time you want help. And, of course, I can help as much as I can or as much as you would like."

"You've already been a world of help, Jason. Thanks."

For the next hour or so, we exchanged stories about our gradual realization that we were not like other boys. I learned that Jason had a twin brother and that they shared not only a bedroom but a double bed. The inevitable happened. When they were 11, Jason woke with an erection. He began fondling himself simply because it felt good. Lost in his pleasure, he didn't notice that his brother was awake and aware of Jason's behavior. Soon, both were hard and playing with themselves. Within a month, they were playing with each other's cock and both found it to be enjoyable. When they were 12, they had their first dry orgasm, which triggered even more frequent and pleasurable sessions, sometimes two or three times a day. That continued until they were almost 15 when Jason's brother decided that "real men don't do that to each other."

Jason found another boy, however, who shared his interests and they had a secretive, on-going relationship for over a year. During that time, they discovered the intensity of pleasure that comes from a blow job. The other boy's parents moved to San Diego, which meant that Jason had to content himself with masturbation and fantasies about being with boys that he admired.

"I know what you mean," I casually responded. "I see other guys in the shower and think about them when I masturbate. Of course, I'm always careful when I look at them. I don't want them to know what I'm thinking."

"Don't you wish you could look longer? Even touch and feel them?" he asked.

"Of course. But that will never happen."

Jason looked at me momentarily and said, "It might."

"Sure," I scoffed. "When pigs fly."

"Seriously, wouldn't you like to be in the shower and know that you could look to your heart's content? Perhaps grab a feel? And have the other guy feel you up? It can happen, you know."

"Only in my dreams," I said with a tone of despair.

"No," he said. "I've got a shower. I won't mind your looking. Or touching. If you're willing to let me look and touch."

His offer was irresistible. I had come seeking only advice but he was offering more than I expected -- something I had yearned for. I promptly replied, "Yes. I'd like that very much."

He rose, took my hand, and led me to the bathroom. I felt myself getting hard in anticipation. He began to undress me but stopped, saying, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Never so sure of anything in my life," I replied.

He continued undressing me. As my trousers and briefs fell down to my ankles, my hard cock sprang up. "Nice!" he said.

He started to remove his own clothes but I took over and he let me undress him. My heart was pounding and my hands were trembling as I removed his flannel shirt and undershirt. My hands rubbed over his solid chest and down toward his belt. I was eager to see all of him as I unbuckled his belt, dropped his pants, and slid down his boxers. I was pleased to see his cock, like mine, was hard. It was longer than mine and uncut with the cock head straining to break free from his foreskin. A profuse bush of pubic hair formed a contrasting backdrop for his cock and cascaded down as it thinned to cover his balls. I examined it closely while Jason patiently waited. "Very nice!" I said.

He turned on the shower, stepped in, and took my hand to gently pull me in alongside him. He wrapped his arms around me and ground his crotch into mine. All my fantasies combined could not match the intensity of feeling that engulfed me as I made my first sexual contact with another guy.

Jason then began washing me. Although he avoided my crotch, it was unbelievably erotic. He washed my arms, chest and stomach, back, and then worked his way up from my ankles almost to my aching cock. He stood and asked me to wash him. "You missed a spot," I pleaded.

"I know," he said. "I thought I might give that spot a tongue bath in bed. If that's all right with you."

"I like your idea," I said.

"Why don't you wash me and -- if you like -- leave a part for later."

I grinned and began to lather his firm torso. I washed legs and resisted the temptation to put my hands on his erect cock. We rinsed, he turned off the water, and we dried each other. At that point, I felt like I would cum at the first, slightest touch of my rock-hard cock. He led me back into the living room and quickly unfolded the sofa into bed. He laid me down on my back and straddled my hips. He began to give me a very erotic massage over my chest and abdomen. As he did so, our cocks would occasionally rub against each other causing me to moan with delight.

He moved down where he could massage my thighs, getting gradually closer to my cock that was now throbbing and leaking precum profusely. He began the finale of his treatment by licking my balls, up my shaft, and lapping up the oozing precum. I was delirious with the sensations that radiated from my cock throughout my body. When I felt his warm, moist lips encircle my cock, I compulsively began to buck my hips. Simultaneously, Jason matched my movements by bobbing his head up and down. It couldn't have been more than a dozen strokes before I knew I couldn't hold back. In spite of my warning, Jason maintained his oral grasp on my cock. In one exquisite moment, I felt my cum explode up my shaft, out of my cock, and fill his mouth. I cried out and collapsed, seemingly paralyzed by overpowering satisfaction.

When I partially regained my senses, Jason was sucking the last few drops of cum from my cock. I had to push his head away because my cock was so extremely sensitive.

We cuddled together for a few minutes before Jason asked, "Are you okay?"

"Okay?" I asked incredulously. "That was awesome...beyond my wildest dreams."

"I could tell you liked it," he said dryly. "It wasn't that long ago that I had my first blow job so I think I know how you feel."

"Well," I said. "This one won't be as good but I'll do my best." I moved quickly to straddle Jason and try to duplicate the treatment he had just given to me. Once again, I had the chance to feel the strength of a masculine body and, to my surprise, I got hard again. Just before I was about to focus my attention on his manhood, he told me that I didn't have to swallow his cum. "You wouldn't deny me that pleasure, would you?" I joked and promptly took as much of his cock into my mouth as I could.

He lasted longer than I had but I was glad for that because I could enjoy sucking a cock longer. Soon enough, however, I sensed he was about to release his seed, felt his balls and cock convulse, and received several spurts of hot cream.

We cuddled together for quite some time, generally wordlessly but each commenting on how wonderful had been the last hour or so. Eventually, Jason asked, "Can you stay for supper?"

"I'd like that," I said honestly. "But I don't want to impose on your hospitality more than I already have."

"Nonsense," he laughed. "I'm absolutely delighted to have company ... company like you." Then we both laughed. He added, "Can you spend the night?"

"Oh, Jason. You've done so much for me already. I can't tell you how grateful I am."

"Hey," he exclaimed. "I enjoyed it too, you know. And I'd like to enjoy a little more...if you're willing."

"Not just willing," I grinned. "Eager is more like it. But I'll have to phone Uncle Fred to tell him."

"There's the phone. His number is on speed dial. What are you waiting for?" he said with a broad smile.

We reluctantly broke our embrace and got dressed. As Jason busied himself in the kitchenette, frying hamburger patties and heating up some frozen corn and french fries, I called Uncle Fred who seem pleased and amused that I would be eating with Jason. However, he laughed heartily when I said I would be spending the night. "That's wonderful," he said. "It seems I was right in suggesting that you meet him. But," he added, "Stop by to see me before you return home. I think we need to finish our conversation."

"Will do. About 8 o'clock? Jason has work to do in the morning."

"That'll be fine," he replied. "I just hope that gives you enough time together." He then laughed.

"Uncle Fred!" I exclaimed, indignant and embarrassed that he knew what we would be doing.

During supper, Jason and I talked and joked as if we were old friends. While I thoroughly enjoyed the sex we had, I also enjoyed his amiable personality, his confident acceptance of who he was, and his infrequent but incisive wit.

Having cleared up after supper, we returned to the hide-a-bed where we enjoyed a more relaxed and prolonged session of draining each other's balls. It was almost 10 p.m. when Jason said, "I'll be up and out of here about 6 tomorrow morning to milk the cows. Sleep in, if you like. I usually come back here for breakfast by 7. What do you like for breakfast?"

"You."

"I was hoping you'd say that," he laughed.

It was dark when the alarm went off. It woke me and I was temporarily confused to be in a strange bed with a guy. When I realized where I was and what had happened, I also realized that I had never been so happy.

Jason told me he would hurry back, dressed quickly, and left. I spent the next hour trying to convince myself that it was not all a dream. It was just beginning to get light outside when the door opened and Jason came in. He shed his clothes immediately and stood beside the bed naked, unashamed and not the least embarrassed by his display of his nude body. Upon seeing it, I started to harden. "I think you requested breakfast in bed," he said.

"Get in here," I said. "I'm famished."

We both chuckled. He crawled in beside me and we pressed our naked bodies together. Soon, I was roaming his body with my hands and my tongue, trying not to think of the fact that this might be the last time together. I gratefully received a third helping of hot cum and he returned the favor by extracting a load from me.

Almost an hour later, I realized that Uncle Fred was expecting me and that, in any case, I would have to leave for home by noon. "Josh," I said. "I came here just looking for advice but you've given me so much more. I can't thank you enough."

"Why?" he asked. "You didn't get the advice that you came for." He grinned to let me know he was teasing. "Besides, you've brought me as much as I've given you and I'm grateful for that."

"I just wish I could stay here. I've never been so happy," I said.

Jason suddenly got serious. "I think we both knew going in that it would be a one-time romp. That's okay. We both enjoyed ourselves. Technically, since you're 16, I've committed at least three felonies. I knew that going in, too. And in my mind, if not the law, that's okay. But I also think that you've got a lot of decisions to make before you can commit to a relationship. I suspect that within the next year or so, you'll make your decisions. When you do, you can either forget about me or look me up."

"That sounds like thanks but goodbye," I said solemnly.

"Thanks, for sure," Jason said, still serious. "But instead of goodbye, I'd prefer to think of it as hoping to see you if and when you decide you want to see me."

Reluctantly, I got dressed, thanked Jason again, and turned to leave. However, Jason caught up with me, grabbed my shoulders, and turned me around. "Just one more thing," he said. He gave me a forceful, passionate kiss on the lips. "Thanks for coming by," he said. "You'll be welcome any time." He turned me to face the door and gave me a gentle push toward the door. I'd like to think that he just didn't want to extend the sad goodbye.

Upon arriving at Uncle Fred's house, I must have been a little morose because he said, "What's wrong, Jim?"

"Nothing," I responded, trying to smile.

"You can't fool me," he objected. "But if something's bothering you and you want to talk, you should know from yesterday that I'm a good listener."

We went into the house and sat in the living room. Curt was out working in the barn and I was thankful that it was just Uncle Fred and me. "I'm glad that I got to meet you." I began. "I hope that we can see each other again. And I want to thank you for all the help."

"I'm not so sure I've helped you," he said. "You came asking for advice and didn't get any...unless Jason helped."

"That was the biggest help," I said. "He's...well...remarkable. And I appreciate your arranging to meet him."

"I thought you two would get along. And you must have. You stayed all night." Uncle Fred's grin revealed that he must have known what would happen and what did happen. It embarrassed me that he knew. "About our conversation yesterday. I just want to tie up a few loose ends. I told you that it had to be your decision. I said that whichever you choose will involve both benefits and risks. I suspect that you now have more information that will help you make the choice. I suspect that Jason has shown you what some of the benefits are and probably told you of some of the risks. Jason is, as you say, a remarkable person. But I'm going to dare to give you some advice. And forgive me for being blunt. Don't let the time you spent together influence your decision too much. Consider it, yes, but don't let it dominate your thinking. Sex is fine but love and commitment demand effort and sacrifices. A romp in bed can be wonderful but it's over all too soon. Finding the right partner, one you can dedicate yourself to, is crucial to long-lasting happiness. I love Curt deeply and I'm sure he loves me. That is far more meaningful than the sex we have. And consider the probable alienation from your family. For me, it was painful. Still is. But I think I made the right choice. You may make a different choice that's right for you. I'm rambling, I know. I just want to urge you to think things through very carefully. Decide with your head, not your dick."

Uncle Fred let me think about what he had said. As I digested his words, I came to admire him even more and feel more antagonistic about my family's bigotry. "I'll try," I finally said. "But meeting you and Curt...and meeting Jason...has helped more than I expected. I'm glad I came to see you. And I'm grateful for all you've done for me."

"And I'm glad you had the courage to come," he said. "But," he added with a grin, "You're still a naughty boy for lying to your parents about it."

I chuckled and said, "Then I'll just have to be naughty when I come see you next time."

Uncle Fred laughed and said, "Will you be coming to see me or Jason? Don't answer that! I'd prefer to think you wanted to see me."

"Will you thank Curt for me?" I asked as I got up to leave.

"Of course." He gave me a big hug, slapped my butt, and added, "Now think up some stories about your hiking trip to tell when you get home."

Over the next summer, I managed to take five "hiking" trips, spending time with Uncle Fred but, with his blessing, most of the time with Jason. With each trip, the time I spent with Jason was more enjoyable -- for the sex, of course, but also getting to know him better. Fortunately, he seemed delighted that I came and was as sad as I was when it was time for me to go.

My life at home changed little -- school and family was just as it had been before -- but the gulf between what I was and what was expected of me loomed larger all the time. When my parents and friends asked about dating, I shrugged it off by saying that homework, a part-time job, and soccer left no time for it. Eventually, they tired of asking, which suited me just fine. A few girls at school flirted with me but I responded with either indifference or annoyance. That seemed to discourage them. Frankly, the thought of dating girls was distasteful and the thought of marrying one was increasingly repugnant. I grew more convinced that I would not be happy leading a straight life. I gradually began to accept the fact that I would be an outcast with my family but I reminded myself of Curt's advice: I would have to find my own happiness and it would come at a price. By the time I graduated from High School, I had made my decision. I genuinely felt that I made it with my head and not my dick.

My lucky break came when the fast food place where I had worked part-time opened a new outlet in Riverton. They asked me if I would be willing to move there and manage the place. Of course, I jumped at the chance. My parents were disappointed that I was moving out but I suspect they were relieved that they would not have to pay for college. They were even more upset that the job was in Riverton. Although they didn't say so, I'm sure their reaction was because that's where Uncle Fred lived.

"That's a long way to commute every day," my father warned.

"I don't plan on commuting," I replied, perhaps a little more defiantly than I should have. "I'm going to live in Riverton."

"Do you realize how expensive it will be to rent an apartment?" he challenged. "The whole idea is ridiculous."

His tone and attitude irritated me to the point of making me more confrontational. "Thanks for the confidence in me," I said sarcastically. "I'm not a little boy any more. I'm 18. I can't live with mommy and daddy. I'm going to live on my own now."

"That's stupid," he almost shouted. "You're 18 but you have no idea of what it's like to have adult responsibilities." Once again, he was belittling me. I grew angrier.

I had given a lot of thought to how I planned to tell my parents about Jason and that he and I were gay. I knew it would be ugly but it had to be done at some point. All my plans disintegrated in a sudden flash of fury. My father had not only imposed his expectations on me -- dating, college, the whole bit -- but now he was calling me stupid and immature. My words came out very differently and much sooner than I had planned. "I'm not going to live alone. I'm going to live with a guy I met last year. A remarkable guy -- witty, intelligent, kind, and unlike you, very understanding and supportive."

My father seemed taken aback by the conviction in my voice. He paused and stared at me for a minute. He looked puzzled. "Well," he snorted. "At least you'll have a room mate. Maybe the two of you can muddle through."

He was completely dismissive of my ability to be independent. Moreover, he failed to grasp the implications of my living with a guy who I had described in such glowing terms. My anger ratcheted up. "What's more, dear father, he and I will be more than room mates. We're going to be partners...lovers. How does it feel to know that your son is gay? Will it be forbidden to speak my name in this house like Uncle Fred? Let me tell you something. He's got more compassion and decency in his little finger than you have in your whole bigoted being."

I immediately regretted the cruelty and forcefulness of my explosive outburst. Every word was true but it was not how I had hoped to tell him of my life choice. He was obviously stunned, mostly by my admission of being gay but also by hearing that I knew Uncle Fred. His face flushed in anger. He raised a hand as if to hit me but evidently decided not to. He turned abruptly and stormed out of the room. My father and I had just had our last conversation and it was even uglier than I had feared.

Some time later, my mother came to my bedroom. Her eyes were blood-shot. "Jim, dear," she said. "Your father has told me about your argument. Are you very sure this is what you want to make of your life?"

"Without a doubt," I replied.

She teared up again as she said, "I'm disappointed in you. I thought we had taught you better than that."

She was distressed and my anger had cooled so I responded calmly. "You taught me, all right. You taught me that gays are deviants and sinners. You taught me to hate gays...and blacks, and Democrats, and Jews, and anybody that isn't like us. Well, I've found out they're not evil. I also know what I am. I'm gay. I'm not going to deny it and I'm not going to conform to narrow-minded expectations." My words were no doubt harsh but I felt they had to be said. As with my confrontation with my father, I knew that disclosing my identity would result in estrangement whether the words were harsh or diplomatic.

My mother left the room in tears. My father's anger and my mother's disappointment, I knew, were an inevitable result of the decision I had made to live with Jason. I would have liked it to be different but, as Uncle Fred and Curt had warned, every choice comes with a price.

Within a week, I packed my things and left without so much as a good bye or good luck from my parents. Jason was, as always, understanding and patient as I related my tumultuous departure. It was extraordinarily comforting to be with Jason and it gave me the strength to be isolated from my family because I knew that I had been lucky enough to find Jason. As we made passionate love to each other that night, I became convinced that I had made the right decision, that together we could surmount any barriers, and that our love would endure.

Within a year, Mr. McKinley died. His will gave a sizable investment portfolio to his two daughters but we were shocked to learn that he left the house, the farm, the implements, and livestock to Jason. We moved into the big McKinley house and we've been together for over ten years. My family never understood my decision and never will. But neither did they understand the joy that I gain from a deep and abiding love for Jason.


 

Posted:07/06/07