A Marine Called Jason
(Revised)
by: Peter

(© 2007-2015 by the Author)
 

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

Chapter 40
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Oddly, where I lived had never come up in conversation or any of our letters, except that it was in Ohio. Jason was in awe of my place.  He kept looking all around as I drove up the long, winding drive.

“This is all yours?” he asked.

“Yes, about as far as you can see from here,” I said.  “There’s more land beyond the house.  There’s a woods and a creek, a great place to go swimming.”

“The house is very big for one person,” he said.

“Two, now,” I said.

“Still very big.  It would house four families.”

“Most farm houses here are large, as you saw. They were built back when they used to have big families, and they sometimes kept a farmhand,” I said.

When I pulled up to the porch, Jase got out and stood looking all around. I could only imagine what was going through his mind, probably thinking how wealthy I was.  I got our bags out of the back--he had completely forgotten about his bag--and followed him up on the porch. I nodded for him to open the door and go inside. He was quiet as we stood in the kitchen. He seemed uneasy, as if he didn’t think he belonged here, or that maybe he shouldn’t go any further into the house without permission.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” I said.

He remained quiet as I showed him through the house.

“Almost the entire orphanage could live here,” he said.

I realized it was going to take a long time for him to get used to my way of life. I left his room till last.  I was so proud as I opened the door.  He seemed to sense that it might be his room, from the smile on his face; but it was a timid smile, almost as if he was afraid to believe it.

“This is your room,” I said.

“My….mine….alone?” he stammered, standing in the doorway.

“Yes.  My room is down the hall,” I said. “Go on in, check it out.”

“Wow!” It was all he said as he walked around the large room.  He looked around then picked up the picture frame off the dresser. “Is this my father?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He held it and continued looking at it for a long time.  “Do you have other pictures of him?” he asked. 

“Yes, I have others, but he never liked pictures of himself in dress uniform, so I framed those.  I’ll get them out and show you when you get settled in.” I had a lot of others that I had hidden away, but it would be a long time before I showed him those; if I ever did.

He stood looking at the picture for a long time and I didn’t say anything till he placed it back on the dresser.

“This is your dad’s bed from his old room; this is all his furniture. His stuff is still in the drawers. I left everything for you to go through if you want to. You might be able to wear some of his clothes.” I was hoping he didn’t ask how I came by it, but he did.

“How did you get it?”

“When Jason’s parents died, I was given the furniture for you,” I said.

“So I don’t have any grandparents,” he said. 

“No,” I replied.  I didn't mention my parents either.  There was time for that.

He didn’t ask anything else so I didn’t have to tell him about Jason’s brother, Allen.  He didn’t need to know that his blood uncle wanted nothing to do with him.

“That’s your dad’s football, too,” I said, nodding to the football I’d placed against the pillow. 

He picked it up and squeezed it, didn’t say anything at first.  “It’s great the way you’ve made everything like my real home. I appreciate it.”     

“There’s more,” I said, motioning to the door. 

Holding the football under one arm, he followed me.  “Thank you, the room is really nice,” he said again, looking back at his room.

I took him across the hall to the weight room.

“Wow!  That’s my dad!” he exclaimed excitedly when he saw the poster I’d had made of Jason in his PT shorts and boots.

“Yes, I thought he would be an inspiration for you.”

He gazed at the poster as he dragged his fingers over the barbell resting on the rack, loaded with plates that I thought he might be able to handle. Seeing him now, I guessed he might add more.

“You said you were bigger, more handsome and stronger than all of your friends; we want to make sure you stay that way,” I joked.

“I’ve only seen weights like this in a magazine,” he said.

“You never worked out with weights?”

“No.”

“How did you build all those muscles?”

He smiled and shrugged. “Looks like I got ‘em from him,” he said, nodding to the poster.

I well knew where he got them.  From the sperm that made him, and I smiled inside, realizing that I had swallowed billions of his would be ‘brothers and sisters.’

“Are you hungry?  Would you like something to eat before you go to bed?” I asked.

“No, I’m not hungry. I would like to just stay here,” he said, looking across the hall to his room.

“Well, if you get hungry, you know where the kitchen is. I want you to feel free to help yourself to anything you find, any time,” I said.

“I like to sleep without any clothes, like we did in the motel; is that all right?” he asked.

It came out of nowhere, surprising me, and I thought it was odd that he would ask. “Yes, of course.  It’s just you and me in the house, you can run around naked all you want,” I said. “Even outside, we’re way back off the road.”

He looked at me, it seemed a rather longing look, and I thought he might want to hug me, but when he didn’t make any move, I didn’t either.  I told him goodnight and left his room.  He was still holding the football.

I couldn’t sleep. I was as wound up as I thought Jase probably was. I couldn't quite grasp that I finally had him safely under my roof. When I finally dozed off I was awakened by sounds coming from down the hall. I sat up to listen more closely.  It sounded like someone crying.  I got up and went quietly down the hall to Jason’s door. Sure enough I heard his sobs. I went in but hesitated, taken aback by the sight of the muscular, naked young boy lying on his stomach on the bed. He was still holding the football.  I went in and sat on the edge of his bed and put my hand on his shoulder.  He turned over on his back. I was even more taken aback to see his hardon, but tried to keep my emotions in check; in the proper channel of concern for the boy.

“Jase, what’s the matter?” I asked as I instinctively laid my hand on his bare stomach. It was meant as a comforting gesture but I couldn’t deny the surge of desire that went through me. His hard stomach muscles rippled and danced as he cried, his arms thrown over his face.

“Jase, you’re okay here, you’re safe here,” I said.

“I know I am,” he sobbed.  “I just can’t believe I’m here.  I can’t believe I’m here in this house, with you, and I can’t believe all you’ve done for me.”

“Well you are here and you’re stuck with me, so you’d better get used to it,” I chided him.

“It’s going to take me a long time,” he said, looking out from under his forearm.

“You’ve got all the time in the world,” I said as I rubbed his stomach, careful to avoid touching his cock, but it was not so much just a comforting gesture now.

He finally calmed down and I patted his stomach and started to get up.

“Do you want to do anything with me?” he asked.

I looked at him. “What?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

I was stunned, and bewildered that he would ask such a thing.  “No. No, of course not.  Why would you ask that?”

“Because most men want to have sex when they get this close,” he said. “Especially when I’m naked like this,” he added, glancing down at his hard cock.

My heart ached at the truth of what Sister Maria had been so afraid of.  Of course I wanted to have sex with him.  I wanted to lean over and devour his beautiful cock. I wanted to so bad that my mouth was watering.  But I staunchly dismissed my own desires.

“That’s not the way it is here, Jase,” I said.  “In the first place, in this country, a man having sex with you would be illegal. And here, you will be an American, accepted for who you are.  You won’t be having men get this close to you, except me.”

“I will be an American?” he asked.

“Yes, of course, you are of American blood. It’s just a matter of some paperwork,” I said.

“All right, but if you do want to have sex with me, it’s okay, I would never tell anybody,” he said.

“No, Jase, I don’t need to have sex with you,” I said. It was odd the way it came out….not saying I didn’t want to.

He was quiet, as if he were pondering what I’d said. Then his body became wracked with sobs again.

“Jase, what’s the matter?” I brought my left leg up on his bed and leaned back against the headboard, sliding my hand under his head.

“I just can’t believe I’m here with you,” he said between sobs.

I brought my other leg up and scooted down on the bed, lying close against him. It might have been a mistake, pressing my naked body against his, but my concern for him overshadowed any desire I might have.  I laid my arm across his chest and hugged him tight.

“It’s okay, Jase.  Cry all you want, I’ll be right here. I’ll always be right here for you.”

I held him while he cried. I think his sobs wore him down and he finally went to sleep. I lay beside him, trying to ignore the feel of his warm, smooth, muscular body against my own, but not denying myself the view. I studied his body and gazed longingly at his sizeable manhood, now reclined across his thigh; gazed so long that I could’ve drawn it from memory. I stayed with him as long as I dared, then carefully left his bed and went to my own room.  How am I ever going to do this, I wondered. I didn’t fall off to sleep, partly because of the emotions I shared with Jase, but just as much because of my own raging hardon.  I finally jacked off to relieve the pressure and then fell asleep.

The next morning, Jase came downstairs in a pair of baggy tan shorts and a T-shirt. 

“You told me you couldn’t sleep,” I chided him.

“I did, though,” he said with a sleepy smile.

“I didn’t hear the shower running,” I said.

He gave me a rather blank look and I remembered that I hadn’t shown him the shower. I’d completely forgotten; and it was different from the one in the motel room.

“Come on, I’ll show you,” I said, turning off the stove. We went back upstairs where I showed him the bathroom and how to use the shower and the flexible shower head. I also flushed the toilette for good measure. Going by his room I noticed that the dresser drawers were ajar and there were clothes stacked on top of the dresser and on the floor.  He had gone through his dad’s old clothes.  I wondered if the shorts and t-shirt he had on were his dad’s since they fit him rather loosely. When he came down again, he looked bright-eyed and fresher and he was dressed in his traditional pajama-style pants and a T-shirt.

“His shorts and shirts fit me pretty well,” he said, tugging on the front of the T-shirt. “A little big, but I’ll grow into them.”

“Good.  He would be proud that you’re wearing them. Two things we need to do after breakfast,” I said.  “Go to the grocery store--the market--and to the mall.”

“What is the mall?” he asked.

“It’s a place where there are many stores of all kinds.  Like your market, only inside and all under one roof,” I explained.  Jase was going to stand out in his native pajama-style pants but I couldn’t say anything. I was glad he’d put on shorts under them.

Getting Jason acclimated to life in the Unites States was to be an experience for both of us. He was wide eyed at the grocery store.  He literally stopped just inside the door and looked all around.

“This is all food?” he asked in amazement.

“Yes,” I said as I took a cart.

“I think we could feed my whole country with all the food in this one store,” he said.

I pushed the cart several yards then handed it over to him.  He watched me closely as I picked things off the shelves and put them in the cart.  I noticed the way people looked at him, but I didn’t think he did.

“If you see something you think you might like, just grab it and put it in the cart,” I told him.  He started looking more closely at the stocked shelves.

“Anything?” he asked as he was about to reach for something.

“Anything you want,” I said.

We went by the produce department. He wandered over to the deli and bakery but came back to where I was picking out fresh vegetables. He watched but didn’t say anything. He picked up a couple of items that I didn’t recognize.

“Do you know what that is, and what to do with it?” I asked. 

“Yes. Bok choy.  We have it all the time,” he said, but put it back. He picked up something else and glanced up at the sign above it. “This is jicama but that’s not what they call it here.  I eat it raw.  This is not what they’re calling it either. This is chayote squash.” He picked up something else.  “They got this right, yucca root.”  He looked all around.  “No yard long beans, though.”

“Yard long beans?”

He held his hand out to a distance of well over a foot.  “Well, that’s not quite a yard but those are damn big beans,” I said.

His eyes bugged when we rounded the corner to the meat department that extended across the back of the store.

“That’s all meat?”

“Yes.” I smiled but didn’t laugh.  “Do you like hamburgers?”

“Yes. And hot dogs,” he said. “I love hot dogs.”

I picked up a package of hamburger and told him to go get a package of hot dogs.

“Do you like steak?” I asked.

“I’ve only had a piece of steak once.  It was tough,” he said.

I showed him the various kinds of steaks and explained the fat and marbling and told him to pick some out.  As I also picked up bacon and sausage I noticed him behind me, looking at the whole chickens.

“I can cook, you know,” he announced.

“Yes, you told me that but as I recall, the sisters ran you out of the kitchen,” I said.

“I can cook. I’ll show you.” With that, he put a whole chicken in the cart then headed back to the produce department. I didn’t question what he came back with.  I wouldn’t have known what some of it was had he not told me, except for the onions, celery and leeks, and I’d never used leeks before. The rest was stuff I walked past every visit, wondering only vaguely what it was used for.

He began taking things off the shelves and reading the labels and asking me about them; things with the brightest and most colorful labels, I noticed. He wondered aloud about the “baby” sausages…. Vienna sausages.  I told him to put them in the cart so he could try them.  We paused for him to stare at the display of peanut butter, and the jelly and jams next to it. He couldn’t believe there were so many kinds.   

“Can I have this?” he asked, picking up a jar of crunchy peanut butter.

“You can have anything you want, Jase,” I said. He put it in the cart.  “Get some jelly, too.”  He put in one jar.  “Get some different kinds of jelly,” I told him.

Several times I had to stop and wait as he lingered back to look at stuff.  I thoroughly enjoyed watching him. I could see it was going to take a while to get through the store.  Finally, I told him I was going ahead, and for him to pick up whatever he wanted and bring it to the cart. He picked up pickles, graham crackers, potato chips….no cookies, he said they would make him fat.  I laughed at that.  He also picked up two packages of Jello and a can of fruit cocktail after studying the pictures on the cans and packages.

He was mesmerized at the cereal aisle that extended the entire length of the aisle, on both sides. Suddenly he turned and walked back to the end of the aisle then started down it again.  He seemed to be studying every brand, then I realized he was counting.  I stood back, laughing to myself as he went down one side and came back up the other side.

“Did you know there are three hundred and eighteen different kinds of cereal in this aisle!”

“No, I never counted them,” I said.  “Did you see anything you would like to try?”  Mistake.  He spent another ten minutes trolling the aisle trying to decide on one.  He came back with Honey Nut Cheerios.

I knew he liked milk so I picked up three gallons, and some butter, and told him to pick out some cheese. He didn’t know what kind to get; I told him anything that looked good to him, and we would see how we liked it.  He almost sighed when we stopped at the ice cream section. He had a hard time making up his mind what he wanted there.  When he couldn’t make up his mind I pointed out a variety pack that had six different kinds of ice cream treats.

“Do you have money for all of this?” he asked quietly as we approached the checkout with the cart overflowing.

He saw others bagging their groceries and he did the same. He was the most excited bag boy I’ve ever seen. We had to drive home to put the groceries away because of the ice cream, then we drove to the mall to get him outfitted with what I called American style clothes.

“I look too Vietnamese, huh?” he said, with a sweeping hand at his dark, pajama style pants.

“Let’s just say you stand out. We’ll get you some new jeans and you can shit-can those,” I said, looking at his pants.

“No,” he said sternly, with a scowl. “I know I will be an American, but I am also still Vietnamese.”

His tone and his words took the wind out of me as I realized what I had said; definitely the wrong thing.  I slowed the car then pulled over.

“Jason, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.  It was out of line and very inconsiderate. I am sorry!”

“I won’t wear these pants when I get new ones, but I’m not going to throw them away either," he said. "I’ll wear them around the house,” he said, without accepting my apology.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. You should certainly keep your Vietnamese heritage. It was thoughtless of me.  I'm sorry, please forgive me,” I said.

He didn't say anything, just stared ahead. We sat there till he glanced over at me.

"Look, Jason, we’re both finding our way here; me as well as you, so you have to cut me some slack, too.  We're not moving till you say you forgive me," I said.

"I forgive you.  It was not a good thing to say, but I forgive you."

“When I said you stand out, I meant that in a good way. You didn’t notice but you were getting looks from women, young and old.”

“No, I didn’t notice.  What kind of looks?”

“Admiring looks,” I said.  Then more quietly, I said, “Looks like I’d like to take that young stud home with me.” He laughed and all was well with us

He was equally awed by the mall.  He didn’t know where to look next, his head kept moving from side to side and several times he turned around and walked backwards to look again at stores we’d passed.  I noticed too, how others looked at him, including a lot of men and boys.

“This is like a whole city under one roof,” he said.

“Yes, sort of,” I said.  “We want to go in here,” I said, motioning to Bringers Men’s Store.

“Wow!  So many clothes,” he said as he felt a shirt hanging on the rack.

“Do you like the shirt?” I asked.

He felt it again and I took it off the rack and held it up to him.

“It’s very nice, but……”

“We’re here to buy you some clothes, so try it on.  Pick out what you like,” I told him.

“Blue jeans.  Can I have some blue jeans?” he asked excitedly.

“Of course.  Everybody wears blue jeans. Do you know which brand?”

“Levis,” he said, without hesitation. 

A young, college age clerk with Aaron on his nametag came up and introduced himself.  He had overheard and very likely had noticed how Jason was dressed.

“Are you new to this country?” he asked Jase.

“Yes, I am from Vietnam,” he replied.

“Welcome to America,” Aaron said, putting out his hand.  He didn’t act like he even noticed what Jase was wearing, he seemed too interested in Jase himself, but then he glanced down at the front of Jase’s pants. The way he was standing created a very noticeable outline of his manhood beneath the material.

Jase beamed with pride as they shook hands. It was his first such welcome. Aaron set about to give him special attention, I wasn’t sure whether it was because he was new to the United States, or if it was of a more personal interest.

“I don’t know what kids are wearing to school these days, so we’ll trust your judgment,” I told him.

He stepped back and looked Jase up and down.  "College or high school?" It was a perfect opportunity for the rather intense look he gave him.

"Not college," Jase said, laughing.

“We don’t know yet where he will be placed. High school, of course, but we don’t know what grade,” I said.  I rattled off a verbal list of what we needed; jeans, dress pants, casual shirts and dress shirts, a couple of ties, shorts and T-shirts, socks, hiking boots, dress shoes, a pair of work boots and sneakers.

We didn’t know any of Jase’s sizes and Aaron jumped at the chance to take his measurements.  He went to great pains to measure his waist and inseam. There was no he couldn’t feel the lump of man flesh in the crotch and I noticed that he checked his inseam measurement twice. He was definitely taking a very personal interest in him and Jase never flinched.  Then he took Jase in tow.  I followed at a distance. While they were sorting through the stacks of jeans, I went to find him some underwear. I purposely picked out the briefest bikini briefs I could find and also boxer briefs and took them back to him. 

“The shorts you have won’t fit good under jeans,” I told him.  “Go try these on under a pair of Levis, see how they feel.”

“You can definitely wear those briefs.  Most guys can’t,” Aaron said.

Jason frowned; he didn’t understand. "Why can’t other guys wear them and I am allowed to?” he asked.

Aaron laughed.

“Anyone is allowed to wear them.  He means you’ve got the build for them, the body,” I explained. 

“Yes, someone heavier, not as lean in the hips, or without your athletic build, they would not look good in them,” he said.

“Oh,” Jason said, nodding.

Aaron showed Jase into the dressing room and came back out still smiling. “He has got the build for them. He’s a very good looking boy.”     

“Yes. He’s the son of a friend of mine who was killed in Vietnam,” I said.

“Oh. Too bad. You’ve taken him to raise, then.”

“Yes. I think it’s going to be as much of an experience for me as for him,” I said.

“Yes, I can see that.”  

Jase came out smiling and looking sharp in the jeans. 

“How do they fit?” Aaron asked.

“How do the shorts feel?” I asked.

“They fit and feel fine.”

“Would you like to wear them? I can put your other clothes in a bag for you,” Aaron said.

“Yes, I want to keep my old clothes,” Jase said.

“You absolutely should. You wear them well. You could set a fashion trend.” 

Jase gave me a confused look.

“He means other kids seeing you wear them would want to buy some just like them,” I explained.

He laughed.  “Maybe I’ll wear them to school.”

“Absolutely, you should,” said Aaron as he folded the pajama pants. “I’d like to know where I can get a pair.”

Jase’s face lit up.  Maybe I could write to Sister Marie and have her send me some.”

“If you do, please come back and see me,” Aaron said.

I was glad for Aaron’s remarks after the way I had screwed up with my remarks about his pajama pants.

I noticed when Jase tried on the shoes, Aaron was on his knees helping to fit him and he lifted his legs each time with a hand on his foot and his other hand up inside his pants leg, with a firm hold on his bare calf.  Yeah, I was convinced the guy had a special interest in Jase.  I stepped in when Aaron brought out big name brand sneakers to show to him, and I heard the prices.

“No. That’s a ridiculous price to pay for sneakers,” I said. Jase looked a little surprised, but it was a good time for him to learn that the dollar had value and I wasn’t an unlimited money supply and although I was a very generous man, we would not spend it foolishly.

I would notice in the weeks ahead that Jase would wear his dad’s old T-shirt and shorts a lot.  He said he wanted to save the ones I’d bought.

From there I took him to the bookstore where I told him I wanted to browse around for a little bit.  In truth, I wanted to see what kind of books or magazines he might be interested in.  I noticed him spending time in the youth adventure section as well as sports, and saw him looking at the bodybuilding magazines.  Oddly, I found him also checking out books about the Vietnam War. I asked him if he’d found anything he wanted to read.

“I can have some books?” he asked.

“Yes, of course,” I said. “I saw you back in the youth section, and sports. Go pick out something. Was there one of these books you wanted?”

He picked up one of the Vietnam books and looked at the back of it again, then put it back.  “No, I guess not.”    

“Get it if you want,” I said.

“I would like to see what they write about my country and the war,” he said.

I picked up the book and told him to go back to the youth and sports sections. I was surprised how many books he picked out; I didn't know he was so interested in reading.  At the checkout desk I told him to go get one of the bodybuilding magazines he’d been looking at.  He was most pleased with that. 

From there we went to the food court. Jase was amazed again to see all the food stands. He couldn’t get over there being so much food available everywhere.

“We can’t walk three hundred centimeters without seeing more food,” he said.

We walked up and down the food court while Jase read the menus of the various food stands, but his decision was made when he saw Denny’s.  Denny’s was the first place we’d eaten when we arrived in the States, and it would become his favorite place to eat.

After we had eaten I told him we needed to make one more stop, at the drugstore.

“You have stores that sell drugs?” he asked, surprised.  “I thought drugs are illegal here.”

“No, no, it’s not a store that sells drugs like you mean,” I said laughing.  “It’s where you buy drugs and medicine that your doctor tells you to take.  It sells a lot of other stuff, like razors and shaving cream, toothbrushes and toothpaste, shampoo, soap….lots of things.  You’ll see for yourself.”

He seemed at a loss what he might need there till we walked down the aisles and I showed him the toothpaste and mouthwash, then he understood.  “This is the kind I use, you can pick any kind you like,” I said. 

He scanned the display, then with a shrug, picked up a tube of toothpaste then a bottle of red mouthwash. I told him to pick out a new toothbrush.  Then I took him to the deodorants and shampoos.

When I handed him a stick deodorant that I used he gave me a funny look and I realized he didn’t know what it was.

“You use it after you shower, under your arms and other places where you sweat.  It makes you smell good.”

He thought shampoo was funny and a dumb idea. “You use something different to wash your hair? Why not just use the soap you use on the rest of your body?”

I didn’t have an answer for him, but he picked out some shampoo. Then he made what I thought was an odd request.

“Can I have one more thing?” he asked.

“Of course.  What?”

“I would like shoe polish, for my new shoes.” He seemed attracted by a shoe-shine kit so we bought it.

I started to pick up a razor but gave him a quick glance and decided he didn’t need it yet.

The next morning, Jase came downstairs wearing the briefs I’d bought.  He nearly took my breath away. He looked like an underwear model. 

“I can wear these briefs. Other guys can’t,” he said, laughing.

“Yes, you sure can,” I said.

To be continued...  

Posted: 02/27/15 rp