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 49
Jase and Me

I was growing comfortable with my life, even though I was looking middle-aged in the eyes. It was a bit of shock when I first saw it in the mirror but I got over it and I got used to it, as all men must. I had advanced in my job, with several worksites under my supervision. I could tell Jase was feeling at home and unlike most teenagers, actually seemed to enjoy my company. There were times when I felt more like the boy’s father than just his dad’s best friend who had taken him in. I was pleased more than he knew when he told me one time that he was glad I wasn’t afraid to talk so openly about Jason, that I kept his dad alive for him. I was even more pleased, and stunned, the time he asked if he could call me Dad.

He asked me, then charged on. “I know you’re not my dad, and maybe you didn’t even want a son, but then you got stuck with me…..”

“Whoa!  Whoa!” I stopped him. “I didn’t get stuck with you, and I don’t want to ever hear you say that again. Nobody dumped you on my doorstep, I came to Vietnam to get you. It was not something I had to do. I could’ve pretended I didn’t get your letters, from you or Sister Marie. I could’ve left you there.”

“No you couldn’t,” he said with an even stare, and I knew what he meant.

“No, I couldn’t. But you weren’t dumped on me, Jase. I wanted you here with me. I wanted you to be part of my life.  I love you Jase, and yes, I would be honored to have you call me Dad. But that means I would have to call you Son.”  

“Would you want to? Do you think my dad would care if we did that?” he asked.

“No, he won’t care. I know he would be honored, too. In fact, in a letter that your dad gave to Sister Marie at the orphanage, acknowledging that he was probably your father, he also mentioned my name, and that had to be for a reason.”

“Then if it’s okay….Dad….if I call you that.”  He was biting his lip.  I held mine steady.

“It’s okay.  I’m proud to have you as my son,” I said. It was an emotional moment but I was determined not to let my emotions get the best of me.  “But I think we should formalize it.”

“You mean….adoption me?” he asked excitedly.

“Yes.”

“Oh, wow!  You don’t have to.”

“I know. I didn’t have to bring you back either. I’ll check into it.”

I wrestled with it as much as I’d ever wrestled with anything in my life--the feelings I had for the boy.  And I fought them, without really knowing why.  It was made worse after the dad/son thing was settled.  I was essentially talking about my son now. Despite that, for the first time, I began to have doubts about my decision to bring the boy to the States. He had a better life with me, but I might’ve been better off leaving him in Vietnam; except for the guilt I would have had to live with.  I might have been better off not knowing about him in the first place.  I had talked to the priest, for all the good that did, for it was nothing he’d said that gave me the strength to keep my emotions in check and my feelings under control for as long as I had.  I had talked to God. I had talked to myself.  I even talked to Jason. I talked to him lying in bed at night.  I talked to him walking in the woods. I took a lot of those walks in the woods after Jase turned eighteen. On more than one occasion before Jase’s arrival into my life, I spent the night in the woods, in my sleeping bag, alone with his father. And the frustration… yes, we’d had sex but it was unbridled, rampant sex, and things were different now. He was my son.

As the turmoil grew worse in my head, I spent more nights in the woods. It was getting strange, but I felt at home out there.  I never invited Jase and he never asked to come along. And he never said anything about it when I did. He knew I wanted to be by myself.  I was sure he thought it had something to do with the war. It was quiet there and I thought I could think straight. But one night I just went for a walk; I didn’t take my sleeping bag. I walked till the sun went down, letting my thoughts tumble around in my head, without trying to grab hold or make sense of any of them. Somewhere in the chaos of my mind I knew the truth was lurking and waiting….no, demanding….to come out.  A truth, and a weakness, that I had to face. And, dammit, Jason, wherever he was, had to face it with me.

“Jason, I can’t do this any more,” I began. “I can’t live with all the stuff that’s cluttering up my head. I’m fucked up in the head enough without all of this.  I need some peace in my life. You made this boy. You caused him to be brought into that God-forsaken world over there, then you left it.  You left me and you left him, and son-of-a-bitch if you didn’t see to it that we were brought together. So none of this is my fault, and it’s not fair that I have to deal with this shit.”

“Yeah, I’m blaming you, Jason, but I’m glad you put him in my charge.  I’m glad you trusted me enough to know that I would take him and love him and care for him. I love him like he was my own son. Well, he is my own now, by mutual agreement, in a way, because he’s sure as hell not anybody else’s, so he’s my son now and I’m his dad. That wasn’t my doing; he brought it up.  He asked me if he could call me dad.  What was I supposed to say?  But I don’t know, buddy, if you should’ve trusted me to keep my distance with him.  Knowing what you and I had between us, and then dropping this young, teenage god in the middle of my life. Well, I broke that trust; I’ve had sex with him. I want to continue to have sex with him. But things are different now.  I would be having sex with my own son.” 

“I’ve fought it as long as I can. I’ve spent too many sleepless nights, lying in bed with that gorgeous replica of you just down the hall.  So here’s what it comes down to. I’m not going to fight it anymore.  He’s a big boy now….he’s eighteen. I’m telling you because if you have any powers of intervention up there, then you give me a sign, or you stop me.  Otherwise, if he’s willing--and I know he is--well, you know better than anybody what’s gonna happen. It won’t be raw sex like before. It’ll be like it was with us….making love. Because I love him, Jason, as I loved you.”

I paused and waited for an answer; some sign that Jason had heard me. There was a sudden rush of wind and a rustling of leaves overhead. It sent a chill down my spine.  Was that his answer? I waited a moment longer.  When there was nothing else, I left it at that and walked back to the house.  I didn’t realize till then that my stomach was tied in knots.  I didn’t know if I’d gotten an answer or not, or what that answer was. But I figured if he was angry with me it’d been a storm cloud and a bolt of lightning. 

Still, I gave it a little more time; I didn’t know how the hierarchy of heaven worked.  I waited for another sign.  None came.  So I took that rush of wind through the leaves as the sign I’d asked for.

I returned home one day to find Jase was stretched out on the couch in the living room. I took time to pour myself a drink of bourbon from a bottle in the cabinet, thought it would help untie the knots in my gut.

“Jase….”   I started to call him son, but it was somehow not appropriate for the moment.  “I have something I want to show you,” I said from the doorway.

He rose up. “Do you want me to come with you, Dad?” he asked.

“I’ll get it; it’s upstairs,” I said. I was still getting used to having a teenage boy call me dad, and me calling him son. I liked it, but it was taking some getting used to, especially on my part, and times like this when it just didn’t sound right.

He stayed while I walked through the living room. But at the bottom of the stairs I paused. No, he should come with me.  “Come on up with me, Jase,” I called out.

He got up from the couch and followed me up the stairs to my room. He sat on the edge of the bed while I got the shoebox out of my closet. I sat on the bed beside him. My hand trembled as I removed the lid.

“You asked about your dad and me. These are pictures I took of your dad. Some of them may surprise you but you know about us and you’re old enough to handle them.”  I had them arranged in order; the order that I liked to look at them when I brought them out to remember. Most times when I made the journey back in my mind I stripped off my clothes and jacked off, slowly, relishing the pleasure of each photo. But I hadn’t done that in a long time.

I handed him the first several, taken at the room in the Trent Hotel, of Jason taking off his combat gear and uniform.  In the first one without his shirt, his awkwardness at posing shone through, still.  Three more of him unlacing and taking off his combat boots and undoing his belt, his muscles bulging.  The next ones, I still had to smile at his tight smile as he unzipped his pants and shoved them down. Jason glanced at me a couple of times between looking at the pictures. He was visibly surprised but not wide-eyed.

The next one he was in the tattered jockstrap, his pants sagging around his knees. I still thrilled at the way the worn garment sagged under the weight of his manhood.

“Hey, is that the same jockstrap I’ve got?” Jase asked excitedly.

“Yes.  Maybe I didn’t tell you, but it’s the one he wore in high school.”

“Yeah, you told me. Damn, he sure did fill it out, didn’t he,” Jase said. I noticed Jase was spreading the pictures out across the bed and reviewing all of them each time he laid down new ones.

In the next ones Jason was pulling his pants off and standing with his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his jockstrap, about to take it off. I thought suddenly, as I was handing him the next pictures, that I should’ve gone through them and laid these aside, but it was too late; Jase picked up on it.

“What are those marks, and bruises?” Jase asked.

“He was captured and held prisoner for a while. Not long,” I added quickly.  “He escaped.” I laughed softly and went on to tell him how he used his body, his big cock, to gain favor with his captors. Jase thought that was cool and funny. 

The next one was of him standing with his foot cocked up on the bed, drying his legs after showering, with several more of him doing cutting up, sexy poses and laughing, and in each one his big cock very visibly looked bigger. Perhaps I shouldn’t have shown him the next ones, but Jase would’ve asked for them if I’d laid them aside or tried to hide them from him.

“I told your dad for these, I needed a wide-angle lens," I said as I handed him the ones with his cock in a raging hardon.

“Damn, he is huge!” Jase exclaimed.

“Yeah, he joked one time that these pictures would be something to show our grandchildren,” I said. “And here I am showing them to his son.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be showing them to my son,” Jase said.

In the next two pictures, Jason had his hand wrapped around his cock, as if he was stroking it. 

“Wow!  I can’t believe you guys took these,” Jase said.

“Some would think it inappropriate that I’m showing them to you. I hope you’re not offended,” he said.

“Heck no,” he said.  “But where the heck did you get them developed?”

“At a little photo shop in Saigon. I told the old guy they were for his girlfriend.”

“But they weren’t, huh,” Jase said, eyeing me with knowing suspicion.

“No. No, they weren’t,” I said. “They were for us; for me actually.  I asked him if I could take some pictures of him.  He knew they were for me.”  I was feeling more comfortable, knowing that Jase had already guessed about me and his father.

The next ones were from the back, with Jason bent over drying his legs, then some of him just bent over in a pose. Jase broke out laughing when I handed him the ones of Jason pulling his butt apart for me. 

“He’s mooning you!” he said, laughing.

His next pose was him sitting on the chair with legs spread apart and his heavy balls hanging low. He had his thumb pressed against the base of his cock to make it stand up straight and tall.

“Oh, Mann, I can’t believe these,” he said.

I thought about repressing the rest of the pictures I held in my hand but before I could lay them aside, Jase glanced over at me.  “See if you can believe these,” I said, handing him the last of the pictures, ones of Jason stretched out on the bed, his legs spread out, stroking his cock. And in one where he was motioning for me to join him.  He studied those for a long time.

“Did you?” Jason asked finally, with a tight grin.

“Did I what?”

“Here,” he said, showing me the picture. “He’s motioning for you to get in bed with him. Did you?”

“Yes, of course,” I said, without hesitation. “You asked me if your dad and I had ever had sex together, and I told you, yes.  That was just one of many times.”

He took several moments to look at the pictures again. “Man, these are really awesome pictures,” he said. “I can’t believe what I’m looking at, I mean, how many guys have got pictures like this of their dads.  They are awesome.  My Dad was awesome."

“More than you know,” I said. “I never dreamed when we were taking them, that I would ever be showing them to his son.”

“Do you think he would care that you are?”

“No. He’s probably up there sharing this moment, laughing with you right now,” I said.

He looked upward and said. “If you’re up there, Dad, you’re awesome!” Then he looked at me, the smile gone, his dark eyes penetrating, as if he were looking into my soul. Jason was able to do that, and it gave me a chill to see that his son could too.

“I think you loved him, didn’t you.” he said, his eyes unwavering.

It was a strange question, a teenage boy asking another man if that man loved his father. He didn’t phrase it like a question, but I could see that he was waiting for an answer.

“Yes. I loved him, very much.  More than anything or anybody in this world,” I said.

“It’s funny how things worked out,” he said.

“What?”

“My Dad, being loved by another man.  I don’t think he loved my mother.  I think it was just sex between them. And now, the man who loved him has his son.”

“It couldn’t have worked out better,” I said, as I reached over and put my hand on his leg. “Well, it could’ve….if your dad had lived, my life would be complete, and yours would be more complete.”

“I know I can’t make it complete for you, even as your son,” he said, sounding rather sad.

“No. Not that I don’t love you, Jase….you know I do….but nothing can fill that big hole that your dad’s death left in my life. I won’t be complete till I’m with him again.”

I left my hand on his leg, as an overture, to see how he would respond. He flexed his thigh muscle several times and I took it as a signal, and I went on.

“Things changed for me, Jase, when I took you as my son, by name, and you took me as your dad. You might be wondering why I haven’t approached you again for sex.”

“Yeah, I have.”

“It’s not been for lack of want,” I said.  “But it’s been gnawing at me; the idea of having sex with my own son. I’ve thought about it so much….and….”

“I’ve thought about it, too,” he cut in.  “And honestly, I think sex would be even more right between us now; more an expression of love.”

“Oh, I am so glad to hear you say that!” I gushed.  “Those are my thoughts exactly. I just didn’t know how to approach you.”

“Didn’t I tell you, you can talk to me about anything?” he chided me.

“I even talked to your dad about it.”

“What’d he say?”

I told him about asking for a sign and getting rush of wind and a rustling of leaves overhead instead of a thunderbolt.

“Well, I guess that settles it then,” he said.

“Yes. But our first time as dad and son has to be special; the right time and place.”

“It’ll be special, no matter what,” he said.  “It was pretty damned special the first time we did it.”

If he was suggesting that we do it right then and there, I put him off. I began making plans, subconsciously at first, thinking how, when and where. I thought of a long weekend at a cozy bed and breakfast, but that seemed too mushy. I checked on cruises to the Caribbean. I even checked on a gay cruise, but I wasn’t sure Jase would be comfortable in those surroundings. Then I saw an ad for Key West that stuck in my mind. I didn’t tell Jase of my plans; I would surprise him with a trip over Thanksgiving break from school. I had things all arranged except the reservations when things took an unexpected turn.

It was early November, unseasonably warm, when in casual conversation over supper one night, Jase mentioned sleeping out.

“I don’t know why you haven’t slept out before,” I said

“I’ve wanted to, but I was afraid to mention it,” he said.

“Why would you be afraid to mention it?” I asked with a curious frown.

“I thought the woods was sort of like your own private refuge. Like maybe you went back there to get away, or go back, like to a safer Vietnam; the jungle without the war. To be with my dad.”

I stared at him, wondering how a boy his age could be so astute.

“All of that is true but the woods isn’t off limits to you,” I said.

“I know, I’ve gone there many times but not with you; I just didn’t want to intrude on that part of your life,” he said. “I know you’ve taken others back there, but I thought if I went, because of who I am, I might bring back things that you wanted to forget.”

“Jase, you don’t conjure up bad memories for me,” I told him. “I wish when you have concerns like that, that you would speak up so we can talk about them.”

He just shrugged.

“Well, if we’re going to sleep out, we’d better be doing it before the weather changes,” I said.

His face lit up.  “Like tonight?” he asked anxiously.

“The weather’s just right, and we won’t have many more of these nights,” I said.

When we were finished eating, we got the sleeping bags and headed back to the woods.

“Do you think it’s too cold to go swimming?” he asked as we were walking toward the barn.

“It’ll be cold but it’s not going to get any warmer,” I said. “I’ll get some towels out of the cabinet, and we can build a small fire.” 

The night chill was already settling in. We went over the footbridge and followed the creek several dozen yards to where the bank sloped down to the water’s edge, near where I had spent the night with Adam Randall. I built a fire while Jase unrolled the sleeping bags over the thick grass.

“Are you going in?” he asked, as he began taking off his clothes

“Yes.” 

Watching him strip off his clothes in the aftertime of dusk gave me chills down my spine, and I wished he had spread the sleeping bags out instead of simply unrolling them.

“Don’t dive in,” I reminded him when he was naked.

I stood, mesmerized, as I watched him move gracefully toward the creek, his tight, muscular butt flexing with each step. He waded out a few feet then bent forward to dive under the surface. I quickly finished taking off my clothes and joined him. We swam for a half hour or so, with no grab-ass or horseplay. He seemed quietly serious, and I thought he might still be thinking that he was intruding in my private space, and was uncomfortable with me.  Dusk passed and the night was suddenly chillier, with no trace of the warmth of the sun. I got out of the creek first. I dried off and when Jase came out of the water, shivering, I was waiting with the towel, holding it spread out for him. He rushed up and I wrapped it around him and began drying him off, rubbing briskly over his back and shoulders and his butt.

“Damn, it got chilly,” he said as he turned in the towel to face me.

I dried his arms and rubbed the towel over his chest. As I moved the towel lower on his stomach our eyes met and something connected.  No, it sparked, like two electrical wires touching. It happened so quickly that I think it surprised us both to such a degree that neither of us knew how to respond for a moment. Jase’s eyes never wavered, and I didn’t look away either. We perhaps didn’t understand it at first but we both knew there was a connection that had not been there before. My hands had stopped with the towel and I was holding it at his hips.

“Dad…..,” he said in a raspy voice, and I wasn’t sure he meant to say it.

“I don’t know….,” I began, but I didn’t even know what I was going to say; the words just tumbled aimlessly out of my mouth, meaningless.  But Jase knew the meaning of the moment.

“I do,” he said. “I know. I think I’ve always known.”  His words gave approval of my thoughts, or permission….I didn’t know what, except that my well-laid plans for Key West were suddenly out the window. The surroundings were perfect. The time was now.

I moved the towel from his hips and held it with one hand, covering his crotch, firmly.  I rubbed it in his pubes, to dry them, and I could feel his manhood through it. His mouth grew slack and he closed his eyes. I was nearly overwhelmed by his youthful handsomeness, and I suddenly wanted to kiss him.  Instead I leaned in and kissed his chest, paying homage to his right tit with my tongue.

“Uunnnhhh,” he moaned softly. 

I felt him shiver. “Come on, let’s get in the sleeping bag,” I said.

“I wasn’t shivering from the cold,” he said, but he followed me to the sleeping bags which he had unzipped part way. “Which one?” he asked.

“Let’s spread them out and use one to cover up with,” I said.

We finished unzipping the sleeping bags and spread one out to sleep on and laid the other one over it for a cover. We crawled in and I pulled the top one over us. Jase was still shivering and when I reached out for him, he snuggled against me.

“How come I’m so cold and you’re so warm?” he asked. 

“Because it’s my job to keep you warm” I said as I held him tight. It wasn’t sexual at first; it was the thrill of simply holding his muscular young body against me and letting my body heat pass to his body.  When he stopped shivering he laid on his back, with me lying on my side, propped up on one arm so I could watch him. A tingling in my loins told me it was going to get sexual.  We both knew it and we both wanted it. I laid my hand on his stomach and traced my fingers in the deep ridges of his tight muscles. I felt him shiver again and I moved my hand up to his chest. I clasped my fingers over the taut, thick muscles, rubbing my palm against his nipples.

“You have an absolutely beautiful body,” I said.

“Thanks, but you’re embarrassing me,” he said. “There are a lot of guys at school built as good as me.”

“No need to be embarrassed; it’s true. And don’t tell me there are a lot of guys built like this,” I said, reaching down to squeeze his cock.

“Well, no, I think I hold the record there,” he said with a smile.

There was no describing the feelings that swept through me at the touch of his manhood.  It was almost impossible to comprehend, that I was at last able to put my hands on him like this, to show my love for him in the most intimate way I knew how. For there was love, well beyond the mere physical.

“I don’t think I’ve told you how glad I am that you came to live with me,” I said.

“I didn’t exactly come….you came and got me,” he said.

“I wish I could’ve come sooner, but there was so much red tape,” I said. 

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come at all,” he said.

“Even after I told you I would?” I asked, with a frown.

“I was afraid to expect too much and the sisters said not to get my hopes up because American GIs often didn't keep their promises once they got back home.  Nothing much good ever happened in my life…till you…..”  He let his voice trail off and I thought I heard him choke, then I felt his stomach tighten then start to quake. He was crying inside, and trying to keep it from coming out.

“Jase….Jase, what’s the matter?”

He let it come then, laying his forearm across his face to hide his eyes, and his whole body quaked with his sobs.

“What’s the matter, Jase?” I asked again, suddenly frightened that I was dredging up old, bad memories with my hand on him like that.  I moved my hand to his chest.

“I’m just not used to anybody showing me any kind of love,” he said.  “I know Sister Marie and the nuns cared, but they couldn’t let it turn into anything close to love for any of us because they knew we would be leaving.  Everybody else hated me.  Oh, they liked what I could do for them but all the while, they hated me for my American blood. It was like I was a nobody living in a great body with a big cock. I laid in bed at night and cried, wondering if you might not come.”

“I am so sorry, Jase.  I guess I never realized….didn’t you have any friends?.…other boys with American blood?” I asked.

“We said we were friends, but we never got really close, because we knew too, that we would be separated. The closest I ever got to having a friend was when I was eleven, with a boy who was fourteen.  He looked after me.  He was big and tough, and a little mean when he had to be. He made sure nobody mistreated me.  I might not have survived if it hadn’t been for him.” 

“Jase, if you don’t want to talk about this……”

“I do,” he cut in. “I’ve never talked about it to anyone before.”

“All right.  But tell me, why did you need the money?  You had a place to live, food to eat.”

“Food wasn’t always so plentiful at the orphanage,” he said.  “I knew sometimes they had to stretch it, and even then sometimes the boys didn’t get enough to eat, and I would get more on my plate because I was bigger, but I said I wasn’t hungry and shared it with the other boys. Being the oldest I felt like I had to do something to help out. I often spent more than the money Sister Marie gave me when I went to the market….my money that I’d made. She was always surprised how much stuff I came back with.  I told her I bargained, or that stuff was on sale. I lied to her. She would’ve killed me if she knew what I was doing to get the extra money.”

“Well, sometimes a lie doesn’t hurt,” I said. “But she must never know that.”  I wanted to know more of the details of his life--I wanted to hurt with him--but I didn’t know how to ask. I didn’t have to; he went on.

“I knew it was wrong but Randy was doing it and when he asked me if I wanted to earn some money—there were men who liked young boys, he said—I told him I did. He would fix me up with a man but he told them what they could and couldn’t do with me and he never left me completely alone. He was either in the room or in the next room or just outside the door.  So they would undress me and kiss me all over my body and suck my cock.  A lot of them loved it that I couldn’t cum yet. But they liked it more when I could. Randy had a knack for seeing certain things in guys.  Some guys he wouldn’t let them have me alone; he’d be right there in the room.  It was a miracle that none of them ever fucked me but he watched out for me.”

“I’ve wondered if that ever happened,” I said.

“No. He thought it might, though, ‘cause he said I was a hot little number with a cute ass and guys would want to fuck it.  He said maybe he should fuck me and show me what it was like and get me used to it.  He said it would probably hurt a little bit at first but then it would feel good, but I was scared to try it so he didn’t do it.  He never forced me to do anything.”

There were some women, too, although I didn’t know what a woman would want with a boy my age; I wasn’t very big. But as I got older I got bigger and I was able to satisfy women.”  He looked at me then and asked.  “Why did you move your hand? It felt good there,” he said.

“I….didn’t think…” I swallowed hard. “I thought I shouldn’t be…. maybe I was causing your pain,” I stammered.  Suddenly, in my mind, in that moment, I was no better than those men who had used the boy.

“It’s all right. It felt good,” he said.  “And you’re not like those men. They didn’t care about me. They just cared about my body, and me being young.  That part of me being part American, they liked.”

“Jase, I’m not proud to say this, but I’ve had those same feelings for your body, and about you being young and good looking,” I said.

“No, you’re not like those men. If you were, you would’ve had me in your bed the first night I came here. I offered, remember?”

“I wanted to, so many times,” I said.  “You don’t know how many nights I’ve lain awake……”

“But you didn’t, see, and that’s the difference,” he cut in.  “I never knew why you didn’t….I offered, and I hinted that it was all right.”

“Because I didn’t want you to think that I’d brought you back for….for that….to use you,” I said.

“I would never think that of you,” he said.  “You cared enough to come to Vietnam and get me.  I never once thought that you might have done it just to use me like that.”

“Yes, you did think it.  You offered yourself.”

“I….I felt like I should…..pay you back.  I didn’t really know you then,” he said.

“That’s not why you had sex with me, is it?” I asked.

No, I did it because I wanted to. I really wanted to.”

“What did you think when I put my hand on your stomach and your chest just now, and touched your cock?” I asked.

“I thought it felt good,” he said. “But I never thought, he’s just like those other men.  I could feel the love in your touch, because you told me and showed me and you proved how you loved me before you ever touched me.”

“Whatever happened to the older boy who looked out for you?” I asked.   “And did he live at the orphanage?”

“Yes. He was the oldest boy there at the time.  He was sort of the boss of the rest of us kids. He made us tow the line with Sister Marie. I don’t know what happened to him. He’d just turned seventeen--we shared the same room that I was in when you were there--and he came in late one night and woke me up to tell me that he had to leave….to go away.  He never told me where he was going or why he had to leave. He just told me I was in charge of the boys.  Then he leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. I never saw him again. I cried myself back to sleep that night. I guess I didn’t realize how close we were till he was gone and he kissed me. He was like a brother. I wished….”   He quickly cut himself off.

“You wished what?” I asked.

“I wished he’d kissed me for real.  I loved him that much. It would’ve been different with him.”

I reached over and laid my hand on his knee and he gave me tight little smile.  “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” I said as I moved my hand up his thigh.

“I’ve wondered why you waited so long,” he said.  “I thought you didn’t want me again.”

“Oh, I’ve wanted you so bad, more than anything in the world, since your dad. I had to be sure it was right.”

“What made you sure now?” he asked, placing his hand over mine to press it into his crotch.

“I….I really don’t know, Jase.  Maybe I’m not sure.  Maybe it’s just that I want you so bad, and you’re so accepting,” I said.

“I’ve wanted you to want me, Brad,” he said.

I wondered why he called me Brad instead of dad. But then I had just called him Jase instead of son, and I didn’t know why I did that. 

“I know, but I wasn’t sure if it was that, or if you thought you owed me something and wanted to pay me back.”

“I owe you everything,” he said.

“No, you don’t owe me anything, Jase.  And I don’t ever want you to think that.”  I began massaging the bulk of his young manhood.  He moaned and pushed his bulge into my hand. 

“Do you love me as much as you did my dad?” he asked.

“Yes, but in a different way,” I said.

“But you’re loving me the same way now, aren’t you?”

“It’s different inside; it’s hard to explain,” I said.  “Jason and I had….well, it’s a special bond between military men.  With you and me….it’s a special bond between…….”  Dad and son were on the tip of my tongue, but we had suddenly, for some reason, reverted to Brad and Jase.

“Between dad and son?” he asked.  “Is that what you almost said? I like the sound of that….dad and son,” he said. “I know we’re not, but I like the sound of it, especially the way we are right now, at this moment.”

“So do I. But a moment ago, you called me Brad.  So I called you Jase.”

“I didn’t think that….with what we were talking about….you might not want me to think of you as my dad, or me as…..well, I mean, I have to wonder if we would be doing this if I was your real son.”

“Jase,” I said, shushing him.  “You might be right, but for me, dad and son is unconditional. You don’t need to choose the times you call me dad.”

He smiled and it turned into a sly grin. “I like the feel of it, too,” he said as he ground his crotch in my hand. “It’s like I can feel the love in your hand.”

“I like what I’m feeling too,” I said, squeezing him hard. He had come to life and his cock was demanding. 

“You know, I’ve never reciprocated,” he said.  “Not once in all the times with all those men.”

“I know.  And you don’t have to with me,” I told him. “I just want to make you feel good; feel loved. That’s all I want or need from you.”

“You’re already making me feel good right now,” he said.

“I can make you feel better,” I said.  “I can make you feel better than anyone has ever made you feel.”

“How?  I’ve done about everything there is to do in the way of sex.”

“But it’s never been with somebody who cares about you the way I do.  It comes from inside.”  I wrapped my hand around his cock and held it up. “My Godd, how….you’re still just a teenager, barely eighteen,” I said.

“But I’m my father’s teenager,” he said with a proud grin. “I’ve seen him in those pictures; I got it from him. Besides, I think that’s when it’s supposed to be growing, when the rest of me is growing,” he said.

“I think your cock got a head start, it’s getting way ahead of the rest of you,” I said.  “And, damn, you’re probably not done growing.”

“Am I as big as my dad, do you think?” he asked.

“Yes, almost.  Just not as thick yet,” I said. Without asking, or a true measurement, I judged him to be well over eight inches, which I supposed wasn’t so unusual, considering his gene pool.

He smiled at that.  “I guess he wasn’t that much older than me when you guys met,” he said.

“Something like that, we were both nineteen I think,” I said, gazing at his cock. 

“So I’ve got a year to catch up with him,” he said with a smile.

I leaned over and took his cock in my mouth.

“OHhhh….Uuhhnnnnn,” he moaned softly.

Suddenly I felt I’d moved too quickly, been too greedy. I eased back and for the first moments I paid homage to him and his magnificent manhood, not sucking, but lathering it with my tongue, worshipping his cock with tears in my eyes.  I explored the head, the shape and curves of the wide flange.  I felt the mature, thick veins along the shaft, pulsing with the virility of his life’s blood. I didn’t even try not to think of Jason; it would’ve been futile. The comparison was there; the very real feel of live, raw, throbbing manhood was there. I made him anxious and he laid his hand on my head. I began sucking him in earnest. He moaned softly and dug his heels in and thrust upward. I’ll take it, Son, I wanted to tell him. I will service every throbbing inch of you.   

“I sucked his cock with a reverence, sliding my lips down the shaft as far as I could go without forcing the head into my throat. I wanted to take my time and let my throat relax naturally, it would be easier to control my gag reflex.  His precum flowed copiously and I lathered the head of his cock before swallowing it.  It was like nectar from the gods, so deliciously sweet and fresh.

“Ohh….Ohhhhh….Ohhhh,” he moaned softly as he met my mouth with gentle thrusts of his lean hips. I wished it were his first such experience. I wanted to cry that he had so much experience at such a tender age, but I was determined to make this one a first in its own way; the first with someone who loved him. I desperately wanted him to feel that love, now as my son.

With my lips locked around his cock I moved around, straddling his right thigh to lie between his legs. He spread them for me as I kept sucking him. After a while I released his cock and moved to his balls, held snugly and high in their sack, almost as if it wasn’t big enough for them. I licked them like a puppy then took one in my mouth.

“Uuhnn!” he gasped softly.

I popped it free and took the other one. He didn’t gasp this time.  He moaned again when I worked them both into my mouth. I mauled them gently and he writhed his crotch against my face.

“Godd, I like that,” he whispered.

At last I let his balls go and went where I thought no other had ever gone. I hoped not, for I wanted to be the first to show him this most intimate pleasure. I nuzzled my nose under his balls and licked his perineum, the miracle inch between the very root of his manhood and the beginning of his ass crack.

“Ohh,” he gasped, sounding surprised, and the sound of it made me sure I was the first to explore this delicate area. “Aww, fuck, that feels so good,” he said as I continued to lick him.  Then I dipped my tongue lower, to the crack of his ass. When I slid my arms under his upper thighs, cradling his legs, and lapped at his crack he lifted his legs almost instinctively, inviting me to do whatever I pleased. I pushed his legs toward him and he wrapped his arms under his knees to lift his butt up off the sleeping bag and spread his butt apart.

“Godd, Jase, you are so beautiful here,” I breathed, nearly overwhelmed with excitement.  His ass, spread apart like that, was absolutely beautiful to behold, each side still with its globular shape. The inner slopes were smooth, with only a soft flurry of dark hair guarding what I knew to be his virginity.  I would not take it. Not this time, and perhaps not ever. But I would toy with it, and make him wonder if he might one day want to give it up.

I licked the inner slopes and heard him let out a little gasp of anticipation for he surely knew where I was headed. As I drew closer to the tiny portal I heard his sharp intake of breath. Finally, I buried my face tightly in the perfect spread of his butt and licked his asshole ferociously.

“Aaaahhhhh!” he cried out. The puckered muscle of his asshole clinched and relaxed alternately, unsure what it should do with this new attention. I pulled his butt apart more and shoved my tongue through the hole.

“Ohhhhh!  Ohh, Godd!  Ohh, Godd!” he cried.

His asshole suddenly knew what to do; it relaxed and opened up to receive my tongue which I bored deeper inside his warm, velvety hole.  I probed in and out, and shoved it in deep and scrubbed the inner lining with my tongue.

“Ohh, Godd….Ohh, Geezuss….I can’t believe you’re doing this for me! I can’t believe anything can feel so good!  Fuck, I could almost cum!” he gasped, breathlessly.

I rose up long enough to say, “Go ahead; I’m sure you’re good for more than once.”

“Yess! Thank you!  I want to! Godd, I wanta cum so bad with you doing that to me!”

I smiled that he was thanking me for allowing him to cum. I would grant him his wish. I drove my tongue back inside him and tongue-fucked his ass. His hole was palpitating with excitement, and after a moment it began to open and close, open and close, as he worked up to his climax. I had a brief moment of doubt and pondering about what I wanted to do at the crucial moment but I went with my instinct and decided to take the risk. As his climax approached I began rubbing my finger around his asshole, using my spit and drool for lubrication to push the very tip of my finger into the clenching indentation.

“Awwwh….Ohh, Godd, I’m cummin’!” he gasped.

“Wonderful!” I whispered loudly. Then, “Jase….let me do this,” and I shoved my finger up inside his ass. At the same time I quickly got back on his cock.

“AAAWWGGGHHH!” he cried loudly when I found his prostate. “Ohh, Godd! Ohh, Geezuss…..Fuucckkk!….Awwhhh, Ohhh….Ohhhh .….Ohhhhhh!” he cried out with each spurt of cum that shot out of his cock as he thrashed around on my finger.

I accepted his load with deep gratitude; there was a lot of it, gratitude and cum. I managed to swallow most of it, but lost some when he was thrashing around so wildly and I had a hard time staying on his cock.  It was a long, intense climax, the kind that I was sure he had never experienced before.  The feel and taste of his boy-cum created emotions in me that I had not experienced in a very long time.  It was thick and sweet, and in that brief moment I was sucking the essence of Jason, his Dad, out through the boy’s cock. He tasted so wonderfully sweet.  I held onto him for a long moment.  As he came down I carefully withdrew my finger and concentrated on his cock. I held it in my mouth till he was able to breath normally then I rose up, draining him, and let it fall heavily across his hip.

“Wow!  That was unbelievable! ” he gasped weakly as I crawled up to lie beside him.

“I’m glad it was so good, Jase. I only wish it had been your first time,” I said as I wrapped my arm around him, and threw a leg across his thighs.

“It was the first time it ever felt like that,” he said, snuggling against me.

“Oh, Really.  I’m flattered,” I said.

We lay quietly for a while, his chest heaving, and I tried to sort it all out in my head and make the correlation between this boy and his father, with the taste of them still in my mouth. It was there and it wasn’t.  Jase was made from Jason’s seed, but they were two different people. Alike, but the circumstances were so vastly different. My times with Jason had been more clandestine; stolen moments carved out of a terrible war. With Jase, it was all so peaceful and serene, in my own woods, beside my own creek.

“You know, this felt like our first time,” he said.

“It was different,” I said. I thought of something then and broke the silence.

“Jase, I was in your room. I wasn’t nosing, but your journal was open. I read what you wrote. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No. If I left it open…..”

“I hate it that you miss him so much,” I said.

“I shouldn’t; I didn’t even know him,” he said. “But you’ve brought him to life for me, and that makes me miss him.”

“I wish I could be him for you, but there was only one Jason Seaborne, so I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for a poor substitute.”

“I don’t see you as a substitute,” he said sternly.  “I see you as the father I never knew. You don’t have to play substitute to anybody, least of all the ghost of my dad.  And you know he would agree with me.”

“I would like to think so, but……”

He put his fingers to my mouth.

“No buts.  He would.  He loved you.”

I stared at him with a faint, surprised smile.

“I know, that sounds strange, doesn’t it, saying out loud that my dad loved another man. I can feel it through you that he did. Maybe he never said it, but I know he did.  And I’m okay with that. I know he didn’t love my mother. The times, the circumstances didn’t make room for them to love each other. So I’m glad he had you to love, and you to love him.”

“He never said it to me, but he wrote it in a letter.”

“Do you still have the letter?” he asked.  “I don’t want to read it.  But if you still have it, then he is still saying it every time you read that letter.” 

“How old did you say you are?” I asked, laughing. “There were two letters…...”  I threw off the top sleeping bag and got up.  “Wait here,” I said.

I went to the house and got the letters. The boy yearned for a connection with his past. I was that connection with his father, and the letters would make it stronger, perhaps even make him feel that the love he felt from me was truly the love of his dad. And this was the right time. I returned to the woods with the letters and a lantern. The night air was chilly and Jase felt that chill when I crawled back in the sleeping bags. We pulled the top one over our heads to lock in the warmth.

“Now it’s my turn to get you warm,” he said, wrapping himself around me.

“You can read the letters,” I said, handing him the first one.

“Are you sure?  I don’t want to intrude on your privacy.”

I took the envelope and removed the letter and handed it to him. He crouched down closer to the lantern and began to read aloud.

Hey, Buddy,

I drove up in the hills behind my parents’ home where I’m sitting with my back to a tree, sipping piss-warm beer and writing to you. It’s late evening, the sun’s about to go down and yeah, I’m sitting in the woods writing a fuckin’ letter when I should/could be in town banging some chick’s brains out.

Jase laughed softly then continued reading.

I don’t know if I’ll mail this or hand carry it and give it to you when I get back in country….or if I’ll maybe find my balls and say it all to your face. If you’re reading this letter it’s because I chickened out from telling you in person. I hope it still suits the purpose.

How I came to write this was pure logic, at least for me; as only you would understand my logic. I’ve asked myself, would I lay down my life for you. The answer is an unequivocal YES; without question or hesitation. I would take a bullet for you, or a grenade.  Well, if I had that kind of courage, why was I being such a pussy about laying the truth on the line?  So here I am, about to do just that.  (Fuck, the hills and woods and the sun going down reminds me of Vietnam. It’s beautiful. I want to be back there). 

When I arrived back here in the States, the first thing I noticed was the peace freaks, of course.  They were practically everywhere, and sad to say, at one rally, I saw my own brother was with them.

Jase blinked with surprise.  “I didn’t know he had a brother.  That means I have an uncle?”

“Yes.”

“Am I going to get to meet him?  Does he know about me?”

I didn’t know how to answer him. But I had to.

“Yes, he is aware that Jason had a son, but….I don’t know about meeting him.  He and Jason were never very close.”

“So you don’t think he would want to have anything to do with me….I mean, me being his brother’s son?  I would be his nephew.”

“I don’t know, Jase, you would have to decide whether you want to find that out for yourself,” I said. I decided not to tell him about the protest at Jason’s funeral.  I didn’t want to prejudice his decision.

“Well, if he was one of those druggie creeps who protested the war and spit on men like my dad, maybe I don’t want to meet him.”

“That’s your decision to make,” I said.  “If you decide you want to meet him, I will try to make contact with him. I don’t know where he is but we can try.”

“Do you think my dad would take me to meet his brother if he were alive?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I said.

“I guess I’ll have to think about it then,” he said, then went on reading.

But that’s not the reason for writing you this letter. I guess I’ll start by telling you that I hooked up with some of my ex-girlfriends while I was here and it wasn't the same. We had a lot of fun and I liked the sex, naturally, but it just wasn’t the same as before. Before what, I asked myself. When I thought about it, I could only come to one conclusion.  I finally decided that you had become the standard when it comes to me getting off.  It’s a crude way to put it, maybe, but it’s the truth of the matter, and the only way I know how to put it. Anyway, I’ve sort of been down in the dumps since I came back.  I was looking for something but can’t put my finger on it, and knowing all the time that I wouldn’t find it here, whatever it was. My mind seems to be going in all directions; sort of like I was back to being a POW is the best I can describe it.  I miss Vietnam.  I miss the fuckin’ war, dammit!  I can’t wait to get back to it.  Most of all, I miss you!  I lay in bed in my old room and I can’t sleep because I’m thinking about you. Not that we slept together on a regular basis, but lying in my old bed, I want you here with me so damned bad.  I need to be back there, in country, with you. If you still don’t have a clue why I’m writing this, what I’m trying to say is that I love you man.

“Well, there, he said it,” Jase said.

I know, I told you that before, but what I’m telling you now is different; I love you more than a friend, more than a brother.  I hope you understand why I had to write instead of tell you; it’s just so hard to tell you right to your face. Yeah, I’m a coward after all. And you kept telling me how courageous I am, when all along it was you who had the balls. When you said "I love you" to me for the first time, I didn’t say it back. One; back then I still wasn’t sure about anything, and two, I didn’t have your balls.  But I admired you for saying it.  It took guts to say those words and you said it, buddy, right out, honest and bold as hell. Now it’s my turn.  I love you buddy, as a man, more than you'll ever know.

“There, he said it again,” Jase said with a smile.

Honestly, I don’t know what it all means; I don’t know if I can be even a little bit gay for you, but it never mattered to you that I was straight. And even if I am, I don’t think it’ll matter to me either, because love knows no boundaries, right? So if I’m straight and you’re gay, what difference will it make, because with no boundaries separating us we won’t be able to tell where straight ends and gay begins.  So I make you this promise—and if you’re reading this, you’ve got it in writing to hold me to it—I will love you every way I know how, and I’ll learn from you and love you every way a man can love another man.

                                                       Jason

Jase’s eyes lingered on the letter for a moment then he folded it and looked up at me.  “Wow, that was pretty powerful. He sure laid it all on the line.”

I took the other letter out of the envelope and we exchanged letters.  He began reading again.

Dear Brad:

I am assuming you read my first letter.  I’m writing this at the airport where I will soon be boarding a plane, on my way back in country; heading back to you, buddy. Something hit me while I was sitting here waiting on the plane; like what if something happened and I don’t make it back.  I never had that feeling before; not even when I was out in the fuckin’ wet, soppy jungle, or even when I was captured.  But it hit me, and I needed to write you again. So, if you’re reading this letter, then I guess I didn’t make it. 

Jase stopped reading and looked at me with a pained look on his face. I didn’t say anything, and he went back to reading.

I will say upfront that my greatest regret is that you and I didn’t make it together, not like we should have. I mean….like I wanted to, deep down, but didn’t realize it in time, or didn’t have the balls to admit it and follow through. If you’re wondering what’s going through my mind while I am writing this (and now, you reading it), it is this; I love you so damn much, and I wish it didn’t have to end like this, I wish we didn’t end like this, man. I would have loved to be with you forever but I guess forever doesn’t work for us, huh.

I saw Jase’s eyes tearing up. “This must’ve been tough for you to read,” he said.

“It can’t be easy for you,” I said.

I know that right now you’re devastated because that’s how I would feel if I lost you, buddy.  But I know you’re stronger than that.  We're stronger than that. I may be dead but that won’t stop me from loving you, Brad, from another place, and it can’t stop you from going on with your life, hard as that might be for a while. After all, if there is life after death, then there must be love after death.  I hope you feel the same way. 

Someone wrote that if you love someone you have to let them go. With that said, I have to also say that if you really love me then you have to let me go. I know you man, you're probably still looking at my pictures or wearing my jocks and underwear, and thinking that you would do that kinda flatters me, but it also scares the shit out of me because I don’t want you to live with my ghost. (We had too much “in the flesh” for you to do that). I keep thinking/hoping that you'd never wanta forget about me and that’s fine; I don’t want to forget about you or what we had, either. It was special, putting it mildly. But just because I'm gone doesn’t mean you have to be dead too. Look, just promise me that you'll start living again, and be happy for the both of us. I don’t know how you fill in the blanks….maybe just remember me at certain times….but I know you’re stronger than just letting yourself die inside.  Hell, man, you’re a Marine. Look, I’m starting to tear up and people are watching me. Just know that wherever I am, I’m loving you….till we can be together again. Gotta go.

                                                               Your buddy forever, Jason

Jase slowly folded the letter.  “I can see he had a hard time saying it, but man, he really did love you,” he said, handing it back to me.

“No more than I loved him,” I said.

“I’m glad you had each other for the time you did,” he said. “And being with you makes me feel closer to him. Especially being with you like this. It’s almost like I’m with him.”

“I’m glad you can feel that. I was hoping you might.”

He smiled then giggled and said, “I wouldn’t mind feeling it again.”

I gave him the feeling again, and again, for the whole night  long, till near sunup. Jase was insatiable and he made me so. I drew from him what I’d had with his father and for that time—those hours—I had hem both wrapped into one.  I had Jase the teenage son and I had Jason in his teen years.  It was raucous sex, it was love making, it was worship of his youth and his virility.

After that first dad and son encounter in the woods, a whole new world opened up between Jase and me. Jase made sure that I understood that he was “available” any time, and I took advantage of that. I took things slow. For the first several times we were together, I restricted our activities to me sucking his cock and rimming him and using my fingers on him. He couldn’t get enough of either. He never reciprocated--he was that much like his father--and I never expected him to. I was thankfully happy with what we had, with what he could offer. I had no intention of trying to take it to the next level; I never even hinted that I wanted to. His young manhood, I thought--that part of his virginity--needed to remain intact as I sensed that he was slowly trying to bury his past. I did, however, entertain thoughts of him fucking me. But I moved slowly even with that, partly because I was still trying to separate Jase from Jason in my head, and when it did happen--and I was hopefully certain it would--I wanted to be able to make the distinction. It was an exercise in futility, and essentially a waste of time, waiting to sort things out.

To be continued...  

Posted: 02/27/15 rp