Ambush

The following fictional story deals with sex among males. If you are offended by such material, are too young, or reside in an area where it is not allowed, depart. Though not observed in this story, care enough about yourself and humankind to practice safe sex.

The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.

EBradley33@Excite.com

Chapter 23

Balancing the Books

I awakened at 5:00 a.m., knowing further sleep would elude me. Last night's news about Jeremy's Thanksgiving absence still weighed upon me like a boulder. Odd, I thought: usually, when I awaken after something heavy has occurred, for maybe five seconds after coming to consciousness, the heavy issue isn't there. Only after those five seconds does it start up from where it left off the night before. Yet Jeremy's news was right there the second I opened my eyes.

Being alone on a holiday really tested my coping skills. This difficulty was odd, given some of the heavier issues I'd faced in life. Nancy Wilton, a wise scholar friend, once shared with me her strategies for holiday survival during a period when she was between two marriages: "I had to plan at least a week ahead of time. I couldn't let it sneak up on me. I made certain my plans included activities I could enjoy only when I was alone - spending an entire morning reading half a book without any break in concentration, watching a movie without interruptions, kicking back and listening to an entire symphony, crash-reading a mystery, writing long letters, doing research. And I planned treats for myself throughout the day."

I had attempted her strategies with varying degrees of success. For them to work, I probably should have guarded my mind more than I was accustomed, but I lived solidly in my mind. If I kept it away from thinking about families being together for the holiday, I might have been more successful. In high school and college, I had thought of myself as a family man. Later events proved that such a role wasn't going to be possible, but I never gave up the desire or the scenarios, which were hopelessly idealistic. Holidays with my own family were tense, defensive affairs. Perhaps that history led me to believe I could do better for my own children. Any family holiday called up such dreams, no matter how much I resisted them.

To complicate matters, the further I moved into the holiday, the more I seemed to lose control. With a maelstrom in my mind and a tornado in my emotions, I was usually frantic by late afternoon, resulting in a long walk that looked more like a race. 'Ridiculous behavior,' I thought.

I should have guarded against being excited when I thought Jeremy was going to share Thanksgiving. When one's spirits fly up, they crash harder in the cold light of reality. I would have to remember that in the future. Belatedly, I realized that I had been preparing to live out a parent-son scenario with Jeremy this Thanksgiving. Whoa! . . . I had to watch that. I didn't want to crowd Jeremy, force him into a role. That evening when we had talked about purchasing a car for him, I'd told him I wouldn't impose myself on him as a father. Strange. Even understanding that much didn't change the hurt.

Acceding defeat as far as sleep was concerned, I arose, dragged myself through shaving and the usual routine, and ate breakfast. As I was rinsing my few dishes for the dishwasher, Jeremy wandered sleepily into the kitchen. "Good morning," I greeted him.

"Evan, I'm sorry about last night," he mumbled. He was too cute, standing there in his bathrobe, rubbing his eyes like a little boy. "Maybe you felt that we ganged up on you. We never wanted to hurt you."

I kept working at the kitchen sink, not looking at him. It had to be that way for me to remain in control of my feelings.

"Evan, I'm hurting you, but what else can I do?"

"Nothing."

"Is it often like this - to get something that you and your lover desperately desire, you have to hurt someone else?"

"Anytime we do good for someone, we do evil to someone else. Joseph Campbell explains the concept in his book 'The Power of Myth.' When I first read it, I resisted Campbell's maxim - until I thought it through. It doesn't always have to work out that way, but it frequently does." I paused in sudden thought: "Intriguing . . . I think it doesn't work as often in the reverse - if we do evil to someone, we do good for someone else."

"How do we do evil to someone else?"

"By increasing the costs beyond what they ordinarily would have to pay."

"We ALWAYS have to pay a price?"

"Always. . . . I once read that physicists believe that if the atoms of the universe were perfectly aligned, you and I could walk through that wall over there the way the spirit of Patrick Swayze does in the movie 'Ghost.' If atoms are imperfectly aligned, you can bet that human motives, behaviors, and circumstances are as well." Nothing was said for a while. I knew he was mulling the concepts.

"I just have this feeling that if Kenny and I don't give his parents what they think they need, especially his dad, we'll never ever be able to move them to complete acceptance of our relationship."

"I agree."

"I'll make it up to you, Evan. I promise."

'The youthful heart, ever hopeful, ever idealistic. And wholly incapable of emotional arithmetic,' I thought. I said nothing in reply.

"I promise, Evan," he repeated.

"Don't promise. You can't keep it, no matter how hard you'd try." I looked him squarely in the eyes. "You're incapable of understanding the price I'm paying, so there's no way you can make it up. In the future, don't establish expectations with others that you cannot keep. Then you won't have a price to pay."

He looked away from me into the family room. "I'll pay a price?"

"Yes."

"What price?"

"You figure it out."

"I don't think I know how."

"Then learn how. You have been given the gifts of intelligence, heart, and compassion, among the most powerful forces on this planet. You are meant to be a leader. It's important for you to figure such things out. . . .You are learning one of the major challenges of a leader: the difference between the verbs 'want' and 'need.' For leaders, it is the difference between doing what must be done as opposed to what you or those you lead want you to do. Wanting is always more seductive than needing. We want, we get, then we want something else. Left ungoverned, wanting is a greedy, voracious, even dangerous mistress."

"You think I want things?"

I shot him a look of scorn.

A little startled by my reaction, he went on, "Okay, I'll think about what you said about wanting. Going back to the price you mentioned, won't you tell me what it is?"

I wouldn't look at or speak to him.

"Okay, will you tell me if I correctly identify the cost I'll pay?"

"Yes."

"But you won't tell me until I figure it out?"

"Correct."

"Why not?"

"Because I care for you as I would for a son."

"Evan . . .," I heard that interior voice warn.

"Thanks, Dad [a little sarcasm on the 'Dad'], but I still don't get it. Will you make me pay the price?"

"Of course not," I answered impatiently.

He thought a few seconds. "Then there's something in the situation that automatically becomes a price?"

"Yes. If you can figure that out, you can figure out the rest of it."

"Why don't you just tell me? That's what you really want to do."

"You couldn't be more wrong. You need to live into your possibilities by creating your wisdom and earning your power. Only then will you value them. It's too easy if I tell you. You won't value what I say. Humankind doesn't appreciate anything that comes easily."

In my mind, I thought 'Look at the help I've given you; THAT came easily for you. Didn't help me, did it? Didn't lead you to feel obligated?"

"Evan," that interior voice remonstrated, "you are attaching strings to what was supposed to have been a heartfelt, loving gesture. Not fair!"

The voice was right, which was the reason I wasn't expressing these ruminations aloud. But the RIGHT kind of person would have made it come out properly!

"Doesn't that strike you as arrogant?" the inner voice questioned. "He's young, learning," the voice counseled. "Give him a break."

Of course I would. When I remembered Jeremy the night he came to my home to confess that he had pushed me down the stairs, my heart melted. Still, I kept my distance. 'The closer I draw,' I said to myself, 'the more I leave myself open to be hurt.' It's happened enough times that if I ignore it further, I'll just show how stupid I am.

"This line of thought ill becomes you, Evan," that interior monitor observed.

'So I'm small-minded sometimes,' I replied irritably to the voice. 'I get to be a flawed human once in a while too. If I give but never ask for anything back, I'll be consumed, eaten up. I may not get what I need, but I'm not so lost that I find it impossible to expect or ask for it. Besides, if Jeremy doesn't learn this life principle about costs now, he'll learn it later, probably painfully.'

"Well, at least I'll be here for Christmas," Jeremy observed. "Maybe I'll have it figured out by then."

I wished we were past Thanksgiving. Then we could move beyond all these emotions.

• * * Later that day, in my first-hour class, we were discussing Robert Frost's poem "The Road Not Taken." Suddenly Jeremy piped up, "So always wondering about what the road more 'traveled by' would have produced in one's life is the cost for taking the road 'less traveled by'?'"

He HAD been mulling over our discussion in the kitchen this morning. I was pleased. "Correct."

"And there is always a cost?"

Hm-m-m-m-m-m-m. He wasn't going to drop this line of thought. "There's always a cost," I echoed.

"Why?"

I scanned the class. They were focused on Jeremy, sensing the usual smart-ass dynamic and a good laugh to follow. "Perhaps this analogy will clarify the issue. In the physical universe, all matters reduce to energy: its presence, absence, states, uses, conversion and so on. When we expend energy in one direction, a reaction to that expenditure occurs. Think of it as cosmic bookkeeping - debits and credits. To us humans, that reaction often appears as a cost, a price we have to pay for deciding to expend the energy."

"Yeah," Jarod Paine, jumped in. "You agree to go to a chick movie; then you have to spend the evening talking about how wonderful the movie is, what it says about your relationship with your girl, all that stuff."

LaRonda Hughes fixed Jarod with a glare: "Like you hadn't got a price in mind for Valerie when you agreed to go to the movie in the first place." Jarod had the good grace to blush. The class laughed at LaRonda's tart reply and Jarod's embarrassment. Again, I was pleased; the old Jarod wouldn't have had the sensibilities to blush. But he was also listening and applying the concept. So was LaRonda, for that matter.

"It's not a price for any babe who's with Jarod Paine," he retorted. Some of the men clapped briefly. Some of the women hooted derisively.

'Well, some of the old Jarod's still there under the surface,' I thought.

"Folks, I began, "I'm not quite up for a Mars-Venus Day. Let's focus on the concept of paying a price."

"But Mars-Venus is interesting . . . fun," Wally Foster popped off."

Whoa! Now something was definitely afoot. Wally Foster actually said something without being called on? "You may be correct, Wally, but gender warfare isn't in today's lesson plan. Sorry."

"Why does the price always seem . . . ," Jeremy paused, thinking, "bad?"

"It's merely a matter of perspective. Get ready: we're going to have an Aristotle moment." The class groaned on cue, grinning at a script that we had playfully enacted many times during the year.

"Darn you, Jeremy. Now we have to pay a price - an Aristotle moment!" Troy complained with mock injury.

With eyebrows raised like a patient parent, I waited for a little quiet. "Aristotle states in 'The Rhetoric' that to all youth, all learning begins in pain."

A mischievous gleam leapt to Jeremy's eyes. "Oh, we all know how you love to put us on the rack, Torquemada." Giggles.

I ignored him. "But students with the right stuff convert that initial pain into energy - then they derive pleasure, satisfaction, from learning and achievement. A cosmic bargain! Taking a negative and turning it into a positive. And those students are stronger and better than they were before. It's one of those things we humans do best - converting the negative to the positive. But we can recognize the possibility of such a conversion only if our perspective allows it."

"So that's why you're always harping on perspective," popped off Matt Townsend.

"Oh, I would say 'harping' is much too mild a term. 'Brainwashing' is more apt," I shot back in my best smart-ass manner. Smiles and affirmative head-shaking abounded among the studentry.

"So we have to know all this for college?" Kenny asked, mirroring Jeremy's mischievous gleam.

'Aha!' I thought. 'Tag-team wrestling, huh?'

"Yes."

"I thought college was fun: parties, friends, and all that," LaKeisha added with a glint in her eye. They were enjoying pushing my buttons - the three labeled "Learning," "College," and "Hard Work."

I allowed a faint smile to play around the edges of my mouth to let them know - without giving over too much - that I was in on their game. "If you succeed in college, you will do so for the same reasons you succeed here - only to a greater degree. You will sacrifice in order to study, which, if you are good and really know yourself, will lead to learning.

"Believe it or not, my dear," I nodded my head to LaKeisha, "you will forego some parties and the like in order to study for a test, to work on a paper or report, to meet a study group in a tough class. Or," and here I added a mischievous gleam to my eye, "Clifton will forego attending a party with you so that he can study and learn. In any case, you will discover - to your initial dismay, I am certain - that the quality of your life will NOT be appreciably diminished because you missed a party."

Continuing the role she had chosen, she moved her head back, mocking up a doubtful look, "Oh, I don't know . . ., she drew out." Giggles followed.

"The reward for that sacrifice is the creation of that person who will go out into the world and move into productivity and fulfillment." I smiled . . ."and pay all those credit card bills." More giggles and a glare from her.

"So by making a good choice, like not attending a party, Clifton leads LaKeisha to pay his price too?" Jeremy asked, grinning, his eyes alight.

I could suddenly see where he was going. I was making Jeremy and Kenny pay a price for a step necessary in the development of their relationship. Why did he have to make that point here in the classroom in front of these students? The smile faded from my face. I looked down at my desktop. "No, LeKeisha can still go to the party, content in the knowledge that her man is preparing to achieve a good grade on a test, to prove himself, thereby converting the negative to the positive. And if she really cares for him, she will allow him that."

I glanced up. They were all studying me, realizing that something more was occurring beneath the surface of the exchange between Jeremy and me. He'd found an accommodation for Kenny and him concerning their decision about Thanksgiving. I looked at him. "Touche," I said softly. "Good thinking," I uttered, with a little emphasis on "good." Jeremy's grin faded to the tentative.

"But she still pays a price because Clifton isn't going to be with her. She won't enjoy the party quite as much as she would if he were there. Right?" Kenny asked, his eyes wider than usual.

I studied him briefly, as though I wanted to see motive written on his face. "Right," I said. Now why would he add that, I wondered. Telling me that Jeremy won't enjoy being at Kenny's parents quite as much as he would if he were home?

"Can she convert that price to something good?" Kenny continued.

"If she's the right kind of person, if she's not afraid, if it doesn't link with comparable but negative situations in her life," I stated, looking aside. The bell rang. They didn't rush to leave. I guessed they were trying to unravel all that had occurred in the subtext of our discussion. Ten seconds passed before they arose to go to the next class. I bent down behind the desk to rummage around in my attache so that I looked busy. I wanted to crawl into a hole.

• * * When Jeremy arrived home from work Tuesday evening, I expected him to start packing, eager to move with Kenny into the next stage of their relationship. But he grabbed a Coke and came into the sunroom. He walked over to the CD player - I was listening to Chopin's two piano concertos. He shut the player down. "May we talk?" Without waiting for me to reply, he launched into what he'd been thinking. "Kenny, Susan, Troy and I had lunch together today. We were talking about our discussion in your class and about your reaction to my being with Kenny and his parents on Thanksgiving."

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, expecting a critical comment. "Okay, let me have it."

"Susan says you feel like what happened with Tim is happening all over again for you because I won't be here with you tomorrow. You're going to be left all alone again. Is that right?"

"It's part of it."

"But it's not the same thing as Tim's leaving you, Evan. "You know that."

"You're talking about knowing. Susan was talking about feeling." I arose and started to walk away.

"What's the rest of what you're feeling besides Tim's leaving you?"

"Drop it."

"Come on - why won't you tell me?"

"Will it change anything?" I asked, turning to leave.

He arose and moved up behind me, grabbing me in his long arms to pull me against him, holding me tightly. He leaned down and kissed my cheek. "I'm NOT leaving you, Evan. I'll be back here on Sunday. Do what you said in class today - love me enough to let me do this; don't hold it against me."

"I'M not telling you not to do it. I don't do that, Jeremy. You're an adult now. I do love you; I know you have to do this. I'm not holding it against you. But I'm human enough that I can't say that I'm feeling good. So what? Our positions may be reversed someday."

"You mean you may apply for one of those jobs listed on that sheet of paper in your desk?" he asked.

I paused. "Oh. . . .You saw that. . . . I don't know what I'm going to do. Life here has seemed to sour. I'm thinking about making a new start someplace."

"It soured because I pushed you," he said, convinced he had it figured out.

"No. Good things have come from that," I said as I reached behind me, trying a reverse hug - which is not easy on crutches! "The greatest of which is your coming to live here."

"It soured because of Tim?"

"Yes."

"Two of those jobs are in the state capital. Are you following Tim in hopes that he'll have a change of heart?"

I chuckled bitterly. "No. I'm not that stupid. Tim's never going to have a change of heart."

"What will happen to me if you move?"

"How do you know Kenny's parents won't want you to come live with them after this week? And I don't know that I'm moving at all. But we would talk about it beforehand. I couldn't just walk away from you. I wouldn't be any better than Tim if I did that. You'll soon be going to college. You won't be here. So it won't be an issue then."

"So you wouldn't leave this year?"

"I'll have to see how things play themselves out. Don't worry: I'll still support you, pay your car insurance, help you with college loans, all that."

He snorted impatiently. "That's not what I'm talking about, Evan."

"So what are you talking about?"

"I don't know. I was just a little afraid, and maybe hurt, that you wouldn't tell me about your future plans, especially since they could affect me. It was as though I didn't count as much as I thought."

"Touche," I said softly. "Now you understand the other part of what I am feeling about your being gone this holiday - the not counting for much."

He released me. Head down, he returned to his Coke, flopping on the sofa. "We could see if we could break away in the evening - come over and have some more turkey with you."

"I'm not preparing a Thanksgiving dinner."

"Why not? You bought all those groceries."

I blurted out, "I'm not going to all that trouble for me. Besides, how does one enjoy a Thanksgiving dinner by himself? It's only enjoyable when you engage in all those preparations for somebody else."

"You're somebody, Evan."

"Come off it," I said. "I'm afraid of being alone - okay? Getting involved in a big dinner for just me isn't going to change that."

"What are you going to eat?"

"Soup." I turned and crutched to my bedroom, flopping down on the bed. Jeremy and I certainly seemed to be flopping around a lot. Something wasn't right. This wasn't the way I wanted to leave it. I arose and crutched back to the sunroom.

Jeremy was still sitting on the sofa, killing the last of his Coke. I took the can out of his hand, set it on the lamp table, pushed him down on the sofa, dropped my crutches, and then flopped on top of him. I had to chuckle at the "Oooooomph!" that issued from him. I quickly threw my arms around him. He, just as quickly, threw his arms around me, hugging me tightly. We lay like that for perhaps five minutes, saying nothing, understanding each other.

"The price I'm paying that you said I had to figure out" he said softly, " - it's a pattern of not being there when you need me."

"Yes," I said softly.

"You'll stop regarding me as someone central in your life, as someone you can count on. We'll drift apart."

"Yes." Wow! He had been thinking. He was just as sharp as I had recognized he'd be.

"You're afraid of being alone?"

"Yes."

"I can't square that part of you with the Evan I know. He's strong. In fact, a lot of the time he doesn't seem to need anyone."

"That's the public Evan. There's another Evan hidden deep inside. He's been shaped by stuff you know nothing about."

"Maybe I can't make this up to you, but I can try," he said, squeezing me tightly.

"Jeremy, I want you to go to Kenny's home and concentrate on making a future with the man you love, the man who needs you. Don't turn yourself into what you believe his parents want. Just be yourself. It won't work in the final outcome if you hold back or pretend or make yourself into someone you're not. They have to accommodate to the real Jeremy, not to some image they have created, some image that you're tempted to play into. Allow them that opportunity to know and accept the real Jeremy."

He kissed me warmly. "I love you, Evan."

"And I you, Jeremy."

Reluctantly, I arose and returned to my bedroom, this time to retire.

• * * I was always impatient with the public school system for not giving students and teachers the Wednesday before Thanksgiving off. Pedagogically, the day was wasted. Enough students were traveling with their parents for the holiday that a teacher dare not start a new lesson on that day. It would have to be repeated when all students returned after the holiday.

On the eve day of Thanksgiving, students were bouncing off the walls, eager for the time off from school. One could partially understand why some teachers trotted out videos to fill the time. The day ended all too quickly. Rather than face an empty house and the issues that represented - or, worse, watch Jeremy complete his packing, eager to be off with Kenny, I stopped at a chain restaurant for dinner. As though I were a child, the light and color and bustle kept me distracted. A gin and tonic helped.

I arrived home to a dark house. I went around putting on some lights. I took off my clothes, washed my face, slipped into my bathrobe and went to the kitchen for a glass of wine. I sat at the table, identifying strategies for getting through the following day. Drat! If I'd been on my toes, I could have checked out a score from our local library to follow in listening to some musical work. I didn't think to ask Jeremy or Kenny if any good movies were playing. I'd have to check my shelf of mysteries to see if there was one that took my fancy at this particular time. Oh boy, it looked like I'd be taking a power walk on Thanksgiving Day.

I heard a knock on the front door. 'Great,' I thought, 'I'm sitting here with nothing on but a bathrobe, and someone's come calling. Couldn't be Jeremy and Kenny. They're still being VERY polite and formal, as are Kenny's parents. Too sensitive a stage for them to leave.' I arose, grabbed my crutches and cinched my bathrobe more tightly about me as I heard knocking again.

At the front door, I turned on the porch light. I opened the door, peeking around the edge. Troy and Cody! I opened the door and unlatched the glass outer door. "Hi Guys, what's up?"

Troy grabbed the outer door, nearly pulling me outside. He strode inside, placed his big hands under my arms and lifted me up off the floor, my crutches clattering onto the carpet. He looked angry. Cody had come in, shutting both doors behind him. "Heard about someone dickin' my little brother." My eyes must have been wide as half-dollars. "I don't allow that unless it's cleared with me first. Have to keep him away from bad influences." I heard Cody snickering behind me.

Troy spun about with me still off the ground and marched into my bedroom. He walked up to the bed and stopped. "Someone's got to pay a PRICE for stealing my little brother's cherry."

'Oh, yeah,' I thought. It hadn't registered that I'd been the first male to fuck Cody. I saw the light of fun dancing in Troy's eyes. Cody came up behind me, pulling my bathrobe off. 'Price? He's been thinking about our discussion in class.' Cody started running his hands up and down my back and across my ass.

'Bravado is the answer,' I thought.

"I doubt there's anybody here capable enough of making me pay any price, but for amusement's sake, share with me what you have in mind as a price," I tossed back at him.

Troy smiled and pulled me into him for a short, hot kiss. "The price is that you are going to fuck me, Evan - just like you did my little brother."

I couldn't help it - my jaw dropped. This huge stud wanted me to fuck him? He must have seen the disbelief in my eyes. "I'm not jumping into this, Evan. I was wondering about what it would be like for Evan Halsey to top me before my little brother here ever acted on it." Troy looked around me at Cody, smiling.

"Before that, I was wondering what it was like for Susan when I made love to her." He returned his gaze to me. "I want to know what Cody felt when you and I took him. I want to prove that the old homophobic Troy is back in the past. I want to feel good. I want pleasure, but I want somebody to give it to me. I want to be the receiver. Finally," here he grinned, "I want some HOT sex." We all laughed. Being men, we understood that drive.

Troy swung me over onto the bed, allowing me to fall on my back. "I don't have the whole picture yet about loving people and letting them love you, and I won't have the understanding and strength until you make love to me, Evan. I know you - you WILL be making LOVE to me. You can't deny it: I see it every day in class, even when you are busy being Mr. Teacher. I see it in your eyes when we're together. You love me, Evan. I turn you on. Flashing my dimples makes you just about melt." And he flashed them at me that moment.

"When you are done, then little brother here will have his turn fucking me. We've already planned it." While Troy had been talking, Cody had removed his clothes, dropping them on the carpet. Troy sat on the bed, pulling off his sweatshirt while Cody removed his shoes and socks. Troy unbuttoned his jeans, allowing Cody to pull them off. No underwear! They did have this planned. Troy rolled over to me, leaning down to kiss me. I heard Cody go to the nightstand drawer for the lube.

I kissed Troy deeply. Looking in his eyes, I murmured, "Let me carry you into passion, into pleasure, into fulfillment - one man honoring, supporting, protecting, loving another man. I want that, Troy. I want to demonstrate my admiration and respect for you. And you're correct: I do love you, Troy." I could tell that my words brought forth a few tears, for more reflections danced in his eyes.

Cody began lubing my cock. Then he moved around and started lubing Troy. I leaned over to kiss Troy again. When we broke, I reached up, pulling Cody into my face. "Tattle tale," I spat at him, and then pulled him into a hot kiss. He was stifling a laugh at the same time we were kissing, spurts of air issuing from his nose.

When we broke the kiss, I discovered that Troy had piled the pillows up behind him as he did when he fucked me while I lay atop him. I moved up into the space between his spread legs. I took my cock in my hand to trace circles around his rosebud. Like everything about him, it was beautiful. Rosy with tan all around it. Now how did he manage a tan around his asshole? It was as though he had prepared for this moment. He was studying me, a smile on his face. I slowly began to push in as I reached up and ran two fingers on each hand around his nipples. I felt the head of my cock breach his sphincter. He blinked, but his smile remained steady. I knew it was causing some pain because his dimples hadn't popped out.

I moved my hands down and began stroking his beautiful, muscled legs, lifting them to my shoulders. I loved bearing the weight of them, his smell, which arose when I lifted his legs. Cody had moved up and was kissing Troy to distract him from any pain. I made micro pumps with my cock. After a bit, I felt him push back, signaling that I could push in more, which I did. Again, I paused, allowing time for his ass muscles to relax. It certainly felt good, but I was unprepared for the feeling when I pushed all the way into him. He was so tight, silky, hot. Cody broke the kiss.

I started moving slowly in Troy. He grabbed my forearms, squeezing hard, a tentative grin on his face, no dimples yet. "Overpower me, Evan. Command me. Make me yours the way my little brother says you carried him to the best cum he's had in a long time." He started bucking back against me as hard as I was pounding into him. His dimples had popped out. He was enjoying this. I was turned on the max. I wasn't going to be able to hold out as long as I wanted. This man was too hot a hunk for that to happen. Every bit of pleasure I was feeling and giving him was informing against me, pushing me pell-mell into an orgasm.

Troy's bucking onto my dick jarred Cody off Troy's cock, so he moved up and kissed Troy hard. When they broke, Troy was panting heavily. Little whimpers were escaping from him. His eyes were opening wider. I felt his crotch rising. The whimpers grew to a loud moan. "I'm . . . I'm . . . cum-m-m-m-m-m-m-ming!" His eyes closed. Cody dived to cap Troy's dick. Troy's ass muscles clamped down hard on my cock. Suddenly, I barked out a shout as my dick unloaded. Through half-closed eyes, I saw Troy rolling his head back and forth. Gradually, I stopped pumping and Troy grew quiet. Cody rose off Troy's dick. He moved up to kiss me, pushing some of Troy's cum in my mouth. I loved the salty, strong taste, mixed with Cody's saliva. Then Cody leaned down to kiss Troy, sharing the latter's cum with him.

When they broke their kiss, Troy sat halfway up so that his big hand could grab the back of my neck. He pulled me down into a hot, demanding kiss. His tongue raped my mouth. His other hand caressed my back and ass, with his middle finger occasionally straying into my crack to run across my pucker. I nearly had another orgasm as I was absorbed in his caresses and smell.

When he broke the kiss, Troy exclaimed softly, "Thank you, Evan, friend, lover. I thought I had it all figured out about how wonderful it would be. I wasn't even close." He looked into my eyes. "That's because it was you, Evan. After all our ups and downs, I knew you really cared for me." Looking at me in wonderment, Troy half whispered, half spoke, "I felt your love Evan. I FELT it!"

Again he kissed me. Then I slowly withdrew from him. Cody's hand was resting on my neck. When I looked at him, I could tell he was eager to repeat the experience for Troy. As I moved out of the way, Cody moved in and unceremoniously speared Troy with his shorter, fat cock. Troy swooshed in some air. "Whoa, little brother. You mean for me to remember when I fucked you, I guess." Cody laughed.

"No, big brother. This is for love, all for love. I've loved you for so many years, but I didn't know how to do anything about it. Now I do. This is for you Troy." Cody started pumping. I could tell that he too would not be able to hold it long. Troy was just too hot. I started caressing Cody's ass while I leaned down and licked the head of Troy's cock.

Troy was grinning back at Cody, bucking into him, dimples flashing. "Come on, little bro, give me your love. Shoot your cum in me. I want part of you to become part of me. I've loved you too," he huffed out the words. "I think that's why I became homophobic; it kept me from acknowledging the feelings I had for you. Did you notice, though, that I couldn't keep my hands off your body? Man did I ever want something to happen. Then Evan here," he looked over at me, "and Susan made me move out from my cover."

They were racing for an explosion. Cody was whimpering. Troy was making little noises. All of a sudden a long wail escaped from Cody as he lunged into Troy, holding there. A sharp exhalation shot from Troy as his cock started to unload. I capped his dick, allowing the shots into my mouth. When they stopped movement, Cody flopped down on Troy right after I moved off Troy's dick. I moved over, sharing some of Troy's cum with him. He greedily used his tongue to pull some of the cum into his mouth. I broke away from the horny bandit, moving up to kiss Troy, who took his load from my mouth.

Troy placed a hand behind Cody's neck, pulling his head down beside Troy's cheek. I thought I should leave, allowing them this special moment. When I started to move away, Cody's left hand grabbed my right arm while Troy's grabbed my shoulder, holding me firmly in place. Then Troy pulled me down on top of him. He kissed Cody's cheek, then mine. "You're my men now. I'm yours. I'm thankful to have you studs in my life. What would make this perfect would be to have Susan here with us." Cody and I chuckled. "Jeremy and Kenny too," Troy muttered.

• * * On Thanksgiving Day, I sat alone in my sunroom, my refuge in the universe. I'd slept in. When I went to the kitchen for yogurt and juice for breakfast, I'd put out the can of soup I planned for lunch - Progresso lentil soup. Healthy. I had been musing about last evening's fantastic circumstances. Troy and Cody had left after our lovemaking, for they had family obligations the next day.

I had thought the glow from our lovemaking would carry over to Thursday. Surprise. I arose depressed. 'After that kind of an evening, how can I be down,' I thought. "Must be that stuff deep inside of you," that inner voice observed. 'Funny,' I thought, 'when one is feeling low down and dirty, none of the beautiful things make a difference. The palms, Norfolk pines, ferns in the sunroom - they couldn't make up for the emptiness, the sense of failure, the isolation. All that oxygen that they put out, all that life that they brought to the room - did it make any difference now? Feeling defeated, I had to say they made no difference. Big, unwelcome surprise. I still loved Tim. I had thought love was always a buckler against the bad stuff. But since Tim had dumped me, that love was a reproach to me, not a benefit.

I was missing Jeremy. Despite being tough with myself, I had started imagining what I thought we'd be doing at this point in the day - had he been at home.

'Susan was correct,' I mused. 'It's just like Tim all over again.' A new kind of ambush. Nobody beats you up or anything - they just surprise you and then leave you, leave you needy, leave you to deal with the emptiness, leave you to figure out a way to fill a void. Like any ambush, there's no warning, no way to prepare. You're just left standing in the wilderness all by yourself, feeling that you're not good enough. Why would any decent human want to leave such a legacy to another person? 'What a joke!' I laughed bitterly in my head. 'They ought to make a movie about it. It would be a classic. Not "The Big Sleep." "The Big Emptiness." Lots of people would consider it their life story.'

'Of course, the ones who leave you are going off to someone else better than you - without a word or even a backward glance. Tim went off to Alan. Jeremy's off to Kenny. Even were they to explain, they would say something empty and meaningless because in their minds, they would really be climbing into the arms of the person they chose.' The heat in my face told me I was blushing, always a sign that I knew I had failed, somehow would be alone again. I was weary of the struggle, of being alone, of gaining ground only to lose it.

"Evan, back off!" that interior voice warned. "That place is dangerous. You dare not go there. Notice that you're wallowing in self-pity. Not your finest hour!"

The voice was correct: these lines of thought led to extreme self-loathing. The past two months had seemed to carry me far away from there. I didn't want to go back. But the new ground was slipping away from me. Before the divorce, I learned with horror the feeling of using all your strengths and talents to try to hold your world together - utterly futile.

Once again, I heard a knocking on the door. 'Jeremy and Kenny?' I wondered. At least I'm not in my bathrobe this time. In fact, I was in a tee shirt, sweat pants, and heavy wool socks. I crutched to the front door, opening it. There Susan stood with a cardboard box in her arms. I opened the door. "Susan, hello! What's prompted this pleasant surprise?"

"I'm escaping family and little cousins who want me to play one too many board or video games," she smiled. "I told my mother I had a sick friend to whom I was going to take a Thanksgiving dinner. Make me honest: look ill, Evan." I aped a look of agony, drawing that wonderful laughter from her. "We have so much food this will never be missed."

Suddenly, an idea popped into my mind. "Tell me the truth?" She looked at me warily. "Please."

"Okay."

Did a tall turkey named Jeremy put you up to this?

More laughter. "I cannot tell a lie. He called me to tell me that you were having soup. We hatched a plot on the spot. Let's take this to the kitchen, for it's hot. Then we can eat."

"You're staying to eat with me?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yes. My house is mobbed with relatives. We have to eat in several rooms, there are so many of us. Greeks gather on holidays! I won't be missed. And my mother has already intuited, I'm certain, that I'm off on an errand of mercy."

We bustled about, chatting idly about the day, her relatives, Jeremy and Kenny and the likelihood that all was going well for them. I was dying to hear how it was working out, but I knew that they might not even move to serious discussions until after Thanksgiving Day. It probably depended more on Kenny's parents.

While we were eating, another idea popped into mind. "Tell me the truth?" She giggled. "Now what is it?"

"Did Troy tell you about last night?" She giggled again.

"Evan, Troy keeps nothing from me, and I keep nothing from him."

"You know?" I asked incredulously. "Cody and all?"

"Yes, Evan. Troy and I discussed it before he even talked to Cody about it. I know what he wanted and why he wanted it. I encouraged him to make it happen. So don't think that I'm unhappy about last night."

I looked into her dark eyes. "You have a caring heart," I stated, shaking my head in disbelief. "My mind keeps telling me you have to resent Troy's attentions to Cody and me."

She smiled, her cheeks flushing pink. "If Troy's making love to you two allows him to be a better, fuller man, then why would I resent that? I'm a beneficiary, you know. Actually I'm not that altruistic," she said as though shy, ducking her head a bit.

My head automatically cocked to the side - it heard something unexpected. "When Troy makes love to you or Cody, he tells me and then he makes love to me two times for each of you. As you know, Evan, when Troy loves one of his people, he loves us well! Poor man - he gets quite a workout."

My jaw dropped. "Get outta' here! Four times in a row?" I laughed. That wonderful, unfettered laughter bubbled up from inside her.

"Well, not all at once." With no design at all, we fell into each other's arms, one's laughter feeding upon the other's. Gradually, we quieted, hugging tightly and hard. "I think I have a friend for life," I whispered.

"And beyond. Forever," she murmured.

I moved back from our embrace to look at her. "Why would you be interested in a friendship with me? You've done a saint's load of good turns for me. I'm a little embarrassed that I haven't done that much for you," I confessed.

"Oh Evan, will you ever learn?"

"I'm a little tired of hearing that," I commented. "It's beginning to make me feel like the village idiot."

Smiling, she replied, "Let me count the ways you have helped me - the short list," she began. "Your interest in me as a student grew into your devotion to me as a friend. Your shepherding my abilities developed into coaching new talents from me. I think better, write more powerfully, and feel more broadly. Your open heart and rigorous intellect kept me intrigued, showed me possibilities for myself. Your caring for Troy produced the man I love. I might have loved him anyway, but you showed him how to become a man whom I also admire. And you accepted me as a friend, warts and all. How blessed I am to have such a wonderful friend, Evan," she exclaimed, joy filling her eyes.

"You stole my line!" I exclaimed. "I'm the one who's blessed. You own the heart of one of the best men ever to walk the face of the earth - Troy, of course - and then you take my line too. There is no justice! And what's this 'warts' stuff coming from one of the most beautiful women I know?" More bubbling laughter.

"Evan, as I've told you many times, you have Troy too. And several other men, if I read the signs right and the reports I receive from Troy are correct!" She smiled. I blushed. "I'm not a slut," I protested. "These situations keep occurring. I can't help it if Cody crawls into my bed when I'm asleep."

More bubbling laughter; she was taking considerable enjoyment at my protestations. "Evan, catch on: these men need you, need your wisdom, need your gentle ways, your love. They feel safe with you as they explore. Let's face it - they're attracted to you too. Troy's even spoken of it - your large stature in their minds and your short, compact little body, which they dwarf. He loves seeing you look up at him, Evan. It makes him feel larger, and it makes him feel protective toward little you."

"Hey!" I protested.

That intoxicating laughter arose again. When she had quieted, she continued, "Conversely, Troy's proud that you love him, that we love him, need his love, need his strength. And now he's happy that Cody, his little brother, has moved into the same sphere.

We sat in silence, studying each other, my hand resting lightly on her arm, hers on my leg.

"That's always been your problem, Evan. You refuse to consider what you have contributed to our lives, so you all too readily believe we will find it easy to walk away from you." She shook my leg a little. "Not everyone in your life is a Tim. You're making a mistake in seeing people in your life as a potential Tim. You don't mean to, but it diminishes them without justification. I can name any number of your students who value your presence in their lives. And who will try to maintain contact when we move on to college or whatever it is that we'll be doing after we graduate. To be frank, you will be the one who will probably make that difficult because you'll be thinking that we really can't mean it when we're making unusual efforts to keep connected."

"I don't think one allows himself to believe such things. He might overstep his bounds, take things for granted, impose on others."

"No Evan, you aren't the sort to do that. The PRICE you have to pay," and she emphasized the word as she smiled, "for caring for us and giving to us is our appreciation. Don't pay a greater price than necessary."

"Hey," I said. "Why are people throwing my words back in my face? IS there no justice?" Again, we both laughed.

I realized that her perception of my behavior, present and future, toward students staying in contact was astute.

"So why was it easy for Tim to walk away from me?"

"I don't think it was easy. In a sense, Tim stole away from you like a thief in the night. He would do that, Evan, only if your effect over him was more than he could control. It was far from a manly, mature way to handle an issue. When Troy and I first discussed it, he was proud of the fact that he came to you in the hospital to discuss the issues he had with you. He was able to contrast his behavior with Tim's. Coincidentally, it underlined for Troy what you and I have been telling him about being strong, being a leader. And I don't think Alan missed the point that Tim's chucking responsible behavior toward you means that Tim could do the same to him."

(To be continued.)

Much thanks to Scott Howard for his deft editing.