Come Christmas Steve

Come Christmas Steve

Chapter 42

Trust Me Shane, Trust Me

After we finished cleaning up the barn and put everything away, I headed straight up to my bedroom. I closed the door, kicked off my shoes, and flopped on my bed. Then, the tears flowed. I cried while I mourned my loss. I had honestly prepared myself in some ways, mostly while in the lockup in Caspar, for the possibility that I could lose Steve. However, I expected it to either be a result of a prison sentence or because of Todd. I never imagined a woman with a child. Life had a strange way of kicking me in the teeth. I just lay on my bed and wallowed in my despair all evening.

"Dear God," I spoke through my tears and into the pillow pressed over my head, "Why?"

I wasn't prepared for an answer. I didn't really want one. I just wanted to whine. If God tried to speak to me, I didn't perceive it. It seemed so unfair. Billy had Jaime; Whittaker had Shawna; Todd had no current interest in a relationship; and now Steve had Cheyenne. I had no one. I supposed I'd hang out on the ranch and stay involved with Dad's business for a few years. I certainly had no desire to put my heart through anything more for a long while.

Someone knocked on my door, tenuously. I pulled the pillow from my face and asked, "Who is it?"

"Me, Whittaker."

My first thought was to tell him to go away, but then I decided to let him in. He didn't deserve to be turned away. I knew I'd be trying to do what he was doing, if I were in his place. "Come in," I called.

He walked in and shut the door behind him. "Want a listening ear?" he asked.

"Sure. Thanks," I answered. I wasn't sure if I really did, but I felt like Whittaker would be a good listener and not try to fix me. I felt like I was entitled to a little sympathy.

"I'm proud of you," Whittaker said as he pulled the desk chair over to my bedside.

"Proud of me? Why do you say that?"

"For the courage you showed out in the barn. I never cease to be amazed by your courage and strength in the face of challenges," he answered.

"Oh. I see," I said. "What good would it do to be a public martyr? It would only ruin what should be a happy time for Steve, and I care too much for him to do that."

"I know. That's what makes me proud of you. I admire you very much."

"It hurts," I blubbered.

"I'm sure. I'm hurting for you," Whittaker told me.

"Thanks. You're a great friend," I told him. "It looks like things are going good with Shawna. I saw you and your mom talking with her on Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, I'm really happy for that. I'd been telling my parents how amazing she is and Mom really wanted to meet her. Mom liked her a lot. Shawna's interested in law, so Mom is going to set her up with a law firm in Bozeman where she can clerk part-time and start attending MSU. After three months, if they like her, and who wouldn't, the law firm will even help out with part of her tuition."

"That's great. Good for her. So are you heading back to MSU?" I asked.

"Nah," Whittaker said. "I got a business to run right here. I'm committed to getting this thing going for your dad. What about you? Are you going back to MSU?"

"No. I couldn't go back there. Too many reminders. I guess I'll just stay here and help on the business like I've been doing. At least for now. I really don't know. My only real plan just got flushed," I said.

"Yeah. Well, at least we're still together, right?" Whittaker said, encouragingly.

"True. I'm glad for that."

"I know it's really hard to think about now, but you'll get over Steve with some time, and you'll find someone wonderful to be with. You deserve someone really special. Keep your faith, dude," Whittaker said.

"Thanks, man. You're awesome. I really appreciate you coming to cheer me up."

Mom called up the stairs for everyone to come down to dinner. I followed Whittaker down the stairs. We still had both leaves in the table because Steve and Todd were with us and Whittaker was eating with us. He usually did join us for dinner but did breakfast and lunch in his own room. Mom started talking about how much she enjoyed the sermon at church and we all chimed in. Mom made a comment about Cheyenne being there and looking very nice.

"Yeah," Billy said. "Jaime and Shawna have been helping her with doing her hair and makeup. She never had anyone to teach her that stuff."

"That's so nice," Mom cooed.

"Speaking of Cheyenne," Billy said between bites. "Steve has some news to share."

"Oh," Mom said. "What news?" She was asking Steve.

"Steve swallowed and said, "Umm, well, I wasn't really going to say anything just yet. But, I guess everyone will know soon enough. I recently found out that I'm a father. Cheyenne's little boy is my son and I'm going to be in his life as a father," Steve said. He took the napkin from his lap and rubbed it across his mouth in a nervous gesture.

"Oh, MY!!" Mom exclaimed, "That's...," she paused and looked over at me. She realized mid-sentence the impact that such "wonderful" news would have on me.

"Wonderful!" I said emphatically to finish her sentence. "Steve is going to be a great father and I'll be an awesome godfather."

Mom brightened and then she beamed. "That means there's going to be a wedding?"

"Yeah. We'll get married," Steve said.

"Does Cheyenne need help with the planning? Is her mother available to help her?" Mom asked. I smiled, knowing full well that she was hoping to help plan the event.

"She doesn't have a mother," Steve explained. Her mother died from an overdose and she has no idea who her father is. She doubts her mother had any idea. We're just going to have Pastor Nichols marry us at the church. We don't have any family, so the only ones we'll invite are you guys. You're the closest thing to family I've got."

"Well, you're certainly going to have a celebration. A marriage is an important part of life and you need something special to remember and look back on. It may not be as important to you men, but for Cheyenne, it will matter. Leave it to me," Mom declared.

"That's kind of you to offer, but Cheyenne won't want to put you out and we really aren't into fancy things. We weren't raised with that kind of thing. A small ceremony in the church is fine," Steve countered.

"Let me talk to Cheyenne. When do you want to do this?" Mom pressed.

"Probably the Thursday before Christmas," Steve replied. "Cheyenne has to work in the hospital kitchen from Christmas through New Year's Day since she's kind of the new person there. In exchange, she's getting the weekend and two days before that off. If we do it on Thursday, we'll have until Christmas Day on Monday before she has to get back to work. I'm trying to get on at the hospital too, so if that happens, it might change that idea. We haven't made any definite plans. Please don't say anything to anyone else yet. I still need to tell her that I'm for sure willing to marry her. I don't want her to hear it from someone else before I can tell her."

"I see. Okay, here is what we will do," Mom said. "I will drive you over to her place after dinner tonight. If you're planning something that soon, I'll need to get started right away. You tell her the good news, and then I'll talk to her about the wedding."

"Ahem," Dad cleared his throat and gently put his hand on Mom's arm. "Dear, you're wonderful and thoughtful, but you're overstepping here. I'll drive Steve over to Cheyenne's place tonight if he wants me to, because he should let her know as soon as possible about his decision. However, we need to let Steve and Cheyenne make their own decision about their wedding. Steve now knows our willingness to help, and if they want our help, we are anxious to give it."

Dad rarely overruled Mom, but when he did, she almost never pushed back. It was something on which I'd picked up early in my life. If I really wanted something, I'd start with Dad before asking Mom. If Dad said "yes," Mom seldom talked him out of it, but if Mom had already said no, I rarely won out with Dad.

So it was that, after dinner, Dad drove Steve over to Cheyenne's. Dad hung out in the truck until Steve proposed on one knee just the way my mom instructed him to do. Once Steve and Cheyenne finished their discussion about the wedding, they invited Dad in to speak with them. In the end, Cheyenne was willing to let Mom help put on a small event following the wedding ceremony. It was to be limited to our family and what few friends she'd made at the hospital and at church. It was mostly our family, so they decided if Mom really wanted to do something, they would graciously accept, as long as it was kept simple.

Mom was elated at the news when we returned home, and the planning began immediately.

Dad, being the practical thinker, told Steve to arrange for driver's education classes so he could get a driver's license, and to call Pastor Nichols to find out about the job at the hospital, which he supposedly knew about. Steve did both right away and also told Pastor Nichols of his decision to marry. The Pastor was pleased. Shortly after they hung up, I got a call on my cell phone.

"Hello," I said. "What's up, Pastor?"

"I just heard from Steve. He told me his decision to marry Cheyenne," he said.

"Yeah, so?" I asked.

"I was just concerned about you. I'm sure this news has to have come as a significant disappointment for you," he said. "How are you doing?"

"Yeah. I'm not thrilled over it, but I am happy for Steve. I mean, who knows if it would have worked out with us anyway. Now, I know where I stand, and we didn't have to waste a whole year trying to figure it out. I'll just have to get over it. I'm pretty sad at losing him, but I'm glad he's making the right decision for little Steven. I hope he is, anyway. I hope he can make it with Cheyenne. I guess I never really knew if he was truly gay or bisexual or maybe just confused from his screwed-up childhood. If he isn't truly gay, it wouldn't have worked for us in the long run anyway." I choked out the last sentence.

Pastor Nichols paused before responding. "No. I don't suppose it would have. If you need to talk to someone, I'm here for you, Shane. You know that, I hope."

"I do. You're a good man, Pastor, a really good man. Thanks. I'll be okay. Someday, I'll find some happiness eventually. I have to keep believing that. It just seems so unfair that I always end up being the one to lose. At least I've had lots of practice sitting the bench and watching everyone else play. When will it ever be my turn to win one?"

"I don't know, Shane. I wish I could tell you, but I know God loves you. You won the legal battle!"

"Yeah, I did. Well, Adam did, but I am thankful for that. I have to remember how God helped me get through that. I hope He'll get me through this, too. Thanks for calling, Pastor. I do appreciate it," I said.

"Okay. Remember, anytime you need to chat, call me."

"I will. I promise. Bye."

I hung up and I felt a little better. I went downstairs and sat with the family for a while but most of the talk was about Steve and Cheyenne's big announcement and upcoming wedding and I could only take so much of it. I excused myself for bed.

After getting ready for bed, I pulled out the new hairbrush I'd purchased. I picked up the bottle of lotion, but set it back down. I remembered that I had an unopened bottle of lube in my coat pocket. I headed for my room, locked the door, and got undressed. I turned on some soft music, crawled under my covers, and lubed up the handle. I stroked my finger over the bristles and spoke to it, "Just you and me again, my bushy haired love. You've always been there for me whenever the need arises, and the best part is, there's no drama with you. You don't care a bit when I use you and then set you aside."

With that, I positioned Mr. Brush at my hole and slid him into position. I took hold of my erection and stroked myself while sliding the handle in and out with a slow rhythmic pattern. I tried to conjure up a fantasy to heighten the experience. I tried Steve at first, but that made me sick to my stomach. Next, I tried Whittaker, but the brush was simply inadequate to make it even a little bit realistic, not to mention the Shawna aspect. I tried my cousin, Nicolas, but that failed, too. Billy was out of the question. There really wasn't anyone else I could think of until I hit upon the idea of Todd. I'd seen him naked, and the brush certainly worked for his size. He was a safe fantasy, if not very likely, considering how I'd hated him in the past and feared his relationship with Steve.

I closed my eyes and let myself slip into the fantasy. I moaned ever so softly as my imaginary partner, Todd, fucked me nice and slow while I stroked my straining cock. My balls were full and needed draining. I let the urgency build and subside for at least ten minutes before allowing the crescendo. When it arrived, I gasped in ragged breaths, "Uh, uh, uh, yes. Fuck me, Todd. Fuck me like you fucked my lover, Steve."

"Cum, Shaney, Cum!" I gasped as the expulsion of the hot semen spread across my chest and dribbled into my silky pubes. I licked my hand clean and lay there in the post orgasmic buzz until my ass expelled Mr. Brush. After a few more minutes, I cleaned myself up, wiped the handle clean, stashed Mr. Brush in my top drawer, and climbed back into bed.

I lay there feeling desperately lonely and sad - a sadness so deep, I could see no light from the bottom of the crevasse. "God," I pleaded. "Why?"

"Trust me," He said. It was as a whisper.

"I don't know if I can keep on trusting, God. How long do I have to do this?"

"For the woods are dark and deep," came the Frost poem forcefully to my mind. "And I've miles to go, before I sleep."

Then, I slept.

When I woke up to the rooster's crowing, I lay there in bed while my dream slipped away. I couldn't remember the dream exactly, but whatever it had been, it was better than my reality. I rubbed my hand over my bare chest and down to my naval. I tugged at the small dark hairs from my naval to my pubic bush and then took hold of my genitals and fondled myself for a while. The smell of bacon and maple syrup pulled me from the warmth of my heavy quilt, and I hurried into the bathroom and took a hot shower. Breakfast tasted good and afterwards, it was nice to get involved in the work of Dad's business again. After the holiday, things were a little backed up. Staying busy kept my mind off of Steve and Cheyenne.

Around noon, I gave Steve a ride into town so he could interview for a job in the billings department at the hospital. The interviewer was a member of our congregation and had agreed, on Pastor Nichols's recommendation, to speak with Steve. Steve looked sharp. He was dressed in a white shirt and a tie that he'd borrowed from me. After the interview, I was taking him to a driving school to sign up for that. Dad had given him a company check to pay for it with.

"You look nervous," I said as we pulled onto the highway.

"That's because I am nervous," he answered. "Is my tie straight?" he asked.

"Hmm, no." I reached over and slipped the knot into the center of his collar.

"Thanks."

"Welcome," I said. There was an awkward silence after that brief exchange.

"Are you mad?" Steve finally asked.

"Mad?" I responded.

"You know. About the Cheyenne thing?"

"I know what you were talking about. I just don't get what you mean by asking if I'm mad."

"Well, you know. Mad that I chose her over you?" he said.

"No," I answered honestly. "You didn't choose her over me. You chose your son over me. If you would have chosen Cheyenne instead of me with no child involved, then I would have definitely been mad. You chose your son, and Cheyenne just comes with the package, right?" I inquired.

"Yes. Definitely yes," he immediately confirmed.

"Then, no. I'm not mad. Sad. I'm really, really sad, but it's a pitiful sadness because it's sadness for myself and self-pity is like the lamest emotion ever. I just need some time to shake it. Give me some time, okay?"

"Sure. Of course. I'm glad you're not angry at me. I couldn't stand it if you were."

We drove in silence for a long time, but it was less awkward.

"I'm mad," he said.

"At me?" I asked incredulous, turning to stare at him with my mouth agape.

"NO! Oh man, no," Steve said emphatically. "At myself. I can't believe I was so stupid to do it with Cheyenne without protection. Hell, I'm mad I did it at all. It's crazy how some rash decisions can come back to haunt a person. I was smarter than that."

"Are you gay?" I asked. "Can you make a life work with Cheyenne?"

"I have wracked my soul over that one, believe me," Steve answered.

"Well, what have you come up with?" I asked. I really wanted to know.

"I never bothered putting a label on myself. Girls were rare creatures in my world. I started being forced into sex with other guys at a pretty young age at the boys home. Then, I was forced to perform sex for the camera. Sometimes, I had sex for recreation, but, I never ever made love. With Cheyenne, it was the closest thing I'd ever done to making love. It was different with her, and by being different, it was exciting. She held me after we did it and just caressed me. That had never happened to me before. I was doing it mostly out of curiosity, but the gentle nature of it was pleasurable, and I sought more of it because of that. There was an emotional element in it for me."

"Hmm. Was sex with me recreational?" I asked.

He looked at me with a forlorn pause. "No. Shane. On our first night, I was offering myself up as a sort of surrogate to let you experience gay sex and accept your sexual orientation -- kind of like what I offered to your brother, Billy, that one time. Although that's how I entered into our first experience, I didn't end it that way. As I was lying there in bed with you, under the heavy quilt, the fire dying down in the stove, I felt emotions I'd never experienced before. The power of the feeling dwarfed what I'd felt with Cheyenne. What we did together was truly making love. It was magical. That's what scares me about what I'm doing now."

"Scares you?" I asked.

"Yes. I'm scared that I'll compare the sex that Cheyenne and I will ultimately engage in to what I experienced with you, and I'm afraid it won't measure up."

"I hope that's not true. I wouldn't want you to go through life like that. But if it is, don't you dare ever tell her that."

"Oh. I wouldn't. I couldn't be that mean. I worry she'll sense it, though. I'm not much of an actor," Steve said.

"No, you're not," I agreed. "In fact, you really suck at faking it." After a pause, I offered up what was in my heart and what I'd been thinking about ever since I'd found out about Steve and Cheyenne. "I'm glad that what we had was special for you. It was very special for me, too. But it's not something we can ever have again. We both have to accept reality and be satisfied with whatever we do have. I hope that we can both have the good sense to not wallow in self-pity over it. I will love you forever, Steve. I can't do anything about that, but I am determined to not let you, or your memory, ruin whatever future relationships I may end up in."

"Good advice. I'll love you forever, too. I'm so sorry for putting you through all of this."

"Forgiven," I said. "Now forgive yourself and shut up about it." I reached over and playfully slugged him in the arm.

Steve smiled back at me. "That's why I love you," Steve said.

I parked the truck and waited in the hospital cafeteria while he had his interview. I thought maybe if Cheyenne were working, I could...maybe...I could do something. I'm not sure what I thought I could do: not chat with her, and definitely not hate on her. I honestly didn't know why I wanted to go in there. Underneath it all, I was trying to work on liking her, but I kept thinking of her as the bitch who seduced my Steve when he was young and vulnerable. She'd cheated to steal him. How could I compete with giving him a son? I couldn't. I was relieved when I didn't see her in the cafeteria.

I bought a hot chocolate from the machine and sat at a table to sip it. I watched the family members of patients mulling around and sitting anxiously for a quick bite to eat before returning to their bedside vigils. These were people with heavier hearts than mine. I put off my own pity for a time as I witnessed them. An older man sat alone at a small round table clutching a cup of coffee. The coffee appeared untouched. The look on his face told a sad story.

I walked over to his table and stood over him. He didn't acknowledge my presence. I thought about walking away, but I couldn't. I sat down. He glanced up at me. His aged eyes were glossy. I reached out and pressed my hands against his. The tears grew too heavy to contain and dripped from the corners of his eyes. "What is your burden?" I asked.

"I lost her," he said. "She's gone."

I wept with him. After an appropriate time, I asked, "How long were you two together?"

"Fifty-two years," he croaked. Then he added quickly, "Wonderful years. Every one of them."

"Tell me about her," I begged.

He looked at me and let the corner of his mouth curl upward. "She was." He corrected himself, "She is brilliant. She's lighting up the heavens right now. She lights up a room just by walking into it. She is so kind and thoughtful. Do you know what she said to me just before she slipped away?"

"Please tell me." I asked.

"She said, 'Will it be okay for me to go now? Are you ready to let me go? I'll hold on if you need me to.'" He took a moment before he could go on. "Always concerned for me over herself. She was as selfless a person as there ever was."

He went on to tell me how they'd met at a roadside diner where she was waiting tables. He shared their struggles as young marrieds and of all the things they'd done together through the years. He shared how they had struggled to have children and ended up adopting a son who had given them three grandchildren. His son was on his way from Minneapolis to be with him. I hadn't even noticed that Steve had pulled a chair up beside me until the old man commented that I probably needed to leave.

"Thank you for sharing all of that with me," I said as I stood up.

"Thank you for letting me share it," he replied. "I feel so much better now. God bless you, son," he said.

"I hope I can find someone to love like that someday," I told him.

"From your lips to God's ears," he said.

"Sir," Steve began. "Did you love your wife from the moment you met?"

"No. I thought so, but it wasn't love at first. Oh sure, we thought it was, but it wasn't. Love is a journey, not an event. When tough times come, and they will, you either blame each other and allow the anger destroy what you have, or you link arms and fight the battles together. The struggles bond you together and make you stronger."

"Good-bye, sir. I'm Shane, by the way," I said. "This is Steve."

"I'm Arnold," he told us. "Thanks again for your kindness. I wouldn't be surprised if Myra didn't send you over to me."

"Neither would I," I told him.

As we left and headed over to the driving school, I told Steve, "That was incredible! What a life that man shared with his wife. I don't feel sad anymore. I want you to make that kind of life with Cheyenne and with little Steven. I want that for you, because I love you. I'll find someone to have that kind of life with also. I don't know when or how, but I will keep looking until I find someone to take a journey like that with."

"That's awesome. I was inspired as well. What prompted you to go talk with him?" Steve asked.

"He just looked as if he needed someone to talk to," I answered.

Steve smiled at me. "I love you, Shane. Even if we won't make the journey together, I will always be a better person for the way you've influenced me."

The next weeks were busy as we prepared for Christmas and with the wedding plans. Mom was in her glory as she helped choose colors, food, music and flowers. They secured the use of a community clubhouse at a private mountain community for the ceremony and after-party. The floor-to-ceiling windows in the clubhouse allowed a view of a small meadow and mountain pond. It wasn't too high in elevation and the roads were ploughed so it was easily accessible.

Steve landed the hospital job, but they graciously delayed his starting date until after the New Year. He'd taken and passed his driver's test and was like a kid with a new toy, when he drove us to church the following Sunday. He was beaming, as he parked the truck and asked how he'd done.

"Like a pro," we all praised. He beamed.

Whittaker and I worked hard on the business. We took advantage of the winter months to pitch the product, since the farmers were available to make such decisions in advance of the next planting season. A week before the wedding, Whittaker and I were able to arrange presentations to three large farms near Columbus. The two of us flew out and Dad stayed behind at the ranch to handle the phones and to meet with several Montana farmers. It was good for me to get away, especially going with Whittaker. We'd spent a ton of time working together on the business ever since Thanksgiving. We'd laughed and joked and strategized together. We made a good team. Things Whittaker was good at, I lacked in, but I was able to fill in gaps where he was weaker. He was definitely the top dog when it came to business, but he sought and valued my opinion on things. I liked that.

After we stowed our carry-on bags and settled into our seats, I said, "I hear Shawna is coming home for the big wedding event. Are you excited to see her?"

"I am," he confirmed. "I've missed her."

"I bet you have," I said. "You probably burn up your cell minutes with her at night in your room."

"No," he said chuckling.

"Oh yeah. Todd's sharing your room still. I forgot. That would be awkward." He looked at me and shook his head as if I were crazy.

"It seems like Steve and Cheyenne are getting excited for the wedding," Whittaker commented.

"Yeah. They are. It's all going to turn out really amazing, I think."

"You still doing okay with it?" Whittaker asked.

"Yeah. I'll always have loving feelings for Steve, but I'm past the pity party thing. I'll find someone."

"Good," Whittaker said. It seemed like he was about to say something else but instead, plugged his earbuds into his ears. I did the same and searched my library for my "Frostiania" playlist. A guy named Randall Thompson composed seven songs for mixed chorus and piano from Robert Frost poems back in 1959. They were wonderful. I especially liked the one based on Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening. As I listened, I looked over at Whittaker. I thought how wonderful it would be to find someone like him someday with whom I could take the journey. He had all the wonderful qualities, except for the big one - not gay.

The meetings went well and we felt fairly confident that we would get large orders from at least two of the three farms. In celebration, we found a great steakhouse near our hotel and had a nice dinner together. We reminisced over our incredible journey during the past year. We both spoke of our losses - Calvin for Whittaker, and Steve for me. Different kind of losses to be sure, but losses still the same.

"Does Shawna know about you and Calvin's relationship?" I blatantly pried.

Shane set his glass down and looked at me blankly. "No. I never spoke about Calvin to her. Why would I do that?"

"You plan on keeping that side of you a secret from her?" I asked.

"Of course," he said.

"What if she finds out someday? Aren't you afraid how she'll react badly?"

"What would she do? It's not that big of a deal," Whittaker said. "It's just not something you go around telling people."

"She's not just people. She's your girlfriend. Or is she already more like a fiancee?" I teased.

"She's a friend, dude. I don't have any romantic interest in Shawna. She's just a nice person, and I like her a lot. That's all. Did you assume we were...," Whittaker formed a circle with his thumb and finger and poked his pointer finger from the other hand in and out of it.

"Well. Yeah. Aren't you?"

He laughed so hard people at other tables turned to stare. When he got control of himself and wiped the tears of humor from his eyes, he said, "Hell no! I have no romantic interest in Shawna at all. The only thing she stimulates in me is my mind."

I stared in disbelief. "Oh. I assumed...."

"You sure did," Whittaker laughed some more. "Bad assumption, dude." He shook his head.

Out of embarrassment, I strategically moved the conversation back to the meetings we'd had earlier that day. After both of us passing on dessert, we found our way back to the hotel room. I showered first and got ready for bed, while Whittaker put in some laptop time answering emails. I was in a t-shirt, clean boxers and Nike jogging pants. "Which side do you want?" I asked, pointing at the solitary king- size bed.

Whittaker whirled in the desk chair and shrugged. "Either."

"You gonna stay up a while?" I asked.

"No. I'm shutting it down."

I surfed on my phone while Whittaker was in the bathroom. I left the bedside lamp on. When Whittaker came from the bathroom, I was a little surprised to see that he was stark naked. His long penis and balls swung heavily as he made his way to the bed. I don't know why I was surprised. He had never been shy about showing off. I turned off the lamp and settled in.

"It's nice to have a bed I can stretch out in," Whittaker said.

"I bet it is," I said with a chuckle. "I don't have that problem."

"I enjoyed today," Whittaker said.

"Me too," I agreed. "Especially dinner. It was nice to just share all those memories, even the ugly ones. You're the only one I can really talk with about those things."

"I know," Whittaker said. He rolled toward me and reached over with his long arm. I felt his big left hand caress my bicep. It felt nice to be touched. He inched closer and soon his hand was gently sweeping across my chest and lingering on my erect nipples. I lifted my shirt up so he could caress my bare skin. I inched closer to him. He took the act as permission and crept up against me. His naked hardness pressed against my hip. I swallowed nervously. I wondered if I was ready for what he seemed to have in mind.

"Do you want to?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. Yes and no," I whispered. "Do you?"

"Only if you're sure you want it," he answered honestly. It was still so recent since my loss of Steve, but having learned that he and Shawna were not really a couple, encouraged me.

"Is it just for fun?" I asked.

"It's for whatever you want it to be," he wisely responded.

"Okay. Sure." I pulled my shirt off and he dragged my sweats and boxers down and off my feet. He slid back up and we kissed. It was tenuous at first, testing our willingness and probing our emotions. His strong hand found its way behind my neck and he wiggled his tongue into my mouth. I sipped on it, savoring the effect of being probed. My hardness was pressing into his abs. His large dick was splitting my balls, and his ample balls pressed into my thighs. I took his head in my hands and reversed the roles. I invaded his soft warm mouth with my tongue by erotically stabbing in and out as our lips writhed in powerful lust.

He broke the embrace and found his way to my rock hard nipples. He bit and licked them while he ground his stiff dick against my knees. He traveled further south and took my throbbing penis into his mouth and pleasured me in slow rhythmic motions. I faded into a dream world, which very nearly felt like an out-of-body experience. I threaded my fingers through his thick orange locks and directed the speed and depth of his efforts on my ecstatic cock. When I feared I couldn't hold off any longer, I begged him to fuck me.

Excitedly, he pulled off my cock and rolled to his side of the bed. It was pretty apparent that was what he'd been hoping for. He retrieved a bottle of lotion and hurriedly applied a liberal amount to his massive pole. I panted in anticipation of having his long, thick erection buried inside me once again. I pulled a pillow under my hips to give him better access to my anxious hole. He quickly returned and positioned himself between my legs, trembling slightly in anticipation of what he was about to do. Watching his excitement over fucking me, really turned me on. I moaned at the initial touch of his large, purple tip against my pucker spot. I relaxed for him, and he slid his pleasure monster into my body. It was magnificent. It was perfect. It slid past the magic spot and on up into the depths of my bowels. It drove in further and deeper, bit by bit until at last, his balls pressed into my ass cheeks and his thick orange pubes tickled my sac.

I raised my feet and wrapped myself around his lower back. I pulled him down onto me, and we kissed for five minutes or more with Whittaker deeply penetrated into me. He held himself perfectly still within me while I clutched at the base of his shaft with my expanded ring. "Now," I whispered. "Do it now."

He lifted himself up on his elbows and with a look of delighted intent, began to fuck me. He fucked me with tremendous, ravenous fury. With each frenzied thrust, I cried out in ecstatic pleasure. After much too brief an encounter, he shoved himself deeply into me and groaned in extreme pleasure. I exploded with a load of my own cum, the likes of which, I'd seldom produced. "Cum, Shaney, Cum!" I cried out.

The explosion of neurochemicals took me to that wonderful, mind-numbing high with each surge of white hot semen. Euphoria was unleashed and ran rampant across my brain. My anus clutched and twitched at the massive piece of manhood pressed deeply within me. I felt utterly satisfied.

When it was over, Whittaker slid out of me and tucked his still semi-hard piece of meat between my thighs. I pressed my thighs around it as he lay on top of me, adhering my sticky cum between us. We kissed playfully in the aftermath of two terrific orgasms. "Definitely one for the memory book," Whittaker whispered against my lips.

"Oh yeah," I cooed back. "Definitely." He rolled to the side but we stayed glued to each other. He put his leg up over mine and caressed the back of my calves with his foot while we rubbed each other's backs, still kissing and enjoying the afterglow of a memorable orgasm. We drifted asleep, still entwined.

The following morning, I woke to find myself alone in a sprawling, king sized bed. Alone. I sat up and peeled the covers off of me. That's when I saw Whittaker sitting at the desk, working on his laptop. "I took the liberty of ordering for you," he said. "Room service will arrive any minute. Better shower up."

"Nice," I said. I followed his suggestion and headed to the shower. He was already showered and dressed. "What time is it?" I asked. I was still a bit foggy.

"Eight fifteen-ish," he replied.

"So we still have time. Flight's when?"

"Not until 11:42. I just downloaded the boarding passes. I did yours on your phone as well as mine. I hope you don't mind."

"Nah. Nothing on there to hide," I said. "No one ever calls or texts me - practically no one, anyway."

"Sad," Whittaker said.

A moment later my phone beeped. I retrieved it and navigated to the message. It was from Whittaker. It made me smile. "Did you sleep well?" it said with a smiley face.

I looked over and he was grinning at me. "Sure did," I texted back.

"Awesome. Me too."

"Nice."

"You okay with what we did last night?" he texted.

"More than okay. Are you okay?"

"Way okay!!!" Another smiley face.

There was a rap on the door and a voice called out, "Room service."

"Get that, would you?" Whittaker asked.

"Funny, dude. I'm naked."

"Yeah, so?" Whittaker said. "I thought you were into doing that in hotel hallways."

"Not funny. I'm gonna shower quick. You take care of the room service. Don't forget to tip," I said, rushing into the bathroom.

"After we eat, you can tip me," Whittaker quipped.

Breakfast was nice. We ate in bed while we watched CNN. Whittaker got naked again and I stayed naked after my shower. When we were finished, we set our plates aside. "Time for my tip," Whittaker said. He crawled back in bed and drizzled leftover syrup on his dick and said playfully, "Do you mind cleaning that up for me?"

"I'm on it," I said. I slipped down and took his stiffening dick in my mouth. I savored the feel of his large sausage, covered in the sweet syrup. I made an effort to deep throat him, but I could only take a portion before I had to pull back off.

"Mmmm, Nice," Whittaker cooed each time I made the effort. Whittaker rubbed his feet up and down my calves and the backs of my thighs while I sucked him off. I was boned and pressing my erection hard into the mattress. Whittaker ran his fingers over my jailhouse haircut, which was starting to grow out and was in that difficult stage of being too short to style and too long to ignore.

I slipped off his tasty sausage and gorged myself on his meaty balls, swirling my tongue over the soft, silky mass and gently nibbling at them with my teeth. After a lengthy time sampling those delicious orbs, Whittaker directed me back onto his dick. "Just play with the tip, using your tongue," he requested. "I like how you do that."

I obeyed his request and focused my attention on the tightly drawn, purple head. Soon, he was squirming beneath me from the involuntary movements that signal his pending eruption. "Can I cum in your mouth?" he urgently asked.

I responded with a positive nod and an "mmm-hmm," without releasing my hold on his sweltering knob.

Whittaker stopped squirming and stiffened his body while his tip expanded even more tightly than it already had, which seemed impossible. A rush of slightly acrid cum spilled into my mouth. I swallowed it as quickly as I could, preparing for the following waves. He moaned in delight with each spasm and then relaxed, oozing his remnants over my tongue. This last bit of his cum, I didn't swallow. I took his dick between my thumb and fingers and milked the last of his offering into my mouth. Then, I pulled off and swilled it over my tongue, tasting his unique flavor. It was intoxicating.

Whittaker pulled me up and into a kiss. I shared his cum with him as we let our tongues dance in between our mouths. "That was amazing," Whittaker said. "What can I do for you now?"

"Nothing. I enjoyed what we just did. Besides, we need to get ready and head for the airport. We have to drop off the rental car."

"Thanks for that," he said sincerely.

"You're welcome," I said, tapping my finger to his nose. I gave him a last peck on the lips and started to get up.

He gripped me and pulled me back down on him, nose to nose. Looking into my eyes, he said, "This may be too soon to be telling you this." He paused, possibly rethinking the whole idea of what he was going to say. "But, I love you, Shane."

"I love you too, man. You're the best friend I've ever had."

"NO!" he exclaimed firmly. "I don't mean it like that. I mean, I LOVE you. I have been in love with you for a long time. I know you don't feel the same way about me, but do you think you ever could?"

I was stunned. I was speechless. I lay there naked with this unbelievable guy, nose to nose, the taste of his cum still lingering on my breath and tried to process what he'd just confessed to me. "I don't know how to answer. I've never thought of you as more than a friend. I've been so wrapped up in Steve and it's...."

"Too soon," Whittaker answered. "I know. I know. I shouldn't have said anything so soon. God, Shane, I'm sorry. I just...I'm just an impatient guy. When I see something I want, I have a hard time waiting on it. I get it, if you don't feel the same way. I know the whole Steve thing is still too fresh." He turned his head. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry about all of this. I shouldn't have enticed you to have sex so...."

"Shut it!" I said, putting two fingers against his lips. "Seriously, hush. I loved doing it with you, Whittaker. I'm glad we had sex together. I wanted it as much as you did. My feelings for you are just different and kind of confused. I was just caught really off guard here. I think you are an amazing person and I admire you in so many ways. I really believe I could love you romantically, the way you want me to. I have to admit that I was jealous of Shawna, even though I didn't have a good reason to be. I wouldn't have felt like that, if I didn't have some kind of special feelings for you. I've just spent so much time thinking about you as a friend, an awesome friend, but still a friend. I need to process it all."

He turned back towards me and we touched noses again. "So, what you're saying is, there's a chance?" "There's definitely a chance," I confirmed. I kissed him. "But I thought you were straight. I thought you were into girls? That part confuses me."

"I told you. I made all that stuff up about my high school exploits. Have you forgotten about Calvin? That wasn't exactly a straight relationship."

"No, it certainly wasn't," I agreed, smiling. "Let's say I like the idea of us as dating each other, and let's give it some time to see what develops."

"Sounds good," Whittaker said, smiling back. We kissed and then he said, "Now get off me, you horny shit. You're gonna make us late for our plane. I laughed and sprang off of him. We did have to rush a bit, but we made it. On the way home, each time we made eye contact, we broke into grins. I was already warming up to the idea of him and me being together. I didn't want to make the mistake, however, of doing something on a rebound.

###

One more chapter to go. What will Shane do with this new information from Whittaker?

Happy Holidays! Hans

h.schreiber@hushmail.com