The disclaimers that have applied for this entire trilogy still apply. Be save. Give to the Nifty Archive.
Welcome back to the penultimate chapter of the Mayfield Trilogy. You will be seeing a few more of the boys for the last time, preparing to move into the final chapter.
Comments to Douglas at thehakaanen@hotmail.com
CHAPTER 63 THE BOYS OF MAYFIELD
<Friday, June 14, Mayfield>
[SCOTT]
I've spent time in, or at least on, two beds since graduation. The first bed was Eric's. And it's not what you think—it wasn't all about sex. We were sitting on it, fully dressed, our backs against the wall; just two friends hanging out. We did sit a little closer to each other, touching more than what two other friends our age probably would. He thanked me from his heart for letting him start the state championship game.
"That was something only a very special friend would do," he told me. "I haven't been real good about telling you how much that meant to me."
"You have always been a special friend to me, even if us being boyfriends didn't work out."
"It's not your fault you're sexually flawed." He gave me that look I loved so much when we were little kids experimenting with sex on this very bed. "I still love you, you know." Yep, that look was one of love.
"I still love you, too." It was true. I didn't have the sexual urges I had for him back in middle school, but I loved Eric as a friend. We've been neighbors since sixth grade and saw a lot of each other through those years. Even without sex, it was a close friendship.
"Can I get one last kiss in?" he asked me quietly.
There was no way I could turn him down. It was weird deep kissing a guy, but Eric still kisses as good as anybody. He also gives a blow job like nobody else. I discovered I could still give one out, too. So, yeah, I said sitting on his bed wasn't all about sex, but I didn't say there was no sex at all. It was the first time since middle school, and the last time ever, and I wouldn't have traded it for sex with anybody else.
Not even with Tama, whose bed I was in today—with her, of course. Eric and I didn't fuck. Tama and I did, three times since I showed up this morning. It was our first time since the session we had with Danny and Mary Alice a couple of nights before graduation. That included some alcohol, and was pretty wild and pretty fun.
We weren't going to the same college. I was hanging around here at Centralia JC for now, while Tama would be almost an hour's drive away at Evergreen State College. We didn't even know if we'd keep going out together once college started. But we were boyfriend and girlfriend right now. She had gotten really good in bed, and I had a great time. I liked Tama a lot.
What's weird for me as a straight dude, is if somebody made me choose sex between Tama and Eric, I'd choose Eric. I think it was that way back in middle school when Tama worked to split us up. In my heart it was Eric over Tama. My sexuality might have changed since then, but my heart hasn't.
[MARTY]
I enjoyed starting the day with a nice hot shower. I finished my morning ritual, stepped out of the shower, dried myself, and took care of shaving. Rich has a much lighter beard than me and only needed to shave two or three times a week. I had to shave daily. He loved to shave in the shower. I didn't, because I always seemed to be looking into a fog. Leaving the bathroom door open while I showered kept the mirror clear. All I had to do was fill the sink with hot water and I was ready to take care of the business of shaving.
There were two sleeping bodies in my bedroom. Rich was sleeping in the bed and Jeffrey was in a sleeping bag on the floor. Last night was a night the Hurricane wanted to watch Rich and me have sex. What he wants to do on the nights he sleeps with us varies, depending on his moods. Jeffrey has always been his own boy when it comes to sex, and his nights with Rich and me are no exception.
Some nights he comes into the bed with us, sucking, kissing, licking, grabbing, and groping, a wild thirteen year old ready to cum multiple times. Other times he is on the bed with us, helping Rich and me to cum while letting us get him off. Then there are the nights like last night, when he wants to sit on the floor and watch Rich and me fuck while he casually jerks himself off.
Yes, you read that previous paragraph right. Jeffrey turned thirteen on Tuesday. Of course, we had the usual family outing at Parker's Steakhouse, making sure to have Peter as our waiter. Jeffrey flirted openly with the gay waiter, much to the amusement of all of us except Mrs. B. Our group consisted of the birthday boy, Mr. and Mrs. B, Sammy, Nicky, Rich, and me.
When we were leaving, Peter pulled me aside. "If that boy was turning sixteen instead of thirteen, I'd take him home to bed with me tonight. He did everything but grab my dick, and he came real close to doing that."
"Admit it, Peter," I said. "You want to take him home tonight as a thirteen year old."
He laughed and admitted I was right. "Hell, I'd take both of you home tonight. You've certainly spent a lot of years hinting at it. I take it you two still..."
"He'll be well taken care of tonight," I said, not wanting to admit outright I would be bedding the birthday boy, even though I knew that Peter knew exactly what went on between us.
"Well, for thirteen he is one sexy boy. I'm sure he knows his way around a bedroom."
"He doesn't need any lessons," I said, laughing.
And he was well taken care of that night. One of his birthday wishes was to have exclusive time in bed with me. We don't have anal sex very often. I'm a bit big for him, but he can handle me with a lot of prepping. However, when we do it, neither one of us holds back; his birthday night was one of those nights.
Last night, however, was one of his calm nights. I guess even hyper thirteen year olds needs to recharge their batteries at times.
It was about a quarter after nine. It was time for me to wake up the sleeping beauties. Rich and I had a busy day planned.
"Shit," Jeffrey moaned as I shook him awake. "It's not even dawn yet."
"Watch the language, J.J."
"Double shit," he said, with a teasing hint of teen rebellion. "I'm going to my bedroom to get some real sleep." He crawled out of his sleeping bag, sporting morning wood. He was getting that long- legged, coltish look that is so appealing in young adolescents. He still had a slender build, which didn't translate in his beautiful bubble butt.
The commotion woke up Rich who pulled back the covers on the bed. Morning wood appeared to be contagious, nineteen year old wood poking out three inches farther than Jeffrey's thirteen year old wood.
"Come on, Jeff, let's go shower," Rich said.
"I'm going to my room so I can sleep in until noon," Jeffrey said, surprising us both by passing up a rare chance to be alone with Rich. We said nothing since we both knew not to question the Hurricane's sexual moods, at least as long as he didn't try doing something stupid, which happened on occasion.
He reached up and grabbed Teddy, his freddy bear, who was sitting on a shelf next to Mortimer, my lifelong teddy bear. "Me and Teddy are going to sleep together. I know Mortimer will miss him, but he'll be coming back."
"Have a great morning nap," I said.
"I will. And then I'll have some freddy bear sex."
I shook my head. "You're going to hump Teddy?"
"Why not, you humped Mort when you were my age. You told me it took a lot to clean him up." He looked up at the shelf. "Don't worry, Mortimer. Teddy is still your boyfriend, and I'll clean all of the jism off of him before I bring him back."
I stopped him as he started for the door and pointed to his clothes, which were strewn on the floor. "Aren't you going to get dressed first?"
"Everybody's seen me naked before."
"Well, you can at least clean up the mess," I said, as I swept my arm across the area covered by his clothes, sleeping bag, and pillows.
"I promise to clean up when I bring Teddy back." He headed out the door onto the patio, his jiggling ass just begging to be pinched. I didn't stop him. One of Jeffrey's many endearing traits is that he was always as good as his word.
While Rich was showering, my phone rang. I recognized the number and answered. It was a program guy I knew in Olympia. He made me an interesting offer, which I accepted. I was flattered to be considered.
When Rich came back to the bedroom, I told him about the phone call. "I was asked to fill in as the main July speaker at the young people's meeting. Apparently the fifteen year old they asked decided his friends' beer party was more important than two years of sobriety. Too bad, but it happens. I had my relapses."
"But after you had two years," Rich said. "That's a lot of years to throw away."
"It is. I thought about it more than once with two years, and even more."
"Did you accept the offer to speak?"
"Once I saw we had no game scheduled that evening, I said yes."
"You will be so good," Rich said.
It wouldn't be my first time as a meeting speaker, but it would probably be my biggest audience. It would also be my first one close to my hometown. I was already both nervous and looking forward to it, even though the speakers' meeting was a month away.
After Rich finished dressing, we ate some cereal, and crossed the patio into the main house. Mrs. B was in the solarium reading. Today was the first day of summer vacation for the boys and she took the day off to be home as the boys got acclimated to no school on weekdays. Sammy was sitting on the couch wearing an open pajama shirt and a pair of white briefs. He might be young, but he already had a sexual air about him.
I have to give Mrs. B credit; after grousing for a couple of years about her sons' state of undress around the house, she'd finally given in and let them dress how they wanted as long as there was no company. That included during meals. Even the twins' liberal parents demanded something be worn at the tables during meals.
"Looks like Jeffery was in one of his moods this morning," she observed.
"Strange as it sounds, I think he's upset school is out," I observed.
"You are probably right. He is a social butterfly. He doesn't do well at being by himself."
"Rich and I are taking off for the day. Will you be coming to the game tonight?"
"George and I plan to be there, along with the boys."
"Great. See you then."
Rich and I played for a semi-pro team out of Olympia. It consisted of mostly college ball players. Our coach at WSU got us spots on the Capitols. While I was a scholarship player who was slated to see a lot of playing time at third next year as a sophomore, Rich was a walk- on. He was a shortstop and pitcher in high school. The WSU coach liked his bat and arm, but told him that he didn't have the range to be an NCAA Division I shortstop. He started grooming Rich to be an outfielder. Rich is playing mostly left field on the Capitols, as well as doing some relief pitching. There were players from colleges all over the Northwest on the team, most of them having grown up in Southwest Washington.
We had a game that evening in Olympia. Rich and I were going to drive there separately. He was going to meet some of our teammates for lunch in Oly and then go to the batting cages. I wanted to go to the noon meeting in Centralia.
I had gone to only a couple of meetings since my school year ended. I keep saying I'm too busy to go, but Mr. B called me on that bullshit yesterday.
"You know why you're really staying away from meetings," he said.
"Yeah, because I'm busy."
"Then go with me to the Mayfield meeting tonight."
"I have plans. Rich and I are treating Jeffrey and Sammy to an end of the school year movie tonight."
He grunted. His grunt was his way of saying I was avoiding doing the things I needed to do for my sobriety.
"I might be wrong," he said, "but I think you're avoiding meetings to keep from bumping into your father."
"No way. I can deal with being in the same room as the bastard. I'll just sit away from him and not talk to him."
"Which is my cue for me to tell you how I think you should live your life, which I'm not going to do. I am going to remind you of this and you can take it for what it's worth: Resentments are the number one cause of relapse."
I could have decided to go to an Olympia meeting this afternoon, but I decided to go to Centralia just to prove Sparky wrong. Besides, my asshole father would be at work, so there was close to no chance I'd bump into him. Am I clever or what? My plan was to meet Rich at the batting cages after the meeting. Instead, I received a reminder that man plans and God laughs.
When I arrived at the noon meeting I was met by a couple of old- timers whom I hadn't seen in awhile. They greeted me like a long lost friend and hit me up with a ton of questions about college and about WSU Cougar baseball. The two of them had known me since my first meeting at that hall as a thirteen year old.
About five minutes before the start of the meeting, I took a seat. As I peered around the meeting hall searching for and finding other familiar faces, a familiar face walked through the door. It was my asshole sperm donor. I quickly turned and faced the front, hoping he would sit behind me and not recognize me. I was wearing a Cougar baseball hat, which I figured would disguise the back of my head.
I was furious with him for showing up at the meeting. Why wasn't the bastard at work? I was furious with myself for coming to this meeting. I should have been working on my hitting with my teammates, not sitting here in a chair in a dank hall, getting pissed off at the world.
I sulked through the familiar opening stuff and received the final blow when the meeting topic was announced—resentments. Of course, I heard all of the things I didn't want to hear but was supposed to hear. Nothing was said that was new to me, but the context made it all sound different. With my father sitting behind me, I decided not to share. I don't know if he knew I was sitting a couple of rows ahead of him, but he didn't share either.
When the meeting ended, I had no choice but to reveal myself. I couldn't very well remain seated while twenty other people made a circle for the closing prayer. I did make sure I was in a position away from him so I wouldn't have to hold his hand in the circle, and I was very careful not to make eye contact. Now all I had to do was hold back until he left the meeting hall. That plan didn't work either as my old man sauntered over to where I was standing. I obviously was not doing a good job of looking invisible.
"Hello, son," he said. I answered him by saying nothing. He was not worthy of my time. "Do you have the time to have a cup of coffee with me?"
I couldn't stand there forever like a dummy saying nothing, so I told him I was heading up to Olympia to meet Rich and some of my teammates. I then told him I had a game in the evening.
"Your game isn't until five-thirty," my father told me.
"How did you know that?"
"Maybe I can tell you over a cup of coffee," was all he said. As usual, he was starting to push my buttons. I took the bait, however, and told him I'd give him twenty minutes.
I waited for him to object, but he surprised me by agreeing.
We were stopped by Grant F. as we left the meeting hall. Grant was one of those old-timers who had been around forever. He was thirty- five years sober.
"Going out to coffee with your dad?" he asked me, as if he already knew the answer.
"Yeah, a quick cup," I said.
"Well, it's about time." That was another button pushed, since what was going on between my father and I was none of his business.
We went to a café a block away from the meeting hall that I knew was an after meeting hangout. I'd been in there a few times with Sparky. I remember going in with him as a fourteen year old after meetings and feeling very grownup sitting with a group of adults.
The café was half-full and we had no problem finding a booth. An ancient waitress brought us menus and started filling our coffee cups. My father opened his menu and started perusing it.
"Want some lunch?" he asked.
"No."
"My treat. It'll add fifteen minutes is all."
I felt like yelling that I didn't want to spend an extra fifteen minutes with him, but I'd had a light breakfast and was very hungry. "Okay, but don't expect me to pay you back."
"I wasn't asking you to."
When the waitress returned, I ordered a mushroom burger and fries, while dad ordered a French dip sandwich.
"So, what is it you wanted to say?" I asked impatiently, although I had known the answer to that question from the moment he asked me out for coffee.
"I watched you play a couple of times this spring," he said, evading my question. Damn, he pissed me off. "You are a damn fine ball player."
"I'm glad you finally figured that out," I said, my resentments sitting right at the surface. "I know you saw me play in Seattle."
"I went to Pullman a couple of times, too."
"Why didn't you say anything when you were there?"
"I think you know the answer to that."
I knew the answer all right. The answer was I would have treated him like shit even after he drove almost all of the way across the state to watch me play. It was slowly occurring to me that I was being as big an asshole as he was—that I was becoming the same nasty, resentful son-of-a-bitch as my old man. I didn't say anything, but I nodded that I did indeed know that answer.
"But this isn't about you," he said. That figures, it never is about me as far as that bastard is concerned, I thought. "It's about me making some amends, and you are at the top of that list." I was right; that was exactly what I thought the purpose of this meeting was.
"I don't need to tell you I was a shitty father. I think nobody understands that better than I do. I was mean, abusive, and full of resentment. I resented that you weren't the son I wanted you to be."
"Just what did you want me to be?"
"You said it once when you got pissed at me. I wanted you to be like John. I wanted you to be my drinking buddy. I wanted you to be a jock and a fighter. I wanted you to fish and hunt with me and drink booze with me when we were done. I wanted you to fix cars and build shit." He stopped for a moment, as if he was trying to catch his breath. "I certainly didn't want you to be no faggot with a boyfriend..."
I was about to interrupt him, but he held up his hand. For once, I kept my mouth shut and obeyed him instead of coming up with some smartass remark.
"Let me finish, son. I apologize for using that word, but it's how I was thinking then. I sure as hell didn't want you being some alcoholic loser like I was, but there you were, thirteen years old and a hopeless drunk like your old man. I apologize for all of that. I know I can't change the past, as much as I would fucking like to. All I can do is live a life that starts to make up for what I was."
"Does it bug you that I'm gay?"
"Maybe a little, not that it makes a difference in how I feel about you. Your brother has been educating me about what being gay is about. He might be straight as an arrow (that goes to show what HE knows), but he understands you. George, your sponsor...oh hell, I might as well admit it...your dad, set me straight on some things, too. Your boyfriend is a good guy, and I'd like to get to know him better. I apologize for rubbing your nose in your shit when you came out to me. I doubt I'll ever be able to make up the hurt I caused by kicking you out of your own home. That ain't what any father should do—at least not one who is a man." That was an interesting choice of words for somebody who kept accusing me, his son, of not being a man. His hinting about his lack of manhood told me a lot about his sincerity.
The bastard was seven months sober and seemed to have things figured out better than I did at five-and-a-half years. "It's funny. I know that right now you have a shitload of resentments against me...blaming me for making you a drunk. Well, I resented you, too. You see, the way I saw it, you were always pissing me off to the point where I had to get drunk. I got to where I never saw anything good in you."
We were interrupted by the arrival of our lunch. As I bit into a delicious, juicy burger, my father went on. "I did not want to do this, you know. I knew I'd have to face your resentments and hatred. But my sponsor told me that if I didn't make these amends, I could never let you know how much I love you. He said for my sobriety I had to do this or I'd be a victim of my own resentments."
"My sponsor told me the same thing. I told him I would never be able to love you. You'd hurt me too much for me to ever love you. He told me that it was much easier to love than to be loved."
"Our sponsors sound a lot alike. I made amends to your sponsor already. I hate to think what would have happened to you without him in your life. But back then I called him a kidnapper, a child molester, and told him he was poisoning you against me. Hell, nobody was poisoning you but me."
Sparky and The Schnoz both told me that having a resentment was like taking a slow poison and then expecting the other guy to die. It was becoming clear to me how my own resentments were holding me back.
"I said a while ago that you were a damn fine ballplayer. You're more than that, son. You're turned into a hell of a young man. Your Mr. B had a lot do with that, but you did, too. All-State baseball player, All- League in football, honor grad from high school, full-ride baseball scholarship to a Division I school, Dean's List your first two semesters...don't think I don't know. I've been following you with pride. Best thing that ever happened to me was getting that fucking DUI. I sure as hell didn't want to sober up. Now there ain't no way I want to go back."
I wasn't sure what to say, so I asked him who his sponsor was. "Old Grant F, who you talked to on the way out. Good man, tough sponsor."
"How did you happen to have the day off?"
"Oh, that. Funny how good things start to happen when you do those fucking steps. Been moved up to a supervisory spot on the crew, but it means working four ten hour days. I got Fridays off. It was your old coach who promoted me. Try to figure that shit out." Coach Miller was the boss of the road crews.
I worked on my hamburger and fries, thinking about all that my father had been telling me, along with what Sparky had been telling me. I thought about how my own resentments had been standing in my way for so long. It was time to say what I needed to say.
"I gotta make a second set of amends to you. Tenth step shit, I guess. `...and when we were wrong we promptly admitted it.' I knew you were sober, and I knew that some day you'd be wanting to make amends. There was no way I was going to hear you out, including today. I was wrong. I took all the stuff I'd been learning since I was in eighth grade and decided it had nothing to do with me and you. I apologize for being a prick where that is concerned." What I had just done was apologize for being the same kind of person he had been— the person I resented and hated.
I could feel tears dripping down my cheeks, and I saw them forming in my father's eyes as well. He looked at me and said, "I took all that money you paid me back—the money you stole and put it in a drawer. Then I made sure I spent it only on booze, just to show you what I thought of you and your amends. How's that for sick alcoholic thinking? I guess it's one more thing to make an amend for."
All I could think was how typical that was of my father. Take the amend I made to him and fuck it all up. I wanted badly to leave. From my perspective this wasn't working very well.
"I love you, son." We stood up. I was afraid he might want to do something stupid like hug me. Much to my relief, he held back. I could not return his words. There was no way I could tell that man that I loved him.
I did learn some things that afternoon, however. Without knowing it, the overwhelming hatred for my father had somehow left me. I still resented him, but I no longer hated him. Maybe some of the things I was being told were starting to sink in.
I never did make it to the batting cages. I did hit a home run in our 7-5 win that evening. Strangely, the trot around the bases seemed a bit more special knowing that my father was sitting in the stands watching me.
<June 17-July 7, Mayfield>
The founders of the Go to State Team were now high school graduates. They had all but moved into the realm of adulthood. What they had planned for their immediate futures said a lot about the group of boys. In a school where less than half the graduates would be attending college, all of the Go to State graduates had college in their plans. The great news for the gay couples is that each couple would be attending the same college.
Danny and Carl would be going their separate ways. On the other hand, they weren't a gay couple. They were simply very close friends. Danny would be attending Centralia Community College. Carl was going away to a small private college on a partial football scholarship.
Scott would be joining Danny at the Community College. The college did not have a football program, but both boys planned to play baseball in the spring.
Noah and Eric were heading for Stanford on scholarships. They would be the first Mayfield grads to attend the prestigious university. Eric was seriously thinking of being a walk-on for baseball, while Noah was thinking the same for soccer. They both had contacted the respective head coaches at the university and received enthusiastic replies. Eric had received baseball scholarship offers from a couple of Northwest Division II schools. For Eric, being with Noah was more important than playing college baseball and he turned them down. Besides, he felt he had the ability to be a bench player for the Division I Cardinal.
Lars, Hunter, and the twins, would all be attending Central Washington University. Kevin had received a partial baseball scholarship while Lars had an academic scholarship. Hunter received a football scholarship. Lars planned on turning out for baseball as a walk-on.
Lars had some issues with his father when it came to picking a college. But then, issues with his father were not unusual. However, their disagreements no longer carried the vitriol of the falling out that occurred after Lars was caught by his father having oral sex with Kevin.
His father wanted Lars to go to Centralia CC for two years. Lars would get free tuition because his father was on the faculty of the college. Lars didn't want to be separated from Kevin. He thought his father's real motive was to keep the two of them apart. While Lars had reasons for being a bit paranoid, in this case he was wrong. His father kept reminding Lars the separation was only for two years, but Lars wasn't biting.
Lars gained some ground, however, when he was awarded a two year academic scholarship at Central. He was an excellent student, sporting a 3.75 GPA. His scholarship was for tuition and books, and was renewable after two years if he maintained a certain grade point average. Earning the scholarship was reason enough for his father to give in to Lars, providing Lars worked to pay for his room and board. By the time Lars graduated, everything had been decided.
Kevin had to deal with an adult as well, but not his father. Kevin knew it was time to bring his long time relationship with Sherman to an end, at least as far as sex went. He still wanted to maintain their friendship; Sherm had been a good mentor and gay role model for Kevin, and he didn't want to lose that relationship.
[KEVIN, June 18]
Today was a rare day when I didn't have a baseball game or a practice. Kraig and I split a summer job with the city recreation department, and today was his day to work. Everything worked out for me to have a talk with Sherman about our relationship. We decided to meet for dinner at the Roadside Inn.
"You grew up into a man so quickly, I think I missed most of it," Sherman said.
"You were a big help to me. I learned a lot from you." I flexed my bicep. "I even owe my muscles to you, thanks to your weight room."
"All I provided was some time in the weight room. You could have done the same at your school's weight room. Hell, you were using your coach's program, anyway."
"I hope I see more of you when I visit home. I want our friendship to continue."
"That is up to you, but it would suit me."
"I do need to talk to you about one thing, though," I said.
"Go for it."
"Lars and I decided that with us growing up and going off to college and all that we want to be...um...monomangus."
"The word is monogamous. I applaud your decision; it is a very mature and grown up one."
I felt good at his reaction. It was the one I expected from him; Sherm was a good man.
"We did make a couple of exceptions," I said. I went on before he could react. "One of those exceptions is our brothers." Sherm knew about what we did sexually with our brothers.
"And what would the other one be, if I may ask?"
"That would be whatever you and me decide to do tonight. I am spending it with you, in case you didn't know."
Sherman grinned. "I might be looking forward to that more than the dinners the waitress is bringing to our table."
It was the best sex me and Sherm ever had. I knew I had it in me to go three rounds, and the old dude surprised me by keeping up with me. Took him awhile on round three, but he says it was more than worth it for him to keep his cock in my mouth that long.
<Wednesday, June 19>
[MARTY]
A couple of things happened because I was a sober alcoholic. One of those was a talk with Rich's dad. Rich and I had talked about the upcoming conversation. We knew it was going to happen, we just didn't know when. What Mikey did last night and this morning said we needed to talk now.
Mikey's been in the party crowd since the summer before eighth grade, ready from the start to out drink his peers and get drunk on his ass. His dad has tried to keep him away from those parties, but Mikey would sneak out to one and then take his punishment. Rich and I have talked to him without much success. Rich thought we should cut him off from sex with us, but I didn't want Rich to lose that connection with his brother. Who knows when it might come in handy?
After earning a ton of restrictions, Mikey eased off on the partying by his sophomore year. Instead he started bringing alcohol and weed into the house and sneaking his drinks and tokes. The night before he and his friend Colin got drunk in Mikey's room. I don't know much about Colin, except that he's one of the big time party boys, he doesn't play sports, and he's not much of a student.
The next morning, while Rich and I were cooking up breakfast, Mikey and Colin came downstairs smelling of marijuana, drinking out of a bottle of Jack Daniels, and wearing nothing but boxers. They both looked like hell. I knew that look all too well. Rich and Mikey's parents were gone to work. The whiskey ended up being the breakfast for Colin and Mikey, and by early afternoon they were passed out drunk on the living room floor. Rich and I eventually got them up to Mikey's bedroom before his parents got home.
That night Rich and I talked to his dad. We told him that Mikey had a bigger problem than he thought. I reminded him about my problems with alcohol. I told him again about my going to alcohol and drug rehab and about how I'd done since. He'd heard the stories before, but after over two years of problems, he realized I was talking about his son Mikey. By the time we'd finished, he said it was time for him to get his head out of his ass and get Mikey into a rehab center, preferably the one I went to.
"He'll miss the rest of his baseball season," Rich said.
"I don't think baseball is a priority right now," his dad said. "Even with warnings from you two, we had our heads buried in the sand. With Rich being a non-drinker, we looked at what Mikey was doing as a phase."
Rich's mother came to the room. We filled her in on what we'd been talking about. "There's a history of alcoholism in my family," she said. "It's time for us to take care of Mikey."
They both thanked us for getting involved and thanked Rich for never being tempted by alcohol. What they didn't know, is that Rich and I met at a party in seventh grade where he got drunk for the first and last time. He ended up spending the night at my house so he wouldn't have to face his parents with a hangover. We'll tell them the truth some time, but this wasn't the time to do it.
My other meeting was with Dallas. I'd only talked to him a couple of times since I came home from school. He came over to my apartment to chat and update me on what was going on with him.
"Milton got really pissed at me a few days ago," Dallas said. Milton, also known as The Schnoz, has been Dallas's guardian for a couple of years. Dallas lives with him. Dallas is going to be a senior this coming school year.
"What did you do this time?" I asked.
"I went to a kegger." He saw the shocked look on my face and said, "Shit, Marty, don't look at me like that. I didn't fucking drink, I just went to hang out with my homies."
"You know it can be dangerous. You've had your problems in slippery places like that. If you don't have a legitimate reason to be around alcohol, don't temp fate." In fact, Dallas had his first relapse when he went to a kegger, swearing he had no intention of getting drunk.
"I know, and Milton made sure I knew all of that, and then he kicked me out."
"He kicked you out of the house?"
"No, dumb shit, he kicked me out of his fucking bed."
"You and The Schnoz have been sleeping together?"
"Hell ya. He might not be the prettiest dude on the planet, but the fucker is good in bed. He let me back in again, though. We got it all talked out and I'm keeping my ass away from keggers, even if I don't drink."
"I thought you weren't going to sleep with older guys any more."
"I said I wasn't gonna be no god damn whore, not that I wouldn't sleep with some dude. I ain't Milton's whore, I'm his lover and he's mine, so bite that off and chew on it."
I have to say, that life with the boys of Mayfield is never dull. We talked some more. In the end I could tell that Dallas loved The Schnoz, and that he was also very proud of his sobriety.
Before Dallas left, he told me two things. "I saw your boyfriend's brother at the kegger. Damn, that boy can put it away. He was so drunk he couldn't walk or talk. It was puke city at the end."
"That's being taken care of, but thanks for telling me."
"Milton doesn't know this, but two guys at the middle school are planning on getting him in his little cubby hole and sucking his dick. I can't tell you who, but I heard they're working out a plan."
"Oh, I have a pretty good idea of who they are, and I doubt they will go beyond talk." I figured only Jeffrey and Nicky would be that bold, but I also knew it was something they would never follow through on. "I don't think Milton would take that risk anyway. I'm surprised he lets you sleep with him."
"That's what happens when you become lovers. Nobody but you will ever know."
"He could lose his job."
"I got a reason for living there and everybody knows it. I got a kick ass bedroom and I sleep in it most of the time. What happens in Milton's bedroom stays in his bedroom, except I told you because I trust you totally."
"I ain't saying anything."
Dallas gave me a hug. "I love ya, bro. You mean the world to me."
"I love you, too, Dallas, and I'm proud of you hanging in and staying sober."
After Dallas left, I sat on the couch and did a lot of thinking. It's been a hectic time since I got home. The amends with my dad, the talk with Mikey's dad, the visit with Dallas, and my speech coming up, all had me busy and thinking of sobriety. All this working with others to stay sober can keep a guy so busy he never thinks about drinking, but I guess that's the idea.
I was about to go to bed when a Hurricane came blowing in. "Is your friend gone?" he asked.
"Do you see him?"
"I'm the one who is supposed to ask the stupid questions. Isn't he the guy who lives with The Schnoz?"
"Yep."
"Thought so." He was quiet for a few moments, like he was thinking some deep and serious thoughts. Then, in typical Hurricane Jeffrey fashion, he changed the subject. "I want your jism all over me tonight."
"I think that can be arranged."
I eventually shot my wad over his torso, and he spread it and his own light jism over his face, chest, belly, and his junk. We finally turned off the lights. I rubbed his smooth, but sticky thirteen year old body, and took in the overwhelming smell of sex. I thought Jeffrey was sexy with cum rubbed over his face and torso—at least in a sick kind of way. I wrapped myself around his slender body, which was sexy any way I looked at it.
<Friday, June 21>
[KRAIG]
It was great to have no game on Friday since Hunter was back from a week at football camp. It was a camp for incoming freshmen held at Central, where we would be attending college along with Kevin and Lars. It was mostly about conditioning and learning plays, since actual football practice was against the rules.
As soon as Hunter got home he called me. I think I was at his house before he hung up the phone. We met Lars and Kevin at the Bear for pizza. After we all finished eating and talking, Hunter and I went back at his house, got naked, and were all over each other in bed. Hunter was 6'2, 200 pounds. He was solidly built. Both of us had light chest hairs growing, and a dark treasure trail from our belly buttons to our pubic area. He had thick, dark leg hair, while mine was lighter and more scattered. We both grew enough whiskers to shave every day.
No matter, even after a week apart, we knew what our boyfriend looked like. We weren't on the bed to admire each other, we were there to have wild and crazy sex. His parents were away at a dinner party, so the house was ours. We didn't have to worry about keeping our noise down, waiting for Hunter's dad to knock, or any other kind of interruption. We could go at each other with abandon, which is what we did.
Our first orgasm came after hugging, kissing, rubbing, licking, biting, and wrestling each other as we humped our turgid teen cocks together. We came with loud growls, like the wild animals we were. When we finished we were covered in a mixture of our cum and our sweat.
We didn't bother to clean up as we lay on the sheets kissing, first gently, then hard and deep. Our hands rubbed over our partner's cock and balls until we were ready for round two.
Round two was Hunter fucking me on the floor. We knew better than to fuck on his bed. We'd fallen off the bed and crashed to the floor all too often. One or both of us was going to have a hickey and we both had scratches on our ribs, not to mention some potential bruises. Hunter filled my insides with his cum as I shot mine over our bellies, mixing it with the mess left over from our first orgasms.
When we recovered we showered together, always touching somehow, as we cleaned the sweat and semen off of ourselves.
"You're not going to pee on me?" Hunter asked.
"I've outgrown that."
"Your brothers haven't."
"Why, do you want to get peed on?"
"Not tonight, but I was kind of wondering since you haven't been in that kind of mood for awhile."
"You never know when the mood might return," I said with what I hoped was a wicked grin. We changed the sheets on Hunter's bed and cuddled up, smelling fresh and soapy, yet still with that masculine teen musk about us that turned me on so. I don't know when Alan Hawkins and Hunter's mother arrived home, since they never woke us up.
The next day we went by my house so I could get ready for my afternoon baseball game. We drove out to Kentburg where we played the team from Tacoma that Eric's friends Shelby, Andy, Chase, and Liam played for. Hunter was sitting in the bleachers watching me play. We split our double header. Eric was the starting pitcher in the first game, which we won 6-3. Scott pitched the second game, which we lost 5-4. They were both pretty good games.
Some of us ended up at the Bear's for pizza after the games were over. Eric was happy to be with his old friends. We all had fun talking baseball, boys, and about going to college. Of course we talked about boys, since all of us there, except Scott and Chase, were gay. They laughed at us and talked about girls.
That night Hunter's dad gave Hunter and me massages in the living room. We were both stripped to just our underpants. Once Hunter's mom went to bed she never left the bedroom, so we weren't worried about being caught half-naked. Hunter brought a wooden chair from the dining room and sat backwards in it, his face resting on the chair back.
Our massages were usually really erotic. Even though he's still married to Hunter's mom, Alan is gay. Hunter and me both turned him on, and he found ways to turn us on. If Hunter wasn't my boyfriend, I'm sure I would have had sex with Alan. He knows I want to do it and we came really close a couple of times. Hunter has always said he would be okay if I had sex with his dad, but he didn't want to be a part of it. I didn't blame him for that.
We both had tents in our underpants while we got our massages. There was no doubt that Alan boned up, too. It was like a tradition with us. Hunter and me even creamed our undies a couple of times during our massages. I wasn't going to cream mine that night, because somehow my purple bikini briefs ended up on the floor.
What we did was almost like sex without being sex. When Hunter was with me it had never become sex for the reason Hunter told me that night. "If he was just some forty-year old dude in good shape and is giving us those massages, I'd jump in bed with him—hell, I'd do a three-way with you and him. But, he's my dad, and, it just doesn't seem right."
Hunter saw me pull off my briefs while his dad massaged him. I knew he could see my boner and I'm sure it told him I was anxiously awaiting his massage.
"Okay, dad, I'm good. Thanks, I needed that. Looks like Kraig is ready. At least one part of him is."
Alan looked at me and I put my hand around my hard cock, stroking it a couple of times, knowing I was frustrating him because he could do nothing about it.
When Alan started massaging my shoulders, Hunter got out of his chair, his boner, leaking precum, sticking out of the opening in his boxers, which he made no attempt to hide.
"Be right back," he said, "I gotta use the can." I knew that was a lie. No way he had to use the can. He left the room, his big boner sticking out. It was like he wanted his dad to know his son had become a man
"I want to suck your dick," I told Alan as soon as Hunter left.
"Won't happen. Hunter will be right back."
"No h e won't. He left so I could give you a blow job."
"Maybe on another day, when you're visiting home from school."
"We might not have a chance then. We have a chance now. You could massage my cock at least," I said.
"You are one horny boy."
"I always have been. You know that."
When Hunter returned his father was massaging my neck. I know he could see the cum I had intentionally left on my belly and in my pubes. Hunter could have no doubt what had caused my orgasm.
Later, when Hunter and I were in bed together, I told him his dad had sucked me some and then had jerked me off. He was afraid of Hunter catching him with my dick in his mouth, but apparently didn't care about being caught with his dick in my mouth. I thanked him for giving Alan and me a few minutes alone.
"How did his jism taste?"
"Strong, but I liked it fine. Are you okay with me doing it?"
"I'm cool with it. But it's nothing I'd ever do with dad. It would just freak me out too much."
"Even though you let him look at your boner sticking out of your boxers?"
"Yeah. I kept telling myself I had it out for you to see, not for him to see. It all gets pretty confusing. But, I just could never go farther than that."
That's not the first time he's said that. I've always gotten him to change his mind on sex things since we were little kids, but he's really stubborn when it comes to sexing with his dad. I understand, because the thought of sex with my dad freaks me out, too. But then, my dad isn't exactly the studly ex-athlete that Hunter's dad is; he's picked up a bit of a paunch the last few years. Besides, he's my dad, which is exactly what Hunter was thinking.
No matter, after our massages, Hunter and I go bat-shit crazy in bed, even when I've had an orgasm with Alan. I bet a couple of rooms over, Alan is hoping to hear our moans and groans while he jerks himself off wishing he was in bed with us.
<Monday, June 24>
[JEFFREY]
Last night I finally got Sammy in bed with me and Marty. It was time for our cum exchange. Dad knew Sammy was gonna sleep with us, but he didn't say anything. As long as we didn't make Sammy do anything, he was happy.
We had a good time. Marty blew his wad first, because Sammy sucked him. Marty said no sucking until Sammy was eleven, but I knew he'd let Sammy do it. I mean Sammy is ten, and I was sucking Marty when I was ten, so it's no big fucking deal, right?
Besides, Marty wasn't gonna cum in his mouth. The idea was to get the cum over us so we could be cum brothers, which is better than being blood brothers. You don't have to cut yourself to cum. Plus, it feels way better than making yourself bleed.
I was beating my meat while my brother sucked on Marty. He could hardly fit Marty's big wiener in his mouth, but he did the best he could. When Marty said he was getting close, Sammy went to jerking him off until Marty was ready to cum. Marty finished himself off so he could shoot his wad on both of us. We were laying on our backs on the bed and both got jism on us. We made sure he got some of it on him, too.
Then Sammy sucked me. I fit in his mouth a lot easier. He didn't have to suck long, since I was close already. I shot my spooge on Marty and got some on Sammy. We mixed my cum together with Marty's and made sure it was on all three of us. We were now official brothers, all three of us. We had a nice night sleeping together in Marty's bed. It was the only time we did that. Sammy said it was worth it. He was proud of our brotherhood. Sometimes I think we should have waited until Sammy could shoot.
Mortimer and Teddy watched everything, just like they always did. They were our witnesses. Having the two bear boyfriends around made everything even more special.
"Are you a cock hound now?" Marty asked Sammy when we woke up in the morning. All three of us had dried cum on us. Somehow all that cum seemed really sexy on Sammy, even if he wouldn't let us rub any on his face. But then Marty didn't either. I was the only one with a flaky face.
"You know what I am?" my little ten year old brother said.
"A pussy hound," Marty said, laughing.
"A bunch of girls in my class and Nicky's sister." I was not surprised that Lisa found a way to get naked with Sammy. He was a boy, and that was all she needed to know. Lisa and Shane were both home from college.
"So, you've been naked with Lisa?" Marty asked.
"Yeah, along with Nicky. He likes to suck her titties, and she lets me do it, too. But, she won't let me fuck her."
I don't know why, but hearing the normally quiet Sammy say the word fuck got me to laughing. All of this sex talk was getting me hard.
"You want to fuck her, don't you?" I asked.
"I'll fuck any girl if they'll let me. But the little girls in my class won't. Lisa says I'm too young, so she won't either. I'm ten and still a virgin."
"Oh, you poor thing" Marty said.
"Lisa says Nicky could fuck her and Sammy could watch, but Nicky won't do it," I said. "Girls are so weird. She'll let Nicky, her brother, fuck her, and he's only eleven. But, Nicky doesn't want to. She won't let Sammy fuck her, because he's only ten, but he wants to fuck her."
We knew we had to shower and go over to the main house for breakfast. We all showered together. Me and Sammy boned up, but nobody had sex. I think we were all too hungry for breakfast.
"It was a great night, huh, Marty?" I said when we walked across the patio.
"The best. Do you agree, Sammy?"
"Yep, it was the best. I love my big brothers."
<Thursday, July 4>
Once again, the State Championship baseball team was honored in the town's Independence Day parade. Coach Sanders was the Grand Marshall, and Eric was specially honored for his perfect game.
Eric didn't want to be singled out from the team. But when every one of his teammates came up to him and told him to get over himself and accept what he had coming to him, he reluctantly gave in. This year the players received their individual trophies during the ceremony at the city park,
After the ceremony and town barbeque were over, the Go to State boys helped with the cleanup. Not only did the undergraduates help, but the ten newly graduated seniors did as well, along with Marty, Rich, Connor, Rodney, Vince, and Jerome.
That night, after the fireworks in Centralia, Eric complained to Noah about his being singled out.
"You're speaking to deaf ears," Noah said.
"Look, I don't mind them mentioning the perfect game. I mean, I did pitch it after all. But did the mayor have to get is two bits in, too?
"Like everybody on the team said, get over yourself."
<Sunday, July 7>
While the recent graduates of Mayfield High School may still think of themselves as the Boys of Mayfield, they were really the young adults of Mayfield. The graduated seniors would be taking their two State Championship trophies and leaving the small town for the world of college. There was no question they had left their mark in many different ways.
For a seven of ten graduating seniors on one team to leave for a four- year college was something highly unusual. The three remaining boys were all enrolled in the two-year Centralia Community College.
Six of the ten graduates were openly gay with all six being in a relationship. While the Dawg and Donkey, as well as Marty and Rich, had opened the door, it was those six who made being gay respectable. Younger couples like Justin and Toby, Chandler and Korey, Jeffrey and Nicky, as well as Alex and Tanner, were able to feel comfortable with themselves from the start. That confidence was the result of the work of the older boys who went through school ahead of them.
The legacy of the older boys also included the Go to State Team and the Mayfield Falcons. The ten graduates had been with the Falcons from the end of seventh grade to the summer before their senior year. The boys behind them played for other teams until they entered high school. The Falcons now consisted of high school players. The team was not going to start over with another group of middle school kids.
But the interested adults of Mayfield, seeing what had been accomplished with the Falcons, created their own organization, forming two feeder teams consisting of younger players. Those younger players were invited to join the Go to State Team meetings, even though their own teams were not part of the organization. The current leaders like Justin, Blaine, Toby, Chandler, and Korey, understood that operating multiple teams was more than they could handle. However, they did want the younger players to know they were important to the future and they wanted those players to feel a part of Falcon baseball. That way they would know what it was all about when they were old enough to play for the Falcons.
Coach Miller, Coach Sanders, Seth McCall, and George Bednarzyck were all instrumental in getting younger teams formed. Seth and George were particularly interested since their younger sons were not yet ready for Falcon baseball.
Thanks to the Boys from Mayfield and the Go to State Team, youth baseball in Mayfield was in better shape than at any time in its already successful heritage. With their organization, their courage to stand up for who they were, their scholarship and integrity, and their two straight State Championships, the Boys from Mayfield had left a legacy that would be a challenge to live up to. The graduates would all leave for college proud of what they had accomplished.
Next: The Perfect Game