Genesis

IV.

A New Beginning

--Recently--

In May, I obtained my degree. I had received an assistantship at the University of Wisconsin which helped with my expenses. And, as José, I had entered my program the summer after leaving the seminary. I took an overload of classes. I had to as I couldn't afford a protracted time in school.

Between the time we left the sem and José began his summer program at St. Andrew's, he flew home. He felt that he had to inform his parents of his decision personally. Later he had related how difficult it was.

"I told them first that I was gay and that I had met someone who I wanted to spend my life with."

This commitment was something we had talked about, briefly. José has the ability to recognize his feelings and desires much earlier that I can. I guess we both have our strengths . . . and . . . weaknesses.

"We were sitting at the dinner table, mother, father, Juan, Cecelia and me. It may not have been the best time, but then is any time good for that type of revelation?" José took a deep breath and continued, "Dad was visibly upset, knocked over a wine glass, turned red and began to argue . . . actually yell."

"IMPOSSIBLE," he railed, "How can that be?"

"I thought he was going to hit me . . . or have a stroke . . . or something," José admitted.

"How can I have a faggot son?" he screamed.

"Juan and Cecelia were there. They were utterly silent, shocked beyond words--even pale," José related.

I could say nothing. I was hurting too much for him to reply, only my eyes belied my sorrow for José as they brimmed with tears.

"Mom, on the other hand, wept at first, but quickly tried to defused Dad's anger, concern . . . ah . . . whatever!" he added. "Poor Mom . . . I really think that she took it the hardest."

José was still deeply affected by his family's reaction. Yet, deep inside, he knew that it would be this way! Still he trembled as he related to me that horrific scene.

"But, when I told them of my decision to leave The Church, both were shocked into a terrible silence. I have never seen them this way. Dad always has a quick answer, but not that night. Then Dad said, 'I guess I have to accept you being . . . ah . . . gay. But your leaving The Church . . . I CANNOT ACCEPT!' Mom merely said, 'Oh! Josélito, no. Please. NO!' I guess what happened next was to be expected, but it really shook me. Dad said, 'You are no son of mine!' It was not just a comment, it was a fiat! He got up, shaking and a little pale, folded his napkin and left the room. I never saw him again before I left."

I looked at him, disbelieving.

"I am disowned by my father."

"And your mother?"

"I don't know. Time will tell. I think she could accept my being gay, but the shock of that coupled with my leaving the Church . . . we shall see."

José and I saw each other a few times during that year. Our schools were in different states and the time we both needed to devote to our studies precluded anything but the briefest meetings. We did spend long hours on the phone. That was all that we both could afford. After the momentous meeting in San Juan, José's father ceased to support his son. Although, he did receive two money-orders from his mother that year. He was not surprised at his father's reaction. However, when opened the first envelope from his home and saw the money-order, but nothing else, he cried. It was his mother's way of beginning a bridge building that would eventually take years.

I was exhausted from the long hours of study and the responsibility of the assistantship. I had decided against the thesis program for my Master's. I simply didn't have the time, or the energy.

A week after my finals was the graduation ceremony at Wisconsin. I had initially decided not to attend, but José insisted. So I did.

Mary with Bert and Amy attended my graduation. I introduced them to José. Mary and Bert were warm and voluble, Amy was a bit more reserved. Frank, Harald and Julia lived a distance from Madison and they said it was inconvenient for them to attend at that time. Mary seemed excessively apologetic, but I understood. The inconvenience had nothing to do with distance.

Afterwards, in the lobby of the auditorium, José gave me a big hug and stated, "Joe, I'm so proud of you!"

I smiled, hugged him back and stated, "You may not be so proud of my latest, tentative decision!"

"What?"

"I have been offered a fellowship!"

"Great!" then, he added, "What does that mean?"

"Two more years . . . maybe three . . . ."

"And?"

"And, if I perform adequately, I will get a Ph.D."

"FANTASTIC!" he shouted! Then, soto voce, "I know your performance will be more than 'adequate!' It always has been," he added with a wink.

"Only where you're concerned," I replied, also soto voce and punctuated my remark with a friendly pinch on the arm.

The next week was José's turn. He had decided to be ordained at St. Andrew's. The ceremony was not as grand, nor as lengthy, nor as lavish as it would have been in The Church. But José Ramirez-y-Fuentes was now officially a priest--Father José.

Only his older brother and a younger sister attended. His parents did not. That was no surprise.

He told me earlier, after I had asked him if they would be attending, "They could accept my being . . . gay, but not easily. However, my leaving The Church was . . . totally unacceptable. Guess I was expecting too much . . . expecting them to accept . . . these two . . . decisions . . . without question."

After the ordination ceremony, in the reception hall, I walked up to José who was talking to his brother and sister.

I offered my hand and said, "Congratulations, José."

He smiled, took my hand, shook it, then embraced me with his other hand.

Standing back, he said, "Joe, I want you to meet my little sister, Cecelia, and my older brother Juan."

Cecelia embraced me warmly and briefly, Juan calmly shook my hand.

Then Cecelia handed José an envelope. He opened it, read the brief message written on the simple enclosed card, replaced it. Tears ran down his face. Cecelia embraced her brother, and then, Juan did the same. The three stood there long minutes just hugging.

What ever was the message was José alone. He never relayed the contents, nor did I ever inquire, although I suspect that it was from his mother. His father's decision would have forbade him any contact with his errant son.

When we parted company, Cecelia again warmly embraced me and murmured, "I'm pleased to have met you, Joseph."

Juan again shook my hand. It felt a little less perfunctory than the first time.

They both embraced and kissed José warmly, murmuring their parting remarks.

Later, I stated, "I'm glad they were able to come."

José merely smiled and nodded his head as we watched them pass through the airport security.

Over dinner, I asked him, "José, now what?"

"You mean about a job?"

"Yeah," then I added, "Do you want a parish?"

"I don't know. A parish seems a little scary right now."

"Well, what else is there?"

"The Placement Service has suggested that maybe a chaplaincy might suit me at this point."

"Do you know where?"

"Not yet."

José and I went to my hotel and there we celebrate many things.

I have begun to keep a journal. Mainly because I have experienced sensations that are so thunderously awesome, that to verbalize them right after the experience is absolutely impossible. So, I have decided to try to describe them, afterward, dispassionately, as best as I was able. But, somehow all my attempts have fallen short! Yet, the following is from my journal.

--Journal entry--

Tonight when his warm moist lips left mine, he quickly transferred their attention to my hard cock. I was laying on my back with my heels drawn up to my buttocks. There was an indescribable tingling sensation as they slid over my cock-head and slipped down the shaft. All the time his tongue was flicking over the sensitive under side of my jolting, hard shaft. As he frequently does, José went all the way down 'til I felt my sensitized head glided into his throat. That always makes me gasp. The feeling of my throbbing dick thus encased in his hot mouth causes my whole body to shudder with delight. Then, and only then he begins to move slowly up and down my spit slicked, sensitized, pulsating shaft 'til my hips begin to involuntarily thrust in concert with his bobbing head.

José's hand moves to fondle my balls. That has always been a sensual trigger for me. It causes me to groan, thrash my head and spread my knees. As his head picks up its bobbing up and down motion and his mouth continues it's luscious suctioning, a finger strays from my sensitized balls and moves ever so lightly downwards till it comes in contact with that pursed button, hidden in my dark cleft. Again, I groan, audibly. José rubs his finger back and forth over that unbelievably sensitive button. As in the past, this has a known reaction in me--I draw my knees, without conscious volition, to my chest, thereby exposing that tightly closed spot completely. He removes his finger and his mouth only long enough to deposit a dollop of spit on his finger and then returns to tasks at hand. Slowly he rotates his finger, applying more pressure until that tightly pursed opening is invaded by his finger. I gasp. He insinuates the finger even further in. Again I

gasp. Finally he has inserted the length of his invading digit deep into me. Then he begins the most delicious manipulation deep inside of me. My gasps turn to moans. My cock is being sucked and my ass is fingered all at the same time. I can hardly contain myself. My whole being sustains one sensual shock after another. I quake, I tremble in absolute delight and bliss.

Suddenly, I desire more--that heretofore unknown penetration. I sit up and manoeuver José onto his back. I reach over and grasp the bottle of lube and slathered a copious amount over his upstanding, unyielding cock. This time he gasps. Quickly, I manoeuver myself until my legs bracket his hips. Once more I squeeze a dollop of lube onto my fingers and anoint my quaking hole, then carefully slip two fingers into me. I fight to remain relaxed.

Grasping his slippery cock, I bring that glorious head in contact with my awaiting orifice, rub it back and forth over it and bear down. Taking deep breath to relax, I force my hips downward until that flaring knob pops into my hot canal! I gasp. José gasps as well. I hang suspended until the uncomfortable sensation of that forced entry subsides. When the throes of that incursion lessens, I bear down further. After the third downward push I am sitting, impaled on his hips. I had the strange sensation of bing stuffed. Indeed, I was! I feel my inner muscles ripple and flex involuntarily. José gasps! Then slowly I lift off that penetrating muscle and then sit down again. I perform that feat again. The third time begins to engender sensations that can only be described as pleasing. I accelerate my movement on and off that pole as the miraculous sensations began to multiply and infuse my whole body. I savor every feeling.

Soon I am bouncing like a possessed being. Gasping, panting, moaning at every delightful passage in and out. Finally, I exhaust myself and roll off onto my back. Still in high passion, José crawls between my legs, lifts them and places them over his shoulders. Carefully he positions his cock and reinserts it in my quaking love tunnel. I gasp in delight as that bulbous knob again pops in, followed by that thunderous shaft. Slowly and deeply José fucks my ass. Then he grasps my ankles, lifts them upward and looks down as his thick-bodied cock stretches my heretofore tight orifice. Slowly he pulls his cock out all the way then reinserts just the head. I gasp in absolute wonder at the feeling of being thus penetrated. Two, three, four times he repeats that motion. Each time primordial groans issue forth from deep inside me. The fifth time he plunges his cock all the way into my entrails. I utter a guttural groan.

I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him in further as I gasp, "Fuck me, José." That utterance causes him to began to piston my quaking hole with his luxurious cock. Shock after delectable shock courses through my body. My head is driven against the pillow and the headboard by the force of his onslaught. One more time he rams into me, uttering an animal howl. I feel his penetrating cock lurch inside me as I am flooded with his lustral fluid. Then he collapses on my chest, panting. We were totally spent.

Then the next morning, we made love again. I am not usually a morning person, but his was an exception--and exceptional. The experience caused another Journal entry.

--Journal entry--

How can one explain in words the feelings when you achieve a monumental orgasm?

As I slipped in an out of José's tight ass, my feelings, at first, were centered on the pleasure that he was obviously experiencing. His moaning and gasps fueled my passion. The feeling of his hot love-tunnel and that tight, muscled ring sliding over my engorged, pulsating cock was delicious beyond compare.

Soon my conscious effort in pleasing José was somehow short circuited, subverted and I suddenly became cock-centered--my cock! My slow and easy thrusts became deeper and more frenetic as I lost all conscious control. I found that I had become a plunging, pistoning fucking machine.

At first small cosmic shocks began to run down my spine causing it to flex as I drove even deeper into José. Soon these primordial bits of electricity became more frequent and certainly considerably more powerful--bolts of primitive compulsion. Their residual effects became centered somewhere behind my tightening balls where they multiplied, geometrically. It was a strange mixture of delicious pain and burgeoning ecstacy! Ahead I could feel that elemental abyss quickly approaching! That place where carnal release beckons with unerring, primeval power. A place that could not, would not be denied! I had lost all conscious volition and yearned only for my own release. I must now admit, that at this point there was no real conscious thought of José. My whole raison d'être was cock centered and its release! I now know that I was slamming in to him as that indescribably lascivious pressure built! Lussuriosi! The ancient, primordial dance would soon be

finished!

Then as the edge of that fundamental abyss was reached--as I rushed over its edge--I plunged in even deeper, without volition--the blackness of velvet--pinpoints of light raced across my minds eye and exploded--my whole body drew up and jerked, spasmodically--I yelled out--by whole being stopped for an instant--I know I howled like some wild creature but do not remember it--I gushed deep in that dark, warm, inviting tunnel--groaning with every explosive bolt of my lustral fluid--at the end, I collapsed upon José, panting from the exertion and the petite mort--beads of perspiration covered my body as I lay upon him, now quivering!

He too was gasping. He too was quivering! He too was covered with beads of perspiration.

Later as I lifted my torso, I was still embedded, I felt a wetness, looked down and saw his pearly residue anointing our bellies. I smiled as I looked into his wondering face.

Later that afternoon we took leave of each other. I took a commuter flight back to Madison. It was a luxury I had saved for from my meager assistantship. José went back to his dorm.

Back in Madison, I re-read my journal entries and was shocked at their lasciviousness, their directness! I had always been circumspect in my reactions and feelings. But where José was concerned I hide nothing, share everything. I guess in that respect, he is good for me. Nonetheless, between José and myself no word is taboo and as we now make love, our verbalizations are no longer merely groans and gasps but phrases of delight and encouragement.

Am I sad over the decisions I made? No, not at all! Am I sad over the decisions José made? Yeah, in part I am. I don't think that either of us had any inkling, those few years ago when we were becoming aware of our feelings, where our love would lead us. I ache for José's mother and father.