If Not Now...

"If not now..."

by

Ritch Christopher

All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author. This is a work of gay fiction. It contains graphic sex and explicit language. If you are offended by such, underage, or live in a city or territory where literature of this nature is illegal or unlawful, please exit now.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

CHAPTER ONE

The news had spread, as was usual in a small Southern town such as Lumpkin, Georgia. The weather was typically tepid in late August, 1959. Chad Larrimore, the local minister had gotten a phone call around 9:00 in the morning from Aaron Teasdale, saying he had found his wife, Alma, dead in bed from an apparent heart attack. Chad and his wife, Lois, had long been friends of the Teasdales, their son, Bret, and a boy Bret's age, Ryder Andrews, whom they had raised since Ryder had lost both parents in a car wreck, some twelve years ago, when Ryder was only seven.

The two boys grew up as close as brothers until the day Aaron ran his son off the farm for reasons known to only Aaron and Bret. All through junior and senior high schools, Bret and the Larrimore's daughter, Marge, had been sweethearts. After Bret left town suddenly, Ryder took over Bret's place in the Teasdale household and had moved in on Bret's territory by dating Marge.

Lumpkin was a town of about 3,000 people, mostly peanut and cotton farmers. There wasn't much to do in Lumpkin. It had a movie theater that was open only on Friday and Saturday nights plus a double feature on Saturday afternoons for the kids. There was a section of Banning's General Store cordoned off as an ice cream parlor, with a soda fountain, six stools and four small round tables with red and white checkered table cloths , each table surrounded by four wrought iron ice cream chairs, which was more than enough to accommodate the few high school students that got off there by the bus stop after school was over.

James Dean was dead but not forgotten as the boys still wore their tight legged Levis, white t-shirts, red nylon zippered jackets, white socks, and brown penny loafers. All the girls, including Marge and her best friend, Rhonda Flerl, still wore their poodle skirts over a dozen crinolines. tight colored sweaters, pushed out with a double layer of foam rubber falsies, white bobby sox turned down at the top almost reaching to their brown and white saddle oxfords. Rhonda didn't take the school bus home. She rode her Western Flyer bicycle that her brother had bought years ago at the Western Auto store in Columbus, about fifty miles away. She left school early each day so she could don her waitress uniform and work in the soda shop. Rhonda had gone too far one night on a date with Randy Simmons on the high school varsity squad. She had let him feel her up and then stopped him, but by Monday, Randy had told all the members of the team he'd gone all the way with Rhonda and before long all the boys on the team were bragging all over school that they had had her too. According to them. she was an "easy make" and no matter how hard she tried to prove her innocence, Rhonda's reputation of being a good girl was scarred for life.

On this morning, Marge's mother, Lois, was home on her back porch of the whole farmhouse, once new with white clapboard, long since turned gray with age, talking with her neighbor, Mae Bradley, about Alma Teasdale's unexpected demise. They usually talked once a day about the weather or recipes, their chats sprinkled with gossipy tidbits that had escaped the walls of the town's beauty parlor, but, today, the main topic was the Teasdales.

"It's just about the saddest thing I've ever heard of." Mae was saying, "That poor man. Sometimes I just don't know why the dear Lord makes someone like him go through so much. It just doesn't seem fair."

"I know it, Mae," replied Lois, "but we're not suppose to question the ways of the Lord. He does his wonders in mysterious ways. That means in sad times as well as glad."

"But, my heavens," Mae continued, "we both just saw Alma at church last Sunday and she looked as well as you and I. Why, I've known her since she was just a little girl and as best as I can remember, she's never been sick a day in her life. She's been over to my house many times and she never let on she had any kind of heart trouble."

"Apparently no one knew...not even Aaron. As much as he loved and pampered Alma, he would've made sure she'd've had the best doctors and medicine money could buy."

"I know that"s so." Mae added. "Do you know if Aaron got a hold of Bret?"

"I doubt it. I don't rightly know if Aaron even knows where Bret is," said Lois.

"My Lord," Mae, quickly interrupted. "that boy'll just be killed when he finds out. Alma loved him more than life and he loved his momma, too. Do you know if Bret ever wrote her after he left?"

Lois shook her head, "She never mentioned it all the times I talked to her."

Always one to dive into a good gossip conversation, Mae said, "Aaron oughta be ashamed of runnin' that boy off the way he did. Why, I know it must've broke little Marge's heart...his leavin' like that. Did he even come by and say goodbye to her?"

"From all I know, he left without a word. They all kept quiet about Aaron's and Bret's fight that last night." Lois replied.

"Whatever it was, it must've been somethin' big for Bret to throw him out of the house. He told him to get out of town and never come back. Does Marge have any idea what happened or what it was all about? asked, Mae.

"If she knows anything, she's not telling. I tried more than once to get her to tell me and every time I did, she just got real quiet." Lois responded.

Lowering her voice slightly, Mae said, "I always wondered if it had to do anything with Ryder. He just seemed to come to Marge's comfort and I thought they were just best friends consoling themselves over their loss."

"I think that's the way they started out, but then they started dating and they've been going steady ever since." Lois said,

"I would've thought Bret would've at least tried to get in touch with Ryder. Those two boys were as close as brothers. Do you think Bret knows that Ryder and Marge are going together now?" Mae asked.

"I don't think so, Mae. I don't think Ryder would have moved in on Marge if he knew Bret was aware of it."

"Well, it just breaks my heart to think that a boy's mother is dead and there's no way to tell him about it. You know as well as I, Bret would make every attempt to attend his own mother's funeral. Speaking of funerals, when is it? Is Chad gonna preach Alma's funeral?" Mae asked.

"Day after tomorrow, and, yes, Chad is gonna preach the funeral. Aaron called him from the hospital as soon Doc Barnes pronounced her dead. Chad went to the hospital to be with Aaron and I think they both prayed over her body before Tyler's funeral home came by and picked her up." Lois replied.

"Well, I know Aaron won't make an effort to find Bret. I just wonder if Charlie at the police station could do anything on his own to try to find Bret." Mae offered.

"The only way Charlie would do that is if Aaron didn't know anything about it." Lois said.

"I just wonder if Charlie would tell and get me in trouble with Aaron if I asked Charlie to do that. Just the idea of Bret not knowing is goin' to keep me awake until I know everything's been done to try to reach him." said Mae, almost on the verge of tears.

"Because of Marge and also because of Marge and Ryder, I'm staying out of it, Mae, and if you don't want to feel the wrath of Aaron, I'd advise you to do the same thing."

Just then, Jem, Lois' 14 year old son, came out of the house in bathing trunks and a towel draped around his shoulders. He was a scrawny kid, not yet developed,just going through the pangs of puberty. He had only sprouted three hairs on his chin, which he refused to cut off. After all, this was the start of a beard.

"And just where do you think you're off to, young man?" Lois asked, stopping him.

"I'm goin' swimmin', Momma." Jem sassed back.

"Oh no, you're not! There's enough happened without my having to worry about you drowning in that old pond." his mother quipped back.

"I'm only goin' wadin', Momma." Jem whined.

"No, you're not going wading, either." Lois snapped.

"Well, I gotta go somewhere. I can't stand being cooped up there in the house with Marge a-sniffin' and a-snivelin' and carryin' on, the way she is." Jem complained.

"Is Marge that upset, Lois?" Mae asked, interrupting.

"You know how young girls are, Mae. They love to take advantage of a situation and over-dramatize it. I'm sure she and Alma were close, but only when Aaron wasn't around," Lois explained.

"Aaron didn't approve of Bret and Marge goin' together?" Mae asked, in a suspicious tone.

"No, and I never knew why. He did everything he could to keep the two of them separated. It used to make me mad...like he thought Marge wasn't good enough for his son." said Lois.

"I don't blame you. It would've made me mad too. Why Marge is the prettiest and most respected girl in the county...what with being homecoming queen and voted the most popular in her class at high school." Mae said, smiling.

"And the most stuck up!" Jem, quickly added.

"Jem, will you behave and do as you're told. Go back in the house and take off that bathing suit and put on some decent clothes. Your dad will be home in a little while and there's no tellin' who he'll bring with him." Lois ordered.

"Momma, can I just wait until Ryder gets here and see if he'll take me swimmin'?" Jem asked, pleading his case.

"No, the mood your sister is in...Ryder will want to spend all his time with her. He won't want to take you swimming. There's too much going on. This is not a good day to go swimming or for playing games. Your sister is not the only one upset by Mrs. Teasdale's death. We should all be on our knees praying for her and her family." Lois told her son.

"Why do we have to pray for Mrs. Teasdale? Wasn't she baptized? Is everyone afraid she ain't goin' to heaven?" Jem asked.

"No, Jem, if there's one person that's with the Lord, it's Alma Teasdale. There never lived a finer woman." Lois replied.

Jem was still filled with a thousand questions to ask. "Then why did Bret run off and leave her? How come he broke up with Marge?

"Those are the kinds of things little boys shouldn't be asking." Lois said, trying to end his query.

"I'm not a little boy. I'm fourteen years old. In two more years, I can get my drivers' license." Jem boasted.

"Oh dear Lord, now I have THAT to worry about! Well, you're not grown up yet. When that time comes, maybe then you can ask about some of the things you're too young to know about just now. Now do as I say, or you'll have your dad to reckon with when he gets home."

"No wonder Bret ran away if his momma treated he the way I'm treated." Jem said, giving up.

"Now hush up and march!!" Lois said, with finality.

"Yes, maam." Jem said, dropping his head and retreating back into the house.

Mae stood there with a "tsk tsk" sound coming out of her mouth, "Boy, kids sure grow up fast these days, Lois. Is he really fourteen already?"

"Yes, fourteen going on forty and wearing me down to an early grave." Lois sighed. "I declare I don't know what I'm gonna do about him. Sometimes I think I'll just drown him and tell everyone he died of old age," she joked.

"I remember when you were carrying Marge and when you almost lost her. You had that Caesarian operation and we thought you and the baby were both gonna die." Mae reflected.

"I know. Doc Barnes warned me not to try to have any more kids after Marge was born, but somehow I got my timing all messed up and before I knew it I was expecting, again." Lois sighed.

"Yes, that was one of the times the Lord decided to make everything turn out happy. I just wish He would've thought about it a little longer before He took Alma to be with Him. Well, I guess I'd better get on home and fix some covered dishes to take over to the Teasdale house. There'll be lots of people stopping by and everyone of them will be hungry. Sometimes I think the people around here go on hunger strikes and wait for somebody to die just so they can go to the wake and fill up." Mae offered.

"Mae, you're terrible. You don't mean that." Lois said, shaking her head, hiding a smile, although she agreed with Mae.

"I know. I was just thinking it, so I thought I might as well say it." said Mae, not offering an apology.

"Mae, you're not going down to see Charlie and see if he can find Bret, are you?" Lois asked, hoping Mae would soon leave.

"I don't know. I haven't decided. But if I do, don't let on to anyone that you think it was me who did it." Mae said, almost whispering, in case Jem was inside eavesdropping.

"I won't. But if you do, be discreet." Lois said, matching Mae's lowered voice.

Realizing she'd probably stayed too long ---and said too much---, Mae said, leaving, "I will. You know me, I'm always discreet. I don't tell anyone anything...unless they haven't heard it yet from somebody else... Well, gotta go. I'll probably see you at Aaron's. Bye".

"Goodbye, Mae." Lois said, relieved.

Mae left, scurrying off to the next neighbors house to start the next conversation or to continue the one she had just had with Lois. After Mae had gone, Marge, Lois' eighteen year old daughter came out the screen door of the house wearing a pink and white calico dress her mom had made. It was true, by all standards, that Marge was the prettiest girl in the county or if the truth be known, all the surrounding counties. Her complexion was smooth and creamy as freshly churned buttermilk, highlighted by her shoulder length dark brown hair. The only make-up that Marge ever wore was just a dab of pink cherry lipstick. That was all she needed for perfection. Jem was right. Marge had been crying, and quite a bit, as her eyes were a bit puffy. She had been inside the house waiting for Ryder, or a chance to talk to her mother as soon as Mae had left. She had no desire to listen to the daily gossip from the local carrier.

"I thought she would never leave." Marge said to her mother.

Going to her daughter to embrace her, Lois said, "Marge, are you all right? Jem said you'd been crying."

"I just can't believe Mrs. Teasdale's gone, Momma. She was always so nice and kind to me every time I went over to Bret's. Several times when Mr, Teasdale was giving Bret a hard time, she always stood up for Bret. She loved him so much, Momma, and he loved her. I just pray that somehow, some way, he'll get the message about her and get home in time for the funeral. It would just be the worst thing if he missed it." Marge said.

Lois stood at arms length and stared directly at her daughter. "Marge, if I ask you something point-blank, will you give me an honest answer?"

"Of course, Momma. You know I've never lied to you about anything." Marge said, a bit curious.

"Do you know where Bret is? Has he written you or called you on the phone?" Lois asked, pointedly.

"No, Momma, I promise. I've heard nothing from him since he left." Marge replied, earnestly.

"You've never told me, but do you know what Bret's argument with his father was all about? It must've been something horrible for him to run Bret off that way." Lois continued her inquisition.

"No, Momma, I swear. I don't know anything. I've always had a feeling that Ryder knows something about it, but he won't tell anyone...not even me," Marge replied.

"If Ryder DOES know where he is, do you think he'll try to get in touch with him to tell him about his mother?" Lois asked.

"Yes, Momma. I'm sure if Ryder does know, he'll do all he can to let Bret know." Marge assured her

"What time is Ryder due over here?" asked Lois, looking at the sun to estimate the time.

"He should've already been here. He's late now and I'm beginning to worry about him." Marge said.

"Well, now don't start worrying about Ryder. He's been late before and he always shows up. I'm just wondering what's keeping your dad? He should've been here an hour ago." Lois said, trying ease Marge's concern about Ryder.

"Are you and Dad going to the funeral home tonight?" Marge asked.

"Yes, after we drop some covered dishes off at Aaron's." Lois replied.

"What did you fix, Momma?"

"I baked a ham and made a big dish of macaroni and cheese. I made a big old peach cobbler in that big black pan I keep under the sink. It should be enough for about thirty or forty people AND a banana pudding."

Concerned, Marge asked, "Momma, why does someone always have to die before the neighbors bring food to the house? Wouldn't it be better to bake a ham and take it over for Mrs. Teasdale to enjoy as well...not wait until she's dead and try to feed her family because you feel sorry for them."

"I don't know, Marge, that's just the way things are done. It's always been that way and always will, I guess." Lois replied, not really knowing the answer.

Ryder's jalopy is heard driving up followed by the sound of a car backfire and the sound of a door closing. Marge pinched her cheeks to try to hide the puffiness she'd acquired by crying. Lois helped her by straightening Marge's dress and fluffing up her hair,

"Are you two going to the funeral home?" Lois asked.

"For a little while, Momma."

Ryder had gotten out of his car and stopped long enough to check in the side mirror of his car to see if his ducks were combed back. He had thick ash brown hair and the six foot stud walked proudly in his skin-tight jeans and t-shirt, torn at the neckband to give him the "look of the fifties. He walked with a John Wayne gait around the Larrimore house to get to the back porch where the family usually sat late in the afternoon. As soon as he saw Marge, he smiled that "Pepsodent" smile. There was no two ways about it, Ryder was good-looking and if he had had parents with money, he'd've been the "catch of the county". Marge's face beamed when she saw him turn the corner of the house

"Hi, sweetheart...Mrs. Larrimore," Ryder said as he approached the porch.

Marge replied with, "Hey" and Lois Larrimore with. "'Afternoon, Ryder."

Marge came off the porch and met Ryder in the yard to get a big hug and a quick kiss. Lois pretended not to see and looked away in the opposite direction.

"Work hard today?" Marge asked him.

"Wasn't too bad," he replied, "Never is when I think of you all day. How are you doin'?"

Before Marge could say a word, Lois blurted out, "She's been in her room crying all day ever since she heard about Amy.".

"Momma, I have not." Marge said, correcting her mother.

Ryder looked into Marge's eyes and said. "I'm sorry, honey, that I couldn't get over here sooner. I knew how upset you must be. Aaron didn't find her until I'd already gone to work, It's like losing my momma for the second time. She and Aaron have been like my folks since my real ones died."

Lois had a one-track mind and asked, "Ryder, do you have any idea if Bret's heard about his mother?"

"No ma'am. I don't even know where Bret is," he replied.

Still being adamant, Lois added, "Well, it's a shame somebody doesn't know how to reach him."

"Mrs. Larrimore, if I knew where he was, I'd drive all night to go tell him and bring him back. The Teasdales raised us like we was brothers."

"Momma, I told you Ryder doesn't know where Bret is. So don't try putting blame on him."Marge said, trying to rescue Ryder.

"I'm not blaming Ryder. I'm just saying that as close as they all were, Ryder might've made an effort in finding him." Lois said, still on her high horse.

"Mrs. Larrimore, when Bret first left. I tried every way I knew how to find out where he'd gone. But it's like he just vanished. He hasn't called, written me, or nothing," Ryder said,

"Aaron Teasdale ought to be horse whipped for running his own flesh and blood off like that. But I guess if he's not punished for it now, the good Lord will take care of him later on." Lois continued getting her last two cents worth in.

Marge was getting impatient with her mother, "Momma, excuse me, but I thought you had to get some covered dishes ready."

"I do." Lois replied, "I'll just go in and let you two be alone. Listen for your dad. Don't let him drive up and catch you in some romantic pose you can't explain."

Marge almost screamed, "Momma, please! We know better than to behave like that in front of Dad."

"Just as long as you remember," were Lois' last words as she went into the house.

Marge and Ryder heaved a sigh of relief."Whew! Come here, you, and welcome me properly." Ryder said, pulling Marge close into him and kissing her long and passionately. Marge was a little embarrassed and apprehensive as she pulled back a little,

"Ryder, please. It's broad open daylight." Marge said, freeing herself from the kiss.

"You know your dad can't see us from the road." Ryder sais, as he once again made advances toward his girl.

"I know, but I'm never sure when Jem's gonna get mad at me and tell Dad all kinds of things." Marge said, still not willing to give in.

"What kinds of things could Jem tell?" Ryder stopped to ask.

"I can't be sure but Jem might have seen us making out in the barn."

"He couldn't've." Ryder said, "We only made out there twice and both times it was at night with no lights. Guilt feelin's ain't giving you the heebie-jeebies are they?"

"Of course not." Marge replied, "Why should I feel guilty?"

"You shouldn't. After all we love one another and I've asked you to marry me. My gosh, Marge, I can't wait. When are you gonna tell your folks so we can set a date?"

"I don't know, but not just now." Marge answered.

"You're hopin' Bret'll come home for his momma's funeral, aren't you?" Ryder asked, suspiciously.

Getting on her own high-horse, Marge lashed out, "Ryder, what do I have to say to convince you that Bret is a thing of the past? He no longer exists in my life. He showed me how little I meant to him when he left town without so much as telling me goodbye. That was the end of any kind of relationship we might've ever had...if we ever had one in the first place."

"Marge, you know that just ain't so. Bret loved you and you know it." Ryder answered back, sharply.

"Well, he sure had a funny way of showing it." Marge added.

As they continue to embrace, another car is heard coming down the dirt road leading to the house.

"That must be Dad." Marge said, trying to straighten her dress and hair. "Now behave yourself. I don't want him getting any funny ideas about us except that we're just going steady."

"Shoot, Marge. Why don't you just tell him about us and let me ask him for your hand, properly?"

"Ryder, I've told you...not right now. Besides Dad is too busy with Alma's funeral service and I don't want anything else to upset him."

Chad Larrimore came around the house wearing his black gabardine suit which was much too hot to wear in August, topped with a grey felt hat. These were the same clothes he wore whenever his job as minister required him to comfort the families in times of death. He walked over to the bucket sitting on the well and scooped up a metal ladle filled with cool well water. After he'd finished the whole cup in one swig, he noticed Marge and Ryder who had moved over to the small gazebo in the backyard.

"'Evenin' daughter...Ryder." Chad spoke.

"Good evening, Dad." Marge said, ever so innocently.

"Mr. Larrimore." Ryder replied, very courteously.

"You folks up to no good?" Chad asked with a wisp of humor.

"Dad, Ryder just came by to see what time I wanted him to pick me up to go to the funeral home."

"Is that right?" he asked, without thinking. "I passed Mae Bradley as I was comin' home. I reckon everyone in Stewart County knows about Alma's death by now. When there's somethin' to tell, Mae don't stop until she's sure everybody knows about it."

"Yes, Dad, she just left here, I thought she was gonna spend the night. She just stayed and stayed."

"As long as we got her, there's no use to have a second radio station for the news. That woman DOES love to talk. Ryder, are you all right? I know how you must feel, losing Amy and all." Chad said in his consoling voice.

"I'm fine, sir. Yessir, she's been the only momma I've known since my real one died." Ryder answered.

"Don't 'spect you've heard from Bret?" Chad asked.

"No sir." Ryder replied.

"Sure wisht I knew how to find him. It just ain't right for a boy to miss his own mother's funeral." Chad added.

"Dad, I'm sure if Bret knew, he'd already be here, or at least on his way."

"I said a prayer on the way home that the Lord would give Bret a sign or send an angel or somethin' to tell him to call home."

"I'm sure the Lord heard you, Daddy."

"'Course, if he don't get the message, that'll be God's will, too. Well, I'll go on in and wash up and let you two youngsters have some privacy. But don't stay out too long, Marge. I want the whole family to be at the funeral home by 7:00 to meet all the mourners. Where's your mom?"

"She's inside fixin' some dishes to take over to the Teasdale house." Marge answered.

"I mighta knowed it. I declare the way people are dyin' around here, we're all soon gonna be in the poor house fixin' covered dishes. The way some people eat at wakes makes me believe they sit around and go hungry purpose-like from wake to wake."

Chad went into the house, still mumbling to himself. Marge and Ryder look at one another and heaved another sigh of relief.

"One thing's for sure, Marge, --- When we get married, we're NOT livin' at your house. I'd never be able to make love to you under the same roof with him being in the next room. Sometimes he scares me half to death."

"Oh, he's not that bad. You just have to get used to him." Marge said, almost laughing at Ryder.

"I'd never get used to him. The way he preaches hellfire and damnation from the pulpit upsets my stomach from Sunday to Sunday and you have to live with him seven days a week. I'd go out of my mind. How was he when you and Bret were going together?"

"Bret was scared of him, too, but he never let on. Dad liked him but he always thought Bret needed to go to the army to make a man out him." Marge said.

"There was nothing unmanly about Bret. He beat me up more than once. I know how tough he could be. Maybe he should have beat your dad up a time or two to prove himself." Ryder said.

"Ryder, why don't you go on home and see about Mr,Teasdale. There may be something he needs for you to do and I'll expect you around seven, if that's OK?" Marge suggested.

"That'll be fine. Give me one more kiss before I go?" Ryder said, embracing her again.

"OK, but make it a quick one...with Dad being inside the kitchen."

Ryder kissed her, gave her a big hug and went around the side of the house to get to his car as Marge went inside the house.

As Bret started down the long dirt drive and turned onto the highway, he wondered what Marge had meant about Mr. Larrimore's wanting Bret to be drafted to make a man out of him. Just what did Mr. Larrimore suspect? How much did he know...and more important, how much did Aaron know about his son, Bret? Ryder knew he was suspecting things in his mind that weren't true. If Aaron suspected anything about Bret or his relationship with Ryder, Aaron would've run them both off, not just Bret. There had to be another reason. Ryder had thought long and hard night after night what had happened to make Aaron so mad at Bret. Bret had talked time and again about running off to Atlanta to study at an art school there. Bret did have talent when it came to drawing. He could pick up a number two Eagle lead pencil and any kind of paper that was handy and in no time, he'd drawn a bird or a squirrel, so life-like, it would almost leap off the paper. But there was nothing girlish about him. Bret had lettered in football, baseball, basketball, and wrestling and had broken the state record in track while he was at Stewart High School. Ryder had always envied Bret the way he excelled in sports. Besides sports, he had talent drawing and, most important, he had the prettiest girl in the county, Marge. He was as near perfect as a guy could get.

When Bret had to leave town unexpectedly, it was only natural for Ryder to go to Marge and comfort her. It was nearly a month before Ryder got the courage to ask Marge to go on a date with him. They dated on and on for about three months until Marge agreed to go steady with him. Since Bret was gone, having Marge as his girlfriend made up for some of the void and emptiness in Ryder's life. He missed Bret more than Marge did. No one knew, but he was more intimate with Bret than Bret had ever been with anyone. Back when they were dating, Bret and Marge would go out on a Friday or Saturday night and would kiss and make out and get Bret all hot and bothered, and he would come home horny as hell with a hard-on pressed so hard inside his jeans, he could hardly walk.

That's how Ryder first learned about "beating off". Bret would tip-toe into the bedroom after a date, trying to be quiet and not awaken Ryder, who slept in the bed next to his. Bret would never turn the lights on, but the room was always filled with light from the Georgia moon. Ryder would pretend to be asleep and crack one eye just enough to watch Bret undress. Any other time he saw Bret naked was in the showers in gym, or swimming, or bathing in the house. But none of those times warranted an erection. So it was only after a hot date with Marge that Ryder got to see Bret full and hard. Bret would lie still for at least thirty minutes to be sure Ryder was asleep and it was safe to start his weekend "private parts" exercise. Bret would hide the motion under the sheets and quilt until he was ready to climax and then he would throw them off, so as to not get any of his explosive semen on the bed clothes. He would then reach under the bed and get one of the socks he had just removed and clean up the mess he had made with his manly weapon.

Everybody has secrets whether they be thoughts or actions...smoking, drinking, swearing. And these secrets should be respected and remain with the individual until he was ready to share them with somebody. So Ryder decided never to invade Bret's secret world unless Bret invited him. Even worse, if Bret ever knew that Ryder was watching him, he'd probably stop and that would be the end of the private show Ryder enjoyed so much.

What Bret didn't know was that Ryder was expecting him to come home and perform his sexual activity in private, so Ryder always did his, thinking about Bret, before Bret got home.

Bret and Ryder had lived in the same room ever since Ryder's parents had died. They shared everything like twin brothers, being they were both the same age. They wore each other's clothes, depending on who had what clean to wear. Ryder always did Bret's homework for him while Bret did some of Ryder's farm chores in return.

Since Ryder was an orphan, so to speak, he had no one in his life to love, so he focused all his love on his hero, Bret. Bret sensed it and loved him back as if he were his real brother. Bret and his daddy had never been close. He had been the light of Alma's life. To her, the sun rose and set in Bret. Ryder almost felt the same way...and now with Alma dead and Bret gone, who knows where, would Ryder continue living alone with Aaron? Somehow he didn't think so. Aaron had never shown any real hostility toward his "adopted" son, but when it came time for punishment, Ryder was whipped with the same leather razor strop that Aaron used on Bret.

After Bret left, Ryder tried to fill the void in Alma's world and the two of them, both loving Bret, had grown closer than ever. Even though he was nineteen years old now, every night at bed time, Alma would still tap on Ryder's door and then enter to give him a good night kiss on the forehead, the same way she had done to her two boys when Bret was still there.

After high school graduation and Bret had seen it was hopeless to think about going to Atlanta or the art school. both boys had taken jobs downtown in Lumpkin. Bret worked at Cannington's General Store, sorting, marking merchandise and creating displays for the goods the way he had seen them in nearby Columbus. Ryder, on the other hand, had no "feel" for that kind of work, so he got hired by Hershel Henley, who ran a combination blacksmith and auto repair shop, which meant that Ryder not only had to learn how to change a fan belt or drain the oil from a car, he also had to learn how to shoe a horse. Even though it was in the fifties, some of the old die-hard farmers still came to town on Saturday in horse and buggies.

Saturday was always the biggest day of the week in Lumpkin. Monday thru Friday, only a few people came to town to shop, but on Saturday, you could hardly make your way through the crowds on the sidewalk. All the black people dressed up in the best they had and visited with each other all day. Some sat on the high curbs and played checkers. The women all seemed to find seats and sit there with their "Jesus" fans and try to keep cool under all the fancy dresses and hats with veils. Hose with seams had been out of style since the late 40's, but by a little darning here and there, every woman still had a pair to wear with their finery. Most of them brought picnic baskets filled with freshly caught, fried catfish and hushpuppies. A majority of the men had half pints of Old Crow or Jim Beam, hidden from their wives in their back pockets. Between the nips and the hot sun, nearly all of them were drunk by five o'clock. Everyone just hoped and prayed that no fight would break out if anyone was accused of cheating at checkers. As the evening drew to a close, all the women started singing hymns and Stephen Foster songs that could be heard up and down the main street. The men, those who were sober enough to join in, sang bass. In those days there was no racial disharmony and the black folks thought nothing about singing "Old Black Joe" or "Old Folks at Home" in which they referred to themselves as "darkies".

Sunday afternoons were quite different. Everyone went to church with their picnic baskets to find a good place by the river to eat, fish, and where the children could swim, after church services were over. The streets of downtown Lumpkin were virtually empty. No one dared to open a store or shop on the Lord's Day. Something as bad as that would surely land you in a lake of fire when you left this world.

By the time Ryder and Marge reached the funeral home, the place was packed with mourners and well-wishers. Everyone sat in folding chairs around the funeral parlor. The lid of the casket remained open and a side panel dropped down so that anyone could see Alma from any angle in the room. Many of the men had gone outside for a smoke and to talk about sports, politics, or their crops, leaving the women inside to fan, whisper, and whimper, blowing their noses from time to time in their frazzled piece of tissue supplied by the funeral home. If you listened closely, you could hear the familiar cliches and platitudes that had been said at every wake since the beginning of time and would continue until Jesus returned..."I didn't even know she was sick", "She looks so natural, just like she could sit up and talk to you.", "They did a wonderful job on making her up like she always looked", "Why did they have to dress Alma in that black dress, as hot as it is and all?", "Wonder what Aaron will do now?", "Has anybody heard anything about Bret coming home". "Do you suppose he knows about his mother". These phrases went on and on into the evening until every woman had had her chance to say them, individually. When someone new entered the parlor, the whole commotion started all over with more snivelling and the same remarks...you see, the newest visitor hadn't heard them all yet.

Ryder and Marge stayed until about 10:00 PM and then left, after saying their "goodbyes". Always the gentleman, Ryder opened the passenger door of his truck first for Marge and started around the bed to get to his side. Halfway around the truck, Ryder heard, "Psst." He stopped to see which direction the sound came from. This time he heard his name called, "Ryder, is that you?"

"Yeah, who are you and where are you?" Ryder asked in a loud whisper.

"It's me, Bret!" replied the voice.

"Bret? Is it really you? You old son-of-a-gun!"

"Sure thing."

"Well, come out so I can see you."

"Here, boy!" Bret said, stepping from behind a japonica bush.

"Gosh darn, it's good to see you." Ryder said, holding out his arms to embrace his 'brother'.

Bret ran fast to receive the invitation and hugged Ryder for all he was worth. Tears streamed down both their faces. In their hurry, they'd kissed each other on the cheek just in front of the ear. They held each other tightly, trying to bridge the gap with memories of happier times.

"How'd you find out about your momma?" Ryder whispered into Bret's ear.

"The sheriff in Columbus had a call from Charlie down at the police department. Charlie had called him asking about my whereabouts and if he saw me to give me the message."

"Where you been all this time?" Ryder asked, anxiously.

"I was in Atlanta for a while after I first left and then I came back to Columbus and found work. When I leave here, I'm goin' back to Atlanta and go to art school. I got enough money saved for my tuition." Bret replied.

"God, I've missed you."

"Same here."

Marge called from the cab of the truck, "Ryder, who are you talking to out there."

"Come out and see for yourself."

Marge managed to open the creaky truck door and focused her eyes in the dark to see the stranger standing next to Ryder.

"Is that...Bret? Is it? Oh, Bret, come here and give me a hug." Marge, all but screamed.

Bret released Ryder's hug to run and embrace Marge. She expected a kiss, but she thought she'd better not, since Bret didn't know about her's and Ryder's relationship. Bret put his arms around her waist and picked her off the ground and swung her around twice.

"Oh Bret, I'm so sorry about Alma. You were all she lived for.. but I'm glad you got home."

"Is my daddy inside the funeral home?"

"Yes, he won't leave until the last visitor has left."

"I think I'd better stay out here until he leaves. I don't want to have a scene with him in front of half of Lumpkin."

"I know." Marge offered.

"Hey, why don't the three of us go down to the river like old times and wait until everyone has gone." Ryder suggested.

"Sounds good to me." Bret said.

"Ryder, I really should be getting home. Momma saw me leave with you and she'll worry if I'm not home by the time she gets there."

"All right, we'll carry you home and then Bret and I can go down by the river."

Marge sat between them on the way to her house. No one said a word but the thoughts filling the truck were heavy. When they arrived at her house, she suggested that neither of the boys walk her to the door. She wasn't ready to reveal her secrets just yet. She kissed each of them on the cheek and ran into her house.

"Let's go down by the river," Ryder said, "I've got some beer hidden down there, tied to a rock in the water. It should be nice and cold."

"I'm all for it," Bret replied.

They were silent as they drove toward the river, about a half mile from the bridge that led into Eufaula, Alabama, until Bret said, "I guess you been seeing Marge since I left?"

"Off and on. We aren't really serious if that's what you're worried about." Ryder lied.

"I'm not worried, I guess I'm sorta out of Marge's picture by now." Bret said humbly.

"For what it's worth, I don't think she ever got you out of her system. If you ask me, I think she still loves you," Ryder offered.

"It doesn't really matter now. I have plans and she doesn't fit into them just now." Bret replied.

"Oh, here's our turn-off. I hid the beer where you and I used to go jaybird swimmin'".

"Lots of memories made there."

"I know." Ryder said as he parked the truck and walked down to the river bank. Bret followed, quietly.

"Yep, nice and cold," Ryder said, handing a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon to Bret.

They both sat down, opened their cans of beer and took a big swig,

"This was our secret place." Bret said.

"Yep."

"Do you remember our first time together when we almost got caught? We were too young to know what we were doing." Bret said, not looking at Ryder.

"I remember...but after three or four trips down here, we knew exactly what to do."

"Did you ever bring anyone else down here?" Bret asked.

"You mean guys?"

"Yes."

"Nope. You were my one and only...What about you...You done anything since you left here?"

"I found a bar in Atlanta where only guys hang out and I went home with a couple of them a time or two." Bret said, hesitantly.

"You're kidding!"

"Nope."

"Did you do things with 'em like we used to do?" Ryder asked, nervously.

"I did all those things and some other things too,things that we didn't think about or were too afraid to try."

"Golly...what kind of things...if you don't mind my askin'? You didn't go inside any of those guys, did you?"

";Fraid so...and I let them go inside me, too."

"Damn! What was it like...I mean...didn't it hurt?"

"A little at first but I soon got used to it."

"Hell, I feel like you've gone off and left me far behind." Ryder said,

"Not that far...Ryder, you know the one thing I always wanted to do with you, but was always to afraid to try?"

"What?"

"I always wanted to know what it was like to kiss you. I was afraid you'd get mad and start a fight."

"What's so bad about that? I mean we put each other's dicks in our mouths and swallowed each other's cum. What's wrong with kissin'?"

"It's just seemed kinda girlish. You know, the kinda thing I would do to Marge but never to another guy...and then one night in Atlanta, I was in bed with this guy and before I could say 'no' he planted a big one on me and stuck his tongue in my mouth."

"You mean that French kissin'?"

"Yep."

"Well what was it like?"

"I'm afraid if I described it to you, you'd gag. It would be better if you let me show you." Bret said, still not looking at Ryder.

"You mean you want to French kiss me?"

"I've thought about it at nights sometimes, when I'm beating off."

"Well, if you're brave enough to try it...I can be brave enough to let you."

"You promise not to get mad?" Bret asked.

"I promise."

"Then lean back on the grass and let me lie beside you."

"Damn. I'm gettin' hard just thinkin' about it." Ryder said as he lay back on the damp grass.

Bret sat his beer on the grass beside him, turning it over and spilling its contents as he stretched his body over and upward to plant his lips on Ryder's. Their mouths had touched only for a second when Ryder withdraw and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry, Bret, but this is disgusting."

"You didn't give it a chance. Let me do it once more, only this time hold still longer while I insert my tongue in your into your mouth." Bret said, almost pleading.

"O.K. Just make it short and sweet because you know I'm not enjoying it," Ryder replied,

Bret moved quicker this time and before Ryder could object, he had slid his hot wet tongue into Ryder's mouth. His tongue touched Ryder's and Ryder felt a sensation all the way down to his toes. He didn't want to be the invaded, he wanted to be the invader, so instantly he pushed Bret's tongue back into his mouth, while he inserted his own into Bret's. This was the thrill of all thrills, defying belief. The many weeks that he, Ryder, had made out with Marge, never once had he felt something this exciting. Then in a rush, the kissing process sped up as they moved their heads from side to side, never breaking the mouth lock. To Ryder this was an all time high in excitement. He thought his dick would burst forth from his trousers through the zippered fly. Ryder took Bret's hand and placed it on his own swollen crotch, as if to say, "See what you did to me?"

Bret was all to eager to accept Ryder's invitation to explore his lower regions as he quickly unzipped Ryder's pants and probed inside.

"Damn! You're even bigger than I remembered," Bret whispered.

"It was your kiss. I've never had an boner this large before."

"I'm glad to see you still care for me." Bret said.

"Care for you? Didn't you know, before you left, about my strong feelin's for you?" Ryder said.

"Then why the fuck didn't you let me know?" Bret queried.

"I thought you'd run away and hate me if I said anything...but, hell, you ran off anyway, without my ever telling you. How about you? How deeply did you feel for me?" Ryder asked.

"I cared about a lot you more than I ever cared about Marge." Bret replied.

"I always thought that if you ever left town, you'd take Marge with you and marry her."

"I had thought about that. At one point, that was my intention. But I knew it wouldn't be fair to her if I married her, all the while wanting you more."

"Oh God, I'm so glad you came home to tell me all this. You see, I sorta took your place in Marge's life after you left and now her parents expect me to marry her."

"Have you done the nasty with her?"

"Sorry, bro, but I must confess I have."

"You unfaithful, son-of-a-bitch. The whole time we went steady, I never once made love to her. Oh, we used to touch each other at the drive-in movies but it never went any farther than that;"

"She implied many times that the two of you had made love several times." Ryder stated. "I always felt she was trying to tell me that you made love to her better that I did...and now I find out, you never touched her," Ryder replied.

"Nope. Never did." quipped Bret.

"Hey, let's get naked and go for a swim," Ryder said, jumping to start taking off his clothes, Ryder invited.

"Sounds good. I haven't bathed since yesterday and I know my armpits must smell sweaty." Bret said, beginning to strip. also.

After both of them had removed all their clothing, the full moon cast a light on their bodies, like a spot light.

"God, you're some hunk of a he-man, Ryder."

"So are you, good buddy," Ryder replied.

They joined hands like two kids playing Red Rover in grammar school and ran together in the water until both of them were submerged up to their waists.

"Feel good?" Bret asked.

"It's much better when you're here."

"Wanna fool around?" Bret asked, splashing a handful of water on Ryder' back."

"You bastard. I'll get even with you, after that." Ryder declared.

"Go ahead, I'll take you on any time you're ready."

Ryder sprung up, raising his body out of the motionless dark river, reaching for Bret's head in order to dunk him. Both their erections had withdrawn somewhat from the chill in the water, but they still met, face to face. This time, Ryder was brave enough to instigate the kiss. They kept kissing as the fronts of their bodies seem to melt into one flesh. Bret moved his hand down, once again, grabbing Bret's erection as Ryder reciprocated accordingly.

"Come on, baby, let's go lie on the bank, head to crotch, crotch to head like we used to. Or is that too childish to try again?" Bret asked.

"It doesn't have to be childish or girlish at all. Not if we do it in the name of love." Ryder replied.

So they were once again lying on the grass locked in a sixty-nine position, even though neither one of them had ever it called 'sixty-nine' before. Each lay there with a cock staring him in the face. They both reached for the dick in front of them, giving it a squeeze to confirm its firmness. They leaned forward at the same time and began gobbling the huge penises inch by inch until they had managed to stuff the full length of the monsters into their hungry mouths and awaiting throats. They assumed the same bobbling rhythm with their heads with a vengeance, hoping that each would make the other cum first. It had been a long time since they had done anything like this to one another, so the first of the two expected explosions was due any second. It was Ryder who gushed forth into Bret's oral cavity with a huge thrust. Bret was swallowing as fast as Ryder could shoot. Halfway through this action, Bret released his barrage of hot milky liquid down Ryder's throat, causing Ryder to cough and gag. But Ryder wanted every drop that Bret was bestowing into his mouth, so he took a deep breath to stop the gagging and began drinking the mighty fluid as if it were the first time for each of them.

"Don't swallow it all," Bret spoke. "Keep some in your mouth while we kiss."

Bret turned his body around so that he could face Ryder and lunged forward into a hot wet kiss...rach exchanging a mouthful of semen with the other.

When they had swallowed all there was to swallow, it was Ryder who spoke first, "Damn! That was wonderful."

"It was for me, too. Did you like this new game?"

"It didn't take long to follow your lead." Ryder replied, smiling, pleased.

"Let's smoke a cigarette and wait a few minutes and I'll show you a few more tricks I've learned." Bret said, reaching for a pack of Chesterfields in his shirt pocket.

"I guess it's true, what we saw in the movies, good sex should be followed with a good smoke." Ryder replied, taking a lit cigarette Bret had just lit for him. "What's next, Alphonse?"

"You'll soon see..... or rather you'll soon feel." Bret said, jokingly.

"We're not gonna go inside each other, are we?"

"I'll let you enter me, but I won't enter you unless you're sure you wanna try it. Fair deal, bro?"

"Sounds fair to me...but remember the only girl I've ever fucked was Marge and you and she aren't built alike...so I may need some help in showing me what to do."

"Baby, you're in for the treat of your life!!" Bret said, excitedly as he inhaled a big drag from his cigarette.

"I don't want to disturb our mood or nothin'. but you wanna talk a bit about your momma?" Ryder asked.

"It didn't shock me none. I would have thought my dad would have run her into the grave, way before this. I knew I had to get away from him. Dyin' was about Momma's only way of escape. You know.....you live there. You've heard the way he carried on and hollered at her. The old hens in Lumpkin would drop their drawers if they knew the way he really treated her. Everyone thought they were happy as two peas in a pod...but if they only knew..." Bret said, getting angrier the more he forced himself to remember.

"Do you mind my asking you now why he got so upset and ran you out of town?" Ryder inquired.

"Not just yet. I WILL tell you some time, but not now." Bret replied. "You wanna jump back in the water before we start up again. I like it when we're squeaky clean."

"Sure, I'm ready."

Ryder chased Bret back into the water. The two of them splashed as they did when they were ten years old. The meaningfulness of their relationship had begun early and after Ryder moved in with Bret, they were as close as twin brothers. They thought alike and finished each others sentences, even in the classroom when the teacher would ask one of them a question. No matter which one of the two started to answer, the other one jumped in and completed it. This amused the teachers for awhile and then they got annoyed by it. It was impossible to give them an accurate grade when they studied and worked together so harmoniously.

In a big city like Macon or Atlanta, it would be acceptable if they loved each other, but in a small town like Lumpkin, there was only one word that would describe them. The big "Q" word. So everything that ever happened between the two of them was never known by anybody, Bret felt that people might be getting suspicious of his and Ryder's clandestine shenanigans. That's why he started dating Marge. so that everyone would think he was normal. Not even Marge had ever suspected anything between the two guys.

This newly found intimacy that Ryder had just experienced with Bret made him lose his inhibitions as he reached for Bret time and again to kiss him once more. He just couldn't get enough of it. Bret was pleased and more than willing to oblige Ryder. Once more they felt the rush of their sexual desires and swam back to the shore. They used their shirts to dry themselves and Ryder reached to finish his beer. He let out a loud burp after he had drained the can.

"Sorry." Ryder said. It was always the southern custom to excuse yourself after a belch, no matter who you did it in front of. It could be two big burly truck drivers, but as soon as one of them burped, it was always followed by an "excuse me". Farting was a different story all together...you never let ANYONE hear you fart...not even husbands and wives.

"That's OK. I like a good hearty burp, too." Bret said as they both sat down on the grass, once again. "Well, are you ready to try the dirty deed?"

"I've been thinking about it." Ryder replied.

"Look, I won't put any pressure on you. You do it to me and I know you'll like it and I'll save doing to you until you're ready...some other time." Bret said.

"Well, I've been wonderin' what kind of positions we have to get in, since a man ain't got no hole in the front."

"I guess you've only tried it the missionary position with Marge on her back, so that might be easier for you to get used to."

"What the heck is a missionary position? You mean like getting on your knees and prayin'?"

"No, you fool, I get on my back and you get on top of me like you would a woman and enter my rear from the front."

"Whatever you say..." Ryder said confused.

"Get yourself real hard and get the top of your dick wet with spit. I'll use my spit to get myself ready."

"Oh, I know all about that part. I always use spit. It goes into a pussy easier."

"Just keep that in mind while you're entering me...and for God's sake don't get so rambunctious and go slow...did you hear me?...Slow!! Are you about ready?"

"Yep, almost there."

"Now lie down on top of me while I lift my legs onto your shoulders."

"Marge never did that."

"That's because, like you said, her hole is in the front."

Slowly the two of them got into position with Bret's guidance. Bret grabbed Ryder's dick. It was so large and hard by now, Bret almost backed out on the deal. He'd never felt such a monster about to enter him. Once Bret had him in place he bore down on his asshole to open it and the tip of Ryder's cock slid in about a half inch. It was Bret that now had to relax, so he wouldn't get hurt. He sighed a little after taking a deep breath and inched Ryder inside him."

"Godamighty! This feels good, Bret!!!"

"I thought it would."

"But ain't I hurting you?"

"No, it feels just as good to me as it does to you."

"You better not be lying if I decide to let you do me." Ryder said.

"I didn't say it wouldn't hurt the first time. It does, but after you get used to it, it's fantastic."

"Now, you want me to fuck you?" Ryder asked, still seeking instructions.

"Yeah, but I want you to cover my mouth with yours and make love to me...don't just fuck me."

"I never thought I'd get used to kissin' a man so quickly, but Bret, I can't get enough of you."

"That's the way I feel about you, baby."

Ryder began shifting his weight forward and backward, trying to push deeper with each thrust of his pelvis.

"Oh my God, Bret. I'm gonna shoot!...Shit!"

"That always happens the first time. Go ahead and shoot and leave your dick inside me, it won't be long before you're hard enough to do it again. This time you can take your time...OK?"

"Here it comes." And cum he did. Ryder felt he must've deposited a quart of sperm inside his best friend and "brother".

"Damn," Ryder said. "I bet there ain't no pussy in the world as tight as your asshole."

"Probably not." Bret said, grimacing slightly.

"No wonder women don't like queers. Once a man fucks another man, he'd never like the feel of a pussy again." Ryder said, thrusting one last time and getting his breath.

With that, Bret started to laugh. He laughed so hard he almost shot Ryder's penis out of his anus. It occurred to Ryder what he had just said and he started laughing harder than his buddy. Ryder stayed on top of Bret and folded his arms across Bret's chest so that he could look down into Bret's eyes and occasionall give him a quick peck on the lips.

"God, I've missed you."Ryder said, "When you left you took half of me with you."

"If Momma hadn't died, I'd've still come home. I wanted to see you. I dreamed every night of you and of you and me doing this. I had more beat-off sessions thinking about you than I ever did with any girl." Bret said intimately.

"If I'd've known how to do this with you before you left, you never would have gone anywhere...without me anyway." Ryder said, seriously.

"That's another reason I came back. I want you to go with Atlanta with me." Bret said anxiously.

"Aw, I don't know if I could do that. Big cities are for some folks but I ain't one of them." Ryder replied.

"What are you makin' now? Two? Two and a quarter an hour? Why, that don't leave you more'n sixty dollars a week take-home pay, after taxes."

"Fifty-seven, ninety-four to be exact."Ryder said.

"You could make twice or three times as much in Atlanta."

"Doin' what?"

"Same thing you're doin' now, or somethin' better. We could find a place and live together...just you and me...and we could kiss, make love, fuck, suck, whatever you wanted to do...every night...and no one would know us." Bret pleaded.

"I couldn't do that. What would people say if we went off together? What'll people say when they find out you're home. You've got to face your daddy, you know...and well, I'm in kind of a bind. I think Jem caught me and Marge making out in the barn and he told Mr. Larrimore about it and the old man didn't say anything to me about it because he thinks I'm gonna marry Marge;"

"You don't love her and she don't love you. Why, I bet I could take her away from you as fast as you could spit." Bret said,

"I don't know, Bret, we've been talkin' pretty serious like." Ryder said.

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelin's. I just know how much Marge said she loved me." Bret replied.

"Why don't we just wait and talk about it after the funeral and everything...and we can decide how we feel and what's what, then...Are you plannin' on goin' to see your daddy tonight?...I mean where you gonna sleep and eat?"

"I thought about it on the way home and maybe I could stay with old Mae while I'm here."

"Good Lord, Bret, you can't mean that! Why, that gossipin' old heifer would have stories spread about you in three counties."

"She'll only know what she has to know." Bret said.

"I'm more worried about what she'll make up." Ryder replied.

"Enough of this. Are you hard enough to go another round with me."

"No, but I can get that way mighty quick."

"Then get that way. I still wanna go over to the funeral home and see Momma, if my daddy's gone."

"Won't you tell me what happened between the two of you?"

"I told you I would...but not just yet. Now shut up and get to fuckin'".

Once more, Ryder began to make love to Bret. This time it was slower and had more meaning. It was almost twenty minutes before Ryder achieved his climax this time.

Afterward, the two of them washed in the river. They got in Ryder's truck and headed toward the funeral home, just as Aaron was pulling out his truck onto the highway to go home.

(to be continued in Chapter Two)