This is a work of pure fiction, but based on the author's feelings, beliefs, and in some cases, experience. Come to think of it -- it might not be very pure either! There may be graphic sexual encounters at times between men, so if this offends you, you are invited to retreat. If you are too young or it is otherwise illegal for you to be reading this kind if story, shame on you for reading it - - please stop here. If not, - - ENJOY!
Cast of characters:
Jack Smith -- uh -- that would be me
Billy -- Jack's closest brother, 3 yrs older.
Will Smith -- My dad
Vivian Smith My mom
Art -- Jack's oldest brother, 9 yrs older.
Ralph Gilmore -- a new friend - deceased
Stacy Whitworth -- a catalyst/friend
George Toliver -- old grade school buddy
George Toliver, Sr, -- (duh!)
Cynthia Toliver -- (Mrs. Duh!)
Jim Walls-- George's cousin
Uncle Jake Smith-- Will's Brother
Aunt Lindy -- Uncle Jake's wife
Seth Gary -- One of Jake and Lindy's other nephews
Etta -- The Jacob Smith's housekeeper.
Jake Smith Jr. Jack's cousin
Colin -- Jake's partner
Carrie Smith -- Another of the Smith cousins
Al -- Carrie's Partner
Chris Gary -- Seth's older brother.
Craig -- Chris's partner
Mario -- Old high school friend
Terrence Moynahan -- Carmel Architect
Casey Bell -- Terrence's attorney
Ryan Crayson-- my husband
Ryan Jr. (Rye) -- Our son
Ranee -- Our daughter.
Harold -- the butler
From Chapter 24:
We were eating breakfast when the house phone rang. I had not told the kids that their Pop hadn't come home last night. He often would sleep late when he was out late with a client. Harold answered the phone. "Crayson-Smith residence! Harold speaking." He then got a shocked look on his face. "No he -- oh! Oh my -- oh no!" He hung up. Then Harold started to give the orders.
"Turn off all your cell phones!" He said it with such authority that we all did it, no question. He took the house phone off the hook. "Everyone remain calm. Your father has been kidnapped." Both kids screamed. My heart sank even further than it already was.
Chapter 25
Because I usually got up earlier than Ryan, he often would sleep in a guest room, rather than wake me up. So I assumed that was what happened this morning.
After having us disconnect all phones, Harold got out a CB radio. He hailed the police and told them what had happened. They were able to tap our phone line from a central phone company location. They called back when that was done. In the mean time, Harold instructed us to leave our cell phones off. He further told us that when the phone rings only he should answer it. Then he sent the kids to their rooms -- to pray!
Then he hung the house phone up. Almost immediately, it rang again. Harold answered it then put it on speaker-phone, while still talking in to the receiver.
"DO NOT HANG UP OR HE'S A DEAD MAN!" Said a raspy male voice.
"Who is this?" Harold demanded.
"WE'll be the ones making the demands, you fucking FAG! And if you value the life of your queer partner -- FAG -- don't ever hang up on me again! That has already earned your WIFE a scar on her cheek!"
"That was my butler that hung up, and I've already fired him!" Said Harold, coldly. "And if I'm to cooperate with you -- YOU will put Ryan on the phone -- NOW!"
I wanted to run and jerk the phone from Harold and plead for mercy, but something told me that he had this pre-arranged with Ryan.
"I'm gonna hold the phone up to the queer's ear. NO SIGNALS, or he WILL get hurt!"
"Harold! They have video surveillance!" Said Ryan, then we heard a loud smack and what we could only assume was a cry from Ryan and gasping. "FUCKER!" Said the kidnapper to Ryan. Then he came back on the phone:
"Well, now you know he's alive and that we won't put up with any of your shit! And if you try to take out the video, we'll do a lot worse! We know you have already alerted the police, so we will be moving around a lot. We also know that the cops are listening to this. Listen here, pigs! If you don't want the blood of this fag on your hands, you won't try anything smart! WE are smarter! We will call again! We have to move and we will now tie up and gag your fag -- hey that rhymes! Your GAGGED fag! Hahaha! And don't worry, he'll get a good beating for that last remark! And don't ANYONE leave the house!"
And the thug hung up.
I felt completely at my wits end. I looked at Harold but was afraid to say anything. Then he did something I never would have done. He looked around and found a hidden camera, threw it down and crushed it under his heel. In my mind I could see them beating my sweetheart senseless.
Then Harold immediately took the phone off the hook and again hailed the police on the CB.
"Yes, this is he. Mr. Crayson is tough, and we have discussed this at length before. No, as far as I could tell, they think I am his husband. Pardon the obvious analogy, but we have pegged this act our "Good fag/Bad fag" routine. He is acting fem -- which he is NOT -- and I am acting the super masculine stereotype. Oh? Shit! Well, they'll call back, and -- Oh! Well that's good -- I guess. Okay. As far as I know, the only person in here recently was a cable guy to set up TEVO. Yeah, that's the company all right. Yessir! We will cooperate fully. Yes, good idea. Left thumb. Yes! Thanks. Good bye."
Then Harold turned to me. "Some time ago, before Mrs. C died, we came up with this plan. We should have told you about it long ago, Jack, but we got too comfortable, I guess. The police could not get a triangulation on the phone, but they got the number, so the next time it will be easier. And they don't have to wait for them to call us. They have a tracer on the phone already.
"Also, they are investigating who it was that installed out TEVO recently. The police like our strategy. Mr. C is a lot tougher than even you know, Jack. He will take a lot of abuse before he breaks. What we have to do now, before hanging up the phone again, is locate the rest of the - " Bing Bong!
"Oh, wait!" Harold went to the command center in the kitchen. "Hello, officer. Yes. That's right. Thanks."
The police are on their way up the driveway. By the way -- the password is "left thumb" any time they communicate with us. Obviously these people are pretty sophisticated, so we are assuming it is not beyond them to impersonate the police also. So if any police contact us, they must say `left thumb'."
Harold went to the door and awaited the police's arrival.
When they came in, they located 3 more devices around the house and planted their own. They also left a detective to protect us from further harm.
As soon as the thugs' surveillance equipment was disabled, they told me to put the phone back on the line. Within 5 minutes, the phone rang. Harold answered.
"Don't FUCKING even ask to talk to your sniveling little fag! He's not able to talk right now!"
"Don't tell ME what to do, ass hole!" Said Harold. "YOU are the one that obviously wants something! And I want my man back! Just stop all the theatrics and get down to business!"
I was rigid with fear for Ryan. I couldn't imagine how Harold could talk like that. I guess that's why he was doing the talking and not me. The detective's facial expressions told me that Harold knew what he was doing.
There was a long pause -- assuming that the thug pressed the mute key while he discussed the situation with someone. When he came back his voice seemed a little shaky and not as sure of himself as before.
"We want 5 million dollars, to be dropped off at a location to be determined later. You are to call this number -- I know you already have it -- when you have the money. I want you to know that your boyfriend is at the moment unconscious, but we have a surgeon here that says he will be fine. And he will remain fine as long as you follow our instructions exactly.
"I will give you an account to directly wire the money to. As soon as we have received it, and have moved it to our offshore accounts, we will release your man."
"Okay, this is where I must ask a question." Said Harold.
"You don't get to ask questions!"
Click! Harold hung up! I felt so helpless. I looked at the cop, and he was looking on with admiration. "Got their location! He said. The phone rang again.
"By now then cops have a bead on me. So I have to move. Don't be hanging up again if you value your friends sexual favors! When he wakes up, we will not be aiming for his head any more!"
"I won't wire anything into any accounts!" Said Harold.
"WHAT!??" Said the thug.
"There is no way to assure Ryan's wellbeing with that plan."
"Well, isn't that just tough shit!! You are not the one calling the shots - "
"Ah, but that's where you are wrong! If I cannot be assured that you are taking good care of Ryan -- no more abuse -- AT ALL -- you will not get anything!" I heard a gasp and swearing in the background.
"Okay, sucker, you want to play hardball? Shake that ass hole awake, Doc! Here's your baby boy, fucker!"
"Harold?" I immediately recognized Ryan's voice. It was weak and maybe even drugged -- or something. "Don't -- AHHH!"
"Break it! Snap off the damned finger!" we heard in the background. We heard a muffled snapping sound and my Ryan screamed. Then cried out again, as we heard another snap! Then he yelled, "DON'T GIVE THEM A- - P -- P- PENNY!" Then there was a loud crack, and then the phone obviously clattered to the floor. But no more sound from Ryan. I ran and grabbed the phone and screamed,
"RYAN!"
Harold hung up the phone.
"Dammit Harold you're going too far!" I screamed.
"His strategy is flawless!" said the detective. "I'd bet that I could hold my breath until they call again! Have you two worked together -- like this -- before?" added the detective, obviously impressed.
<<RRRING!!>>
Harold answered. "I'm warning you, if you hang up again - "
"Here's the way it's GOING to go DOWN!" Said Harold, cold and calculatingly. "We will have the money in two large briefcases, we will meet you at two AM in the morning -- sometime after we can get our hands on that much money -- and you and Ryan will walk out alone to the middle of the Mallet Bay Bridge -- wearing nothing but white, full body leotards -- and no guns -- and I will walk out dressed the same -- with the two briefcases -- and no guns! It will be your responsibility to get away from that point. I'm sure you will think of a way."
"Where am I going to find leotards? The thug said, sounding more distraught than Harold. Well - - Harold didn't sound distraught at all.
"If I can find five million dollars, then YOU can find white leotards!" Said Harold.
"How long will it take to get the money?" The thug asked. Harold got the victory sign from the detective.
"That kind of money isn't kept under a mattress or in the vault. Give us 3 days." Said Harold.
"I'll give you 36 hours, and I will call your cell phone and guide you to the drop-off point at the last moment. What is your cell phone number?"
"You may not have that. But if you call this number. It will be patched over. And it may take longer than 36 hours! AND -- the exchange WILL be on the Mallet Bay Bridge!"
"36 hours is the time that we will allow you!"
"Listen, sucker -- you have seen that my partner is no pushover. We have discussed this before, and have already decided there will not be any deals with the devil. So back off! I'll get it as soon as I can! And - - - I will call YOU! And I'll need to talk to Ryan to get a couple of passwords."
"He's not -- er -- awake at the moment, you will have to - "
"Dammit, you woke him before! Wake him now!"
"Fuck, guy! With friends like you, does he even need enemies?" Said the thug.
"Just put him on."
"H -- h -- hello?" Said Ryan weakly. I grabbed the phone away from Harold.
"Ryan! Are you okay?"
"Dammit, Cuz!" He said. "Hell no, I'm not okay. Give the damned phone to Harold!"
I was completely defeated. Even Ryan seemed to loathe me. I handed the phone to Harold and walked out of the room and to my bedroom, where I fell onto my bed and lost it. I ran for the bathroom and chucked some of last night's dinner . Then I went back to the bedroom and sobbed for nearly 30 minutes.
I felt my shoulder being shaken. "Jack -- SIR! Jack! Please!" I looked up at Harold. "Please for give me. I had to do that -- and so did Ryan -- if we're to see him again. I told them that you are his favorite cousin and didn't agree with the way I was handling it, but that I was in charge.
"Jack, please don't take any of this personally. And to let you know, getting that kind of money will be no problem -- even if it was in 6 hours! But we have to make it seem difficult, or they will demand more. And we have to make them believe that we are `principled' men who would not negotiate easily with kidnappers. We have to make it hard for them to have any more bargaining power than they already have."
I lost it again. "I'm sorry, Harold, I just couldn't stand it! When they broke Ryan's fingers (sob!) Jeez! I`m glad you're the one doing the negotiating. When Ryan yelled at me! I - "
"He had to do that."
"I -- real- ize -- that - - - now! I hope I didn't mess anything up."
"I think it'll be fine. Now comes the hardest part for all of us. We have to sit tight and wait out the whole 36 hours. In the mean time, the police will have $5,000,000 dollars in U.S. currency -- real money -- but money that has been removed from circulation. It could be spent, but is worthless when spoiled. And believe me, it's gonna get spoiled. There will be remote-release cartridges in the briefcases that will stain each stack of bills beyond recognition. Try to get some sleep, Jack." He said, and left me to myself again.
But sleep would not come. Late that night, Rye and Ranee both came into my bed and snuggled up next to me. It was comforting to have them near me.
They were able to sleep.
I extricated myself from the kids early -- about 6:30 AM -- feeling exhausted and wired. Another 24 -- 30 hours to wait. Great! I went to the kitchen and fixed a huge breakfast for everyone, including Harold and Sergeant Willis. We spared the kids specifics of what was going on, preferring to encourage them and be more optimistic than I felt. It amazed me how this helped me to be comforted and even optimistic too.
Another two policemen arrived and they told the kids to try to do their usual routine, as if everything was okay. Ranee of course went to the stables and after feeding her and currying her until her coat shone like satin, She got atop her young mare, with nothing but a riding pad -- no saddle -- she took off around the 40 acre course. Officer Baird had her in his sights the whole time.
She rode, sometimes loping, sometimes walking and sometimes galloping, for over two hours. Then she stopped by a small stream that runs through the property, and dismounted, letting the horse go where she wanted. Ranee sat against a tree, and stared up at the clouds in the sky.
She then got up and repositioned herself facing the tree -- in a kneeling position, he head down. She remained there on her knees for nearly 25 minutes, then got up and whistled: The horse came trotting back. He nuzzled her neck and she leaped on his back. He whinnied and started for home -- his stable.
All Rye wanted to do was get online and chat with his friends. He asked if he could talk about the situation. Sergeant Willis said yes bit that Officer Ryan (pure coincidence!) should be there to watch. Officer Ryan was maybe 25 years old, and immediately made a connection with Rye. Nothing of a gay nature, just they clicked as friends. So Rye said that would be okay.
As Rye chatted with his friends. His conversation with Officer Ryan picked up and finally he shut down the computer and just talked with the officer. Rye asked the officer about himself. He was married with 2 very small children, a girl and a baby boy. He told Rye other details of his private and professional life as Rye asked.
And Rye told the officer about his life. He asked Officer Ryan, "You know that my parents are gay. Is that was any problem for you?"
Officer Ryan said, "Not in the least. Is it for you?"
"Sometimes kids will be stupid. But for the most part, they're nice. I don't expect anyone to understand. I know gay guys who make their gayness a big deal, and seem to invite trouble. But others just don't. They even joke about being gay with their straight friends -- and they don't consider it demeaning. I guess there's stupidity wherever you go."
"Believe me, I see a lot of it in my business!" Said the young cop.
"Really?" Said Rye.
"Well, figure: If someone can't make it on their own merit, they too often try to get it any way they can. And usually they get caught. And that's because they are not that bright in the first place."
"Do you think that's the case with the people that have my pop?"
"I think they are smarter than most. Obviously they have been planning this for a long time. But it may be their elaborate planning that gets them in trouble." Officer Ryan didn't know that their elaborate planning was already being changed.
"Do you think my pop will be okay?" Said Rye.
"We have every reason to believe that he probably will. He's pretty sharp, you know!"
"Yeah." Said Rye, glumly. "I hope you're right!"
"You're butler seems to have it all together!"
"Yeah. He's more than a butler. He used to be in the CIA with my pop."
"That answers a lot! Is he gay too?"
"Naw. He's got a girlfriend. He used to be married, but it didn't work out."
"Well, your dad seems to be in good hands."
"Yeah." Said Rye, idly. "That's my pop. Jack's my dad."
"Oh! Sorry!"
"It's okay, everyone has trouble with that one."
"So -- which one is - - ?"
"My pop is my biological father. But Jack loves me every bit as much as my pop. We're a family."
"I can see that. I hope my wife and I can be half as together as your parents are." Said Officer Ryan.
Rye smiled down on the young officer. At 6'-1" tall, Rye was at least 3" taller. And though the cop was thin himself, he still probably outweighed Rye.
Such was the conversation that went on throughout the house. Ranee, Rye and Harold all talked easily with their shadows. I was the only one who was kind of left alone. And I felt it! Before bed the second night, I found myself on my knees.
"Heavenly Father, I don't do this often enough. I'm sorry, but I've heard that even atheists pray in fox holes. And that's how I feel right now. Please bring my Ryan back to me. PLEASE! I love these kids more than life. I love RYAN more than life! I'm not sure I am equipped to raise the kids by myself. I guess I would, but please, if you have power to save, save my Ryan.
"And, especially, help the kids to not be too stressed over this. We have tried to keep them sheltered from the worst of it. Please help them -- and me -- to accept whatever happens, of course but -- please save my Ryan. Amen."
Somehow, for the first time since the first phone call, I didn't feel alone. I didn't make any deals with God. But somehow I was made to feel -- better. I slept that night.
In the morning, Harold made the call. "We could only get up four and a half million. If you want it, you will meet us as planned. You pick the time."
"Thirty minutes!" Said the thug.
"Be reasonable! It'll take longer than that to - "
"Thirty minutes, or your queer is dead."
"I know you're not willing to risk that, with no money!" Said Harold. "We'll be there as soon as we can."
"Call me again when you are ready to roll. It takes 20 minutes to get to that bridge from your house -- I timed it myself!"
Harold waited exactly 35 minutes then called. "I told you thirty - "
"We're ready to walk out the door. Do you want this or not!"
Harold put on his leotard (so nothing could be concealed -- like a gun) and a coat. I didn't go along, but this is what they told me later: They drove to the bridge. The police had previously had the sanitation department to drop a steel dumpster, half full of trash, on the side of the road in the middle of the bridge. When Harold started to walk across the bridge, in his leotard and with the two attachés, he saw Ryan and one of the thugs coming from the other direction, also in leotards. Ryan was limping badly. As they got closer it was obvious that no one was carrying any weapons.
They stopped 15 feet from one another. Harold said to Ryan "RUN!" He hobbled as quickly as he could and as Harold threw the second attaché, he threw it high enough that the thug had to jump to not lose them in the water. By the time he was recovered from his jump, Ryan had made it to Harold. Then the thug dashed for the side of the bridge and reached for something.
Harold grabbed Ryan's arm and dragged him to the dumpster, then hefted him into it. Before he could join Ryan in the dumpster, the thug was shooting at them, and he dashed behind the dumpster where to his surprise there was a gun. He grabbed it and returned fire, and the thug ran to the other side of the bridge.
A helicopter appeared out of nowhere. As the thug got in to the helicopter, there were two thumping sounds. Above the sound of the helicopter, even Ryan heard two voices say, "FUCK!" That was because the triggering devices had been remotely set off and the money was drenched in ink. The helicopter flew over the dumpster and they started to fire off rounds from an automatic rifle.
Harold pushed shut one the lids of the dumpster and Ryan got under it, and Harold got under the other. That was when Harold said he saw something bright flying toward the helicopter. The motor exploded and it fell into the water, but not before hitting the bridge and spilling it's occupants in the bridge structure. No one survived the fall.
I got a call to immediately meet them at the hospital, with the kids. We drove as fast as was practical and found Ryan in the emergency room. They already had his right hand deadened while they did microsurgery on it. They had to re-break his index, middle and pinky fingers, to make it right. His head was a mess. They cleaned it quickly with alcohol swabs as soon as he arrived, and put wraps of gauze and cloth around it, which had turned all red around the edges.
He said that hurt the most. When Harold threw him into the dumpster, it reopened several of the wounds that were there, but his hand was more important, except that his broken nose was a problem because of bleeding so close to his brain. That's why they were liberal with the alcohol and peroxide -- to clean up any germs or infection from the dumpster.
"Sowwy I hadda be mean to woo -- cuzz!" He said, through his hideous blood-stained mask.
"It's okay, Sweetheart! Harold already explained." I said.
No one could touch him during the operation, and then again when they redressed his head wounds. The kids both cried when they saw their pop. He told them it wasn't so bad -- not as bad as wondering if he would ever see them again! They asked the kids to wait outside as they examined the damage to his penis. It was badly scarred and the doctor said that the urethra was cut, but it was already healing. Not as nicely as the doc liked, but he said there was too much chance of cutting a nerve.
When we got home, I undressed him for bed. He could have done it with his left hand, but - - WHY??!!
When I got to his boxers, he said, "Better prepare yourself!"
I carefully pulled them down and over his genitals. His penis was carefully -- almost artfully -- scored -- in a diamond like pattern, and then each cut scabbed over. His testicles were black and blue. "They kicked me so many times there, I'm surprised there's anything left. Good thing they didn't have a larger target!
"That sadistic one that they called Doc' got a real thrill out of carving up my wiener! Every time he threatened to cut it off if I screamed too loud. Obviously he did cut into the urethra. The pain was excruciating during and after he cut it that time. It's not so bad now, but it is throbbing -- and not in a good way!" Said Ryan, with a grimacing smile. Well, he hadn't lost his sense of humor. "It is kind of fun -- sorry, Jack -- when the doctor was testing me -- or I should say -- it' -- for sensitivity. The good news is there is no permanent damage. With all the cutting, he didn't sever any important nerve. And -- well -- he told be my partner may like the scar tissue during sex!"
Well, I knew looking at it, it would be awhile before I could satisfy my sweetie, but that didn't stop him from wanting to do whatever he could! There was some amount of transferred pain when I tried to penetrate him, but with the soft dressing on his dick, it was possible to protect it while we faux-fucked.
That was something new that we learned because of the situation. He told me to get on top of him, he being on his back, and he put his hand on his thigh. I "fucked" between his hand and his thigh. It was especially nice because it was very easy to kiss him while doing it. We never can accomplish that while doing the real thing -- without slipping out.
Of course both of us also enjoyed him sucking me!
We didn't hear until the next day that only moments after the kids and I left for the hospital, a Hummer burst through the front gate and rolled up to the front of the house. All three officers were there and they easily subdued three more thugs -- including the "Doc". Man I wish I could have gotten my hands on him! But I probably would have overdone the retribution!
"Dad?" Rye said.
"Yes, son?" I replied.
Rye got redder than I've ever seen him. "I tried some stuff -- with Buddy -- once or twice."
"What kind of stuff?"
"Sucking and stuff."
"Oh!" I said. Now what should I say. What does he want me to tell him? Is he just telling me because he is confused or -- he wants some kind of full disclosure -- or what?
"Yeah. We were just curious."
"That's natural, Rye. I was always afraid to try anything with anyone -- or even bring it up. How did the subject come up?"
"Buddy knows you and Pop are gay."
"I'm so sorry, Rye. I have always been afraid that that might make for some chaos in your life."
"Actually it hasn't much. But Buddy just was wondering what it would be like and he asked if I knew."
"Certainly he didn't think that you did anything with your dads!" I exclaimed.
"No! I mean -- actually I dunno. But he at least felt comfortable enough to ask me about it -- since you guys -- well -- obviously do stuff."
"Uh huh." I said, basically stopped for anything else to say.
"And he wondered. And so -- well -- I wondered too."
"What are you saying? Rye, it is a little embarrassing, and I am not sure that this isn't something that your pop should be talking to you abou - "
"I don't want to talk to him about this stuff."
". "Well, I still think we should get his approval at least -- for you and I to talk about it."
"I already did."
"You -- what -- you did?"
"Dad -- he doesn't feel any more comfortable about talking about it than I do."
"Sweetheart, he's your -- dad -- and - "
"YOU're my dad!"
"I know that's what you call me, but he's your father."
"Yeah, that's true, but you know he's not good with this kind of stuff like you are. You even talk to Ranee."
"How do you know that?"
"She's asked me stuff. I sent her to you."
"I think I better have a talk with your pop!"
"Please don't make a big deal out of it, Dad! Especially not now -- he has enough to deal with."
"Your pop is fine!"
"Then why did he ask me to ask you?"
"Probably because that's what his parents always told him. Was it easy for you to come to me with this subject?"
"Easier than my pop!"
"But -- was it easy - - no, it wasn't. I could see it in red all over your face. Well, it's not easy for me either, but -- I think you need your questions answered, so I deal with MY discomfort -- just as you do."
"Okay -- talk to him, but -- can WE talk -- for now?"
I smiled. "Oh Rye, of course! I love you so much!"
"And I love you Dad. So -- back to me and Buddy - - ?"
"Uh -- yeah -- okay!"
"Anyway, we did some stuff -- to see what it's -- um -- what it's -- like."
"Okay -- and -- did you -- um -- well, what did you think about it?"
"Doncha wanna know what we did?"
"I wasn't gonna ask, but if you want to tell me -- that's okay." I braced myself for the worst. (The worst of WHAT, I don't know -- but I caught myself clinching my butt!)
"Well, first, we -- um -- kissed."
"Oh!" I said. "Did you like that?"
"It was weird. I think I would like kissing a girl better. Buddy has a mustache!"
"Did he like it -- uh -- kissing you?"
"He said he closed his eyes and pretended I WAS a girl."
"Yeah -- with your smooth face, I guess that would be a little easier. Wait a minute! Are you telling me you've never kissed a girl?"
"Not since second grade I -- when I kissed Emma Peat on the cheek!"
"As I remember, that was pretty uncomfortable for both of you! But -- Rye! I am really surprised. Never kissed a girl?"
"Nuh-uh."
"Hmh!" Have you done ANYTHING with a girl?"
"Nope!"
"So -- did you do something more with Buddy?"
"Oh yeah. We did most everything."
"WHAT!!??"
"You know! We jacked each other off -- and stuff."
"And stuff?" I smiled, trying to hide any kind of judgment I might have been feeling.
"Yeah. That was kind of cool, actually. His -- um -- boner -- um -- is a lot bigger than mine, and -- um -- it felt weird in my hand."
"Weird?"
"Well, you know -- I was kind of (giggle) wishing it was mine! "Giggle!)"
"Is that all you did?"
"No -- I told you we did everything! When Buddy's stuff came out -- it was all curdled or something. Mine's more like cream. His was like tapioca."
"Yeah, I had that once. I asked a doctor about it. He said it was normal. It depends on what a guy eats and drinks."
"Oh. Well, neither of us ever saw anything but our own, so we didn't know who was more normal. His cum felt so different -- in my mouth!"
"What??!!" I said. "You took turns comparing?"
"Is that bad?"
"Er -- no -- I guess not." I said. "Actually, I think most boys do it. Did it gross you out?"
"Did what gross me out?"
"Um -- the cum?"
"You mean his?"
"His -- yours -- did any of it gross you out?"
"Not really. I've tasted my own before -- lots!"
"Really?" I marveled. "And -- you like it?"
"Like it? I dunno. It's interesting, is all."
"Does -- erm -- does Buddy's taste different than yours?"
"Haha!" Rye laughed.
"What's so funny?" I said.
"Mine tastes different from one time to the next! So -- you asking if his tastes different was funny!"
"I see your point."
"Do YOU like it?" He asked me.
I was stunned! I didn't know quite how to answer. I decided the truth was the best. "Rye -- I love your pop. So it's hard to separate the taste from -- well -- my emotional reaction -- of receiving it. And," I paused long enough to quickly consider whether I should tell him the next thing, "And I really love getting it back -- my own that is -- after your pop has -- erm -- taken it in."
"Oh! You mean after dad has sucked your dick?"
This is getting weirder by the second. I was flabbergasted.
"Dad! I've seen you guys do it!" He said bluntly.
"What?!!" I exclaimed. "We always locked the bedroom door!"
"Uh huh. Except when you did it one the couch." He said matter-of-factly. I wanted to die!
"I'm so sorry, Rye! We never wanted you to see that!"
"Why? I always knew it was you and pop loving each other. That was why it was so easy for me to try it with Buddy."
"And -- Rye tell me the truth."
"Why would I tell you anything else?"
"I guess you wouldn't! But tell me -- well, first tell me what else you did with Rye."
"That was all. I told you we did it all -- erm -- is there something we haven't done?"
I ignored that question, hoping he would forget it. "After trying all that stuff -- what did you think? Did you like it?"
"Of course we liked it! I don't think we could have cummed if we didn't like it!"
"I don't think you're quite getting this. Do you think you're gay? Or do you think Buddy's gay?"
"Fuck no!" He said. "Oops! Sorry Dad. I mean -- no. I don't think we are. But we like that stuff -- until we can try -- doing stuff with girls!" And at that he giggled again.
"And you think that it will be better with girls?" I asked.
"Um -- if -- I mean -- we've seen some -- um -- porn -- before and - Dad -- when I have watched you and Pop, it didn't make me -- um -- boner up or anything. And -- We even got some porn showing 2 guys and a girl once. The 2 guys didn't excite me. But I was hard as a rock whenever the one guy did stuff with the girl! That was hot!"
"What did the guys do to each other?" I asked.
"Well -- pretty much the same as I did with buddy. They kissed, sucked and played with each other."
"What did the one guy do with the girl?" I asked.
"He fucked her. Oops -- sorry -- but -- well -- he did. And while he did that the other guy was -- sorry -- fucking his mouth."
Geez! I was getting hard thinking about that! I shifted positions so Rye would not notice. I think he noticed -- and smirked!
"Dad, I'm sorry for the bad language. I don't know quite how to tell you otherwise."
"That's okay, Rye. Let me tell you something about porn. It gives you unrealistic expectations about -- sex. And did you notice anything like love in what was happening?"
"No. Well, there was some really bad acting -- maybe they were trying to make it seem like love."
"That's the other thing, Rye. If you do it with people that you don't love, it cheapens it. Sex should be an outgrowth of your love for someone." I know that most people don't see it that way, but I believe that, so I told him what I believe.
"Well, having Buddy -- get me off -- was a lot better than me doing it. And I really think that doing it with a girl will be much better -- for me, I mean." He said.
"Having him get you off -- in what way?"
"Doesn't matter. It's better when he jack's me off, and much better when he sucks me off. I can't suck myself, so I don't know what that would be like."
"Um -- yeah -- I get that! Rye -- what was it you wanted to know?"
"I dunno. Mostly I was just wondering about stuff, I guess. And -- I don't feel gay, but is that possible?"
"It's too early to tell. If you are more turned on by the guy and girl sex you saw, my guess is that you are not. Have you ever closed your eyes and pretended it was a girl -- when Buddy did you -- or have you done it that much?"
"Oh, we've done it that much! When I said once or twice - - well, that was just an expression. And yeah, I have tried to pretend he was a girl. It almost worked. But his mustache and beard always spoils the image. But I think it works better."
"Why don't you ask him to shave?"
"Huh?"
"Ask him to shave before you do it next time."
"Oh. Maybe I will."
"Tell him to do the same."
"Huh?"
"Tell him to fantasize that you are a girl next time -- to see how he likes it."
"I -- don't know if there will be a next time."
"A-a-and this makes you feel - - - how?"
"Kind of sad, I guess." He said. I waited for him to continue. Nothing I could say at this point could help! "Dad, when do you think It's good for me to -- start dating girls?"
"I think you could be doing that now -- if that's what you want. It depends when you are ready. Why is it you don't think there will be a next time -- with you and Buddy?"
"Anal. He has been hinting he'd like to try it."
"OOOoooo!"
"What?" "I don't think that would be - "
"That's why I said there probably won't be a next time."
"That's smart."
"That's how I feel Dad. But I'm not quite sure why."
"I'll tell you a couple reasons. Number one in importance is -- if there is any chance that Buddy is playing with others -- it could be very dangerous. Second, it is the most intimate thing that two people can do -- and in my opinion should be saved for the one you want to spend your life with.
"And third, I don't have personal experience here, but I understand that a vagina is much looser than an anus. So if you do that with him -- or anyone else in the anus -- you may be disappointed with sex with a girl, because it isn't tight enough."
"Oh." He said. I could tell it was that kind of "oh" that means, "I know you're probably right but part of me wants to do it."
"Rye, I am very happy with my life. I love your pop more than life. I love you kids more than life! But -- I hope you give heterosexuality a chance."
"Whattaya mean?!!" He exclaimed. "I don't think I'm gay, Dad. No offense, but I don't want to be, either!"
"No offense taken. I wouldn't wish it on anyone I love. But as I was saying -- I am content with what I have. And I know and love a lot of people who are both straight and gay. Straight is just easier. That's all."
"Yeah. I know, Dad. It's even hard sometimes being son to two gay guys."
"I am so sorry for that, Rye!"
"It's not your fault. It's just some of the idiots that I have to go to school with."
"And they get their beliefs -- and prejudices -- from their parents, probably. It'll never end altogether."
"<Sigh!> I guess not. So - - is Pop healed up enough to - - "
"We get by, Rye. There's more than one way to skin a cat!"
"Huh? Skin what?"
"It's an old expression. It just means - "
"I think I got it, Dad!" he said laughing.
"So -- are you clear on what you are going to do -- or not -- with Buddy now?"
"You've given me a lot to think about. Thanks, Dad. I love you." He said, and hugged me, letting me know how he feels about me and also reminding me that it's his decision.
I accept that. We have tried our best to raise our kids with good morals and good decision making skills. If they haven't mostly learned by 17, it's probably too late. (But we never stop trying, do we?)
Notes: Being a parent is no different whether you are from Venus, Mars, or somewhere in between. Comments always welcome -- to Steve at stevethomas535@hotmail.com. Thanks and -- Love, Steve