This story is fiction. It did not happen although it could. Do not read this story if the graphic description of sexual intimacy between teenage boys offends you or if it is illegal for you to read such material.
Lonely Stepan - Part 2
Hurriedly, I cut two thick slices of roast beef and put them on plates. I added scoops of mashed potatoes, also left from the night before, and slathered them with gravy. I added some buttered corn to each plate and decided not to bother with desert. We could microwave the two plates when we got hungry. I rushed to my bedroom and debated over what to wear. I packed pajamas not because I would need them but because somebody might notice if they were missing. I stuffed some clothes and a few toiletries in my gym bag and ran downstairs. I covered the two plates with plastic wrap and put them in a box to carry.
Again, Stephan was waiting and opened the door before I could ring the bell. I hurried in, set the box on the kitchen counter, dropped my gym bag on the floor, turned around, and grabbed Stephan in a hug that he returned, matching my vigor. We kissed, long and passionately. "This has been about the longest day of my life," Stephan said.
"Tell me about it," I replied. "Every class at school seemed like it was two or three hours long."
"Shall we?" he asked, motioning in the direction of the stairs.
"It's better than Monopoly," I joked.
"You're just afraid I'll bankrupt you," he joked in return.
"I'd much rather you corrupt me."
"Enough!" he exclaimed. "Let's go."
We were soon on Stephan's bed and I was repeating what I had done for him before. However, expecting that he might again have a hair trigger, I avoided touching his rigid cock in favor of massaging his chest, stomach, inner thighs, and balls. I proceeded gingerly because the lilly-white skin streched over his bones with very little muscle made him seem so fragile. His eyes were tightly shut and he would occasionally moan in pleasure, which let me know where his most sensitive areas were. After several minutes, I began to execute a plan that I had devised while sitting in class.
I licked his shaft from its base to the tip. That caused Stephan to jerk. He raised his head, opened his eyes, and discovered what I was doing. He said nothing but just smiled and laid back to enjoy. I teased his cock and balls with my tongue until I noticed he was instinctively bucking his hips. It was time to move in for the finish. I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock and began to take more of it into my mouth. Stephan cried out in ecstasy. I bobbed my head only a few times when Stephan called out, "I can't hold it." I responded by tightening my lips around his burning rod and bobbing my head a little faster. My efforts were rewarded with several blasts of hot cream against the back of my throat. When he finally stopped trembling, I suckled the remaining drops of his seed.
I laid down beside him and was gently massaging his chest when he asked, "What made you do that? I warned you."
"I wanted to. I wanted to give you pleasure. And I wanted some of you inside me. You see, your seed will be a part of me forever."
"That's sweet," he replied.
"No," I countered with a straight face. "It's more salty than sweet."
It took a moment for him to catch my meaning but then he laughed. Oh, how I enjoyed hearing him laugh.
"Can I have part of you?" he asked.
"You don't have to, you know. I can warn you and you can finish me by hand."
"I want to...really want to...I've wanted to for a long time and especially since I met you."
Because of what Stephan said, I didn't warn him. In fact, I'm not sure that I could have. By the time I was ready to shoot, I had lost all control of my body and my mind was in orbit. It was the most intense orgasm I could imagine.
We cuddled together for a long time, simply enjoying the fulfillment of our shared dream. Eventually, we fell asleep in each other's arms.
It was almost eight when I woke to find Stephan sitting cross-legged beside me and watching me. Noticing that I was awake, he said, "You're beautiful." I sat up, grabbed him, and gave him a kiss.
"Been awake long?" I asked.
"Not long enough. I could admire your body forever."
"That's sweet," I replied, mimicking his earlier comment.
"It's true," he protested. "The only thing better than looking at you is...well...I think you know."
"Enough of the flattery. Let's have dinner and then figure out what to have for desert."
Stephan laughed and said, "Maybe we should vote on it but I think there will be only one candidate."
"Something hot and creamy?"
"Exactly!"
I reached for my clothes but Stephan said, "Wait. There's no window in the kitchen. If we turn out the hall light, we can go past the living room without being seen. That means that...well..." His voice became tentative. "That is...if you're willing...we could have supper in the nude."
"No," I said trying to keep a stern look on my face. Stephan's expression of disappointment was obvious. "If we do that," I continued, "I'm sure to get a hard on and attack you before we even get the plates on the table."
"That won't be all bad," he shot back.
I was half right. I got a hard on before the plates were on the table. Stephan saw it and playfully grabbed a steak knife to protect himself from attack. Both of us laughed and I couldn't remember having more fun with anybody. Rather than sit across from each other, we sat side-by-side and were completely unashamed about staring at each other. It wasn't long before Stephan, too, was hard.
At the end of the meal, I had left a bit of mashed potatoes on my plate to cool down. Stephan's plate had more potatoes and lots of gravy. I picked up my bit of potatoes with a fork, brought it close to my mouth, and dropped it into my crotch. "Oh dear me," I said as dramatically as I could. "I seem to have had an accident. However will I be able to clean up the mess I've made of myself?" As I said that, I turned slightly toward Stephan and spread my legs slightly.
Stephan lost no time in joining the fun. "Not to worry, kind Sir. Allow me to help you out." He got on his knees and ate the potatoes. I noticed that he deliberately smeared the potatoes into my pubic hair and took his time licking it clean. He finished his task by licking my cock up and down although there was no reason except to stimulate me almost to the point of orgasm. "I hope that's satisfactory, Sir. I'm a vegetarian so I only cleaned the your meat and didn't eat it." Both of us then roared with laughter.
Stephan returned to his chair and said, "Enough frivolity. It's time to clear the table. To my surprise, he took his plate, tipped it, and let the remaining potatoes and gravy spill onto his stomach. It slid slowly down from his navel to his pubes. He then looked at me and said, "I think, Sir, you owe me a favor."
"Pleased to oblige," I responded and quickly went to my knees to lick off the gravy from his stomach and pubes. When I had completed the task, I looked up and said, "I'm not a vegetarian. Would you like me to remove the meat from you lap?" I growled and bared my teeth as though I were an animal ready to bite off his cock.
Stephan quickly covered his crotch with both hands and yelled, "No! No! I'm saving that for later." Neither of us could contain our laughter and almost collapsed in hysterics.
After clearing the table, I followed Stephan upstairs. I found the motion of his diminutive ass cheeks as he climbed the stairs quite erotic. At the top of the stairs, I grabbed him, turned him around, and placed a hand on each of his ass cheeks. "You have the cutest ass," I said before squeezing them and bending down slightly to plant a kiss on his lips.
He grabbed my ass with both hands and said, "Not as nice as yours."
"Ah," I responded. "I never realized the truth to the saying that good things come in small packages."
He gave me an ambiguous look, buried his head into my chest, and whimpered, "Oh, Josh. If only I weren't so scrawny. If only I had a firm, strong body like yours."
I was taken aback by his comment. He had taken offense at my reference to his small body. It was the first time that he had shown real remorse over his physical condition. He had mentioned it before but never with such sadness. I grabbed his shoulders and pushed him backwards slightly. He looked up at me with a surprised look. "Listen," I began. "There's another saying: beauty is as beauty does. And you're beautiful. You're bright. You're talented. You're witty. Most of all, I think you're courageous. I don't know anybody else who could be sick, lose a father, and live alone that could possibly be as nice as you. I sure couldn't."
Stephan, as he had done before, searched my face for evidence of my sincerity. "Thanks for saying that, Josh. You may be exaggerating things but it makes me feel better to hear it...and, of course, to be with you."
"And one more thing," I said sternly. "You want a firm body?"
He got a puzzled look. "Ah...yes."
I stepped back a little, spread my arms outwards, and thrust my hips slightly forward. "This body is all yours...and yours alone! Now what are you going to do with it?"
Stephan shook off his funk and laughed, "I'm going to ravage it. I'm going to tickle it. I'm going to admire...no, worship it. I'm going to order it into my bedroom." He stepped aside, pointed to his bedroom and commanded, "Go! Now!"
"As you wish, Sir." I replied and marched down the hall and into his bedroom. He followed and, upon entering the bedroom, he said, "You've got a cute ass yourself, Mister." Pausing, he added, "but I like your cock better."
"As I said, it's yours and yours alone. That is, if I can play with your cock, too."
"Wait your turn! I'm going to ravage you first. Get on the bed."
Quite willingly, I laid down to allow him full access to anything he wanted. He wasted no time. He massaged, tickled, licked, and caressed every inch of my body saving his final attention for my balls and cock. By that time, I was leaking precum profusely and getting impatient for another blowjob. I held my impatience in check, however, to allow Stephan to do whatever he wanted. Finally, I felt his warm, moist mouth engulf my throbbing cock and, although I tried to hold back, I was soon filling his throat with my cream.
He laid next to me while I recovered and then moved in for a kiss. As his tongue invaded my mouth, I got a powerful taste of cum and the unmistakable feeling of some cum sliding down my throat. He had saved some to transfer to me. When we broke our kiss, I said, "Nice of you to share...but I like the taste of yours more."
He giggled like a little boy who had played a trick on someone but then said, "Help yourself. All you have to do is turn on the faucet."
"I'll turn you on, all right," I replied. "But I'm going to take all you can give me and I'm too selfish to share." I immediately did for Stephan what he had so masterfully done for me and, in time, was rewarded with several swallows of his cum.
We then pressed out naked bodies together in a prolonged embrace. Unlike our previous post-orgasm embrace, we talked. I told him about my likes and dislikes, my family, my recognition of being gay, and how glad I was to have met him. Stephan was a little more reticent but eventually opened up. I learned that his father was a strict disciplinarian, was disappointed that his son was not and could not be a macho athlete, and their relationship was therefore one of mere toleration. This seemed to explain his lack of emotion over his father's death. His father was openly homophobic. His mother was equally homophobic but based her attitude on strict adherence to her minister's very literal interpretation of the bible. This, he finally confessed, was more of a burden than his illness: having to conceal his increasingly undeniable attraction to boys.
His illness was a mystery. Several specialists had conducted test after test with no definitive results. They tried a whole series of medications but each produced either no improvement or had unpleasant side effects. It was not only his mysterious illness that kept him out of school and virtually confined to the house. It was his mother's irrational fear of her son being contaminated by "un-Christian" influences.
The last revelation infuriated me and I said so. Stephan, however, defended his mother. "She's doing what she really believes is best for me. I've learned, mostly from books, that some of what she believes is irrational or unjustified but her intentions are honorable. Don't criticize my mother; try to understand her."
My impulse was to debate the point with him but I realized that his attitude and his love for his mother was unassailable. It suddenly struck me. He, more than his mother, was conforming to the message on his shirt: WWJD.
The more I learned about Stephan's life, beliefs, and attitude, the more I admired him...and the more I wanted to bring a measure of joy into his life. Yes, I was happy to have found a partner with whom to satisfy my unique sexual needs. More importantly, however, I was learning to love an extraordinary human being.
We finally fell asleep still locked in an embrace. It was still dark when I woke. I looked at the clock radio and found that it was not quite seven in the morning. During the night, we had separated and I suddenly felt...it's corny to say it but I felt incomplete. I snuggled up to Stephan and the warmth of his body, the closeness, felt wonderful. That was the moment that I realized he and I would be together for a long time. About half an hour later, Stephan stirred, smiled, and gave me a kiss. "Good morning," he said.
"Good morning, my love," I replied.
"What did you say?" he blurted out, now fully awake.
"I said, good morning, my love."
"Does that mean..."
"Yes, my love, it does," I replied and kissed him gently on the lips.
He rolled over, buried his head into my shoulder, and began to cry. I hugged him for a moment before saying, "I hope those tears are happy tears."
"You have no idea," he sputtered through his tears. "You've made me the happiest person in the world."
We hugged and cuddled for quite some time, each of us delighted that we had found each other. When his tears stopped, I asked, "What do you suppose we should do to celebrate our union?"
He chuckled, reached down for my cock, fondled it, and said, "Does this give you any ideas?"
We sucked each other to a climax that was, for me, not only intense and pleasurable but extraordinarily meaningful.
At 10, the phone rang. "Can I bring you boys some lunch?" my mother asked Stephan. He told her that was very kind and we would appreciate it. Just before noon, she arrived with her famous meat ball subs, a bag of chips, and a six-pack of diet cola. Stephan and I were at the kitchen table where I was helping him with a math assignment out of the home-schooling curriculum. Math was one subject I was good in but Stephan found difficult. My mother didn't stay long, just long enough to check on us and fulfill her duty as a mother by feeding us. I asked if I could stay another night and my mother readily agreed.
As we ate lunch, Stephan said, "Your mother is awfully nice. What will she think when she finds out? About us, I mean."
"I've thought about that a lot. Even more since I met you. I think she'll be upset but she's a mother. She'll get over it. It may take a while but she'll get over it."
"How about your father?"
"That's another situation. He's really quite liberal but I've heard him criticize things like civil unions between gays. He's particularly harsh when he complains about gay marriage. He even uses words like queer, fag, and fudge-packer. Once, he said to me, 'Thank God you're not one of those degenerates.' I don't think he would accept having a gay son."
"Sounds like my father," Stephan said. "So I guess that means we'll have to keep things between us a secret."
"Unfortunately. At least for a while. Remember when I said we should take things a step at a time and see what develops? Well, we did and things developed quite quickly. We've known each other for just a few days and look at us now. Maybe our parents will accept us faster than we think." I knew I was suggesting something that was very unlikely but it was worth hoping for.
"You don't know my mother," Stephan said despondently.
"She's a mother, isn't she? Maybe she'll surprise you. It will take some time but I know she loves you. Besides, doesn't it say somewhere in the Bible to love a sinner?"
"Yes. But my mother...she's..." He stopped in mid-sentence, thought a while, and said, "Okay, a step at a time."
We finished Stephan's math assignment and took a break...almost two hours in bed showing each other our love. In late afternoon, Stephan's mother called. "Hello...Everything's fine...How's Angela? ...A boy? That's wonderful...Yes, Josh even helped me with my math... I'm sure that will be fine. Don't worry about it. I'm getting along very well...I miss you too...See you then."
Stephan explained the other half of the conversation. He had a new nephew but there were some complications and his mother would have to stay for at least another week to help. "That means," he concluded with a sly grin,, "We have a whole week--and another weekend--together.
That night and the next morning, Stephan and I spent some quality time together--in bed, in the shower, and even on the sofa. At 10 on Sunday, I had to go home to attend church with my family. I knew that it was non-negotiable so I reluctantly gathered my things and kissed Stephan goodbye, promising to stop by for a visit later that afternoon.
During the following week, I spent every afternoon and evening with Stephan. My parents' only condition what that I do my homework and be home by 10 p.m. On Thursday, Stephan said he wanted to show me a new drawing that he had made. I was stunned when I saw an exquisite portrait of me done in ink. I gushed my praise for the quality of the drawing and told him how flattered I was adding, "But I didn't even pose for it."
"I did it from memory," he replied. "Of all the drawings I've done, this is my favorite. I'm going to hang it right over there, above my desk. I can see it from anywhere in the room to remind me of how much I love you."
"I'm flabbergasted," I said.
"Want to see the other one?" he asked.
"Of course."
He retrieved another drawing from the table next to his easel and hesitantly handed it to me. I gasped. My heart skipped a beat. My eyes began to tear up. It was his finest work. He had used colored pencils and it must have taken days to create. The two of us were sitting on a fallen log in a meadow. We were nude and we each had an arm around the other. Stephan's head rested on my shoulder as he gazed at my face and I returned the gaze. In the background was a forest with a deer grazing and three birds in separate trees. A snow-capped mountain pierced the sky in the distance.
"Like it?" he asked.
"I've never seen anything so beautiful," I said honestly. "Especially because you and I are together in it." I carefully put the drawing aside and drew my love into a long, passionate kiss. I couldn't help it. It was now my turn to cry.
"I hope those are happy tears," he said.
"Happy doesn't begin to describe how I feel, my love."
"Would you like to have it?" he asked.
"Yes," I sobbed as I held him even more tightly.
Stephan let me get the tears out of my system and then, to lighten the mood, he said, "Better not hang it in your bedroom."
I laughed, thought about it for a moment, and said, "One day I will, my love. It will be hung in a prominent place with soft lighting so I can see it all night long."
I spent another glorious weekend with Stephan until, that is, Sunday evening when I had to go home knowing that Stephan's mother would return the next day and we would not be able to enjoy the exquisite pleasure of expressing our love sexually. It would be painful not to be able to show my affection with with nothing more than a discrete kiss behind a closed door. We searched frantically for a way to resolve the dilemma but every idea either of us had carried too much risk.
I spent every afternoon and nearly every evening after supper with Stephan. Wednesday evenings were the best because Stephan's mother went to church service, leaving Stephan and I alone in his house for almost three hours, which gave us our only opportunity to be intimate.
My parents tolerated and sometimes endorsed my spending so much time at Stephan's house. Mrs. Benson seemed pleased as well. I'm sure they never suspected that we loved each other and that it was torment not be able to share that love fully.
Three weeks after Stephan's mother's return, I stopped by his house, as usual, after school. There was no answer to the doorbell. I peeked in the window of the garage and saw that the car was gone. I assumed that Stephan had yet another doctor's appointment so I proceeded home. Having put supper in the oven at six, I phoned Stephan. There was no answer. I became concerned that something serious had happened. At six-thirty I phoned again and got no answer. Surely something as simple as a doctor's appointment would not keep them out of the house so late. When my parents came home, I told them of my concern but, to my disappointment, they were not as concerned as I was.
Just before seven-thirty, the time I normally went over to Stephan's house, our phone rang. My father answered the phone. "Hello... Oh, no...When?...Is there anything we can do?...I will...Please let us know if there's anything, anything we can do...Bye."
My father came into the kitchen where my mother was clearing the table and I was packing three pieces of cake to take over to Stephan's house. "Stephan took sick this morning and was rushed to the hospital."
"NO!" I screamed. "Is he all right?"
"No," my father said. "He passed out this morning. Mrs Benson thinks it was a reaction to some new mediation. An ambulance took him to the hospital, he never regained consciousness."
"But he will," I screamed. "He has to!"
"No, son. He passed away late this afternoon.
"NO!" I screamed hysterically and I pounded the table with my fist. "This can't be happening!" I crumbled into a kitchen chair, dropped my head into my arms on the table, and began to sob uncontrollably.
My mother immediately sat in a chair next to me, put her arm around me, and said, "It's all right, Josh. I know he was your friend but we'll get over it."
I was, by then, furious that fate had taken away such a beautiful and talented young man. I was also furious that my mother seemed to have demoted him to just a friend. My abject sorrow and my anger clouded my reason and I shouted, "He's not just a friend. He's my boyfriend. I love him." Somehow I just couldn't talk about him in the past tense.
"I understand," my mother said. "He was a good friend and it hurts to lose a good friend."
My fury rose, causing me to raise my head and shout, "No, you don't understand. We're boyfriends. We're lovers."
"What are you saying, son?"
"Don't you get it," I continued to shout. "We're boyfriends. We're lovers. Do I have to spell it out? We're both gay and we love each other. We've sealed that love by having sex. It wasn't dirty. It wasn't evil. It was beautiful."
My mother and father looked at each other wordlessly as I bolted from the room, ran to my bedroom, slammed the door, and fell into bed sobbing. My mother, as any mother would do, followed me and came into my bedroom. "Just leave me alone," I shouted at her.
"I'd like to talk, Josh."
"Well I don't! Just leave me alone."
"If that's what you want, I'll leave but at some point we need to talk. Let me know when you're ready. I'll be there for you."
I continued to sob as my mother left the room. Eventually, I fell asleep. It was dark when I awoke still thinking about Stephan. I checked the time: 5:30 a.m. My parents would be getting up in about half an hour. Breakfast would be just past six and by seven we would all be out the door. I laid there for half an hour thinking about Stephan, about my outburst to my parents, and what the future may hold. I heard my parents' alarm followed by their shower. I decided that I just couldn't face school that day. I hoped my parents would understand my not going.
My mother knocked on the door, opened it, and came in. "Breakfast in ten minutes," she said.
"I'll fix my own later," I replied. "I'm not going to school today." I said it as an announcement, not a request for permission to stay home.
"I understand," she replied. "Will you be all right?"
"Yes."
"I hope we can talk about it tonight," she said.
"Okay," I replied but added defiantly, "But I want you to know that I'm not ashamed of what Stephan and I did. I'm sorry for yelling at you. I would have liked to tell you differently but nothing changes the fact that I'm gay and I love Stephan with all my heart."
"I know now how upset you are. We can talk about it tonight."
She turned to leave but I called her back. "Mother! Stephan's mother must never know."
"Of course. There's no reason to tell her. See you tonight."
I laid in bed for another hour or so still contemplating what the future would be without Stephan, what my parents would do or say to me, and whether I could ever find someone as beautiful as the frail, bright, talented boy I loved deeply. By mid-morning, I reached a conclusion. Whatever my parents said to me, I would never deny that I was gay. I knew that I would remain gay. I didn't have to come out to my friends at school right away but at some point, I knew that I would have to be open about what I was.
I reached up to the top shelf of my closet. From under a pile of summer tee shirts, I pulled out the drawing of Stephan and I. I gently touched his face on the drawing and found myself saying out loud, "I'll always love you." I laid the drawing on my bed and walked over to my desk. From above the desk, I took down a framed photograph of my Little League Baseball team. I replaced the photograph with Stephan's drawing and hung it above my desk. I suspected what my parents' reaction would be but I didn't care.
In the afternoon, I walked over to Stephan's house and rang the bell. I knew it would be difficult but there was something I had to do. Stephan's mother answered the door and I said, "I just wanted to express my sympathy for your loss and tell you what a wonderful son you had."
She burst into tears and hugged me. "Thank you, Josh," she sputtered through her tears. "Thank you for being his friend. He was happier these past weeks than he's ever been."
I could easily have cried with her but I suppose I was too numb. Besides, what good would it do? "I really enjoyed his friendship, Mrs. Benson. I learned a lot from him that I'll never forget. He will be a part of us forever."
I felt the tears coming and decided to leave before they did. "Please let me know if there's anything I can do." Perhaps too abruptly, I turned and ran home. I was able to hold back my tears until I got in the house but I sobbed on my bed for a long time.
When my parents came home, I had supper ready and had decided that somehow I would have to get on with my life without Stephan. I had three places set and hoped the dinner conversation would not focus on Stephan or my revelation that I was gay. It was as I hoped There was no mention of Stephan or my being gay. After eating, my father went immediately into the Den having said nothing to me and very little to my mother since he got home. I helped my mother clear the table and she asked, "Are you ready to talk now, Josh?"
I didn't want to. I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts but I said, "Okay."
We sat at the kitchen table and she said, "Josh, I don't approve of what you and Stephan did. I have to be honest with you and say that I don't like it. However, I also have to say that I love you. You're my son and I will always love you."
It was not what I expected. She seemed to accept having a gay son much sooner than I would have predicted. I could live with her disapproval of my actions and was relieved that there was no morality lecture because it would surely start an argument.
"Your father, however," she continued. "Is not as forgiving as I am willing to be. Please be patient. It will take much longer for him to come to terms with what you've told us. Can I give you some advice?"
"Sure, mom."
"Tread lightly. Let him absorb it. Don't confront him or throw it in his face. In the language of teenagers, be cool. Okay?"
"I will. But he'd better not confront me or throw it in my face. Because I won't stand for his attacking Stephan, me, or the relationship we had together."
"Don't worry," she replied. "I talked to him last night and he agreed not to punish or antagonize you."
"Thanks, mom. I love you both."
"And we love you, Josh."
For the next two days, my father and I hardly spoke to each other. That was just fine with me. It was better than arguing and certainly better than hearing that I was sick or evil. My parents took time off work to take me to Stephan's funeral. It was sparsely attended, mostly, I assumed, by members of Mrs. Benson's congregation. It was also gratefully brief. Half way through, I couldn't help myself and began to cry. Much to my surprise, it was my father who put his arm around my shoulder and gently hugged me. Perhaps, I thought, he had had enough time to accept a gay son if not forgive me. We didn't go to the cemetery because I couldn't bear to see the casket bearing a precious boy being put into the frozen ground.
Upon returning home, I went to my bedroom, mouthed "I love you, Stephan" to the drawing above my desk, and laid on the bed. Moments later, my father came in. He seemed nervous and he spoke with unusual awkwardness. "Son, I just want to say how sorry I am that Stephan passed away. I know he meant a lot to you."
"Yes, dad, he did." I replied while resisting the temptation to explain just how much he meant to me.
"That's one of the cruelties of life--to lose someone close to us."
Why could he not bring himself to say someone we love? Still, I was encouraged that he was expressing sympathy instead of condemnation. As he rose to leave, he saw the drawing on the wall above my desk, and gasped. His face reddened with rage. "That's too much!" he shouted. "I've tried to understand. I've left you alone. But that pornography has to go!"
My impulse was to lash out. Calling the drawing pornography was an attack on my love for Stephan and on Stephan's undeniable talent. However, hoping to avoid a shouting match, I drew a deep breath, got off the bed, and walked over to stand in front of my desk and the drawing. I stood there with my arms folded. I looked my father in the eye and said with all the conviction at my command, "That drawing is art, not pornography. It represents our love. And if it goes, so do I."
I hadn't thought through the ramifications of my threat. Where would I go? What would I do? However, if I had thought it through, I would have said the same thing. My calm determination must have disarmed my father because he just stared at me for a moment before walking out of the room. The drawing stayed and so did I but my father and I rarely spoke to each other for years. During that time, it often seemed that my mother played the difficult role of buffer between my father and me.
Mrs. Benson moved to New Jersey soon after Stephan's death to be near her daughter. Before she left, she gave me the portrait of me that hung above Stephan's desk but, she said almost apologetically, she was keeping the rest as a memory of her son. I understood that and have often wondered what she thought if and when she opened the chest with the nude male drawings.
I'm now in college. I've never sought nor met another guy who I felt worthy of replacing Stephan in my life. In fact, it was more than three weeks after Stephan's death before I could even masturbate. Even then, I felt guilty that Stephan couldn't join me.
Rest in peace, my love.