No Advantage

Chapter 21

The rest of the week passed by rather quickly. Rob called Andy and arranged to take the week off so he and I could just spend time together. On Tuesday, Rob and I mainly just hung out, spending most of the day making love and nurturing one another. Some of it was sexual in nature, including the hour or so we spent in the bedroom experimenting with ways to use pillows and such to find comfortable and relaxed positions whereby we could engage in face-to-face intercourse. Mostly, however, our loving and nurturing that day was not overtly sexual. Since we were not pressed for time we could relax and enjoy the simple pleasure of walking through the Woods, just holding hands. We also spent a few hours in the afternoon exploring the public trails along the creek.

Rob was fascinated to learn of the huge amount of engineering work that had been done, all orchestrated by my father, to transform what had truly been a swamp into a stately and attractive living area that harmonized with nature rather than competed with it. Rob's amazement almost reached the point of incredulity when I told him the golf course area was originally the other half of a hill that somewhat mirrored the land that was now the Swamp.

"Clayton, you're full of shit. It would have cost a fortune to bulldoze down an entire hill."

"Not the way Dad did it. He and Sam Reynolds sold the timber to a logging company to be ground up into paper pulp or something. After the land was cleared, they used the money from the lumber sale to buy dynamite and earth moving equipment. Basically what Dad did was blast that side of the hill down into the lower areas to fill it up; gravity did most of the work for him. It also made it easy to get all the tree stumps out of the ground. But what he did after that was the really cool part."

"What was that?"

"He dammed up the creek, then dredged it out into a really deep channel to make it the lowest point in the subdivision. When he was finished, he tore down the dam, sat back and waited for it to rain."

"Rain?"

"Yeah, he waited for it to rain, a really good one," I continued. "See, he wanted to see how the rainwater would run off. All the dirt was exposed and pretty soft, so he let the rainwater cut its own channels to drain into the creek. He then went in and bulldozed out those channels, rearranging them a little bit, and those became the major streets. They saved a ton of money that way since they didn't have to put in an extensive, underground storm drain system.

"The golf course is not just a luxury item. Dad knew that during heavy rains the creek couldn't adequately handle all the water and the remaining portion of the hill where the Swamp is would wash away over time. So he made the golf course into a flood plain to give the excess water a place to spread out, slow down and divert it safely away. Dad figured what was the big deal with having a golf course flood; you can't play golf in the pouring down rain."

Rob looked at me shaking his head in wonder saying, "I can't believe that. Your dad really is one smart guy."

"Rob, all Dad does is look at a situation very carefully, thinks and then takes his time. Other builders go out and waste money building retaining walls and other shit that eventually fall down or are in need of constant maintenance. Dad and Sam fucked around with this land for nearly two years to get it right before the first house ever got built. It took them that long because the land wasn't worth shit to begin with. But by taking their time and thinking about what they were doing, the result was no erosion, no foundation problems with any of the houses and one hell of a nice golf course. Dad ain't afraid to take his time or kill two birds with one stone. Just like the swimming pool ain't really a swimming pool."

"Whaddya mean the swimming pool ain't really a swimming pool," cried Rob. "Looks like a pretty damned good imitation of one to me."

"Yeah, it is a swimming pool, but it's also something else. When Dad drilled the water well, in order to have the supply of water readily available to water all the grounds at the Swamp and the golf course, he had to have a reservoir, a pretty big one in fact. See, you can't pump the water out of the well fast enough to create enough pressure to run the sprinklers. Rather than just build some big-ass, ugly concrete or steel water tank, he built the swimming pool. Water gets pumped out of the well into the pool. When you wanna run the sprinklers, another pump sucks the water out of the pool into a small pressure tank to create the necessary water pressure you need. Another advantage of doing that is that the water in the pool is constantly replaced with fresh water; that makes it easier to keep the pool clean. Also, because he sells the water to the golf course, Dad gets to take tax deductions on his income taxes for a business expense. The swimming pool makes Dad money."

"Is this the kinda stuff your dad, mom and Mr. Reynolds were sitting around last night discussing?" asked Rob.

"Probably. Mom and Dad make a great team. You saw Mom yesterday morning at breakfast going over the stuff for the graduation party. She's a hell of business person. When she and Dad get through hashing something out, it not only makes good, practical sense it makes good, financial sense. Just like this whole subdivision was done twenty-five years ago. Dad did the engineering, Sam did the construction, Mom did all the legal and financial stuff to get it built and sell the houses off. God only knows what they'll come up with for you and me. It will be different, but it will work like gangbusters, whatever it is."

Tuesday ended as Wednesday began, with us making love, we shared my orgasm Tuesday night and Rob's on Wednesday morning. After discussing things we decided to spend Wednesday getting Rob moved into the Shack. He called Andy and arranged to borrow a moving van and some boxes, then we left to get Rob moved. By two o'clock, Rob and I had reached the conclusion that everyone needs to move at least once every two or three years; that way, you learn how much of the crap you have that is not really necessary and you can get rid of it. It's called simplifying your life.

Even anticipating the day we moved into the Outhouse, we realized that many of the large items that Rob had were functionally useless for us, being duplicative of what I already had at the Shack. The only room that we loaded up in its entirety was the kitchen. After discussing the matter we decided the best and highest use for nearly all the furniture was for Rob to give it away to the guys he worked with; most of them were young men just starting out on their own and would get more use from it than we would. Rob and I talked about having a last session of sex in the apartment to give it a final farewell but decided not to. Anything we did now might spoil the memory of our first night and morning there together as a committed couple.

Getting back to the Shack, we dumped Rob's stuff in the guest room next to the bedroom and while Rob returned the van to the moving company and picked up his car, I began sorting out things and stowing them away. Rob called a little later and told me that Andy was short-handed on an office move that night, so to return the favors Andy had extended to us, Rob wanted to help out on the job. I really needed to work on my valedictory speech for Friday night so we decided Rob would do the move while I worked on the speech.

Rob called later to see how things were going. All of his clothes and immediately needed items were placed away and I was fine, but the speech was going nowhere. Rob suggested that instead of sitting behind my computer trying to write the thing I should just grab a pad and pencil and go for a walk after supper. After he mentioned this, I realized he was right. How can you be creative stuck away in a room somewhere? The Gazebo was a perfect place for reflection, so I decided to go there and work after supper, telling Rob I'd take my cell phone with me so he could call me later and let me know when he'd be home.

After eating supper with Mom and Dad, I fed Wilbur and then headed off to the Gazebo. While the atmosphere there was more pleasant than sitting in the bedroom, my literary talents were still at a standstill. Rob called to let me know he'd be home in a couple of hours, then we spent five minutes or so just talking, getting a little silly. I told him Wilbur missed him and Rob asked if the ducks did as well. I wandered over to the stone wall to look; the two swimming along the creek didn't seem to mind his absence.

After we hung up I let my mind just wander while looking out over the creek. Being a rather pleasant evening there were a number of people out on the trails along the creek. As I had done so many times before, I leaned against the stone wall, watching people as they passed, either walking, jogging or on bicycles. Remembering all the times I had jacked off here watching guys go past below, I began to feel a little horny. I had my shirt off and began absent-mindedly playing with my treasure trail. One guy came jogging along and stopped to get a drink of water at the fountain below my perch, then sat down on the bench to rest a bit. He was a very attractive guy. Blond hair, a fantastic set of pecs visible through his sweat- dampened tank top. Looking about himself, he gazed upwards and saw me leaning on the wall and gave me a smile and a little wave of his hand. After I waved back he stood up facing me. He really was a good-looking guy, probably not much older than me, and I wondered what was hidden away in his baggy running shorts.

Then it hit me. It was Eric. The guy who worked with Rob. Looking up at me he called out, "Clayton?"

"Yeah," I called back, "you're Eric, right? You work with Rob Davis."

"You got it. Can I come up?"

"Sure. Let me come down and unlock the gate." I hurried down the steps, opened the iron gate and stepped out so Eric could see where the entrance was and he came over. After we shook hands and said "hi" to one another he bounded up the steps and I followed him, closing the gate behind me but leaving it unlocked.

Getting back to the top of the hill Eric was waiting for me, leaning up against the stone wall where I had just been. As I walked over he said, "Rob told me you'd be here and asked me to stop by."

"Rob asked you to stop by?" This was odd.

"Yeah, there's something he wants me to give you."

"What's that?"

"One of your fantasies."

Eric walked the three steps over to me and put his finger to my lips indicating I should remain silent, smiled, then softly told me, "It's okay. Rob asked me to do this for you. Don't say anything. Just let yourself be the Hill Boy and let me be the Jogger."

I could not believe this. Rob knew that one of my long-term fantasies before I met him had been inviting a cute jogger up to the Gazebo area to fool around. I'd mentally played with that idea for years and had shot plenty of loads on the stone wall as I jacked off watching the guys who jogged and walked along the creek trails. Rob had told me Eric thought I was hot and had somehow arranged this for me.

Eric stepped backwards to again lean against the wall facing me. He quickly removed his shoes and socks, dropping them to the ground beside him. Smiling at me, he slowly removed his shirt, revealing the most marvelous torso you could imagine. I stood silently in awe, staring at this Adonis. Eric looked like a classic sculpture come to life. Allowing me to absorb the superb beauty of his form for a few moments, he placed his thumbs under the waistband of his baggy running shorts and began to slowly and seductively toy with the fabric, causing me to recall the bulge I had seen in his pants that day I saw him at the warehouse.

Eric took a step away from the wall and turned around with his back toward me. His hands moved to his sides with his thumbs still under the waistband of his shorts. With incredible slowness, the shorts began to travel downwards, revealing the firm globes of his magnificent butt. He slowly bent over slightly to push the shorts past his knees, then released them allowing them to fall to the ground. Stepping out and away from his shorts, Eric again turned to face me, now fully nude, with his hands crossed in front of his pelvis. His entire muscled body was incredibly smooth, except for a small bit of light brown hair peeking out above his crossed hands. The muscles in his arms were as awesome as those in his torso, competing with the distinct ripples of the muscles in his abdomen for my attention.

I could not believe the sight before me. Eric was incredible. I was silent, not because Eric had told me to do so, but because I found myself speechless. After standing motionless for a few moments to allow me to drink in the view before me, he dropped his hands to his sides. This motion released an enormous cock that flopped down and dangled between his legs. As he walked the two steps over to me I could see his soft dick actually swinging from side to side as his hips moved.

Standing in front of me, Eric reached out and took my right hand in his left, turned it upwards and opened my fingers. With his other hand, he then lifted his dick up and placed it in my palm, closing my fingers back around it, indicating that I should gently massage him. As my fingers caressed the supple skin, I could feel the warmth in his dick increase slightly as it began to get firmer, larger and even longer. As his erection formed, I watched and felt the head increase in size as the shaft finally hardened into a stiff prick some ten inches long that I could not encircle with my thumb and forefinger. Eric was hung like a fucking horse.

In my wildest fantasies going back for years, I had never imagined standing here with a Jogger such as this. I had jacked myself to sleep at nights and awake in the morning dreaming of beautiful men with magnificent endowments. I had spent countless hours gazing at images of naked men on my computer monitor, stroking myself while I mentally toyed with the thoughts of what it would be like to actually have such a remarkable example of man in reality to assist me in releasing my carnal desires. Eric surpassed every dream I'd had and every image I had gazed at. Rob was indeed giving me my fantasy, arranging for Eric to be here to indulge myself.

While his unbelievable cock was slowly hardening in my hand, Eric caressed my chest and arms with his hands, clearly enjoying the sensual pleasure he felt. His hands migrated down to my waist and I felt my own shorts slip away and fall to the ground. He then placed his face against my chest, then lowered himself downwards, softly kissing and lightly licking his way along. His dick pulled out of my hand when he dropped to his knees before me, his tongue buried in my belly button while his hands gently moved about my butt cheeks.

After many moments had passed with Eric nuzzling me in front and caressing me from behind, he dropped his hands away and leaned back, looking upwards at me. A pleasant smile came across his face, then turned into somewhat of a slight, knowing grin of understanding. He reached out and cupped my balls in his hand, lifting my genitals slightly. And then the fantasy evaporated into reality.

I didn't have an erection. The most gorgeous example of manhood I had ever seen was before me. Not only was he completely nude, he was also gay and undoubtedly sexually willing. He was offering himself to me and I didn't want him. While I certainly enjoyed the view, I had no sexual desire for Eric whatsoever.

Pulling my shorts back up in place and then standing up, Eric placed his hand on my shoulder and gave me a soft, brotherly kiss on the cheek. Looking at me with his head cocked slightly to the side he told me, "You are in love with Rob, Clayton. Now you know for sure he'll always be the only man you'll ever want."

As Eric stepped back from me I felt another hand placed on my shoulder from behind. Closing my eyes, I felt the tears well up in my eyes as I felt the familiar touch, then whirled around to wrap my arms around Rob and let my tears of love fall upon him as I buried my head into his shoulder and chest. Holding me in his arms, Rob softly kissed and nuzzled me to him for several, wonderful minutes until my tears of joy subsided. Rob had given me yet another precious gift. He had helped me realize what my real fantasy had always been, and that my inner dream of being loved and loving another with all of my soul had indeed come true.

Turning my head away from Rob to look over my shoulder, I saw that the Jogger had gone, taking with him any worries I had that I might one day be tempted away from the man I loved. Turning my head back to place my face against Rob's, still tightly holding one another, a wonderful realization came over me: we were both getting erections.

"Rob?"

"Yes."

"How did you convince Eric to do that?"

"I didn't. He volunteered. When I took the van back to work, Eric was waiting for me. He said he wanted to give me a special commitment gift, but didn't want anyone at work to see it, so we went over to the apartment. I was as surprised as you were when he started taking off his clothes. I didn't get an erection either."

"Eric did the same thing with you?"

"Yeah. Eric is a very caring person and he wanted me to know that I would never want anyone other than you. After thinking about it, and realizing the significance of what he had done, I asked him if he would do the same for you. He said he would since that would then also mean that we would know for sure that when we made love or had sex, we'd never have to be concerned that the other was thinking of anyone else."

"That's incredible. He really is a special guy."

"Yeah, he is. Almost as incredible as his body and that slab of meat he calls a dick."

"Could you believe the size of that thing?"

"It's a lot bigger now than it used to be. Claytie, I gotta confess. I told you a lie."

"What's that?"

"The other morning in the shower I told you I had never seen Eric's dick, but I had, but it was a long time ago."

"When was that?"

"The last time I saw it was that day in my garage."

"Eric was the guy your father caught you with?"

"Yeah. We've been friends ever since we were little kids. After the incident at home, I called him but his parents wouldn't let me to talk to him. After I was on the streets, I was ashamed to call him. I ran into him down at Randolph's several months ago. He'd changed quite a bit, but I could still tell it was Eric. He doesn't know anything about me having been a hustler though since all that happened after I saw him that last time. The only reason I didn't tell you I'd known him from back then was I didn't want you to be jealous or anything. Eric really is a good guy."

"So that's how he knew he'd be safe doing that for you."

"Yeah. When he told me he wanted to do something for me as a friend, I knew he was being honest and didn't have any ulterior motives. When we got to the apartment and I realized what he was doing, well, I know you'll understand this, Clayton, we fondled one another some just so I'd be absolutely certain, and I never even got the least bit erect. After thinking about it, I knew that if I felt that way about you, then you'd feel the same way about me. What Eric did made me feel really good, knowing that you were indeed the only one I cared about and that our love was more important than the sex. So I asked him if he would do the same for you, explaining your Jogger fantasy to him. He was reluctant at first. He was afraid you might get an erection. But, Clayton, I knew you wouldn't. There was never any doubt in my mind and I wanted you to know."

"You never had any doubt?"

"Well, maybe a little, but not after I called you on the phone to fib to you about wanting to work tonight."

"What did I say that made you sure?"

"When we were talking, just the sound of your voice gave me a hard on. Can you believe that? Every queer's dream standing there in my apartment. This unbelievably stupendous hunk, buck ass naked with that huge dick of his hanging out volunteering to be my playtoy and nothing happens. I hear your voice and bingo, the flagpole goes up."

I told Rob, "The more I think about it, that was really sweet of him. That took some nerve for him to come up and take all his clothes off in front of me, a complete stranger."

"Well, not really. When I met him at Randolph's a few months ago he was working as a dick dancer at Top Hat, you know, the strip club for women. He was also working weekends at gay clubs in Austin as a dick dancer. See, he didn't want anybody in the gay clubs here in Houston to know about him. He was tired of all that shit, so he came down and got a job with Andy."

"Rob, with you and Eric being good friends like you are, has he ever said anything to you about how he has sex? I mean, with that big dick of his, what does he do with it?"

"Hardly anything. I feel sorry for him. There's not much you can do with it, other than jack it off with both hands. Eric really wants to just have a normal life, but he's worried that his dick is gonna cause problems in a relationship. As for intercourse, well would you let him put that thing in you? He can't get a decent blowjob. By the time you get your mouth open wide enough, you can't keep your teeth from scraping on the thing.

"But didn't you say that you, well... you know, back then?"

"Oh, well, yeah, I did used to suck him off when we were kids, but his dick wasn't as big back then. Eric's about a year younger than I am so he was only about fifteen or so when we were fooling around. He had a big dick then, but nothing like he has now; I guess he was a late bloomer. He wasn't all that muscled up then either. This afternoon was the first time I had seen him nude since he'd grown up."

"That is pretty sad. I'd never thought of the problems you'd have with a ten-inch dick. Rob, uhhh, did you enjoy playing with the thing?"

"Sure, it was kinda fun, but it was like sitting in the grass and scratching Wilbur. I liked doing that, but it didn't turn me on sexually. How 'bout you? You like foolin' around with that fire hose?"

"Yeah, it was kinda fun. But you're right, it was like playing with Wilbur. Hey, Eric's not gonna disappear on us, is he? I wanna get to know him. He's a really special guy."

"He wants to get to know you too. Eric would like to have some real friends."

"Has he got a cell phone?"

"Yeah, just like mine from work. He left his in his car. We were parked just down the creek in that little parking area by the electrical substation; that's where I called you from the last time."

"Why don't you call him and invite him back before he gets away. We can go swimming or whatever and just talk for a while."

"Okay."

After Rob got Eric on the phone, Rob told him that he would meet him in the electrical substation parking area and Eric could follow him around to the Shack. I followed Rob down the steps to the creek and locked the door behind him, then dashed back up to the Gazebo, grabbed my cell phone and stuff and ran back to the Shack.

Meeting Rob and Eric in the driveway by the garage, I gave Eric a big hug and thanked him for what he had done for Rob and me. We grabbed some beers out of the kitchen, then decided to go to the pool and get in the whirlpool to relax and just talk. In the changing room at the pool house I showed Eric where the swimsuits and stuff were kept but he said if it was okay with us he'd prefer just to get in the whirlpool naked. Rob and I looked at one another and figured why not do as well? It was clear there was nothing sexual going to happen, so what was the big deal? Fuck the neighbors. We were friends.

To my surprise Rob started our conversation by apologizing to Eric for not telling him everything that had occurred after that day in Rob's garage and told him that he had spent a couple of years working the streets. I guess Rob had indeed gotten over all the guilt he felt about that. The conversation turned into somewhat of a therapy session for Eric as well. He also apologized to Rob for not telling him everything that had happened to him after the incident and asked, "You wanna know what my parents did to me?"

"How did they find out?" asked Rob.

"That son of a bitch excuse for a father of yours called them and told them, bragging about how he had beaten you to a pulp and thrown your ass out of the house for good and that they should do the same with me," replied Eric in a none too happy voice.

"That sorry bastard!" fumed Rob.

"You know what my parents did with me?" continued Eric.

Rob didn't have a pleasant look on his face when he replied, "What?"

Eric spent the next ten minutes or so telling us how his parents had made him endure going through their version of a religious based program in an attempt to cure him of his homosexuality. For over a year he was mentally and physically abused by the religious zealots who were his parents, particularly his father. While the theological garbage that all homosexuals will go to hell was pounded into his brain, Eric had to endure a perverse form of physical aversion therapy concocted by his father. Eric was tied up with a heavy weight attached to the end of his penis to keep it extended while his father repeatedly hit it with what else but a book by the name of the Holy Bible, telling Eric that the pain he felt was nothing to compare with what god had in store for homosexuals in the afterlife. This horrid action was repeated a number of times and served as a painful and primitive form of surgical phalloplasty that tore the muscles and ligaments in his groin leaving Eric with an abnormally enlarged penis.

When not attending school or forced to attend religious services, Eric's parents kept him locked in his room. Other than his schoolbooks the only reading material he was given was religious based or homophobic in nature. In his attempt to maintain his sanity, Eric began lifting weights during his forced solitude, eventually developing a physique by which he was eventually able to intimidate his father into ceasing the physical abuse and seclusion. When he reached his eighteenth birthday and legally became an adult, he left home for good.

While Eric was talking, Rob and I both instinctively moved next to him, one of us on each side of him, putting an arm across his shoulders and gently hugging him between us to express our compassion. Eventually the conversation lightened and we began to joke around. Eric began telling us stories about working as a dick dancer in a perversely funny manner. Hey, why cry when you can laugh; it takes fewer muscles to smile than to frown.

"You wanna know what the worst part about me being a dick dancer was?" Eric asked the two of us.

After we each gave the obligatory "no" answer, he sat up out of the water onto the edge of the whirlpool and told us, "Having to constantly show off my dick to prove to people the thing was real." As he began stroking it into an erection he laughingly said, "Just look at this damned thing, will ya'" As his cock increased in size, Eric in frustrated laughter continued, "I had a pretty big cock to start with, but this is ridiculous. I can't get a decent blowjob and nobody in their right mind would let me put this thing in his ass on a regular basis."

Rob and I watched in stunned amazement as Eric's dick reached full erection. When he released it from his hand it flopped downwards, pointing directly to the ground.

Looking at this unusual sight I asked, "Uhhh, Eric, does it hang down like that because of the weight?"

"Nah, the doctor told me that's because all the ligaments that should be holding it up were all torn loose, which also made it longer. The reason it's so big around is because of scar tissue."

As he sat back down in the water with us, Rob asked, "Can you get off, you know, have an orgasm?"

"Fortunately, yes. Just between us, guys, I guess I'm pretty much a bottom. Rather, I should say I like getting fucked; I've had virtually no experience being a top so I really don't know what that's like."

"You've actually fucked a guy with that thing?" I asked in disbelief.

"A few, although I don't see how they could have liked it; after all, there is such a thing as too much." In a somewhat resigned tone of voice Eric continued, "I guess the only thing worse than having a super big dick is having all those guys wanting to have sex with you. They didn't want to have sex with me, a person; they just wanted a dick and a body. Those Auntie Mames fawning all over me, telling me how wonderful I was. Bullshit. They didn't even know my name. I hated that worst of all. I wasn't a person, I was just a body with a big dick. That's why I finally said to hell with dancing in gay clubs. I did the women's for a while longer, but it was the same there so I gave that up to. The money I was making just wasn't worth it."

"Eric," I asked, "I'm not all that up on my gay terminology, what's an 'Auntie Mame?'"

"Yeah," added Rob, "I never heard of that."

"Oh," answered Eric, "that's just something I came up with. You guys have heard blacks sometimes refer to somebody as an 'Uncle Tom,' like, well, this ain't a nice way to put it but it's the only way I know how: a black who acts and talks like a nigger. You know, affected mannerisms, bad pronunciation of words, sucking up to the master sort of shit."

"Yeah," answered Rob, "like the black stereotype."

"That's it," replied Eric, "that's a better way to put it. Well, I know when black guys start pulling that shit all it does is piss off most white people. I kinda sometimes think they do it on purpose just to piss people off and get attention. And, I know that most blacks hate it when some guy does that crap. So, one day I got to thinking about the movie Auntie Mame, you know the one with Rosalyn Russell or whoever the hell her name was that played the really rich woman who raised her nephew or something?"

Rob and I let Eric know we knew what he was talking about, so he continued, "I got to thinking about the affected mannerisms and language that Auntie Mame had when she was in character, putting on a show when other people came around; it was just like the way those nelly queers act. Auntie Mame is sorta like a female version of the gay stereotype, you know, limp wrist, talks weird, pissy know-it-all, don't-give-a-shit attitude about anything but herself, that stuff. Well, just as one black calling another an 'Uncle Tom' is as an insult, guys who put on that stereotype act I call an 'Auntie Mame.' And I mean it as an insult."

The implications of the comparison between an Uncle Tom as the black stereotype and an Auntie Mame as the gay stereotype suddenly rushed through my mind. True, I have met some blacks (as well as some whites) who through the unfortunate effects of poverty and lack of education did not have an urbane manner about them; however I could tell that this was not an affectation they had adopted and therefore did not think anything bad about them. However, if I want a whiff of shit I know which end of the horse to go to. I can tell when a black is purposely putting on an Uncle Tom act and it really pisses me off. In fact, it tends to make you want to write off all blacks when one of them starts acting that way. What Frank had told Rob and me earlier in the week was right; Auntie Mames were hurting rather than helping gays get equal treatment. Gays who act like an Auntie Mame piss me off and I know it pisses off straight people too. And just as people who pull an Uncle Tom cause me to want to write off all blacks, people who pull an Auntie Mame undoubtedly cause straight people to want to write off all gays.

After talking this over with Rob and Eric, they both agreed with me. This was not like the situation of a black calling himself a "nigger" or a homosexual calling himself a "queer." What that does is merely show that the word has no power. Actions however do have power, and Auntie Mames hurt the gay community as much and in the same way that Uncle Toms hurt the black community. Are there people who will disagree with this point of view? Sure, the people who act like Auntie Mames in their feeble attempt to masquerade the simple fact that all they're doing in reality is pissing people off and encouraging others to engage in harmful, irresponsible sexual behavior.

Where did this stereotype come from? To a large extent, probably from the gay community itself, but also from the typical portrayals of gays we see in movies and on television. Was it unnatural behavior? Of course. It was as unnatural as the ducks on the creek associating an English policeman's whistle with being fed. Having learned that behavior, they kept it up as long as it is encouraged.

After we ended our discussion on this topic, Eric began asking Rob and me about us and our plans. As we talked Eric commented, "You guys really do love one another; it just shows in how relaxed your are around one another. And on top of that, you're a killer looking couple, particularly without your clothes on."

Rob playfully tapped Eric on the shoulder with his fist and said, "Didn't I tell you you'd piss on yourself when you saw Clayton's chest."

Turning to me Eric said, "Clayton, I do need to apologize to you for getting a hard on while massaging your chest; I really did like it."

Feeling a little embarrassed I told Eric, "Well, I guess Rob and I owe you an apology too; we both kinda liked playing with your dick."

Reaching to his sides to grab Rob and my hands, Eric playfully pulled them over and held them on his genitals saying, "Play with it all you want. I don't mind, at least not from you. It feels nice to be fondled by a friend, sorta like getting a back rub." Releasing our hands Eric continued, "Hell, Rob, you and I used to play around together. But, Clayton, don't let that bother you. What Rob and I did was just; well, we were just close friends, more like brothers actually."

Rob leaned over and gave Eric a kiss on the cheek telling him, "I guess we are sorta brothers now, in a way. How 'bout you, Clayton?"

"Well, I guess I'm the expert around here on adoption. Eric, is it okay if I adopt you as a brother?"

Giving me a kiss on the cheek and hugging me, Eric smiled and told me, "Sure, Clayton."

Leaning back in the whirlpool, our arms stretched over the others' shoulders, Eric gave a small laugh and said, "Why do I feel like I'm at the fucking Battle of Agincourt?"

Looking at Eric, Rob said in playful scorn, "Is this another Shakespeare thing?"

Eric leaned his head back and resignedly said, "Yeah, it is."

Seeing the look of confusion on my face, Rob told me, "Clayton, there's something you need to know about your new brother. Dangle Dick here is a Shakespeare freak, if you can believe that. He was always reading that stuff."

"Clayton," said Eric in a friendly tone, "will you kindly explain to your shit-for-brains husband that the plays of William Shakespeare happen to have many valuable insights pertinent to the modern day world."

Leaning around Eric to look at Rob I repeated, "Shit-for-brains husband of mine, the plays of William Shakespeare happen to have many valuable insights pertinent to the modern day world. Okay?" Looking back at Eric I continued, "And, Eric, I would like to apologize for my shit-for-brains husband calling you 'Dangle Dick.'" Why is it that good friends come up with some of the most repulsive nicknames for one another?

Continuing with Eric, I asked in sincerity, "What's with the Battle of Agincourt?"

Eric told Rob and me, "It's from the play Henry V. I was thinking about what we were talking about earlier, trying to get the Auntie Mames to stop their shit to help develop a positive image of gays. Kinda seems like a losing battle.

"In the play Henry V there's this one scene just before the English go into battle with the French at Agincourt. King Henry's cousins, who are like his officers, are looking down at the battlefield and worrying that the English army is gonna get its ass stomped since the French have them outnumbered five to one. That's when Henry gives 'em his Crispin's day speech."

"We never read Henry V in school," I told Eric. "Do you remember the speech?"

"There are actually two versions of Henry V. Like a lot of Shakespeare's stuff the original version later got changed around, even changing the names of some of the characters. Originally, Westmoreland's name was Warwick and, get this, there was even one of the king's cousins named Clarence."

"Clarence?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," answered Eric, "there really was. In the version of Henry V you see now he got taken out entirely and his lines given to the other cousins. To me the original version of the Crispin's day speech was clearer than the later ones that had a bunch of flowery junk added. Let me see if I can remember it." Eric leaned his head back and closed his eyes, thinking. After a few moments, he began reciting the lines with true feeling and marked emotion:

Who's that, that wishes for, my cousin, Warwick?

God's will, I would not lose the honor

One man would share from me,

Not for my kingdom.

No, faith my cousin, with not one man more.

Rather proclaim it presently through our camp

That he which hath no stomach to this fight,

Let him depart, his passport shall be drawn

And crowns for convoy put into his purse;

We would not die in that man's company

That fears his fellowship to die with us.

This day is called the day of Crispin:

He that outlives this day and sees old age

Shall stand a tip-toe when this day is named,

And rouse him at the name of Crispin.

He that outlives this day, and comes home safe,

Shall yearly on the vigil feast his friends

And say, "Tomorrow is Saint Crispin's day:

Then shall we in their flowing bowls

Be newly remembered, Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,

Clarence and Gloucester, Warwick and York,

Familiar in their mouths as household words.

This story shall the good man tell his son,

And from this day until the general doom,

But we in it shall be remembered,

We few, we happy few, we bond of brothers.

For he today that sheds his blood by mine

Shall be my brother, be he ne'er so base,

This day shall gentle his condition,

Then shall he strip his sleeves and show his scars

And say, "These wounds I had on Crispin's day,"

And gentlemen in England now a-bed

Shall think themselves accursed

They were not there, when any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

Opening his eyes, then ducking his head down slightly in embarrassment, Eric quietly said, "Sorry about that guys. I sometimes get a little carried away."

Looking at Eric in honest amazement, I told him, "Eric that was beautiful."

"Thanks." Slapping Rob and me both on the shoulders Eric stood up and told us, "Gotta go guys. Dangle Dick here needs to get home and get to bed."

After seeing Eric on his way, Rob and I also went to bed. As we snuggled up to one another, something dawned on me. "Oh, shit!"

"What's wrong?" asked Rob in a worried tone of voice.

"Wilbur. I've been forgetting to give Wilbur his good-night hug the last few nights since you've been here."

Rob sat up in bed and firmly told me, "Well, get Wilbur's butt in here so we can make up to him."

Getting out of bed, I walked to the bedroom door leading into the Shack to whistle for Wilbur. When I opened the door, I saw Wilbur lying down in the floor waiting for me. Seeing me, Wilbur sat up wagging his tail. I picked him up, hugged him, and walked back into the bedroom with him in my arms. Depositing Wilbur next to Rob, I climbed back into bed. Rob and I both began petting and scratching Wilbur as I explained to Rob, "Ever since I've had him, we do this every night. After you stop messing with him and lie down to sleep, he'll stay on the bed for a while then go off to wherever it is in the Shack he sleeps. Sometimes he's up here for just a few minutes; other times he doesn't leave until after I've gone to sleep. Whenever I'm sick in bed, he'll stay the whole night with me."

"Clayton, that's really special."

"I knew you'd understand. I've been shutting the bedroom door every time we come in here since I figured we'd be having sex. Would you mind if we left it open and closed it only when we're in the mood?"

Giving the furry love sponge between us a hug Rob, sincerely answered, "For Wilbur, no."

I then remembered something else, "If Wilbur's in here and you have the need to get a nut, he doesn't mind if you ask him to leave. There's been lots of times I'd wanna jack off before I went to sleep, so after messing with him for a while I'd have him follow me to the door. You gotta give him a last hug though before you shut the door behind him. It's kinda cool. He seems to know you want your privacy. After you hug him in the doorway, he then turns around and walks off."

Rob and I continued to show our affection to Wilbur. After several minutes had passed, Wilbur stood up on the bed, gave Rob's and my face a good licking, then jumped down off the bed and walked out the door. I told Rob, "That's weird. He's never done that before, just get up and leave while you were still petting him."

Giving me an odd look Rob asked, "Clayton, do you think he knows we're married and want our privacy?"

With the same odd look on my face, I told Rob, "I think so."

.......................

Chapter 22

After Wilbur left us I got back out of bed and shut the bedroom door behind him. Rob and I then cuddled back up together in the bed, exchanging a tender hug and a few light kisses. Rob asked me, "Did you get your graduation speech written?"

"Nah. I can't figure out what to say. I'd like it to be different instead of just saying a bunch of bullshit like everyone will be expecting."

"I know what you mean," Rob said, giving me a peck on the forehead.

"Eric damned sure got me distracted. God, I still can't believe the body that guy has."

"Or that dick," added Rob.

"That really was terrible what his father did to him. God, that must of hurt having your dick ripped loose like that."

Rob held me closer to him and commented, "Eric's father didn't have much choice in it, I guess. Just like my father didn't either over what he did to me."

"What the hell do you mean didn't have any fucking choice?" I angrily said as I pulled away from Rob, "What your fathers did to you and Eric was awful! "

Pulling me back to him Rob soothingly said, "Clayton, calm down. You don't know who Eric's father is. He and my father worked together at the same place. You've probably heard of him." Rob then told me the man's name.

Sitting up in bed, I looked at Rob with my mouth hanging open, stunned by what I'd just heard. I finally managed to question, "That wild-ass, television, evangelical, idiot preacher is Eric's father! And yours works for him in that fucked up church?"

"Yep," replied Rob curtly. "I don't know if he's still there or not, but he probably is; my father was one of the associate ministers or whatever. When Eric and I got caught, they were just getting that holy-roller church really going. Bashing gays was one of the better money raisers they had, telling people how they needed to keep sending in the money so they could continue to battle the gay agenda and all that shit. If it got out that they had sons who were gay, that would have really blown things apart for them."

Still stunned by what I was hearing, I resignedly asked Rob, "So that stuff really is a bunch of shit they do just to make money?"

"Sure it is, but they don't see it that way. Those people on crutches and wheelchairs are all shills. But they don't see anything wrong in lying like that; they just see that as a way to get people's attention so they can press on with their mission. The ones with cancer and stuff are usually legit though. The racket there is that while the preacher is tossing 'em back and forth between him and one of his little helpers, like my father, the helper squeezes and pokes 'em to make them feel like they're throwing up while the preacher works their throat and pulls a piece of liver or some chicken guts out of a plastic bag taped to the inside of his coat sleeve, making it look like it came out of the person's mouth, yelling at the top of his lungs how the power of faith has caused this new believer to expel the deadly cancer from within. After the show is over, they get that person over to the side and start working them really hard, telling them they need to make a big donation to the church, and they usually fell for it. Those two bastards didn't see a thing wrong with that act. They knew the person was gonna die soon anyway so why not give them some comfort so they could die in peace? And leave all your money to us in your will while you're at it."

"I never have understood how anyone could be so stupid to actually believe all that shit," I told Rob. "I remember seeing that guy the first time on television early one morning before I went to school. He was going on about making out a check to him and then holding it up to the television screen so he could bless it before you sent him the money. I thought it was a comedy show or something. The whole thing was so ridiculous. I nearly died when I later found out the guy was for real."

"Clayton, P. T. Barnum was right. There are lots of people out there who will believe anything. It seems the more ridiculous it is, the more they believe it. And gays ain't no exception either. You wanna see something really disgusting? Just go down to that gay church on Talbot Street. That bastard down there has his hand out all the time. He works the subject of money into every sermon he gives. If that church's mission is to help the gay community then why in the hell are they wasting money on a big, fancy building, elegant robes for the preacher and the choir, gold chalices and other crap instead of using that money to help people with AIDS? Sure they do some outreach, but why waste money on a pink, stained glass window? Hell, you know why most of those people go to that church?"

"Why?" I asked.

"The same reasons people go to gay bars and, as I now realize, the same reasons guys pick up hustlers. First, they're lonely and wanna be around other people. Second, they want some anesthetic to feel better. In a bar you get a drink, in a church you get some spiritual comfort, with a hustler you get sex. And guess what? You shell out money for it. To keep your bartender or your preacher or your whore happy you gotta keep paying them, and the more you pay the happier they are and the better service you get."

The concept of bars, churches and whores all having something in common was a little disturbing. But I still could not believe any right-thinking father could abuse his son the way Eric's had done, nor Rob's. "But Rob, couldn't your fathers see how wrong they were?"

"Clayton, they couldn't, they really couldn't. They were filled to the brim with the holy spirit or whatever. They figured the more outrageous they were, the more attention they would get and therefore be able to draw more people into their flock and make them believers. And all they did was make fools of themselves, hurt a lot of people and give religion in general a bad name."

I could tell by the tone of his voice Rob was not being sarcastic, he really meant what he said. "Rob, do you believe in god?"

"Of course I do. And, Clayton, I'm not saying all churches are bad. There are a lot of sincere people out there who really do a lot of good. But the bastards like Eric's father and mine even take advantage of them too. I don't know for sure, but I've always believed the reason the police never did anything to my father for beating me up like he did, was because he was a big church guy and therefore they left him alone.

"Religion's not a bad thing as long as you think about it and try to understand the message behind all the words. But the world is full of people who don't want to think and that's how people like Eric's father take advantage of them. He'd stand up there and shout out the one line in the Old Testament that says 'he who layeth with another man is an abomination' or whatever. Then he'd rail out against gays saying how unnatural we were since we couldn't produce children. Well, what about the part in the New Testament where Jesus comes along and says something like 'all that old stuff that Moses told you in the Old Testament didn't work so just forget it; the only law that really matters is love thy neighbor as thyself.' Well, if love and procreation are one in the same, then why in the fucking hell was Jesus born to a virgin and why didn't he go out and get married and have a dozen kids like what's-his-name did in the Old Testament to create the Twelve Tribes of Israel?"

"I was always amazed at the number of people in that fucked up church who never read the Bible. They just carried the damned thing around with 'em like it was some sort of talisman or something, like hanging some garlic around your neck to keep the werewolves away. They didn't want to read and study and form their own conclusions; they were content to believe whatever Eric's father told 'em."

"The problem is the people who don't think for themselves and just get swept up in the fury drummed up by assholes like my father and Eric's. The majority of people know it's wrong, but we let it happen. Have you ever seen the movie Inherit The Wind?"

Thinking for a moment I had to reply, "No, I don't think so."

"The movie is based upon the Scopes' Monkey Trial. It's probably my favorite movie; I've watched it dozens of times. Spencer Tracy plays the lawyer who is defending the schoolteacher who has been arrested for violating the state law prohibiting teaching evolution in the public schools. All the religious zealots in town are down on the teacher because he won't fall into line and go along with the stuff in the Bible that says god created the universe in just six days. He's feeling rotten, sitting in jail, thinking the majority of people in town are against him. But he was wrong. There's a lot of people in town who agree with him and support him, but the loud- mouthed, religious zealots embarrass those guys into keeping their mouths shut to preserve the peace and quiet. Those zealots are out in the street having torchlight parades at night burning the teacher in effigy and throwing rocks at him while he's in the jailhouse."

"So the teacher tells his lawyer, Spencer Tracy, that he's tired of all this and just wants to get it over with so he can leave town. God, I guess Eric's not the only one who can recite speeches from memory, get ready for mine. What the lawyer tells the teacher is, 'I know what you're going through. It's the loneliest feeling in the world. It's like walking down an empty street listening to your own footsteps. But all you have to do is to knock on any door and say, "If you'll let me in, I'll live the way you want me to live and I'll think the way you want me to think," and all the blinds will go up and all the doors will open and you'll never be lonely ever again.' After hearing that, the teacher decides to go on and fight. And during the trial Spencer Tracy is able to show up all the religious bigots and make them see they were wrong."

Rob and I held one another quietly for a bit. After a few moments Rob gave a little snort and said, "You know, Clayton, I just realized something."

"What's that?"

"That movie, Inherit The Wind. A lot of gays like to make the analogy that what's in the movie is similar to the fight queers have on their hands to convince the religious homophobes and gay bashers that there's nothing wrong or immoral about homosexuality. I know that's one of the reasons I like the movie so much. But I just realized something else. Auntie Mames are just as ridiculous as those zealots in the movie having their torchlight parades. Ordinary queers like you and me never tell them to shut up and knock that shit off. We all just stay quiet and go along, just like all those people in the town who actually supported the teacher but were reluctant to come out in his support. Those weird-ass preachers give religion a bad name, just like Auntie Mames give all gays a bad name. This is kinda strange, but acting like an Auntie Mame is just like those damned, holier-than-thou bastards. It's the same thing. Outrageous, affected behavior, even the clothes and shit. Ever notice how those guys always have that preacher hair, you know, all fluffed up and combed back?

"Yeah," I replied, laughing a little, "do they all do that?"

"I don't know, but it seems like it. Go to a real church where they preach real love and tolerance and understanding and you don't see the ministers all duded up like that or railing out how gays are all gonna go to hell and how we're out to recruit everyone into a deviate lifestyle."

I started laughing and told Rob, "I just can't believe you and Eric met in one of those kind of churches."

"Yeah, that is rather odd I suppose. Oh, and don't let Eric fool you either. He's smarter than hell even though he may not seem like it when you first meet him. When we were kids, he spent a lot of time reading religious stuff and we talked about it a lot. But he didn't just read the current stuff; he was always going back and trying to figure out what all that stuff meant back when the guys wrote it a thousand or more years ago. Just like tonight with the Shakespeare thing. Hell, I've heard of the play Henry V, but I never knew they went in later and changed it up."

"So are you saying there's nothing in the Bible that says homosexuality is wrong?" I asked.

"Well there is now," answered Rob. "Eric can explain all that to you if you wanna know what was probably meant when all that was written in Greek or whatever back then. See, Eric couldn't understand how David and Jonathan could be having the close relationship they had, loving one another as they did and god say nothing bad about it. We got to talking about that that stuff and we sorta began experimenting around. It seems a little silly now, but as we talked we both reluctantly admitted we were sexually attracted to guys, so we began sucking dick. We couldn't understand how something we both enjoyed could be so bad even though we did have the guilt because of all the stuff that had been pounded into our heads."

"Is that one of the reasons why you always felt so bad when you were on the streets, thinking gay sex was a bad thing?" I asked.

After thinking a moment Rob said, "I guess. I know getting raped by those guys in the shelter didn't help any." After thinking a few moments, he calmly continued, "I guess the real reason I felt guilty was because there was never any love involved. That and the promiscuity. Hell, I guess that's why the Bible is so down on promiscuity, gay or straight. If all you're after is sex, you lose sight of the important part of a relationship."

Hearing this I told Rob, "I remember when they were teaching us about AIDS and stuff in health class at school. The teacher told us that AIDS was not a gay disease; rather it was a disease of promiscuity. You think that may be another reason people hate gays, all the fucking around?"

"Could be," answered Rob. "I know there's still a lot of guys out there who all they think of is who their next conquest is going to be. Look where that's getting them. After going down for years, the rate of guys getting AIDS is going back up again. That really sucks. It's not like it was when it first happened. Like Frank told me once, all of his friends died of ignorance; they didn't know. Anybody who gets it today gets it out of stupidity."

Recalling the conversation we had with Frank earlier in the week, I asked Rob, "Do you remember him saying something about not treating sex like a bag of candy on a shelf of a supermarket?"

"Yeah, maybe that's part of the problem. Even back then, if they'd treated sex with more respect a lot of those guys would have never died. Maybe in a way all that AIDS stuff is nature's way of telling everybody to clean up our acts." Rob gave me a small hug and quietly said, "Ah, well, enough of this. Let's get to sleep."

"Okay."

You hear of lovers going to sleep in one another's arms, faces tenderly pressed together. I wish to hell I knew how they do it. The simple fact is that Rob and I just can't get to sleep if we try to be equals with our heads at the same height in bed, unless we don't hold one another at all and just become two people sharing the bed, each with our head on our own pillows. Yeah, it would be really romantic to symbolically go to sleep like two, loving equals, but practical necessity rules that out; it's too damned uncomfortable. With your faces smashed together you can't breathe and your arms start to hurt after a while.

When we go to sleep together, one of us simply holds the other with his head above the other. I guess what you would call the submissive partner either rests his head on the other's chest if we're front to front, or the so-called dominant partner rests his chin on top of the other's head if we're front to back. In either event, I suppose the resulting image is that of one of us symbolically protecting the other and the so-called submissive one accepting that protection. But whatever the imagery may be, it's a comfortable way to sleep.

Tonight, I guess you could say I was being the submissive one. Rob was at my back with his arms around me and I was snuggled down with the back of my head against his chest, his head resting atop mine. After holding me quietly for a few minutes, just as slumber mode was about to kick in, Rob began softly caressing my chest with one hand while his other hand moved up to gently stroke my face, forehead and hair. As I began to nuzzle my face against his hand accepting his affection, he began softly kissing me while I placed my hand upon his as he continued to caress my torso.

After a long while, the caressing, nuzzling and kissing abruptly stopped with Rob pulling me tightly into him in a strong hug, his face pressed against my head. I could feel his body shaking in little jerks that coordinated with his subdued sobs and sniffles as he began crying. I knew what Rob was thinking. He was remembering his past.

I turned around in bed and pulled Rob to me, holding his head against my chest, soothing him as a parent would a small child. I didn't say anything to him; I just held him and let him cry. I wanted his tears to wash away all of those horrible memories and terrible times.

And then I began to cry as well. How could anyone with the responsibility of being a parent savagely hit, kick, beat, and then abandon this loving, caring person? How could anyone who called himself a friend refuse to help him when he was in such need of a friend? How could anyone defile and debase a sexual act into the awful assault of rape upon a person unable to defend himself? Simple. Because he was a homosexual. Rob had no choice over that; he was born that way. But he had to suffer indignities forced upon him by social and religious customs as ignorant and as ridiculous as a Hindu with the caste mark of untouchable branded on his forehead.

I held Rob closer to me, placing my hand behind his head to press his face against my chest, wrapping my free arm around him to embrace him. All I wanted was to make all the pain and the hurt go away. As I held him closer attempting to calm and comfort him, the intensity of his crying increased as his entire body began to shake and jerk, his cries changing into sobbing moans as he clawed and grabbed me, burying himself into me. I had never seen Rob like this. He had completely all lost control of himself and his emotions. As I continued to hold him, my mind raced about in confusion, attempting to figure out what I should do. And then it came to me.

Rob was gay. This wonderful man in my arms was revealing himself to me as he would with no other person. He needed me, another man, just as much as I needed him. For the first time since I had realized I was homosexual, I no longer cared what anyone else might think of me. And I didn't give a damn why I was homosexual; it didn't matter. I was with the person I loved the most in the world and that was all that counted. Rob needed me and I felt honored by that. I also realized that I could not believe I had ever been ashamed of needing Rob as well. As I continued to hold and caress him, I let the feeling of being the most fortunate man on earth wash over me. For whatever reason, I was where I needed to be and where I wanted to be. I was with Rob.

Eventually, our crying subsided but we continued to tightly hold one another until Rob released me, placed his hand on my face and whispered, "I need you."

Tenderly taking Rob back into my arms I softly asked, "How?" Rob answered by turning me loose and lying face down, indicating he needed me to offer my love to him.

I wasn't erect and I knew that my emotional state at the moment would not allow me to become sexually aroused. I wanted to give Rob what he wanted and needed, but I was physically unable to do so. I lied down on top of him with my arms around him, gently rocking my body against his. For some unknown reason I felt that an overtly sexual act at this time would be inappropriate and somehow spoil my overwhelming desire to simply offer Rob my love, my understanding and my respect.

I recalled the conversation we had earlier in the week with Frank. Perhaps Frank was wrong; maybe there was indeed something inferior about homosexual acts in comparison to heterosexual ones. I wanted to make love to Rob, but I couldn't. At this moment, I did not want to be queer with Rob, I wanted to be a gentleman and treat him with the respect and dignity he deserved. All I was capable of doing at the moment was to be gentle and caring with this wonderful man, and sex was out of the question.

Then it hit me. I was being gentle with the man I loved. Rob and I were two gentle men. I had heard the word "gentleman" pronounced as one word all of my life and never realized it was actually two words slammed together: "gentle" and "man."

The words from Henry V that Eric had recited earlier began to come back to me. Something about a few, a happy few, a bond of brothers who wanted to fight for a cause. And that those who understood and did their part would be gentled and become equals.

Are gays a minority; are we, as were the English at the Battle of Agincourt, outnumbered? Yes. But that doesn't make us wrong. I didn't know what the English and French were fighting about in their battle, but I knew what Frank was saying and he was right. The battle gay men have is for their sexuality to be accepted and to be treated as gentlemen and thus equals in our society. And the only way to do that was to treat sex as a gentleman should.

As I held Rob, the simple realization washed over me that in addition to being a man, a gentle man and a loving man, he was also a sexual man. He had no control or choice over his sexual desire; it was an inherent part of him. As a committed couple, we were obligated to satisfy the other's basic, primal needs of protection and love as well as sex. Through Eric, Rob and I had realized that our love for one another had harnessed and corralled what previously had been an indiscriminate sexual desire, but it did not make that desire vanish. Rob needed sexual satisfaction just as I or any other man or woman does. Through some mystery of the human soul, I was the one, the only person in the world who could now fully and completely satisfy Rob's needs.

With this understanding, I felt something release from within me and I was then able to couple with Rob and we united fully and completely as two gentle men.

For the remainder of the night Rob and I gently and tenderly expressed our love and our special need for one another. Lovers have special ways of communicating with one another and we had finally found the most precious way of all.

........................

Chapter 23

Rob and I spent much of Thursday and Friday getting ready for the graduation party on Saturday, getting tables and chairs out of storage, doing yard work, cleaning the pool and such. While we were stocking away the meat and produce delivery Rob said, "God, Clayton, how many people are going to be at this thing?"

"About four hundred and fifty."

"Your class is that big?" asked Rob.

"No, but a lot are bringing dates and you got all the teachers and their spouses and kids."

"Am I gonna be your date?"

Looking at Rob somewhat in amazement, I replied, "Of course, you big dummy."

"That ought to be interesting. We gonna be the only gay couple there?"

Rob's statement made me stop loading stuff into the refrigerator as I realized something. "Can you finish this? I gotta go make a couple of telephone calls."

"Sure," replied Rob, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just remembered something. Be right back."

After making two telephone calls, I rejoined Rob in the kitchen and told him, "I just called Principal Adams. The physics and chemistry teacher at school, Mr. James, is gay and I wanted to make sure he knew he could bring a date or his husband or whatever. Principal Adams said he'd let the appropriate people know, so there may be some others. We kinda think Ms. Baskin is a lesbian but we're not sure."

"Anyone else?" asked Rob.

"That's what I want to ask you about. You think Eric might be willing to go on a blind date? The only other gay kid I know about in my class is Neville Shepard. I called him and let him know he could bring a guy for a date but he doesn't have anyone he could call. You think Eric might? Neville's really a nice guy, kinda cute too."

"I dunno. Let me call him." Returning to the kitchen after he got off the telephone, Rob told me, "Call Neville and tell him he's got a date for Saturday. Eric said he'd be over here Saturday afternoon at two."

"Great! Neville will just shit when he meets Eric," I halfway shouted to Rob as I dashed off to call Neville and give him the news.

Afterwards while Rob and I were discussing our respective telephone conversations with Eric and Neville, Rob asked, "Did you say anything to Neville about Eric's dick?"

"Of course not! All I told him was that Eric was a really nice guy and good-looking. I wouldn't say anything about his dick. If Eric and Neville wanna go there that's up to them. Their sex lives are none of my damned business."

"Okay, just wanted to make sure. I'll let Eric know that too."

"Neville said it was all over school about me being gay," I told Rob.

"Any death threats so far?"

"Nope. Neville said everyone seemed pretty cool about it. Pretty surprised but no bashing or anything. Oh, and get this. He said some of the girls still want to go out on dates with me."

"Why?" asked Rob in a "are they on dope?" tone of voice, "they think they're gonna convert you or something?"

"No. They just wanna go out with me 'cause they like me. Plus, they'll feel safe since I won't be trying to get into their pants."

Rob started laughing and told me, "I remember Eric telling me it was really easy for him to get a job dick dancing at the women's clubs. He was always at the top of the schedule not so much because of his looks but because the club managers figured since he was queer, he wouldn't be messing with the customers. He said a lot of those guys are actually gay. If those women only knew."

"Does that mean that dick dancers in gay clubs are straight?"

"Not all of 'em, but Eric said quite a few were. God, that's rich. Those stupid Auntie Mames up there shoving dollar bills in the guy's shorts and he's probably married with a wife and kids at home. That's something else that pisses me off about those assholes."

"What's that?"

"I remember sitting in a bar one night watching the Olympics and this one screaming faggot a couple of chairs down was going on about how cute this guy was or that one. And going into specific details about sucking his cock or letting the guy fuck him all night long. Somebody finally told the asshole to shut up since the guy on television was probably straight. And, of course, the shithead then starts in saying how any boy who gets in bed with another always loves it and that they just won't admit it. That's fucking bullshit. That stupid queer thinking you can convince a straight guy to be gay just by having sex with him."

"Well, I know having sex with Debbie sure didn't do it for me. All that did was make me realize I really was gay."

"That's what I mean," exclaimed Rob, "all those stupid fuckers see is a body. They don't see there's a brain connected to that dick or their own butt." Rob started laughing and told me, "But I guess maybe that's why Auntie Mames are that way."

"How's that?"

"They ain't got no brain, or at least don't use it, so all that's really there is an asshole."

After laughing and joking some more, something occurred to me and I told Rob, "Oh, jeez, this is gonna make Friday night interesting."

"What's that?"

"Everybody knowing I'm gay. How am I gonna handle that stupid speech I gotta give?"

"Just get up, give a little speech and sit down. No big deal."

"No, Rob, you don't understand. Everybody's gonna know I'm gay; everyone in the whole fucking audience. If I don't say anything about it, they'll think I'm afraid or embarrassed. If I do say something about it, they'll think I'm trying to push myself off on them. See?"

"Ohhhhhh shit!" exclaimed Rob as the realization of my dilemma came to him. "You're right. Talk about being stuck between the dog and the fire hydrant. You do have a problem."

Rob and I spent the remainder of Thursday and Friday completing the multitude of tasks Mom had laid out for the graduation party to go as smoothly as possible. Rather than do all the yard work at once on Friday, we decided to break it up into smaller pieces and stretch it out over two days. I'd put off writing my commencement speech for as long as I could so I had to concentrate on it.

Doing somewhat mindless tasks such as mowing grass or trimming hedges is for me a good way to think. For once having a huge amount of yard to tend was a blessing since it gave me lots of time to think. Friday night was not going to be just another instance of the smartest kid in his high school graduating class giving the obligatory good-bye, thank you speech. It was going to be my first public appearance as a known homosexual. This was not like some guy standing up before a crowd of people and announcing, "I'm gay." No, this was worse. I was faced with the situation of having all of my friends and their families, my teachers and damned near everyone else I knew all gathered around to see Clayton for the first time knowing in advance what I actually was: a queer. There would be no surprise factor here. I knew they knew that I knew. Yuck!

If I had just kept my stupid mouth shut for another week, I wouldn't be in this situation. I could have waited and come out at the graduation party. That would have been better, a lot better since Rob would be there with me. But no, I've gotten myself into a situation where I get to stand up before all those people by myself. They'll all know I'm queer, but none of them will know about Rob. All they will see is some guy up on stage who likes to suck dick. In their minds, they wouldn't see me as a committed man standing next to my husband whom I dearly love; instead, all they'll see in their mind's eye is some pathetic kid hanging around the bathroom in a public park waiting for some stranger to drop his pants. Shit!

Oh, well, it could be worse. I could have made the mistake of sending graduation invitations to some of the gay guys I had met through Rob. That would have been great. Having my own little support group show up in pink, sequined T-shirts, standing in front of the crowd below the stage as cheerleaders, waving pompoms and chanting out in unison: "He's out! He's queer! He doesn't wanna be here! Yaaaay, Clayton!" That would really keep the ceremony dignified. Ugggh!

After lunch on Friday, I went to school to clean out my locker and attend the graduation practice. Neville was right. Everybody did know I was gay; a few people said something to me but mostly I was ignored. Luckily, I was able to get in and out of the place pretty fast. As I was walking out of the auditorium the bell rang to indicate the change from fifth to sixth periods and the halls quickly filled with students changing classrooms. It being the last day of school they weren't doing the regular routine but were joking and kidding about, having a good time. I exchanged the obligatory "hey, wassup" and hand slaps with a few people, but on the way out the front door of the building I heard some unknown person behind my back sneer out "dicksucker," followed by a little cackle of snorts from some others.

After I got back to the Swamp, I went wandering around in the Woods for a while by myself. Eventually, I found myself at the Gazebo leaning against the stone wall chunking small rocks into the creek below, thinking about the few sentences I had written that constituted the speech I would be giving in a few hours. I knew what the words meant, but nobody else would other than Mom, Dad and Rob. Well, at least that was enough.

Staring at the creek and the woods across the way, I suddenly felt Rob's arms gently go around my waist from behind me and felt the warmth of his cheek against my ear as he softly asked, "What's wrong? Worried about tonight?"

"Yeah," I admitted as I turned around to hold him and place my head on his shoulder. I saw that Wilbur had followed Rob up to the Gazebo and was sitting on the flagstones by the waterfall just watching the two of us.

After holding one another for a minute or so Rob patted me on the back and told me, "Let's go sit down. I brought you a beer, Wilbur thought you might need one."

"Ah, well. One beer won't hurt anything," I commented as I released Rob and walked over to scratch Wilbur. We walked into the Gazebo and Rob and I sat down together, each opening a beer and lighting a cigarette while Wilbur stretched out on the Gazebo steps to sun himself. After sitting quietly for a few moments I asked, "Rob, why are we queer?"

"Might as well ask why some people are straight. I know some psychologists say that people are naturally all bisexual and that society or something causes us to go to one end or the other, but I never believed that shit. Who in their right mind would want to be gay? Everything in society tells us not to be, but we still go there even though everything is against it. If anything, I tend to think the real lie is people being bisexual in the first place. From what I've seen, people who say they're bisexual are usually gay and just afraid to admit it because of what society tells 'em."

After taking a sip of my beer I asked, "Did you used to have customers who said they were bisexual?"

"Yeah, mainly at the end when I was getting away from all that stuff. I'd been at it long enough that I was doing nothing but repeat and referral business so I wasn't having to streetwalk. I'd get a page, call 'em back and meet 'em at a motel or someplace. Come to think of it, all of those guys were the same, it didn't matter whether they were bi or gay. All they wanted was for me to hold them and gently fuck 'em, sorta like I was making love to them rather than just sex. Rather sad, really. Some of them would go home to the wife and kids, others would go home to an estranged male lover; the others just went home by themselves. The ones who said they were bi or gay always talked about how bad things were at home, how their partner didn't understand them. The ones who went home by themselves never said whether they were bi or gay, they just wanted to be with someone."

Thinking about what Rob had said while I finished my cigarette I asked, "Rob, when you finally made the decision to get out, did you just throw away your pager or what?"

"I thought about doing that, you know, go down to the ocean or something with a bottle of champagne, throw the pager out in the water as far as I could and toast a new beginning. After thinking about it I just wound up giving the pager to a friend of mine. Eddie seemed to be a pretty good guy."

"Was Eddie a hustler?"

"Yeah."

"Did you figure he could use the business?"

Rob took a drink of his beer then looked down at his lap saying, "That was part of it."

I could see tears running down Rob's cheeks, so I put my arm around him and softly asked, "What else was there?"

Looking at me then back down at his lap Rob quietly said, "I didn't want those guys to be alone."

....................................

Chapter 24

A lot was going through my mind while I was standing there silently before an auditorium full of people, my entire school class behind me on the stage, everyone waiting for me to say something. I didn't have stage fright, not in the least. There was a lot I wanted to say but how to express it was the problem. I wasn't sure if what I had planned to do and wanted to do was the right thing. I had my valedictory speech written and in my pocket, but I didn't pull it out. Everyone in the audience and on stage could see I had no notes or prepared script as I began to speak.

"There are and have been a lot of special people in my life, my parents, my friends, my teachers and a whole lot of others. Many of them are here tonight, but there's someone, someone very special to me that's not here. My dog, Wilbur."

Just about everyone in the crowd gave a little laugh and I began to smile some as I told them a story.

"There's something different about me from most other people here tonight. When I was seven years old, I began to notice something. I didn't look like my parents. And I asked them about it. I had noticed that other kids had physical features that resembled what their parents had but I didn't seem to have any. So I asked Mom and Dad about that, and that's when my parents told me I was adopted."

"I remember the feeling that came over me when they told me that. I didn't know anything about sex, or how babies got born, but I do remember I had this terrible feeling of loss come over me when I heard that. It wasn't that I didn't like Mom and Dad, 'cause I did. Despite all that Mama and Daddy told me that night, and despite all the affections and assurances we offered one another, I still went to sleep that night just knowing there was something missing, something that other kids had that I didn't have and never would. I guess I felt badly because being told I was adopted meant that I was different from all the other kids I knew. It was like they had their real parents but I didn't. I felt like my relationship with Mom and Dad was somehow not natural and therefore inferior to what other kids had."

"I guess Mom and Dad could see me moping around the house after that night. Even if they didn't, I suppose they could anticipate what I was feeling. But they didn't do or say anything. They just kept on being Mom and Dad just like they had always been."

"A couple of weeks or so went by and they asked me if I would like to have a dog for my birthday present. I had asked them about that previously, and they had told me that they'd let me have one only when I was old enough to take care of one since he would be my responsibility. Mom and Dad said that since I would soon be eight years old, they believed I could handle that responsibility. I told them I really wanted a dog, so Dad told me that he'd take me out the following Saturday to get one."

"For the next few days I was pretty excited and didn't think all that much about being adopted and all. I'd gone into pet stores at the mall and other places lots of times and always enjoyed looking at the puppies, wishing I had one of them. So I could hardly wait until Saturday to come so I could go down to the pet store and get my very own dog."

Looking out at the audience I gave them a really big smile and changed my tone of voice from honest sincerity to one of happiness.

"Now, anybody who knows my father knows that he is, well, a little different."

Another ripple of laughter went through the audience.

"Dad has this tendency, no, it's not a tendency 'cause he does it all the time; Dad is always dragging home all this stuff that other people have thrown away."

I heard honest, relaxed laughter from the crowd and really began to smile, throwing in hand gestures as I talked for emphasis.

"And then he builds stuff out of it, eventually. I mean, the house we live in is built mainly out of materials from an old hospital that Dad tore down in Huntsville."

I heard another round of laughter with a few belly laughs mixed in.

"And not only that, Dad actually had the nerve to tear the place down using convicts that he had leased from the state prison there in Huntsville."

This was great. I was beginning to feel like a stand up comedian. People were beginning to clap their hands while laughing.

"And it's been going on for years like that. Just the other morning at breakfast, Dad actually asked me to postpone going to college for a year to help him add on a room to the house and build a couple of other things he has in mind. You see, when he started building our house, he promised Mom he wouldn't take more than twenty-five years to finish it and he's about to run out of time."

The audience was really laughing now. So I threw my hands up in the air in a desperate gesture and hollered out in a pleading, "I can't believe I'm doing this," tone of voice, "And what's just as crazy, I'm gonna do it!"

I had to wait a couple of minutes while the audience laughed hysterically, breaking into a solid round of applause for Mom and Dad. As people looked about the audience for my parents, Mom stood up to get everyone's attention, motioning with her hands for them to become quiet. As the crowd quieted down so they could hear, Mom loudly announced, "Clayton is not joking." Pointing down at Dad seated next to her she announced, "Ted actually did that at the breakfast table on Monday." Looking back and around at everyone in the audience Mom told them in a cheerful but resigned tone, "We've been living in a construction site for over twenty-three years." Pointing at me on stage Mom then concluded, "And now he's got our son in on his act! "

As the laughter and applause renewed, Dad stood up, grinned while shrugging his shoulders, then he and Mom gave one another a long, happy kiss and hug to openly display their affection and commitment to one another in front of the entire world, or at least the little part of it they were in, and then sat back down. I felt incredibly proud of my parents, watching them honestly expressing their sincere love for one another while hundreds of people around them began to applaud, including everyone on stage. After the audience settled back down, I continued.

"Anyway, back to Wilbur. That Saturday morning finally came. I got up and I was really excited. After breakfast, Dad's gonna take me out so I can get my very own dog. So we got in the car, but we didn't go to the pet store in the mall."

I let my voice change into a serious tone to cause the audience's dwindling laughter to subside.

"Rather than go to the pet store like I had been dreaming of, Dad took me to the dog pound, the animal shelter."

I waited for all remaining laughter to stop.

"I felt like hell when Dad pulled up in front of that place and stopped the car. There I was, a discarded kid that my real parents didn't want, being taken down to pick up some discarded mongrel for a pet. This wasn't anything special; it was just another one of Dad's salvage runs. I didn't even want to get out of the car, but I did. I figured the sooner I got this over with the better. I'd just tell Dad I'd changed my mind and didn't want a dog after all.

"Walking into the back where the dogs were, it wasn't nice at all like the pet stores were. The place kinda smelled and was really noisy with the dogs barking and carrying on. I just really felt bad. This wasn't what I wanted at all. So much for my fairy tale dream of getting a dog. I just wanted to get out of there. I also just wanted to get away from my father. I could not believe he would do such a thing to me, bringing me to such a horrible place to save a dime on getting his purported son a dog. I was nothing but an unnatural kid in an unnatural place with an unnatural parent. I just wanted this over with."

"And then I spotted Wilbur. He was this little puppy huddled up in the corner of a cage all by himself away from the other dogs. I could tell from the look in his eyes he was scared to death. And I just had to take him. I still remember how he was trembling when they let me pick him up that first time, and how he buried himself into my arms as I held him as he whimpered. Wilbur needed me, and I wanted to protect him and give him my love and affection. I don't know why, but he was the one."

"I couldn't take him home right away. Because it was the animal shelter they had to give him his shots and, well, do the little operation so that Wilbur would never be a daddy."

I heard a little bit of relieved laughter, and I began to smile again while continuing.

"I nearly went nuts waiting until Dad and I could go back that afternoon to pick him up. When I was finally able to take Wilbur back in my arms later that afternoon, I felt great. I think that was the happiest I had ever been. Having Wilbur pretty much made me forget about being different from other kids."

"The next Saturday, Dad took Wilbur and me back to the shelter so Wilbur could have his stitches taken out. While we were driving back home, Dad asked me if I knew where Wilbur probably would be if I hadn't picked him up. Well, being an eight-year-old kid, I didn't know how animal shelters really worked, so I told Dad I figured that if someone else hadn't picked up Wilbur, he'd still be at the shelter. That's when Dad explained to me that had it not been for me, in all likelihood, Wilbur would be dead since the majority of animals that wind up in animal shelters are put to death because no one wants them. That really got to me. I just held Wilbur closer to me and cried a little while he affectionately licked the tears from my face."

"In his own way, Wilbur taught me a very valuable lesson about something that among other things explains why people adopt. It's a little thing called love, and the desire to share it with others."

"From what I've heard and read, I'm also a little different from other adopted kids. After I got Wilbur, I've never had any desire to know anything about the man and woman who were responsible for my birth. For whatever reason, Wilbur and I were both born into this world, but the process of biology is a stranger to the notion of love. Thanks to Wilbur, I was able to understand and appreciate that Mom and Dad are my real parents in every sense of that term. Our love for one another is what makes our relationship as natural as it can be."

"From time to time, other kids would try to taunt or torment me by attempting to make me feel inferior because I was adopted and lacked a biological connection with Mom and Dad. Because of Wilbur, I no longer cared what other kids might think because, not being adopted themselves, they didn't know how special my connection with Mama and Daddy was and always will be."

Looking directly at my parents in the audience, I paraphrased something Dad had recently told me.

"Wilbur taught me that even though I was different, it was nothing of which to be ashamed. I had no choice in the matter about being adopted, so why should I feel badly about it, particularly since the relationship with my parents was undoubtedly based solely upon their desire to love and to share?"

Changing my gaze to meet Rob's eyes, sitting next to Dad, I continued.

"I also have just recently realized that Wilbur started something important in my life that day in the car. That's when I began the process of learning just how important love is, and that's a learning process I hope never ends."

Visibly pulling a small card out of my pocket with three sentences written on it, I continued.

"Now that you all know who Wilbur is, here's the commencement speech he helped me prepare.

"For myself and the other members of this graduating class, we want to thank you, our parents, our teachers and the other important people in our lives for the love you have given us. We ask for your simple and honest prayer that each of us will always continue to learn and appreciate just how important love is. We also ask that you join us in our hope that we be given the continuing opportunity to share our love with others and, in return, be granted the wonderful gift of gladly accepting their love without hesitation and without shame."

For Danny, With All My Love, Brian

From too much love of living, From hopes and fears set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be: That no man lives forever, That dead men rise up never, That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safely to sea.

Ended