This is a work of pure fiction, but based on the author's feelings, beliefs, and in some cases, experience. Come to think of it -- it might not be all that pure! There may be graphic sexual encounters at times between men, so if this offends you, you are invited to retreat. If you are too young or it is otherwise illegal for you to be reading this kind if story, shame on you for reading it - - please stop here. If not, - - ENJOY!
Cast of characters: Brian Weber - That's me! Deena - my wife Ronny - my son. Chris Willows - kid in bathroom. Mike Riggs - new friend. Chanelle LeBelle - Ronny's girlfriend. Gary Foosdorf - Mike's friend Dmitri - Neighbor Ericka - Dmitri's wife Muhammad Zarindast - Friend Stan - Muhammad's partner.
From Chapter 3:
"Drive carefully!" said Randy.
"And -- try to hone your gaydar!" laughed Nick.
I stopped and bought an energy drink to keep me more alert during the 45 minute drive home. I laughed at myself, for letting my gonads get the best of me and hitting on a straight guy. I felt haunted by my interesting interlude with a very handsome Persian. I found myself wishing that he didn't have a partner.
It was nearing 2:00 AM when I pulled into my driveway. My eyes were getting blurry, but not so blurry that I could not recognize a familiar car next to me house. I parked and walked over and tapped on the widow, waking him up.
"Oh -- Brian!" He said, forcing himself to blink awake. "What time is it?"
"Almost two. How long have you been here, Gary?"
Chapter 4
Gary blinked several more times, frowned and said, "Not too long." then looked at his watch. "Omigod! It's two o'clock! Where have you been?!" Then he looked instantly repentant. "Oh! I guess that's none of my business."
"Gary -- what are you doing here?" I asked as civilly as I could muster.
"I -- I -- felt bad -- um -- about the way that you -- I mean -- the way -- um -- we parted. When you left, I felt empty -- almost as empty as -- um -- and -- I followed -- I mean -- I came over here to - "
"Gary! Have you been here since ten o'clock?" I exclaimed.
He just looked at me, confirming my question. "I got here before Ronny got home. When he came, he woke me up. He asked me to come in, but I told him I'd wait for you out here."
"Gary -- I know my son! Unless I miss my bet, he's watching us this very minute. He likes you. He's hoping that I invite you in! You're ridiculous games may hurt me, but I won't let you - "
He started his car. "Never mind." He said. "You're right. I shouldn't have come over here. It was stupid! I'll go."
"Wait!" I said. "Just wait a minute."
I walked to the front door and opened it slightly. "Ron -- go to bed." I whispered.
"K, Dad. It was late -- I was worr - "
I tried my best to not be cross with my boy. "Just go to bed, Sweetheart. I'll be in, in a few minutes."
"K. Sorry Dad, I - "
"It's okay -- really. G'night."
"K -- night."
I walked back to Gary's car and opened the passenger side, and got in. "What - ?" he started.
"Drive down to the entrance of the development." I said, strongly enough that he didn't question it again. "Pull over here." He did it. "Shut off the engine." He complied.
"What you're doing is hurting me, Gary. And -- confusing me. That's -- um -- okay, I guess -- that's to be expected maybe -- but you are also playing with my son's emotions. I won't have that. He's been without a mother for ten years, and though he's straight as an arrow, he is somewhat immature and he wants me to have a partner -- to share with -- before he thinks of leaving me."
"Bri, I didn't mean to - "
"Don't call me that! It was okay when -- when -- but it's not -- now. If you need to do something -- then do it. If you want to talk, then call me and we can meet somewhere. Gary, I can't simply turn off my feelings for you and I know that you are the same. But you called the shots. Now let's live with them -- unless you're willing to try another way."
I was pretty sure he wasn't. What I couldn't figure is -- why he was here -- now!
"I just feel bad about -- about -- how you left earlier."
"It may have seemed to you that I left." I said. "But it was you who left. And I'm not blaming you -- much. We've known each other -- still -- less than a week. This is crazy!"
"I know! It IS crazy!" He said. "I don't know why I feel such a close connection to you -- this soon."
"Well, all I can say to you is what my dad used to say, `Poop or get off the pot!' You're acting like a sixteen-year-old."
"Bri --an -- when I was twelve, my mom had a boyfriend. It tore my dad up terribly. She strung them both along -- the whore! Dad loved her, and so did the other guy. I loved her too, and she used me as a hedge to get my dad to stay. After I was a little older, I told myself I'd never do that to anyone. And now I'm doing it to you! I hate myself for that. Please -- forgive me. I'll take you home and when I have my screwed up life figured out, I'll maybe give you a call -- though I doubt you'll be much interested by that time."
"No -- you don't need to take me home. I need to walk a little -- to clear up my head."
"I'm sorry, Bri -- er -- Brian. It was -- REALLY -- nice knowing you."
I opened the passenger door and started to get out. I came back in and leaned across the console and kissed his lips. "Don't count me out that easily, Gary." I said. I caressed his face and got out, and closing the door, walked home. He didn't move anywhere while I was still in hearing of him.
Is love -- and dating -- always this hard? I'm 35 years old and have no experience with it. I may as well be a teenager myself! My teen son has more experience than I have! And how is my confusion affecting his stability and -- self confidence?
I opened the door quietly and went to me bedroom. I didn't turn on the light, hoping -- but he isn't here. I took off all my clothes and sat on the bed, reached under my bedside table for my jams. I must have left them in the bathroom this morning. I pulled the covers up and went to sleep quickly.
I dreamt I was in bed -- nude -- and that there was someone else in the room. I felt the mattress depress. I looked and Gary was sitting -- also nude -- on top of the covers. He had a sheepish, repentant look on his face. I thought it was interesting that it was pitch dark and I could still see his face -- as if it were shining somehow.
I smiled, not saying anything. I was still conscious of my boy just down the hall. I opened the covers and Gary climbed in. His body was cold from sitting out in the car. I pulled him in close to warm him. We kissed deeply. His hands went for my gold, and as wrong as I felt this was, considering the circumstances, I let it happen. I was very turned on and never wanted this more.
This wasn't one of those dreams where you know you were dreaming. As far as I knew it was really happening. I kissed him deeply and he started to stroke my hard-on. It seemed like it was having one long orgasm, but it wasn't happening yet. I figured it had been so long that it just felt that way.
He got in front of me and guided my manhood up and into his anus. My body seemed to start thrusting of its own accord. It was extremely stimulating and yet, it also seemed as if I felt nothing. Then I definitely felt that familiar growing pressure and felt my orgasm build up in me. I found myself pounding his ass for all it was worth, and he was grunting while I was panting and moaning.
When I finished, I fell on top of him, and I slipped out of him when his legs, which had been over my shoulders, came down under me. I lay my head on his chest, my lungs heaving, as my body tried to catch up with what just happened.
I didn't remember falling asleep, but as I woke up, I still felt him -- still under me. I came up to give him a kiss and looked into his eyes. OH MY GOD!!
"RONNEEEEEE!!!!" I screamed.
My door flew open and the light came on. There stood my son -- in the doorway -- looking scared. "What -- what - - dad?"
"You -- you - " I started. Then I noticed that he was in his jams. I was under my covers, sitting up. I remembered the dream and pulled the covers up to cover my bare chest.
"I guess you were having a nightmare, Dad. You want me to sleep with you?"
"NO!" I said, way too strongly. "I mean -- no -- it's okay. I'll be all right. It was just a -- very real dream! G'night, Sweetheart."
Ronny reluctantly went back to his bedroom. I got up and went to the bathroom, found my jams and put them on. I went back to bed, feeling extremely lonely. My pillow was drenched by the time I went back to sleep.
Ronny was up Saturday morning and I woke up to the smell of bacon cooking. I thought about my very real dream and shuddered. I can't let Ronny ever sleep with me again.
Tap tap.
"Come in, Ronny."
"Oh good -- you're awake. Oh -- you put your jams on. I've had weird dreams when I slept commando. I hope it wasn't too bad."
"It was horrible."
He looked concerned. "You wanna talk about it?"
"Oh Gosh no!" I said. "I'm afraid I won't be able to forget it as it is! I can't explain it, but trust me -- it was bad."
"Okay -- breakfast is almost ready. Want your eggs over easy -- or scrambled?"
"Whatever you're having." I said. "What time is it?"
"10:45. A guy named Mo called about 9. Did you meet someone last night?" Asked my sweet, patronizing son, smiling.
"I met a couple guys. But Mo was definitely the most interesting. He has a partner."
Ronny came and sat on my bed. "And - - the other guy? Did you like him?"
"I liked his looks -- and he was fun to talk to, but -- he had twp possible problems."
"What's that?"
"Well, the first is -- he's straight!"
"Where did you go?"
"20th and K."
"Isn't that the gay district?"
"You knew about that?" I said, mildly surprised.
"Sorry -- but me and some of my friends used to cruise through there to see them. That was before I figured out that -- well -- about you."
"That must have been hard." I said. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's not your fault. I think it's amazing that you did what you did all these years to -- protect me. YOU'RE amazing!"
"I have an amazing son. I would have done anything to give you the best chance of being normal."
"You mean straight?"
"Nope. I don't think that having a gay dad would have any affect on your sexuality. But it could screw up your head -- while you were trying to identify yourself -- whatever your orientation. I thought 18 was a good time to let you know -- but obviously you were more perceptive than I knew."
He smiled knowingly. "Um -- so why was this straight guy down there?"
"He likes -- um -- how the people there are not judgmental."
"Judgmental? About what?"
"That was the other possible problem. He's probably an alcoholic. He's a good looking guy, but I think he lives with his sister or something, and he has no car -- so he probably doesn't have much of a job.
"Um -- why do you think that this Mo would be calling you. He sounds like -- is he from England or something? He has a different accent than I'm used to and -- he was extremely polite."
"Yea, he does come off that way. He's from the Middle East, and I guess he learned English in England -- Liverpool I think he said."
"Middle East. Is he an Arab, then?" Ronny wasn't exactly alarmed, but - -
"I don't think Persians like to be called Arabs." I said, looking for my son's next revelation in his eyes.
"Persian -- Persian." He said, his eyebrows scrunched. "Omigod, Dad! Is he from Iran?!" His eyes got as round as saucers.
"Yes." I said, calmly, smiling. "I am happy that you know your history well, Ronny!"
His eyes were still round as he said, "Why -- why -- is he here?"
"Ronny -- don't worry. He's not a terrorist. He's gay. He's left Iran because they kill gays there."
"But Ahmadinejad said that there ARE no gays in his country." By now Ronny had a slight smirk. He and I have been watching the evening news together for a long time. I guess some of it got through to him.
"I'm sure he is working to make that come true." I said, gravely.
"Dad -- why is it that many of the gays and -- well, liberals in general -- even women's groups -- say nothing against the way gays and women are treated in those countries?"
"I don't know, Ron. I think it's because the media tries to cover up what is really happening. It's never reported like it would be if anyone was treated that way here."
"But women's groups especially. They HAVE to know that women there are severely abused. They say nothing! It's maddening."
"It makes no sense, Does it." I said. My stomach growled -- I think.
"Was that your tummy or mine?" asked Ronny.
"I believe it was mine."
"Eggs'll be up in a few minutes!"
"Do I have time for a quick shower?" I asked.
With a knowing smile, Ronny said, "Sure!" He knew better than to ask why.
As we were eating, Ronny reminded me of my call from Mo. "I guess I better call him back." I said.
"Mo? This is Brian -- we met last -- yeah! Yes, my son told me you called. This -- oh this afternoon? I'm anxious to meet Stan. Yes. He likes horses? Do you think you're game for a ride? Great! We can borrow a couple horses from my neighbor. One of them is kind of old, but -- oh. Okay, then, Tara might be perfect for him. See you about 4! G'bye!"
"He's coning this afternoon? And he's bringing his partner? "What does he look like?"
"Wha -- at?" I said. "Is my son a little prejudiced? He's extremely handsome -- like most Arabs -- er, excuse me Persians."
"I guess -- well -- it's just -- it'll be a little -- um -- different -- having two Middle Eastern dudes come to our house."
"Yeah," I said sarcastically, "it may bother our Russian neighbors!"
"You're incorrigible!" He joked. It was a term I called him many times as he was growing up.
"So -- you come by it naturally!" I laughed. "Well, they won't be here until four, so I have time to do our Saturday cleaning."
I tried not to make a show of the extra cleaning I was giving the house today. But I noticed that Ronny seemed to be working extra hard too. After the kitchen was almost as spotless as Deena used to make it, we went in and tidied up our rooms. I got out the vacuum cleaner and Ronny said, "If you're gonna do that, I'll go work on the yard."
"Naw, just help me move the furniture and we can do the yard together." I said.
Ronny grinned. "Are you sure this guy, Mo, has a partner?"
"I dunno. I just have a -- well -- a funny feeling about him."
"I do too, but I don't think for the same reason you do. What if he shows up without his so-called partner?"
"He said they're both coming. I have to take that at face value." I said.
We finished up inside, then went to work trimming the yard up. Ronny pulled all the weeds that had accumulated in the dry creek bed that runs under our porch. (Our porch looks like a bridge, and part of the landscaping is a dry creek bed that runs under it.) I started to trim the hedges and edges of the lawn, then Ronny got out the mower. The grass grows wild on most the five acres, but we planted a lawn in front of the house and inside the circle that is our driveway.
"3:30, Pop! Let me finish up here and put away the stuff, while you go get another shower and I'll come in as soon as it's finished."
"You want me to make a good impression, don't you!" It wasn't a question.
"You're my dad -- of course!"
As I was showering, I thought about what a wonderful boy I had -- what a marvelous man we had created -- and marveled at how I was lucky enough to have this angel in my life. A voice came to me: "You raised him -- you and I -- give yourself some credit." It was Deena's voice.
As I was finishing shaving, there was a knock on the door. Ronny and I really weren't that shy about seeing each other, but I had taught him early that if the door is closed it is nice to knock. From sounds I had heard some years earlier, it was obvious that the young teen needed as much or more privacy as the single dad. "Come in!"
We didn't go out of our way to expose ourselves to each other either, but occasionally there was a time when we both needed to be in the bathroom at the same time. I had told him he was welcome to use my shower any time. It is much superior to the one in the bathtub, in the guest bathroom. I was clad in a towel. He came in and removed his underwear, bending down, exposing a very perfectly formed, spotless posterior that any man would be covetous of.
I was neatly cut when I was a newborn, but I had prevented that from happening to Ronny. That meant some education to teach him how to keep it clean, but at 18, I assumed he was fully grown, and it hung nicely at about 5" soft, with of course another ž" of overhang with his foreskin. My pride in this fine young man makes my head, heart and chest swell. My solid resolve is that they're the only parts of me that swell.
That's my story and I'm stickin' to it!
Before the room got steamy, he was completely visible in the clear glass shower door. I could see in the mirror as his wash cloth glided over his smooth blemish-free body. I left the bathroom before I had to test just how solid my resolve really was!
I was just putting on my riding boots when the door bell rang. I did a quick check of the mirror, noting that I could use a haircut, as my still wet hair hung sloppily around my ears.
I opened the door and there stood Mo, looking even better in the light of day. The 4-o'clock sun was shining on the right side of his face, and it highlighted the contrast of his dark skin and coal black hair and beard. His left eye was in shadow and looked black, but the right was bathed in sunlight and a deep blue color sparkled out of it. He was wearing close fitting black jeans and probably a raw silk, loose fitting, v-neck, natural ecru polo shirt. His feet were sockless, with denim and leather loafers.
"Hello!" I said, feeling that my smile was too broad.
"Good afternoon, Brian. I am sorry that I was a little late. I didn't anticipate the long drive from the highway."
"Only by five minutes. That's early in country-time! Where's your - " I was about to ask about his partner, when a breathtakingly beautiful light tan colored Afghan hound peeked from behind his legs.
"I am afraid that Stan is a little shy of new people. It's alright, Stan, this is a friend." Mo looked at me and said, "Put out your hand that he may smell it."
I did as I was asked and the dog stepped gingerly forward one step and sniffed my hand, then retreated to behind Mo.
"So -- this is Stan -- your partner?"
"My partner and best friend."
"That seems an odd name for an Afghan hound."
At this remark, I received a smile at least equal to the one I gave him as I answered the door. "Brian, shake hands with my Afghan, Stan"
As soon as he said Shake hands, the dog again came forward and offered his paw to me. I put my own out and gently shook the dogs "hand". Then he started to pant and his tail started to wag. Then it hit me and I started to laugh. "OHhh! Your Afghan, Stan -- AfghaniStan! "That's great!" Mo smiled. I opened the door, not knowing whether the dog would come in or not. "He's welcome to come in, but I'm not sure how my dogs will react."
Both of our black and red retrievers were standing at attention behind me. Red is a golden retriever --Irish setter mix. "Stan is wonderful with most people and children. I believe she thinks she is a person. She does not get on well with other dogs." Said Mo.
As if on cue, both Red and BD whined a little. That was answered by a little whine from Stan. I sat on my haunches to talk to my dogs. "Are you okay with this newcomer?" I crooned in baby talk to my two. I felt immediately silly talking like that, but when I did, out came Stan's tongue and he walked right into the house, as BD and Red surrounded him and they had a sniff-fest. I stood and said, "Well it looks like Stan sees Red and BD as friendly."
"I've never seen him react like this to another dog. What does BD stand for?"
"Black Dog."
"Duh!" Said Mo, grinning. "Do your dogs accompany you when you ride?"
"Sometimes. I'm afraid they are not trained well to stay with us. They want to run off and investigate every smell."
"I think I shall leave Stan outside the door -- for now. They can form a bond while we ride. Out, Stan."
Stan obediently ran out the door to the edge of the porch. "Sit!" She sat and he closed the door. BD and Red ran immediately to the door and sniffed and whined.
"You're not worried that Stan may run away?"
"No, he would never do that."
"Ahem." Ronny cleared his throat softly. We turned and Mo's eyes widened.
"It seems that you have a clone in the room, Brian!" Said Mo, softly. Both Ronny and I smiled our pleasure at hearing that.
"I'm Ron, Brian's brother." Said Ronny with a straight face.
"Oh! I thought - " and when he saw our smirks, Mo know he'd been tricked. He said, "You are a very good looking family!"
"I -- thought your partner was coming with you.." Said Ronny.
"You have taught your son directness. That is a good trait." Mo said to me. Then he turned to Ronny. "Your father must have told you about Stan." I was hoping that Mo did not pick up the suspicion in Ron's remark. Or maybe it was only my own sensitivity that fabricated that? "I am afraid that you are not the only ones who like a trick. Stan is outside." Said Mo.
"Aren't we going to invite him in?"
"I did." I said. "But Mo thought it might be better -- at first -- if he waits outside."
Both Mo and I laughed at the curious look that remark brought to Ronny's face. "You can see him out that window. He really is quite beautiful to look at." Said Mo.
As both Mo and I were both grinning widely, Ronny peeked out the window -- so as not to be detected by Stan.
"That -- THAT's Stan?"
I laughed heartily, soon joined by the other two. But it was obvious to Mo that Ron needed an explanation. "You see, when I first meet someone, I don't care to tell them that I am single. I like to make friends first." Then he turned back to me. "I determined before I drove away last night that I wanted to be friends with you. You are the first American that I have found to be truly straight up with me. I told you that I am a good judge of character. I like you."
"I guess we won't be needing Tara today!" Said Ronny. "How well do you ride, Mo?"
"I was raised with horses. I can handle myself." Mo responded.
"Shall we walk out to the stable and see what Trigger and Hero are up to?" I said, heading out the door, followed by Mo and Ronny.
We came to Trigger first. Mo admired her approvingly. Then we moved across the stable to Hero. He saw Mo and snorted loudly. "Hero is king of high spirited. He - "
Mo grabbed a carrot and entered Hero's cubicle. "Oh no, Mo, Hero's kind of -- well, VERY skitterish. I'm afraid - " Started Ronny.
Mo looked into Hero's eyes, and said something in his soothing voice at almost a whisper. Hero turned and I was afraid that Mo was going to get kicked. Mo placed his hand on his rump and uttered something else. Hero turned back and nickered low, taking the carrot. Mo put his hand on her left jowl and she nuzzled it softly.
"May -- maybe you and Mo would like to just ride together for a bit. I have some -- er -- some stuff to do in the yard."
I don't know if Mo could tell how hard that was for Ronny to say. I think it almost hurt Ronny's feelings that Mo could befriend his Hero so easily.
"This is a beautiful piece of horse flesh." Said Mo. "And well mannered - " Both Ronny and I almost choked when he said that. " -- but I can tell that he is a one man horse. We have respect for one another, but I would not presume to expect him to accept me on his back after one introduction. Did you not say that your neighbor has an Arabian?"
"Oh -- yes! Satan!"
"Oh! Is he evil then?"
"He's spirited, but he is accustomed to strangers -- just not novices." Said Ronny. "All you need to do is show him who is boss."
"I prefer to show a horse I am his equal." Mo smiled.
"Would you like to meet him?" I said.
"If I may be permitted to change into something more appropriate to riding?"
"Of course."
We followed Mo to his car. It was a rather old appearing Mercedes Benz. "What year is this thing?" Asked Ronny.
"This `thing' is a 1961 190 SL." He said while opening the small trunk. "The 190 SL was the gentleman's sports car of that era. The serious driver would prefer the 300 SL, but not so many were made, and the 190 SL has cleaner lines. I am in the midst of restoring it."
"Are you kidding? It looks flawless."
"Yes, but previous owners have added after-market parts. I prefer original." He said. "Western or English?"
"Huh?" Both Ronny and I said.
"Do you have western or English riding gear?"
"Oh! Western." Said Ronny.
Mo was holding up a pair of English gentlemen's riding trousers. He put them down and took out a neatly folded pile, consisting of Levis boot jeans, sweat socks and a sleek western shirt. He then picked up a pair of well worn brown leather boots. He smiled at us both. "You can change in - " started Ronny.
" -- my room." I finished. I pointed to the door and he went in and closed it.
"Dad, if you just want to go for a ride -- alone -- with Mo. It's okay."
"No -- I want you with us, Ron. He purposely held something back -- for caution -- in his little charade about Stan. I think it will be best to use some restraint."
"I can't remember you having anything BUT restraint, Dad. You need to risk a little."
"Maybe not as much as an 18 year old -- huh?"
"I love you, Dad!" He pecked me on the lips - - just as Mo was coming in to the room. "Oh! Sorry Mo, we - "
"It is nothing. It is expected in my country!" He smiled.
Ronny volunteered to curry and saddle our horses while I walked Mo over to the Romanov's. Dmitri's wife, Ericka, answered the door. There was singing in the other room. "Dmitri has a student, but he wants to talk to you." She said.
We walked in and could see through French doors that his student was a young girl. He told her something when he saw us and came to us and closed the door. The girl turned her back and started doing an etude that he assigned her.
"Brian, my good friend!" He said. He always says that. "How ARE you? You look good -- VERY good!"
"Brian always looks good!" Said Ericka in her almost man's voice. "He has a picture hiding in his closet that ages -- instead of him! You look more like Ronny's brother than his father!" I blushed. Ericka is a heavy smoker and has aged prematurely because of it, plus her teeth are stained yellow. She actually is a baroness -- or would be back in Russia.
"This is my friend Mo -- Muhammad. Mo, please meet Ericka and Dmitri."
"Pleased to meet you!" Said Mo, and hugged each of them, with the accompanying kiss to each cheek that Eastern Europeans -- and Persians -- do.
At my look of surprise, Dmitri joked, "Oh you know -- we always do that in the old country1 Have to check for bombs!" Then he howled at his own joke. Dmitri smiled politely.
"Oh Dmitri, you old fool, you are making our guests uncomfortable."
Dmitri smiled widely and motioned to his student. "As you can see I am occupied at the moment. Alexandra is saddling Satan as we speak. You must come back for some more stimulating talk!" He said and hugged Mo again, then went back to his student.
"I don't know what he wanted to talk about!" Said Ericka.
"I think a man likes to see who will be riding his animal." Mo said.
I didn't say that I suspected Dmitri also wanted to see my latest date!
We walked Satan back to our house and Ronny was walking Hero around the paddock. He looked like he was ready to cry. "I think he strained something. He's limping." Said Ronny.
Hero nickered and almost ran to see Mo again. Mo had wisely picked up a carrot when we passed through the stable. Hero had an obvious limp I his rear left leg. Mo patted his neck and moved to his rear, slapping and scratching it. Hero stomped one front hoof. Mo picked up the rear hoof and felt his leg.
"There is a pretty good knot here. I think he needs to - " He paused a moment. I held my breath, and Ronny's mouth was hanging open, looking worried what he would say next. " -- I think he needs to walk a little before running. How often do you ride him?"
"Not enough!" I said.
"A horse like this needs more freedom. Trigger is more accustomed -- by heritage -- to a sedentary existence. But a Morab has his roots in Arabia and is wild to be free."
"I wish we could afford better fencing. But if we let him roam, he would jump or more likely break down the fence." I said.
"I see your paddock is almost adjacent to the palomino's cubicle. Perhaps you could build a sturdy run to the paddock from that stable -- and trade cubicles for them. I would love to help you reinforce the fencing on the paddock. That would work until you can strengthen the perimeter fencing. And since the opposing cubicle is not in sight of the paddock, Trigger would not be jealous."
Mo walked to the front door of the house, where Stan was still patiently waiting for his master's command. He took something out of his pocket and the Afghan gladly inhaled it. "Walk, Stan?" The dog jumped up and ran in circles around Mo. Mo tossed another morsel to him, and he followed his master back to where we were with the horses.
"Don't your dogs like to go with you?"
"I'll have to say, I'm embarrassed that they are not so obedient as your Stan."
"Afghans are like that."
"Ronny?" Is all I had to say. He ran to the door and whistled. Red and BD were like rodeo clowns as they almost tripped over each other to get out the door.
As we rode on the equestrian trail, our dogs were -- well -- typical dogs, running out in at least a 100 yard perimeter around us, while Stan ran next to his master -- or rather almost walked, as his legs were so much longer than our retrievers'.
After about 20 minutes, "I see that Hero's limp is gone. Do you think he may like to - " Mo nudged Satan to a canter and that set Hero off - - to the races. When Hero took off, Mo leaned in to the wind and the race was on! Trigger ran too, but was no match for the other horses. Satan easily outpaced the shorter Hero.
When they returned, both men and horses were sweating and panting -- and laughing. "Hero puts up a good race -- for a half-breed!" Said Mo, grinning ear to ear.
"He runs like greased lightening!" said Ronny.
We rode for awhile longer, with a couple more contests, and then headed back home. We tied up the horses by the front door and I went in the house for some water. When I came back out, with 3 bottles of water in my hands, Trigger was throwing her head around and Satan was stomping. His eyes looked wild, and his magnificent horse-cock was fully extended, and almost reached to his fetlocks (At the lower rear of the "ankle" of the forelegs)
Three grown men stood with one hand holding a bottle of water and the other unconsciously rubbing our crotches!
"Makes a guy horny huh?" Laughed Ronny.
"Why don't you guys take Satan back while I stable Hero and get cleaned up?" Said Ronny.
By the time we returned, Ronny was just finished currying Hero. "You want me to do Trigger while you guys get cleaned up?"
"Where id you find this boy?" said Mo. "I need one!"
We walked to the house and I showed Mo to my bathroom and gave him a towel. Just as Ronny came through the door, Mo stepped from the hall in his magnificence. Both Ronny's and my mouths fell open.
Mo was thick through the middle, but I doubt there was 2 ounces of fat. His chest was covered with long hair, with his tummy nearly as thick with it. His butt was also furry. He had very strong looking legs, and forearms looked like Popeye's -- and of course with long black with hair covering them.
There was nothing close to any shame in being naked in front of us. "Do you have some shampoo?" He asked.
"Oops. Sorry Dad, I think I used the last of it. There is some more in the cabinet next to the shower."
"Thank you." He said politely and disappeared back to the bedroom.
Oh -- did I mention? No, I guess I didn't! His horse-cock nearly reached down to his fetlocks! Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration, but it was a magnificent specimen of uncut meat. Ronny smirked. It was almost black from the base to the tip. I yearned to see what it looked like under that hood -- the hood itself, fully an inch and a half long itself.
"Don't you dare say it!" I warned.
He said it anyway. "That looks like it could choke a horse!"
We both laughed. When we next saw him, he was clad in the clothing he arrived to our house in -- minus the shoes. "You have a very comfortable shower. You must have a tankless water heater -- for I did not perceive any change in the intensity of the heat."
"Yes, we do. I'm glad you liked it." I said. You next, Ron!" I said.
"Are you sure? I can use the other - "
"No go ahead. You're stinkier than I am!" And You like my shower better!" Ronny disappeared into my bedroom.
"Your son is like a dream. You must be very proud." Said Mo.
"Thank you -- I really am. Mo -- you -- er -- I mean You're body is magnificent!"
"Thank you. I work hard to keep in shape."
"I just can't get myself to do that." I said. "And once there -- as buff as you are -- you have to maintain it."
"I must. If I didn't, I'd be just one more fat Persian. My father is fat, and my grandfather was fat -- not until they were in their 50's, but I refuse to let that happen to me. Looking at you, I would say that will never happen to you."
"Yeah, my dad is pretty slim."
"Are both of your parents living?"
"Yes -- in San Diego -- or rather, Carlsbad -- if you know where that is."
"I do know. I have an uncle there."
Mo was sitting on the couch and I on a chair. I got a cramp in my thigh. I cried out a little and started to rub and hit it. In a flash, Mo was there, massaging from my thigh to my calf. (I swear I wasn't faking it!)
After the hardness went out of the muscle (the thigh, perverts!) as he was kneeling in front of me, he chuckled. "I hope you don't mind," was all he said, before coming up to my mouth and kissing me. It was a sweet, but wet and slightly open mouthed kiss. I felt my tummy contract and something else was doing the opposite. I held my breath for a moment.
"I hope I was not too forward." He said, in his velvet voice. "I've wanted to do that all day."
"You know what's funny?" I said.
"What is that?"
"I didn't even know how much I wanted that!" I said and then kissed his back, but with much more passion. We were getting into it when he said, "I heard the shower cut off. I think we better use our discretion."
"Ronny knows I'm gay."
"I know he does, but boys -- young men that age -- can often still be very impressionable."
"Ron's not gay." I said, almost defensively.
"I can see that. I also saw his reaction to my naked body and I was sorrowful about that. Even if they are not gay, they can sometimes be easily confused."
"Thanks for your concern, Mo." I said, as he retreated back to the couch.
Ronny came out clad in only his towel. "Dad?" He said, and he beckoned to me. I followed him to my bedroom.
"Do you want me to get lost tonight?"
I gathered my boy up into my arms and held him close. "You are the most special son any man could possibly have. No, I think we'll be going out to dinner tonight."
"Oh -- okay. I think Chanelle is doing something with he sister tonight, but I can stay here and watch a video."
I kissed my boys lips and said, "Ron -- you are going with us! I'm not sure I'm ready to be alone with him. Remember when I used to tell you that you could use me as an excuse any time -- to get out of any situation? Well, I'm claiming that same privilege." This time I kissed his forehead. "You can be my `Stan!' I love you so much, Ronny!"
When I came out, Mo stood. "I must get my shoes from your room before I leave." He said. "I don't want to intrude on yours or your son's evening."
"Actually we were hoping that you would come out to dinner with us."
"Really?" He said. "Well, on one condition. I chose the restaurant and -- I pay for us! You have more than shown your hospitality."
"That was two conditions!" I said. "But I accept!"
"If you had not, it would have been an insult -- and I don't think you want to go about insulting Iranians."
I impishly kissed his fingertips. He held my hands tightly and looked deeply into my eyes. The spell was broken as Ronny came out. "I can't fin -- oh! Sorry -- oh! There they are!" He picked up his shoes and almost ran from the room.
"I can tell we will have to be very careful in front of your boy."
Notes: I don't know where this is going, but I'm on for the ride! Comments may be sent to Steve at stevethomas535@hotmail.com. Thanks and ... love, Steve