The Caregiver

The Caregiver, Chapter 3

Tom Borden

Coach Mac stood at the window watching Bobby pick up his gear and walk slowly back to the Athletic Department building. He felt his hands shaking and leaned over, resting them on the sill. He wondered if that Jones woman was really telling the truth. She seemed so full of spite, that her story may have been contrived to hurt her former boyfriend. He'd never thought there was anything unusual about the fact that Ricky and Bobby were living together. After all, Ricky was Bobby's guardian, charged with the responsibility of looking after the boy. The idea that she might be telling the truth and that Bobby could be gay sent surges of adrenaline coursing through his limbs.

When Bobby came into the office, he was limping a little with sweat streaming down his cheeks.

Mac turned and faced him. He put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "You're doing so well, Bobby. You're going to make it. I'm so proud of you."

Mac brought his hands down and over Bobby's back and pulled him close. "I hope you don't mind, but you deserve a big hug."

"Thanks, Coach Mac. I'm glad you're pleased. Sometimes I'm not so sure."

Without letting go, Mac said, "You feel so hot. You look worn out. I shouldn't make you stay out there so long on these hot days. Before you call Ricky to pick you up, why don't you just go in there to the locker room and take a good cool shower, rather than waiting until you get home? You'll feel much better."

"That's a good idea, Coach Mac. I probably should do that every day."

Mac followed Bobby into the locker room and watched him strip down and step into the gang shower. That adrenaline was still pumping through him.

"Bobby, it's been a hard day for me, too," Mac said as casually as he could. "I might as well go ahead and take my shower, too, if you don't mind."

Mac stripped down and, before entering the shower, he stood before the full-length mirror and smiled. He was proud of his well-developed physique, and never tired of admiring it. His thirty-five year old body had held up well, he thought. Broad shoulders framing two firm pectorals, a hard ridged stomach and narrow hips. A circumcised penis that he'd measured at eight and a half inches when hard, and a ball sack that hung unusually low between his muscular thighs. He wiggled his hips and watched his balls swing in circles. Nice calves, too, he thought. Turning slightly, he looked back at the mirror and ran his hands over the firm round cheeks of his ass. He gave them both a little slap as he joined Bobby in the shower.

Mac had seen Bobby's naked body before when the team took their showers. It was a well-proportioned body, slim and mildly muscular, a body that stood out from all the others. Now, he looked at the boy's nakedness with new eyes. Eyes full of longing and arousal.

As the boy lathered up his body, Mac felt his penis gorging and straining. He hoped Bobby would see it. He would be casual about it and not overtly call attention to it. But he needed to know what the boy's reaction would be when he saw it. Would the sight of it cause Bobby's penis to harden up?

Mac moved to the shower head next to Bobby. "I like a cool shower like this, rather than a really hot one. Lookee here. For some reason, the cold water always gives me an erection. It does it every time."

Bobby continued to wash his body without looking at Mac.

"Does cold water do that to you, too, Bobby?"

"I don't think so." Bobby faced away and leaned over to wash his leg and foot.

From behind, Mac looked at the boy's long ball sack hanging between his thighs, with each ball clearly defined. He felt his own penis throbbing at the sight. Why didn't the boy want to look at him, he thought.

When Bobby was finished, he turned and walked past Mac and out of the shower. As he dried himself and began dressing, Mac walked out and stood next to him, still naked and hard. It was all he could do to keep from grabbing the boy and kissing him. But instead, he walked back into his office, again still naked and hard, and sat down. Bobby soon joined him and called Ricky to pick him up.

Mac was frustrated and disappointed. "Bobby, how long have you known Ricky?"

"I've known him since the day of the accident."

"You seem very close to him."

"Yes. I love him, and he loves me."

Mac looked startled by this answer. "You love him? How about your long-time girlfriend, Lisa?"

"I don't ever think about her, now that I have Ricky."

"How do you love Ricky?" Mac asked tentatively. "I mean . . . do you sleep with him?"

"Of course."

Mac shifted in his chair and felt his penis throbbing. "How about sex? Do you . . . I mean do you . . . ?"

"Sure we do. We love each other."

Soon, Ricky arrived. He took Bobby's hand, and they quickly departed.

Mac slumped in his chair and looked down at his penis, still hard and now with clear semen running down over the hair on his unshaven balls. My God, he thought, that boy is naïve. He talks almost as though sex with Ricky is no different from sex with a girl. As though it's all very natural. Of course,' he says to me. Why not? We love each other.'

Mac began to stroke himself slowly. The boy seems to have no clue that he's gay, he thought, and that there's no difference between sex with a woman and sex with a man. That there's no difference between loving a woman and loving a man. Oh, my God, Mac thought. I've got the most beautiful young man in the world on my team and there's no way I could ever sleep with him. Not because I'm a man, but because he doesn't . . . "love" me.

Mac began to stroke faster. But somehow, he thought, I'll make him love me. If I'd only been quick enough to realize the boy needed a guardian, I could have been his guardian. I'm a physician and a licensed therapist. It could have been me.

As Mac stroked his hard rod faster, he slid out of his chair and lay flat on his back on the floor. He looked down, admiring the ridges on his stomach, the line of furry black hair that extended up to his navel from the huge bush of pubic hair that spread across his pelvis almost from hip to hip. As his breathing became stronger, he stretched the muscles in his thighs and calves and imagined Bobby's head pushed up into his crotch. Still stroking, he reached down with his other hand and fondled his balls, imagining it was Bobby's tongue sweeping over them.

"I'll make that sweet boy love me," he gasped as he felt his gut tightening and his penis turning into a red-hot rod of steel. He thrust his pelvis upward as the excruciating cramping began, flinging long streams of his thick cum onto his chest, neck and face. It was like a flight into oblivion. As his orgasm subsided, and as he felt his muscles collapsing, he ran his fingers through the globs of cum and licked them dry, imagining that it was Bobby's cum.

"Why was Coach Mac sitting naked in his office?" Ricky asked as they drove home.

Bobby smiled. "Since I was so hot and sweaty, he suggested I take a shower while I was waiting for you. Then he decided to take one, too. I got a glimpse of his penis, and it was hard and just about as long as yours is."

"Yeah, I saw he still had a hard-on when I came in to get you. You don't think he was interested in having sex with you, do you?"

"Not with me," Bobby said as he waved his hand in front of his face. "We don't love each other."

"Well, Bobby, I've heard that a lot of guys like to have sex with each other, even though they don't love each other."

Bobby looked with a sad expression into Ricky's face. "I think that's kind of sick and perverted, don't you?"

"Yeah, it's pretty sick."

"Would you have sex with me if you didn't love me?"

"Well . . . I suppose not." Ricky kept his eyes on the road, and neither of them spoke until they arrived home.

Moving day had finally arrived. As their belongings were being removed from the commercial van and brought into their new home, the others in the neighborhood watched furtively, but not inconspicuously, from their windows or from their front porches and yards.

The van finally left around noon, and Ricky and Bobby spent the rest of the day arranging furniture, putting up some pictures and, of course, making up their new king-size bed. They'd earlier purchased a frozen pizza for supper, and decided to fill their larder the next day from the nearby supermarket.

As they ate, they saw out the window their next door neighbor, Harry Butler, coming up the walk. Ricky jumped up and opened the door.

"Well," Harry said as he stepped inside," I just thought I'd pop over and welcome you to the neighborhood. I'm amazed. You look completely settled already. What lovely things you have."

"Much of it's from Bobby's old homestead," Ricky said, "mostly his mother's antiques."

Bobby smiled. "But we did buy a new bed."

"Oh, how delightful," Harry said with a broad smile. "You'll have to show it to me sometime."

"Won't you sit down, Harry?" Ricky said. "I'm sorry we can't offer you anything to drink."

"That's all right. I can't stay. I just wanted to tell you that I'm having a little get-together at my house next week on Saturday night. A sort of a welcoming party for you, our new neighbors. Everyone is most eager to meet you."

"That's very nice," Bobby said. "We'll be glad to go."

When Harry was gone, they collapsed onto the sofa together.

"It's been a long, tiring day, hasn't it," Ricky said, as he kissed Bobby on the lips.

"Not as long and hard as my training days," Bobby said. "This was fun. Training isn't."

Ricky looked around. "Well, we have our very own home now. You and me. It's just us."

Bobby ran both hands over Ricky's cheeks and kissed him gently. "You know, I can't wait until we try out our new bed."

They grinned at each other and jumped up. They dashed down the hall to their bedroom. They stood there for a moment admiring the freshly made-up bed with it's white sheets and the colorful coverlet that Bobby's grandmother had made many years before.

"You, know," Ricky said, "It's almost too beautiful to use. What do you say, we just go back to the living room and watch TV?"

"Not!" Bobby shouted, as he unbuttoned Ricky's shirt and slipped it off his shoulders. He kissed Ricky's nipples and ran his tongue down over his stomach. He opened Ricky's pants and let them drop to the floor. Ricky's hard cock poked out of the slit in his shorts. Bobby went down on his knees and teased the head of it with his tongue.

When Ricky was completely naked, he slowly undressed Bobby, kissing and licking almost every inch of his teenage skin as it became exposed.

Hand-in-hand, they turned toward the bed and leaped upon it as though they were diving into a pool. Their two young naked bodies rolled around on it, luxuriating in the clean crispness of the sheets. Soon they were in each other's arms, their warm bodies pressed together, skin against skin.

Ricky rolled over on his back, and Bobby lay on top of him, supported by his arms and looking down at him. "You're a God, Ricky. I love you more than I could ever love anyone. I had a pastor once who told me that, although Jesus was the son of God, he was also a mere mortal and wanted to be loved. He manifested his love through intimacy with some of his disciples, who were all men. He had a penis like all of us and God intended him to use it to satisfy his earthly pleasures."

"I've never heard anything like that before," Ricky said.

"Well, whether it's true or not, that pastor was fired by his church for preaching such a thing. You were sent to me by God, Ricky, and your love is everything that keeps me going."

Ricky ran his hands over the smooth skin of Bobby's back as the boy ran his tongue down over Ricky's stomach and into his crotch. He took Ricky's gorged cock in his mouth as Ricky ran his fingers through his hair.

"I feel as though I'm in the lap of God in this bed," Ricky said. "We are blessed, Bobby, by a higher power who understands the kind of love we have."

Ricky lay with his eyes closed, totally lost in the pleasure that was coming from Bobby's tongue and lips on his penis. He knew that Bobby longed for the taste of his lover's cum, and his impending orgasm was enhanced by the knowledge that only Bobby was eager to taste his sperm and take it into his body. This was one more moment given to them by God.

Soon Bobby raised his head and opened his mouth, now full of Ricky's thick white cum. Ricky pulled him up over him so they could pass the warm sperm between their mouths.

Bobby slid his face back into the steamy crack between Ricky's firm ass cheeks. He forced his tongue into Ricky's waiting asshole and flooded it with his saliva mixed with Ricky's cum. Then, pushing Ricky's legs up, Bobby mounted him and thrust his throbbing penis into his waiting asshole.

"Fuck me really hard, Bobby. Pound your pelvis against my ass really hard. I want to feel the power of your beautiful sweet body against mine, and the warmth of your sperm inside of my body."

The look of Ricky's pleading and the almost desperate expression on his face, contributed to Bobby's having one of the most powerful orgasms he'd ever had. He felt his hard cock throbbing and slapping against the walls of Ricky's rectum as the muscle inside of him by his penis pumped great geysers of hot sperm into Ricky's ass. This is what love is all about, Bobby thought.

Bobby and Ricky were soon lying side-by-side with their arms around each other. They pulled the crisp new white sheet over them and were soon asleep.

The evening of Harry Butler's welcome party had finally arrived. As Ricky and Bobby stood on Harry's front porch, ringing the bell, they heard a burst of high-pitched laugher, more like a falsetto scream, coming from inside. Harry opened the door and invited them in. The crowd of males inside suddenly fell silent as they stared at the newcomers.

Harry spoke in a deep baritone as he introduced them. "I want you all to meet our newest neighbors, Ricky and Bobby."

Everyone stood quietly for a moment, making their own assessment of these two young beauties.

"We have wine, a good merlot," Harry said, "and refreshments over there on the table."

"Do you have any soda?" Bobby asked. I don't drink wine."

"Of course," Harry said, "I'll get you some diet coke."

Harry's living room was furnished with a mismatched assortment of different styles . . . early American, Italianate, Victorian, and even some pseudo-Egyptian. Dominating the long wall over the high-backed Victorian sofa were two large and gaudy David Hockney paintings of various geometric shapes. In short, the room was a lavish display of incongruity.

As Harry departed for the kitchen, a fussy little man who looked to be about forty with very receding hair stepped up and extended a rather limp hand. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Eric. Those who know me well call me Erica, of course. It's about time we had some hot looking beauties like you come to the neighborhood and shake up all the queens that live around here. A little excitement is what we've all needed."

"I wouldn't say we're the excitement you're looking for," Ricky said. "We rather keep pretty much to ourselves."

"That's so lovely," Eric said. "I had a lover once, but it wasn't long before I realized she was a fucking whore who had her dick up everybody's ass but mine." Eric pressed his right thumb and forefinger elegantly against his forehead.

"That's too bad," Bobby said.

Eric stood back a step and looked Bobby over from head to foot. "You're adorable. Absolutely adorable. I think you'd better watch your backside because there are some around this neighborhood who are rabid asshole queens. And me? I'm guilty as charged."

As Eric moved away and joined one of his other friends, Harry returned with a diet coke for Bobby and a glass of wine for Ricky. "Please don't be upset by what some of the other guests might say", Harry said. "Most of us here are a bit older, and having two young beauties like yourselves does throw them off their equilibrium a bit. I hope you understand."

Another man with a very black mustache and long hair that hung down over his shoulders stepped over to greet them.

Harry introduced him. "This is Barkley Tobin, an assistant curator at the Art Museum."

Barkley wore open-toed sandals accentuated by blazing pink toenails. His silk Hawaiian shirt hung open to his navel, revealing two huge brown nipples appended to the bottoms of two very limp and sagging breasts.

"I'm so glad to have you in our little enclave here," he cooed preciously. "How long have you been lovers?"

Ricky was surprised to hear themselves referred to as lovers.

"For several months," Bobby said.

"It's so wonderful finally meeting such a sweet gay couple like yourselves."

"We're not gay, Mr. Tobin," Bobby said quickly.

"Not Gay?" Tobin looked hard into Bobby's face. "You live together, don't you?"

"Yes."

"But you don't sleep together. Right?

"Oh, yes, we do. We love each other."

Tobin shook his head. "You sleep together and you love each other, but you're not gay. I'm afraid I'm at a loss to understand you, my boy."

Bobby waved his arm toward the other guests who were laughing and engaged in all sorts of clever repartee. "All of you are gay. It's a sort of culture you live that I've read about. You all live a gay life and act silly. I saw a Gay Pride parade on TV once. Ricky and I aren't like that. We just love each other."

"Well, Bobby," Tobin asked patronizingly, "would you go so far as to call yourselves . . . homosexuals?"

"No. We just love each other. We don't call ourselves anything."

Tobin smiled and patted Bobby on the shoulder. "Well, my sweet young . . . and may I say Naïve boy. . . it looks like you need to do some soul searching about who you really are."

When Tobin walked off, Harry returned.

"You have quite an assortment of guests here, tonight," Ricky said.

"Oh yes. The neighborhood has an interesting array of personalities. You see those two old men sitting over there together on the love seat, doing nothing but staring at the carpet? They've been together for many decades and apparently have nothing more to say to each other. They both spend their days and nights in their separate bedrooms endlessly surfing all the gay porno sites on the internet. Our favorite names for them are Dry Fuck 1' and Dry Fuck 2.'"

"What does that mean?" Bobby asked.

"Use your imagination, son. Have you ever tried to fuck a dry asshole?"

"Oh, I get it," Bobby said. "I could tell them a good way to get their assholes wet, if they're interested."

"Well, Bobby," Harry said, "I think they've learned all about that over the years. And look over there, the two having a good laugh about something, are George Preston and his son, Tony, and . . . ."

"Wait a minute," Ricky said. "His son?"

"Right. Tony's mother died when he was just a baby and George was left to raise him. The boy is a really sweet nineteen year-old who just entered college here in San Antonio this past year. His father is a urologist. George told me once that, since it was just he and the boy, there was no reason to keep secrets from each other. Luckily, they both love cock and a little ass whenever they can get it. They make no bones about sharing their tricks between them, either. Nice fellows. I had the most devine pleasure of spending a weekend with them at their lake cottage last year. I'll tell you, they're a couple of hot fuckers."

Just then, a tall, handsome, middle-aged man sidled up to them and extended his hand. Without smiling, he said, "My name is Cameron McVicker. I live just across the street from you." He looked at Ricky. "I understand you're a hospital nurse."

"That's right."

"I've been curious about the two of you. You know, curious about the fact that the two of you became a couple. Coincidently, I was an Army surgeon during the Viet Nam war. I hacked off more arms and legs than I can count. I fell in love with every one of those boys. But was it real love?" Cameron looked intently at Ricky as though he were expecting an answer. "Of course not," Cameron went on. "It was pity. Pure pity. The thing I didn't know then was the difference between love and pity."

Ricky held up his hand. "Stop right there, Mr. McVicker, or Captain or Major or whatever you are. What you're about to tell me is that you see my feelings for Bobby here as only pity, not love."

"I see you're a mind-reader."

"Well, you're wrong. In my years as an ER nurse, I've seen my share of amputations and worse. Of course, I felt very badly for anyone who has to endure something like that. But believe me, the pity I may have felt does not equate to romantic love. I have never confused the two."

McVicker looked at Ricky condescendingly. "What you're saying then is that you had no pity for the suffering this gorgeous young man went through. It was the craving to get into his pants that drove you to take him."

Harry Butler was standing close by and grabbed Ricky's arm just as he was about to take a swing at McVicker. "Move on, Cameron. Bobby and Ricky are my friends, and no one is going to stand in my living room and insult them."

"Very well," Cameron said, tossing his head imperiously. He turned on his heal and left by the front door.

"I made a mistake inviting that creepy son-of-a-bitch. This is the last time he'll darken my door."

Bobby noticed a rather small and fragile young man standing behind Harry, looking as though he were standing in line to meet them. Bobby extended his hand.

"Hi, I'm Bobby Carter. I think I've seen you before. Do I know you?"

"Hi, My name's Aldo. Aldo Rosetti. I just graduated from high school this year. You've probably seen me around. I read about you in the paper, and I have a question. What's it like to be missing a leg?"

Bobby smiled. "I can't really tell somebody what it's like. Aside from the end of the stump being very sensitive, it feels as though I still have my real leg. I can even wiggle my toes."

"You can?"

"I know I don't have any toes, but somehow I can make them wiggle. The doctors tell me my brain still thinks I have a leg and I can make it send messages to it. It's kind of complicated."

"Wow. Could I see what your new leg looks like?"

"Sure." Bobby rolled up his pant leg as far as he could, exposing most of the aluminum contraption that served as his leg.

Several others standing nearby gasped as they stared at it.

"With a lot of training and therapy over the last few months, I can get around pretty good with it."

"I read that you're training to play again with your baseball team," Aldo said. "That must really be hard."

"It ain't easy," Bobby said, "and I'm still not sure I can do it."

Aldo dropped his head slightly and took a step closer. "I dream about you, Bobby. I went to all your games this past year. I really love you," he said quietly. "Could I see you sometime? We could have dinner at my place. I live in a garage apartment down the street. I'm a really good cook. And we could watch a movie and stuff."

"That would be nice, Aldo. But I'm with Ricky here and . . . ."

"I see. I just thought . . . ."

Bobby threw his arms around Aldo and hugged him. "I'd like to be friends, though. Aldo? Maybe we could be good friends."

Aldo nodded and walked away slowly.

At that moment, George and Tony Preston came over to greet Ricky and Bobby. George took the hands of both boys in both of his.

"My name is George and this is my son Tony. We're both absolutely delighted to meet you."

Tony smiled and nodded vigorously. "Yeah, Dad and I have long wished some guys my age would move into the neighborhood."

"We're delighted to be here, Tony," Bobby said. "Ricky and I are also glad to know we're not the only relatively young ones in the area."

George chuckled. "Well, I'm not so old, either. I'm only forty-two. I still have all my hair and teeth and can still beat all comers at arm-wrestling. I can keep up with the young ones pretty well, can't I Tony?"

Tony laughed. "Probably more so, Dad."

"Listen, you two." George said. "We have a lovely lake house about an hour's drive north of San Antonio. We'd love to have you both come up and spend a weekend there with us. I warn you, though, only skinny-dipping is allowed at our little beach front. How about I give you a call sometime about joining us?"

Ricky and Bobby looked at each other with big smiles. "Sure," Ricky said, "we'd love to accept an invitation to join you for a weekend when we're all free."

"Okay, boys, it's a deal."

When George and Tony moved away, Bobby said, "Harry, you know Ricky and I really prefer to be alone. You don't think they'll want to . . . you know . . . do sex and stuff, do you?"

"Let's step outside on the front porch," Harry said. "It's cooler out there. Besides, I need to smoke a cigarette."

As they walked out, Bobby said, "There are others smoking inside."

"I know, but there's no point in adding to the smoke. It'll be hard enough to get the smell out tomorrow."

At the end of the porch near a hedge, two men were lying in the grass with their pants down and having an active 69.

"Pay no attention to them," Harry said with a wave of his arm. He stepped closer to Ricky and Bobby and lowered his voice.

"Let me tell you something about George and Tony. You'll not find two more upstanding and honest people anywhere, to say nothing of their smashing good looks. Even though they're father and son, they've been serious lovers since Tony first discovered the pleasures that all men desire. They do have some good sexual romps with others, but only when they're together. They never cast out on their own. In that way, there are no secrets between them."

"Well, I don't know, Harry," Ricky said. "We like to be alone, and I'm not sure we want to get involved with something like this. The sex Bobby and I have is a measure of the love we have for each other."

Harry smiled. "That's very admirable. You're an unusual couple. Have you ever thought that sex can also be enjoyable only for its own sake? It doesn't always have to be with someone you love. Would your love for each other be in the least diminished if I, for example, were to climb into bed with you one night and have sex with both of you?"

"I don't know," Bobby said.

"No," Harry said, "it wouldn't necessarily be diminished if your love for each other was truly strong. If George and Tony were to suggest having sex with you at their lake house, it would be with both of them and both of you. Neither of you would be separated from the other. You'd always be there with each other. George and Tony insist on that for themselves and for anyone with them."

Bobby shook his head. "I couldn't stand it if I knew Ricky was off alone with someone else having sex without me."

"That's the point, my dear boy, you and Ricky would always be together."

"Thanks, Harry, we'll think about it."

Bobby asked where the bathroom was. He needed to go. Harry directed him inside and down the back hall. He couldn't miss it. He got there just in time. He dragged out his penis and let go with a heavy stream. Just then, another man walked in.

"I hope you don't mind if we share the toilet. I couldn't wait much longer." As he pulled out his semi-hard cock, he said, "You're Bobby Carter, aren't you? My name's Brett Taylor. You probably saw me at the other side of the room. I wanted to talk to you, but you had so many guys around you, I didn't want to interrupt."

"That would have been okay to interrupt. I'm nothing special."

"You're a beautiful young man, Bobby. I've had a hard time keeping my eyes off you." Brett patted Bobby's butt with his hand. "Maybe you and I could get together sometime. I live alone."

"Get together?" Bobby asked. "Why."

"Well, for one thing, I'd like to fuck this pretty ass of yours."

Bobby brushed Brett's hand away. "I'm not . . . ."

Brett quickly interrupted. "Would you let me hold your cock while you pee?"

Before Bobby could answer, Brett had his hand around his penis. Bobby did nothing. He didn't know what to do. When he finished peeing, Brett fell to his knees and took the boy's cock in his mouth.

"Okay, Bobby, it's show time," Brett said.

With the feel of Brett's tongue swirling over his penis, he felt it getting hard. The feeling was good, and he knew he was going to cum. As his orgasm took hold of his body, he closed his eyes and let it blow.

Brett swallowed it all and licked Bobby's penis clean. When he pulled off, he turned his own hard cock toward Bobby. He put his hands on the boy's head and pushed down. "Now suck my cock, Bobby. Suck it good."

Bobby pulled away and ran into the hall with his penis still hanging out of his pants. He ran into another man who was on his way to the bathroom.

The man glanced at Bobby and then at Brett who was just coming out of the room. He looked down at the boy's semi-hard penis dangling out of his pants. "Well, Bobby," the man said, "I've been hoping to get a chance to meet you tonight, but it looks like you've already had a good fuck or a suck, or whatever Brett did for you."

Bobby tucked his penis back in his pants and ran to the front to find Ricky. "Ricky, let's go home now. I don't want to stay here any longer. I don't like any of these people."

"Okay, Bobby," Ricky said. "But I've got to run to the bathroom first."

When Ricky arrived at the bathroom, he saw Brett Taylor still hanging around back there.

"You're Ricky, aren't you? You're Bobby's lover."

"Yes, Bobby and I live together."

"Well, Ricky, you're a lucky man. Bobby's a hot motherfucker. I just took a good load of that boy's sweet ball juice. I do love the young stuff."

"Ricky whirled around to face him. What? What are you talking about?"

"Well, what part of drinking Bobby's ball juice don't you understand?"

"He wouldn't do that. I know him. He wouldn't do that."

As Brett walked past Ricky, he put his hand on his shoulder and said, "Well my friend, I'm afraid you don't know him well enough."

Ricky forgot that he had to pee and hurried back to the front of the house. He saw Bobby, who was standing at the door looking miserable.

Ricky went up to Harry and shook his hand. "I want to thank you for the great party. But we're pretty tired, and I think we'll go on home."

Ricky took Bobby by the arm and left. They walked in silence across the yards and into their house.

Once inside, Bobby stopped. "I've got to tell you something, Ricky. Some guy who called himself Brett came into the bathroom when I was peeing. He started peeing with me and feeling my butt with his hand. Then he took hold of my penis. And then I started getting hard. I don't know why. I don't even know him. He held onto my hips really hard and sucked my penis into his mouth. I hardly knew what was happening."

"Did it feel good, Bobby?" Ricky asked with a slight smile curling across his lips.

"Yes. Yes, it did. And before I knew it, I came in his mouth."

Ricky put his arm around Bobby's waist and led him down the hall. "I already heard about what happened from the guy who did it. Come on. Let's go to bed."

"I didn't mean for that to happen, Ricky."

"I know you didn't. If you'd meant for it to happen, you probably wouldn't have told me."

Ricky and Bobby stripped out of their clothes, brushed their teeth, and climbed into bed. Ricky took Bobby in his arms.

"You know, Bobby, there was something I hadn't thought about. I should have known, though. I have to be prepared for a lot of guys wanting you for themselves. In a way, I don't blame that Brett fellow. You're so sweet and so irresistible, Bobby. I'm going to have to be on my guard every minute."

"No, you won't have to guard against anything. I'm not gay. And neither of us are gay like those other guys are. I don't love any of them. We just love each other. I'll fight anybody who tries to do anything like that again."

They lay quietly for several minutes. "I've been thinking," Ricky said. "I think Coach Mac is interested in you. I mean interested in you for himself. I could tell when I saw him in his office sitting there next to you with a hard-on. And he took a shower with you. There's a reason why he's giving you so much attention."

"It's only because he wants me to train hard so I can play in the first game."

"No, it's more than that, Bobby. I'm not blind."

"I think you're wrong, Ricky."

Since Bobby had already cum not long before, Ricky made no move to do anything sexual with him. After several minutes, he realized Bobby had fallen asleep in his arms. He looked into his face. Oh, how he loved to look at this boy's sleeping face. He thought about the evening at Harry's house, about all the attention Bobby was accorded. He knew it would not be the last time someone other than himself would try to have a sexual episode with the boy. Bobby had enjoyed the orgasm Brett had given him. Maybe Harry was right. Perhaps sex could be enjoyed for its own sake with no feelings of love involved. He realized Bobby and he were both naïve when it came to the love they'd found with each other, and even more naïve about the realities of the new world in which they now lived.

Ricky rolled Bobby over on his back and covered him with the sheet. He sat beside him on the bed and looked down at him for a very long time. He watched Bobby's gentle breathing, the sweetness of his closed eyes, and the tenderness of his lips.

Finally, he whispered, "I love you my dear sweet boy. I think would kill anyone who tried to take you from me."

As tears began to fill his eyes, he felt his penis getting hard. He pulled the sheet back, exposing the full length of Bobby's body. He lay on his side and ran his tongue over the stump of the boy's leg. His breathing became heavier as he stroked his blazing hot rod.

Just as he felt his orgasm about to sweep over him, Bobby awakened and raised his head. When he saw what Ricky was doing, he sat up. With his eyes closed again, he went down on Ricky's gorged penis and quickly felt his mouth flooded with his lover's thick cum. Bobby got up on his haunches over Ricky's body, where he let most of the cum run into his mouth. They lay for a long time with their tongues savoring the sweet thickness of it.

As they were about to drift off to sleep in each other's arms, they heard the mournful bong, bong, bong of the antique grandfathers clock in the living room striking midnight. As vague images of Coach Mac, Brett, and the little guy who lived in the garage apartment passed through Ricky's mind, he realized just how fragile his relationship with Bobby really was.

A general thank-you again to all who have responded to this story. I'll do my best to get a personal answer off to each of you as I get time. Since I've written a number of different stories, I want to remind you to type in the name of the story you're writing me about in the Subject line of your e-mail.

Tom Borden tombor99@yahoo.com