Tristan

Tristan by Henry H. Hilliard

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Chapter 26

Colton was back in the warm embrace of his friends at Charles C. Selecman House, but it was not quite enough and Colton looked as if all the life had been kicked out of him. Almost immediately he began receiving nasty, anonymous emails. He showed them to Tristan. "They're callin' me a rapist n' stuff. Sayin' football jocks like me should be strung up."

"What can I say? They're wrong and don't know the truth. The word will soon get around that you have been cleared."

"Mud sticks and we're alivin' in the age of `alternative facts' in case y'haven't noticed."

Tristan didn't really know what to say. "You need to go home and see your parents this weekend. Clear your head. Take the truck."

Colton looked up from the screen where there was another hateful message. There were tears in his eyes. "You won't come with me?

"Not this time, Colty, I think you need to see them alone."

Colton simply nodded and sniffed. He phoned his parents, telling them that there had been some trouble'-- a misunderstanding'. He was listening for a long time, first to his mum and then to his dad, with Tristan hearing him say at intervals, yes' and no' and, repeatedly, that `everythang's all right'.

"I'll explain everythang at the weekend, Dad. Please tell Mom not to worry." Then the call came to an end.

"They were real cut up, Tris, but they didn't want to phone me. Maybe I shoulda called 'em straight up."

"How could you?" You were in jail then you had to call Mr Sleigh. Then it was over. You just wanted to give them a good result, rather than the worry over how it would turn out."

Colton nodded. "But I think they wanted t'support me--even when thangs looked bad, so per'aps I was wrong to shut 'em out." Now it was Tristan's turn to nod. "Mrs Couldrey--she's a neighbour, heard from her daughter--or somethin'--who heard from her friend who 'parantly goes here, that I was in jail. They were just hangin' out for m'call."

"Well, you thought you were doing the right thing. Parents worry about their kids. Kids cause their parents to worry--even you," said Tristan, trying to sound mature.

They had been expecting a visit from the detectives--even if it was just to keep Colton in the loop about their investigation into the rape and beating of Madison Rusk, but none came. Yet Colton felt this was far from over--or should be far from over-- and that he wanted to be exonerated in the eyes of the public.

What was not so unexpected was a summons from the College President. Colton had been prepared for this. "Tris, I want you to come with me."

"Sure, but what use will I be?"

"You've got the smarts and I'll feel less nervous with you there."

"I think you should have someone else--if not Mr Sleigh, then the threat of Mr Sleigh, but I think you should ask Iain."

"Iain Macpherson?" asked Colton. "But he's not even one of my professors and he's more your friend than mine."

"That doesn't matter. He really likes you and his name carries some weight in academic circles. Or maybe you can think of someone. What about one of your coaches?"

"They's dumb as oxen, Tris. Football, yes, but politics, no."

Before the meeting, however, Colton went to see Dr Baddeley. "I've come for a blood test. Just a check up for STDs."

"Why, you been ridin' bareback?

"What d'y'mean?"

Dr Baddeley explained the slang term, used chiefly in the gay community. Colton went red.

"I practice safe sex with partners who I don't know, y'know that, but you said you can still get infections."

"`Partners you don't know'?" repeated Dr Baddeley.

"Yeah, I mean, I knew their names an' stuff, but ladies I picked up."

"`Ladies'?"

"Oh well, all right, women, girls, chicks, babes. There was only but two of 'em the whole o'Spring Break."

"You were practically celibate, Cowboy." She added sarcastically, but with a smile. "One of them was a model, I heard."

"Do you know every day'am thang?" cried Colton in shock. "No fuckin' privacy! I didn't come here to have my morals checked."

"It's a freeby. Got a picture?"

Colton was exasperated but was proud enough to produce his phone. He flicked it. "There! We was havin' coffee. I ain't showin' you one of us in bed--you'll have t'use y'imagination. Now can I have that blood test, Dr Baddeley?"

"Okay. Arrange it with Valeria on the way out," she said, naming the nurse sitting on the desk outside. "Now, why are you really here?"

"Well, Doc, now why y'all askin' me that--y'must know."

"Yes, Precious, I do know. You were accused of beating and raping a girl early on Sunday morning. You were arrested and then let go when other evidence came to light."

"Well, I wanted you to know that I didn't do it."

"I knew that and I know that."

"What do y'all mean?"

"I knew because I know what sort of man you are--your character."

"And the other?"

"How do you think I might know?"

Colton thought for a moment. Then, with a flash of insight said, "Doc, are you often called out late at night by the police?"

"Not very often, Colton, but lately I was on call and had to go out."

"I see," said Colton rubbing his chin. "Ma'am, do you think I should try to see this girl--the one I was accused of raping--to see how she is an' stuff and maybe find out why she said it was me what done it."

"That's very fine of you, Colt, and it is just why I want you to continue with the clinic."

"Doubt anyone will wanna to tell me 'bout their private business now."

"I disagree. But I don't think you should see the young lady at this stage--maybe later it could be arranged through a third party if she was willing. As to why she named you, didn't she dance with you at the party just before it happened."

"Yes, we danced, but that's all! Didn't even know her name."

"Did you kiss her and spoon?"

"Spoon? Who says `spoon'?" He laughed.

"Did you kiss her and maybe touch her?" she asked with a trace of annoyance

"Well, yes, that's the way I usually works--but that's all. And it was in front of everyone else at the Frat."

"Maybe she said it because she wished it were you and not her horrible attacker. Is that not unreasonable?"

Colton thought for a moment. "Yeah, y'mean like blottin' it out and y'mind goin' to some more pleasant place." Dr Baddeley nodded. "Maybe I should have gone with her and it would never have happened. She was pretty coked up, I think."

"I can't comment on that. You'll get over this, Colt. You're well loved and greatly respected. You've got Tristan at your back."

"Yeah, thank God. It was his dad who got me a sharp lawyer. M'folks would never've been able to do that."

"But your parents must have brought you up right, Colt, think about that."

Colton was feeling better for his Wednesday meeting with Dr Barlow, the President of the College. He marched into his office with Tristan and Dr Macpherson in tow. Dr Barlow was slightly put out. "I just wanted to have a personal chat with you, Mr Stone."

"That's right friendly of you, Sir, but I'd just as soon have m'posse on this occasion so there can be no misunderstanin' on delicate matters."

Tristan was proud of him and wondered how he could be so bold. Perhaps it came from playing football at a high level, he reflected.

The President couldn't very well turn them out and they began to settle into armchairs in the little conference room that was off the main office. Colton ratcheted up his advantage, "I was wondering if my attorney, Mr Sleigh, shoulda come down from Dallas."

"Why Mr Stone, I was not intending to cover matters of the law. In that case I should have asked the College's team of attorneys to sit in and we would have needed a much bigger room." Tristan was seeing how the land lay.

"Now, obviously the events of last weekend were regrettable."

"Regrettable is puttin' it mild, Sir. Young woman was beaten n' raped. I'd say that was more than just regrettable'. My reputation's bin dragged through the shit. I'd call that calamitous'."

"Yes, I put it badly."

"Colton has been receiving hate emails," said Tristan with passion. "He's the last person who deserves that."

"What are you proposing to do about all this, Dr Barlow?" asked Iain Macpherson."

"I'm hoping that we can settle this to the satisfaction of all parties."

Colton wanted to say something about Madison Rusk, but held his tongue.

"Colton must play football this year. We will promote you positively in the media and that might help quell any misdirected hate."

"Is this all about bloody football?" burst out Iain Macpherson.

"It's important to our culture, Dr Macpherson, and helps pay your salary and mine, but it's not all that is important. I have not forgotten how Mr Stone and his friends represented this institution with great credit only a few months ago. I have some pleasant news that reflects on Mr Stone's academic progress, if I have his permission to reveal it that is." Colton wondered what that could be but gave a curt nod. Dr Barlow fished about for a paper. "We are very pleased that Mr Stone will have a full academic scholarship for next year, with a commensurate rise in academic and living allowances."

"Wait, just a damn minute!" cried Colton. "I know a bribe when I hear one. They're trying to buy me, Tris! You heard that, Iain, didn't you?"

"Please calm down, Mr Stone. This isn't a bribe and we've asked nothing in return."

"But y'all fixin' to."

"Not at all. This was all decided two weeks ago. I'm just giving you advanced news."

"It is true, Colt. These scholarships are done before Spring Break."

"Have a look at the date on this letter." He passed it over to Colton who scanned it.

"Could be a forgery."

Dr Barlow rolled his eyes. "Well, don't accept it then."

"It likely to be true, Colt. You've done so well. You should have had a full ride to begin with."

"You know he was offered a full athletic scholarship?" said Dr Barlow." Tristan nodded.

"Well, what are you going to do about sexual assaults on campus? What about behaviour in Tau Alpha Mu?" demanded Colton.

"Technically the assault did not take place in Tau Alpha Mu. Its alumni are some of our biggest donors and, quite honestly, I can't go in too hard against them."

"What about Senator Rusk?" asked Dr Macpherson.

"Yes, that's what I wanted to talk about, Mr Stone."

"Here's the payoff!" muttered Colton.

"I won't insult you by claiming his opinion of us is unimportant." He turned suddenly to Tristan. "Just as your father's company is one of our most generous supporters, Mr Isley." Tristan went red. "The Senator wants to meet with you, Mr Stone--and soon, before rumours spread."

"I ain't spreading no rumours, you can tell him that."

"Please meet with him, he is the girl's father."

"I should sue her for slander or something. I bet I could do it too. I bet her daddy would pay-up big to keep the dirty secrets of his family from the voters."

"Senator Rusk is a powerful man, Colton. I warn you, he could ruin you if he had a mind to, just as easily as he could offer you money for silence."

"Yeah, I already had that figured. What does he want?"

"I don't know, he just asked if he could speak to the young man that his daughter falsely accused."

"So he does believe I'm not the one."

"Yes, he knows that perfectly well now. You might well imagine why he was reluctant to accept your innocence at first. He is greatly shaken. Might not even run again."

"They were talking of him as a future presidential hopeful," said Iain.

"I don't give a fuck. Yeah, I'll meet him."

"I think it will have to be alone--without your posse."

"I'll see. If its legal stuff, I'll want my lawyer. Tell him I ain't signing nothin'."

Dr Barlow nodded and quite quickly the unpleasant gathering drew to a close.

"Don't underestimate your value to the University, Colton," said Dr Macpherson quietly as they were on their way out. "A star quarterback and a promising biologist--you're a `name' already. Barlow has to tread carefully with you as well."

"What are you going to tell the Senator?" asked Tristan

"I'll listen at first an' I'll save the tellin' till I see what cards he holds." Tristan nodded. "Y'all know I don't want money. I just want things to go back to how they was last week."

"Might not be able to turn the clock back, but you can make the best out of a changed situation--just like in football," added Tristan, hoping this is what actually happened in football matches. Now it was Colton's turn to nod.

Colton tried to resume normal life. He attended his classes and could detect very little change in people's attitudes. A few said things like, `I heard you got locked up on a bum rap.' To which Colton merely forced a grin and a shrug of his shoulders. One girl said, "I'm so glad it wasn't you, Colton. That would have broken my heart, bless you. I was at that party. Who would have thought it was her own brother!" Colton feigned no knowledge of such a thing, but took note that the cat was out of the bag.

Tristan tried to distract Colton. When they were in a group, he dredged up the goings on in Miami. Colton, despite everything, still enjoyed the kudos of dating the most beautiful girl--a supermodel no less--in Florida and there were pictures on phones as proof positive.

Apparently, Colton had not been forgotten by Océane Sapion either, for she sent texts and photos. One of the texts was so hot in its language and had such praise for Colton's prowess in the sack that Tristan was suspicious that Colton had sent it to himself, but evidently he hadn't and Tristan was forced to accept it at face value. Then Tristan felt such a strange pride in his friend--for some reason unfathomable to himself--that he made Colton show it to Parker and Hollis. "Jerk off to that, man!' said Colton with supreme jock arrogance as they read it.

Hollis responded by telling him to forward it and he would certainly take his phone straight into the cubicle to jack. Everybody laughed.

Colton also shared some of the more intimate photos with Tristan when they were in bed: Océane seductively under the bed sheet, her beasts exposed; A sensuous one with the lamplight caressing her left buttock; A super closeup of Colton's cock entering her--this it took a moment for Tristan to orient, as it at first looked rather like a butcher's shop window; Colton trussed up in the doorway with his balls about to be struck. Tristan wanted this one for his screen saver, but Colton said that no one but he was ever to look upon it. Tristan was glad that the old Colton was still there.

Colton took the precaution of phoning Mr Sleigh in Dallas and told him about the forthcoming meeting with Senator Rusk. Tristan left the room to give him privacy and all he could conclude was that they had talked for a long time.

The meeting took place in a rather anonymous office building on Lone Star Avenue--the main arterial to nearby Sunset. Colton, dressed in his good suit, approached the receptionist and asked for the correct floor. He realised that as well as being the home to a property management company and the Southern Christian Sporting Federation, it was also the office of the local state member of the legislature--a Gene W. Crawford--a member of Senator Rusk's party.

Another receptionist, and with no sign of Mr Crawford, Colton found himself cooling his heels in an empty office. He adjusted the crease in his trousers. He checked again that his flies were buttoned (it was a good suit) and he thought of the plaid boxers he was wearing--almost a match for Mr Crawford's soft furnishings. He looked at his phone. He suspected that the Senator was playing games by making him wait, so he tried to relax. He sent a text to Tristan to that affect.

He was still on his phone when there was a noise and the man whom he knew from the Internet to be Senator Lloyd R. Rusk walked into the room. Colton stood to greet him and hands were shaken, although Colton could not remember afterwards who thrust first. The Senator was perhaps about forty-five and wore a dark suit and a blue tie. His hair was fair and rather long and parted on the right like a young Glen Campbell. Colton took some satisfaction in the fact that his own suit was better and that he was several inches taller than the legislator. Perhaps for this reason, Senator Rusk was anxious for them to sit down. They adjusted their chairs giving time for Colton to note the pins on the Senator's lapel--an enamel flag of the Texas Republic and a small gold cross.

"Thank you for coming, Mr Stone," began Senator Rusk in an authoritative manner. "I must begin by saying how upset I am at what has happened. My wife is prostrate with grief and I tell you in confidence that she is gravely ill. I don't like to think what any more bad news will do to her."

"How puzzlin', Senator, she looked darn well at the Tiger Ball in Houston on Tuesday night," said Colton referring to a fundraiser that was a well-reported social highlight. He took out his phone and laid it on the table. There was a picture of a woman with big hair and a red dress dancing--perhaps in a conga line.

Senator Rush should probably not play poker, thought Colton who had landed the first blow. "My wife's condition comes and goes, young man, and she does not know the entirety of Sunday's events--yet."

There was a long pause while both of them were deciding on tactics.

"How is your daughter, Senator?" asked Colton, taking the high ground.

He regarded the question as either unexpected or impertinent, but decided that he had to answer. "She is at our home now--she was discharged yesterday."

"And what about her mental health? I ask 'cause I am a volunteer student medical counsellor. We have very good people here that she could see and I imagine that she will be pretty fucked-up after having been raped by her own brother."

Senator Rush looked as he had been physically punched. "Mr Stone, I do not like that foul language and I think you had best leave the welfare of my daughter to me. We will make our own private arrangements."

"I think I can say pretty much what I like, Senator, and I advise you to listen-- Sir," he added evenly. Colton leaned aggressively forward; his powerful young shoulders acting like a bulwark. The Senator instinctively shrank back. "I thank y'daughter will be needin' good psych'logical help n' professional medical help. If I'n I was her father, I'd also be worried about STDs and pregnancy. I made m'self familiar with your views on abortion, Senator, and no doubt this incident will exercise y'mind some."

"You've got a fuckin' cheek, young man!"

"Maybe, but I am concerned for your kids. From what I saw of your son at the party, he may be mentally ill and has a very nasty drug habit. Probably your daughter too--she was out of it. I saw cocaine use."

"Well, I can tell you one thing: my son is an ice addict, Mr Stone," he said nastily. "If it were only cocaine...And we would use his diminished mental capacity to fight any charges that might arise. However, my daughter will not be pressing any and neither will the police."

"But she would have pressed charges against me, a stranger?"

"But not quite a stranger, I think. Were you not intimate with my daughter at the party?'

"I was not. I danced with her and I kissed her."

"Are you confident she will not say that you took her upstairs and had sex with her and knocked her about when she resisted the footballer's advances."

"That never happened and you know it. I was downstairs the whole time. Dozens of witnesses."

"Come, come, Mr Stone, you don't think I could not find witnesses from my old Frat to say that they saw you, a farmer's son on a scholarship, slip upstairs with my daughter who was the worse from drugs--perhaps drugs you had supplied to her?"

"Nice try, but my alibis are water tight as you must know and I won't be frightened."

"Well then, I would not go spreading stories concerning my son about unless you want to put them to the test."

"I have told no one except my roommate, my lawyer, and I will tell my parents this weekend. They will tell no one if I ask them not to."

"I have your word on that? This could kill my wife and ruin my chances at re-election." Colton knew that it would come quickly down to his political future.

"You have my word, but I must tell you that there are already rumours--perhaps from the police or your daughter's friends, I have no way of telling."

"Your parents? I believe your father is sick and on welfare."

"He lost his job in town and has diabetes, but he is not on welfare," said Colton with cold fury. "We have a farm."

"I see. What would you say if I told you that I could get him the best specialists in Houston or Dallas?"

"I'd say that was a bribe and I'd refuse."

"Well, how much money do you want?"

"I don't want nothing. I want to be free to clear my name and take an action in the courts for wrongful arrest."

"But you know that must never happen and you know what I could do to you in court. How much do you want to assuage your wounded pride, Quarterback?"

"It ain't my wounded pride, United States Senator. It's my rights. I had to borrow money from Mark Isley."

"Your homosexual roommate's father who is a vice president at Globoco?"

"Yes, and Tristan is a gay son, but not a rapist son."

Senator Rusk looked as if he would spit daggers. "Well, send the bill to me and I will pay the costs if there is to be no further action from you or your legal team. I will want that in writing, of course--and a non-disclosure agreement."

"Mr Sleigh said not to sign anythang with you, but in principle I'm agreeable."

"Well, now's your chance to put the screws on me--a poor public figure damaged by the bad luck of bad kids."

"Is that how you see it?" said Colton, aghast at the selfishness of it all.

"I can do good things for this State if I am returned. I'm powerless if I am forced to stand down."

Colton shook his head slowly in utter disgust, then began: "This is what I want: both your children are to seek help..."

"I'll be doing that anyway--probably in Europe."

"You'll pay my costs..."

"Yes, yes, I said I would."

"And a donation--a large one--to the Students' Clinic here would be very fittin' in view of the drugs and sexual assault nature of the crime you are covering up--not to mention the charge of incest that could be bought."

"Does your clinic facilitate the killing of the unborn?"

"We explain alternatives, including support for keeping a baby, securing adoption and for seeking a termination, if'n that's what you're asking."

Senator Rusk appeared to be grinding his teeth.

"Very well, on the condition that you take no further action and do not go spreading slanderous rumours--there will be no proof of that particular crime. And I could still ruin you if I had to." He glared at Colton who kept his eyes steady. Then, presumably after ruminating on the abortion issue said, "Any money I give cannot be used for providing abortions or facilitating girls to travel to have their unborn babies killed. Is that clear? Also, it is not to be used to promote gender reassignment." In a lighter tone he added, "And I think you must appear with me when I make the generous donation to the College Clinic--to let people see there is no issue here. We can probably spin the fertility issue if we have to. Publicity like that in an election year is well worth the price--perhaps you can wear a MAGA cap?"

"I don't think so. But I will wear my pads if it's a large enough cheque."

The meeting ended. There was no shake of hands, just a curt nod of the head from Senator Rusk and he stalked out of the room.

Colton was on his phone immediately to Mr Sleigh. Then he drove back to Charles C. Selecman and waited for Tristan to return from a lecture. When he did, Colton suggested they go for a run and he slipped out of his good suit, hanging it up carefully in a zippered bag. He looked questioningly at Tristan who was also changing, pulling on his `trainers'.

"The white jockstrap and the Joe Snyder running shorts," said Tristan without having to think.

"Top?"

"You're a stud, do you need one?"

It was early evening and there was a cool breeze outside and Tristan had the pleasure of seeing Colton's nipples harden--the thick ring on the right one now swinging free with each foot fall. Colton was virtually naked and there were goose bumps on his exposed thighs.

Tristan wanted to hear about the meeting with Senator Rusk, but Colton was not yet forthcoming. He was `in the zone' concentrating on his run, not even hearing the cheery greetings that were called by friends and acquaintances on the campus roads.

By unspoken agreement they headed across William H. Taft Drive and towards Tristan's house. They stopped before the chainlink fence, hands on knees, and caught their breath. Tristan took out his key and opened the gate to enter the building site. They mounted the stairs to the loft that would soon house their bedrooms. The double glass doors were locked, but they cupped their hands to their eyes and peered inside. They could just make out the straw-lined ceiling through the forest of rafters. The low walls were now lined with insulated ply panels. A dark space indicated that the unusual base for the central bathroom was now in place and sections of white plastic pipe and exposed wiring stood out clearly in the low light and suggested that it was nearing completion.

Still nothing was said.

They picked their way over the exposed floor bearers for the new screened-porch that projected out into the backyard and they found that the main house was open. They entered and looked around.

The new `boys' bathroom' was just awaiting the tiler. "Can you imagine De and Holly and Parker here?" said Tristan cheekily as he stood in the huge shower stall and pretended to wash his body. He bent over and mimed washing between his cheeks.

Colton laughed. "I suppose you'll want to join in and warsh 'em."

"I could make that sacrifice."

"Did y'like sleeping with De down in Miami?"

"Yeah, he's really nice."

"He's the best guy. I'll tell you a secret, I loved havin' his arm over me on one side an' your arm on t'other," said Colton recalling that crowded night. "Made me feel like y'big brother or something'."

"He looks up to you like one--he told me as much."

"Yeah, I know. You know, that bed sure had a big wet spot in the middle when I climbed in."

"I wouldn't know about that," said Tristan going red. "Perhaps he's incontinent?"

"Huh!" said Colton as they mounted the stairs to the two altered bedrooms in the attic. Only the one with the little balcony was anywhere near complete. They looked out over the rooftops towards the spire of the Episcopalian Church.

"Tell me about today, Colt?" asked Tristan at last.

"I'm still shakin' inside," said Colton. He slumped down on the floor, leaning against the wall. "I think it went okay, but he's a powerful man--a real bastard. He knew all about me and m'folks. Knew about you too."

"Me!" cried Tristan in alarm.

"Yeah, knows y'gay an who y'dad is. Do you think the FBI supplies him with information?"

"Wouldn't that be illegal?"

"Well, the CIA or something. Maybe the Republican Party has a secret ops branch."

"Now you're getting me scared, Colt."

"Sorry, Roomy. I didn't mean to put it on you--but that's what I'm feelin'."

"Well, how did it go? What did he want?"

"He wants my silence. He doesn't want me to pursue Madison's false accusation. He's sendin' his kids to Europe--wipin' his hands of 'em, I reckon, and hopin' they don't cruel his pitch for future president--but even he's gotta realise that boat has sailed--people will find out. Said that R.R. is an ice user--he's pretty fucked, as that shit is real hard to kick."

"What did you say?"

"Why don't y'listen for y'self?" Colton drew his phone from his fanny pack and fiddled with it. Then came the recorded conversation. Tristan was aghast and only had to stop a few times to ask what a mumbled word was--it was otherwise very clear.

"Shit, Colt, you were fantastic! You didn't sound nervous at all and played it like..."

"Alan Ameche's winning play for the Colts over the Giants in 1958."

"If you say so. Before my time."

"He didn't know you were recording?"

"Nope. Phone was right there on the table."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"Keep it as insurance. I'll honour m'deal. I won't spread no rumours. I won't go t' court. I'll stand next to him when he hands over the dough to the Clinic. But I will copy this here conversation to a USB, delete it from my phone, and give it to you for safekeepin'."

"To me?"

"Yeah, he might get men-in-black t'search m'room or somethin'. Unlikely, I grant ya, but..."

"Look, would you trust my father to keep it?"

"Sure--even if he is a Republican--but I'd prefer if he didn't know 'xactly what's on it. I promised that I'd only tell you, Mr Sleigh and m'folks. It were Mr Sleigh who suggested recordin', even though it probably ain't admissible in court."

"You were fantastic--so assured, so adult."

"Thanks, Tris. I was shakin' on the inside and if y'all had been there I'd be searching for y'hand. But perhaps it's sorted now an' I can relax."

"Can I do anything to help you relax--and christen the new house--`HMS Beagle'?"

"Jesus, Tris. After the stress of dealin' with a hostile and powerful politician who could probably destroy me an' probably is having us watched right now, do you think I can contemplate getting' off?"

"Yes, actually I do."

"Well, maybe y'can work on m'piece through these sexy shorts and then through m'old smelly jock and then we'll see what I'm capable of. But we ain't got nothin' t'clean up with."

"I'll just have to swallow it all," said Tristan who now tugging on Colton's nipple ring.

Colton remained on the floor, back against the wall and pushed Tristan's head down. Tristan always thrilled at the suggestion that he was being `made' to service the hunky footballer. He nuzzled into the silky shorts, pressing in hard with his nose, then he mouthed them, feeling Colton's cock thicken and lengthen but all the while being restrained by the jockstrap underneath. The nylon running shorts were only a few, brief inches long and even these meagre sides were deeply split. Colton had awesome thighs, but Tristan by-passed these tree trunks for the bulging jockstrap that swelled out of the leg opening. He used only his mouth, for if Colton had wanted a hand job, he would have asked for one. He licked and sucked.

"Bite it-- gently!" commanded Colton. Tristan did, putting pressure on the coiled volume, admiring its robust girth.

Colton lifted his buttocks off the floor and slid off his shorts, but retained his jockstrap. "Suck me off through that--make in cum in my football jock."

Tristan set to work, but found it difficult to make the usual pneumatic seal with his lips through the cotton mesh, the tantalizing topography of Colton's big cock clearly visible but not fully obtainable. Tristan, instead, rubbed his face and lips up and down, trusting to pressure and friction to achieve the goal that Colton had set him. He thought of Océane's wicked hook made of surgical steel and improvised with his own wetted finger, which he wormed into the footballer's anus right up past the second knuckle. Colton took it and even begged for more. Tristan increased all his ministrations until Colton came with a shudder, his body convulsing for half a minute on the floor.

"Oh shit! That was a fantastic cum," he gasped. "Thanks, Tris, you're a genius."

The jock strap was full of semen and Tristan was still busy trying to suck some through the cloth. "I want you to take off y'boxers and wear this strap home. All my jock cum will be coating your cock and balls. Then you can beat off.

It sounded a rational plant to Tristan, but he said. "What will you wear?"

"Just these bitty shorts."

"Shit, Colt, everyone will be able to see your junk and you're still fuckin' oozing."

"Well, suck that scum outta me, Tris, and we'll just have to see what folks can see--it's dark outside."

When the shorts were settled right down low on Colton's narrow hips, the tip of his now dry and flaccid penis was just at the level of the hem, but the splits allowed a full view when he walked up and down the room and his low-hanging balls could be glimpsed on the other side. An experimental jog showed that these two anatomical features alternated in their exposure through the leg splits. Colton was awesomely hung.

"Feels great. Lets go."

Thus they jogged back in the gloom, passing few people, but Tristan always alarmed by every streetlight. A motorist tooted as they jogged across William H. Taft, but Colton was in jock mode and made no acknowledgement. Tristan tried to keep up, but his groin was sticky and his own cock was half-hard.

In any event, they made it back to Charles C. Selecman House and walked sedately to the lift under the bright lights. Colton's penis was not visible.

"Been out for a run?" asked Harrison.

"Yeah," said Colton. "Feels good."

"You're ripped man," said Harrison in admiration of Colton's near naked body.

"Altered m'squats on leg days; changed to high bar back squats with the bar sittin' on top of m'upper traps. Reckon, its' paid off." Colton looked down at his own thighs and Harrison's gaze followed. Colton suddenly flexed his thighs and Harrison involuntarily jumped. "Feel 'em man." Tristan was having conniptions as Harrison began to lower his hand to where it would surely collide with Colton's unrestrained and dangling penis. Just then the lift stopped with a bump and they were on the third floor. Harrison straightened up. "Well, I'll show you in the showers tomorrow mornin', dude. Come to the gym one day an' I'll show you how t'do those squats--be great for lacrosse." Harrison, slightly dazed, said he would. They parted ways for their respective rooms.

"See how I fucked with him, Tris?"

"Yeah, he's probably wanking off to your thighs right now. What are traps exactly?"

Colton didn't answer, for he could see a message on his phone. He showed it to Tristan.

"Tree wants to see you?" he said, naming the president of the GSA.

"Yeah. It's late, but y'wanna come?"

"It may be personal and I was planning on having an evening of masturbation with your jockstrap."

"Don't be so selfish, man, you can do that anytime. I may need your political skills."

They dressed, but Colton still insisted Tristan wear the saturated jock strap while he, himself, enjoyed fresh, clean boxers.

Tree was already waiting at the Wholefoods Fair Trade Cooperative and Minorities Safe Space.

"I didn't know they stayed open so late," said Tristan as he ordered his dika nut latte.

Tree ignored him and was straight down to business. "After what happened on the weekend I think you should consider your position in the GSA."

"What happened on the weekend?"

"It's all around the campus. You were arrested for raping a student who identifies as female and a sibling who identifies as a male."

"Well," he said turning to Tristan. "I'm supposed to have fucked R.R. as well as his sister!"

"If that were true, do you think I would be free to be here with you?"

"You had a clever lawyer from the evil multi-national Globoco who got you bail."

"Look, Tree, I don't have to prove my innocence. Others have to prove my guilt. However, to save time and to prevent you from spreading slander for which I could sue you..."

"I knew there'd be aggression--using the repressive legal system against trans people--typical."

Colton ignored this and continued. "It is true I was arrested. The police came and got me from my dorm. I was charged, but even before the bail hearing I was released. It was not me--I wasn't even on the campus when it happened."

"I heard it wasn't on the campus, but in University Heights."

"So I believe, but I was on the other side of town. Witnesses, CCTV, the lot. The police believed it and so should you."

"So who raped the pair?"

"As far as I was told, it was only the one who identified as female."

"But that person's sibling has gone too."

"Don't know nothin' about that."

Tree was mostly silent, just quietly grumbling while deciding what to say next.

"You footballers have a bad sense of gender entitlement. We never even wanted you to join. Even putting aside the issue of the violent binary and competitive nature of the game, the people in our safe space feel threatened and intimidated by your presence. They have spent a lifetime in fear of hyper-male jocks. And now with accusations of rape swirling about..."

"That's a load of crap!"

"Are you now insulting those who identify as coprophiliacs? Is there no end to your micro-aggression?"

Colton wanted to laugh hysterically and Tristan cut in. "Listen Tree, the footballers have been as good as gold at your fucked-up meetings. Do you think they enjoy you lot fighting among yourselves for fascist supremacy?" Tree at least winced at this accusation that was close to the bone. "Wasn't Colton going to give a talk on psych help services for kids who are having sexual identity problems?"

"We don't have problems'-- that's negative; we have issues'."

"Well, `issues', then."

"Straight people trying to pathologize sexual identity."

"Straight people tryin' to help other people."

"Well, straight people don't belong in the GSA--they are only tryin' to repress us and will use rape violence when necessary."

"Isn't it called the Gay and Straight Alliance--yes, I know it has a longer name now, but isn't it?"

"Look, Colton, you have to make a decision: either resign or I throw you out."

"How binary," said Tristan. "Hey, you said `I'. Is this a decision of the whole Alliance or the whole Committee?"

Tree hesitated and looked around in the pretence that he was concerned for the whereabouts of his Ragi pancake.

"I thought so. This is just an excursion of your own."

Colton joined in. "If the Committee vote me out, I'll resign. Show me a petition or the minutes of the meetin' that it were raised at. Perhaps it is y'all who should consider your position, Tree."

"Using the cover of gender politics for fascist ends I'd say," said Tristan.

Tree looked furious. "I have to take the lead and make these decisions myself. The others have not had their consciousnesses raised sufficiently to see what is going on around them. They need my firm guidance or they will be confused by a lifetime gender aggression as to the correct path to take. They will thank me for it when I provide them with a safe space purged of hetro-privilege-mongers and rapists like Colton Stone."

The sound of the slap could be heard across the cafe. The girl on the cash register looked up. Tree was holding a cheek.

"That's aggression for you. Report that to your helots!"

"That was a well timed slap, Roomy. Do you think it will be like the shot that was heard around the world?"

"I doubt it. Tree was out on a limb." He laughed uproariously at his pun and Colton started to laugh too because it was so lame.

"Hey, what about `helots'? I'm gonna have to look that up. I'm sure glad you came, Tris."

Colton was getting ready to head home and Tristan was just stocking up the `pantry' while he still had use of the truck. There were chicken breasts for the fridge, fruit juice, coffee and whisky. "All the food groups," declared Tristan cheerfully as he came through the door.

Colton was in his boxers, talking to Parker and stuffing things into his backpack. "I have a damn assignment to finish for Ainglish--I'll take it with me and get Mom to look it over.

A noise alerted them to the door. There on the floor was a note that had been slid under it. Parker, who had been closest, picked it up and handed it to Tristan. Tristan looked at it and handed it to Colton to whom it was addressed. Parker opened the door, but the corridor was deserted.

"Hey! Get this! There has been a coup d'état at the GSA. Tree has been kicked out and Antonella has been elected in Tree's place. She's the sensible lezzo from Argentina, ain't she?"

"Chile, I think."

"Well, she hopes I will still agree to give my talk next week and she says she's sorry for any stuff that has been said without the authority of the GSA Committee."

"Well, that slap paid dividends. You'll do it of course."

"Yeah and I want you there Parks."

"I don't do gay stuff."

"Don't make me put the beats on you in the shower, dude. I want you and some of your phobic lacrosse buddies front and centre at the GSA. Y'all need to have y'consciousness raised."

"Fuck you, Stone! All right I come, but I'm not kissing no dudes."

With a look from Colton, Tristan and Colton made a grab for Parker who was momentarily distracted on his phone. They held him down and smothered him with sloppy kisses. He struggled and squirmed. His yells summonsed Hollis to the door.

He stood there watching. "Ugg! Stone put his tongue right down m'throat," said Parker, now released and spitting.

"Day-amn hot!" exclaimed Hollis, grinning.

Colton knew the way home in more than senses than one. He sped along the flat lands of central Texas, passing through small settlements and skirting the big cities. He loved Tristan's big Texan truck, now dusty and spattered with the corpses of unlucky grasshoppers, and he had the country music turned up loud and one arm crooked out of the open window. When he reached the 290 he felt he was on familiar ground. The land rose and there were grapevines clothed in the fresh verdure of spring.

He also knew what home meant in terms of family and affection. It was now the place he came from and to which he was now returning--temporarily-- but it was no longer the home where he lived. He had grown up in the short time he had been at college. Where was home now?

Nevertheless, it was to this home he must go to explain himself to those he loved. He was not yet beyond that and he knew he could not move on until he had fulfilled that duty and obligation. With each mile, the sweet pull of home and that former life grew stronger and the very curve of the road seemed to have been imprinted deeply on his half-conscious mind and thus forever forming a trope, like a remembered image from a children's book or the lines of a song. Perhaps it was the shape of love.

He swung the wheel a final time and turned up the drive. The house appeared over the slight crest, as it had to him a thousand times before, white and red and still in need of a lick of paint. The black cattle could be seen in a distant paddock against the spreading majesty of the Burr Oaks. The grape vines looked to be flourishing. A slight movement indicated Tammy in the paddock behind the barn. All appeared to be blessedly normal.

Colton opened the screen door and immediately his mother appeared. His father was merely a second or two behind her. "Colty!" she cried and reached up to kiss his cheek. Then she hugged him tight."

"It's all right Mom," said Colton softly. "How are y'all?"

"I was plum worried about my boy, but we're good now, aren't we?" she said turning back to her husband."

"Boy!" said Mr Stone. Colton kissed him too and his father grasped his forearms. There were tears in his eyes.

They moved into the kitchen and Colton sat at his usual place at the table. His mother turned to the counter to get the coffee pot that had probably been stewing for hours. Tristan would have hated it. She poured out three mugs and deposited a plate of cakes that she had obviously made specially that morning onto the plastic cloth.

"Tell us what dreadful business has been agoin' on up there, Colt."

Colton launched into the tale from his perspective. When he got to the part about Rockwell Rusk raping his sister, he saw his mother put her knuckles to her mouth in horror.

"And you spoke to their father, the senator?" asked Mr Stone--speaking for the first time.

Colton gave an account of this. "But I told him that you and Tristan and Mr Sleigh would know the truth and that I would tell no one else--and I ask you not to tell a soul. I reckon it's too late, the cat's out of the bag."

"And it's a heap harder to put it back than let it out," said his father. "Why were you out on the highway at that hour in the morning, boy?"

"Tryin' to pump up a flat on m'bike." said Colton, looking down into his mug of coffee. His mother did not register his averted gaze as anything unusual and merely refilled it.

His father was more suspicious. "And your two friends..."

"Alexinia n'Carlos."

"They just happened to be out there too. They'd been at the party and were drivin' in his car."

"Lucky then."

"Well, there was video at the gas station too." His father nodded.

"Lotta drugs at these frat parties?" asked Clarice Stone.

"Yeah, I suppose so, but not usually the really hard stuff like heroin and ice and such. Were the first time I'd seen coke, actually."

"I know you don't do drugs, but I don't like you mixin' with that sort of crowd--all those rich kids."

"I'm a big boy, Mom. I can't hide away. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course we do, Colton," said his father. "It's just that it's a different world to here."

"Actually it ain't that different. Do you know how many kids here are druggies? An' I don't just mean the stoners who smoke a bit of weed. Adults too. Oxycodone and Endone. You just don't see it."

"Maybe. Maybe."

"Anyway, Senator Rusk's packing Madison and Rockwell off to Europe or somewhere. There will be no charges pressed. He'll pay my legal bill and will give a big donation to the Clinic. I have to sign somethin' to say I'll be good and keep m'mouth shut."

"What was he like, Colt?"

"Scary and tough, Dad. Said he'd destroy me if I didn't comply."

"Oh Colton!" cried his mother. "What have you got yourself into?"

"I haven't got myself into anythang! All I did was dance with some fucked-up girl at a party, Mom. It weren't my fault."

"It comes of all those girls, Colt. I knew it would land you in trouble."

"Mom, that's unfair..."

"Yes, Clarice. We're all upset, but it's unfair to blame Colt for something a brother did to a sister. It's hardly a crime to dance with a strange girl."

"I kissed her while we were dancing."

"I used to kiss y'mother when we dancin' to the Dixie Chicks out at the Country Club. Nothin' wrong with that. Leave him be. He's a good boy."

"Of course he's a good boy."

"Come out an' help me with that old manure spreader while we leave y'mom to fix supper."

The men walked in silence to the barn, Tammy's whinnying being heartlessly ignored. They stood around the aforesaid piece of machinery as if they were contemplating something profound.

"Drive shaft is vibratin' somethin' fearful. Reckon it will bust the gears if it ain't fixed."

"Take off the spindle hub?"

"Yep. Can't shift the bolts. WD-40 on 'em afore you came. Wanna have a try?"

Colton wanted to help his father so he crawled under the spreader to the part in question. His father passed him a big spanner. The first nut shifted easily but, as is always the way with manure spreaders--and with life in general--the last one was stuck fast. Colton grunted with effort, but to no avail. He crawled back out and his father thought for a moment he was quitting, but it was only so he could remove his shirt, which he used to wipe the sweat from his brow. He went back down, taking a hammer with him. Several taps and more grunting assisted by bad language and the nut gave under pressure. Five minutes later the hub was removed and a grubby Colton emerged.

"Maybe clean it out n' pack it with grease?"

"Might could. Maybe time for a new one--don't need one this big now."

They were over at the workbench, which was littered with old machinery parts, many having been in the same position for his whole life, Colton realised. He stood there, bare-chested, by his father. The father eyed his `fully growed' youngest.

"Don't heed y'mom too much, boy. She loves you."

"She was upset, Dad, I know--I should have phoned you from jail."

"You're a man now. You gotta make the calls y'self. And about the wimmin..."

"Dad!"

"Let me say m'piece, boy. I'm on your side. You might think I'm lyin', but I was 'xactly like you--an' your brothers-- when I was your age. Course Mitchell has changed since he's hitched n'all. Pussy-wiped, some might say. Dace is different. He needs a woman to look after him, I reckon. You like to play the field--that was me at your age."

"You?"

"Yeah, me, ya' big stud! What, y' think, I was born this old? Only fifty." Colton giggled like a kid. His father cuffed him in a friendly fashion. Then he turned serious again. "I couldn't resist a pretty girl--even some who weren't strictly pretty--or strictly anything else f'that matter. See her?"

He pointed to an old calendar that had hung on the same rusty nail for as long as Colton could remember.

"Paw, move with the times. It ain't no longer April 1992."

"Huh. See that there girl, young-un?"

Of course Colton had seen her. She was a busty girl with big hair. Her oversized breasts were threatening to burst the last of her buttons and her open legs were barely encased by a pair of tiny, frayed jean shorts, her camel toe being clearly outlined. Her lust-filled expression was somehow supposed to be related to the body shop and spray painters whose promotional calendar it was.

"Double denim's back in I hear."

Mr Stone ignored the comment.

"She's Darlene Epps--or were--now she's Mrs Jake Morrison when I last heard."

"Is she related to Ivan Epps?"

"Yeah, sister. She was m'girlfriend back in the day."

"Wow! Way to go Dad!"

"Just one o'm'girl friends," he amended shyly. "Back then I had three or four on the go at once. One was y'mother."

"I never knew. How long before you married Mom."

There was a long pause. "Not long."

Colton sensed a confession. "How long, Dad?"

"Last time I fucked her were just three days afore the weddin'--I've been faithful ever since, but it's not something I'm proud of."

"You are like me! Y'think with y'dick and nothin' else seems t'matter at the time."

"Well, didn't I just say so? I'll tell y'Colt, she was one hot fuck--nothin' she wouldn't do an' she sure made y'young paw feel the man--even on the bench seat of Jerr-Dan tow truck--she were a driver, y'see."

"But y'didn't marry her?"

"Nope. She weren't the marryin' kind and your mom was also a hot..."

"Dad! I don't want to hear about sex with Mom!" screamed Colton.

His father laughed. "You kids--you think you invented it." He fiddled with some tools on the bench. "I think it's best you don't tell no one 'bout this--Dacey and Mitch don't know and I don't know how much y'mom knows--she's a smart woman and she knows what I'm like."

"And you had other girlfriends?"

"Yeah o'course. When I was your age I had `friends with benefits'--girls who liked to suck off football players under the bleachers of the old Grover Stand --gone now with the new stadium. Wonder where they go now?" he said to himself. "Don't tell me you don't like the same thing. You've always had a string of girls--and that married one--Mia--down at the trailer park. Don't think I didn't know, Colton. Don't think I wasn't just a bit jealous. We'd all like to be your age again."

"Day-amn, Daddy! Hey, can I show you somethin'?" He took out his phone and showed his father some pictures of Océane Sapion. "She's a model for fashion magazines. Met her down in Miami. From Guadeloupe."

His eyes widened "Jesus son, you've sure out done y'old man! But I'm not sure Governor Wallace would have approved."

"She was smokin' hot, Dad."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah--we had a marathon fuck session back at her posh hotel. Met her on the beach doin' a photo shoot an' I just walked right on up to her, smilin' real friendly-like an' asked her out."

"Well, don't know what to say, boy, except, well done an' don't tell y'mom, p'haps. In my day that picture woulda been jerk off material --Playboys and Penthouse was all we had then, if 'n we could lay our hands on 'em--not even any VHS porn. We made do."

"You jerked off with y'buddies?"

"Yeah, of course--at fourteen or fifteen as I'm sure you did too." Colton laughed and nodded. "I'll tell you secret, as it seems to be the day for it. One of m'buddies used to suck me off on occasion, right up until I married y'mom--not that she wouldn't..."

"Dad! Don't want to hear. This guy who blew you, who is he?"

Shouldn't tell, but Earl Fields.

"Don't know him."

"Folks used to run the hardware a'fore the Swintons. Moved to California."

"San Francisco?"

"No, smartass, Pomona--married a nurse."

"So you didn't think that was wrong?"

"No, boy, I did not. He enjoyed it and I sure as hell did. Long as y'treat people right n'one gets hurt. And guys suck better'n girls."

"Yeah--I mean, so I read on the net. Did you return the favour?"

"Sometimes, when I was in the zone. I wasn't right inta pleasin' a dude like Earl was. That's what got him off. Reckon, you is like me, Colt. Love it and need it regular. And hard. Course with my diabetes I ain't the stud that I was, but that's okay as y'gets older. Nothin' y'kin do bout it anyways."

A distant voice indicated that supper would soon be ready.

"Time for a shower with y'paw?"

"Sure thing, Daddy."

They walked the short distance to the crude shower that had been installed in the back of the barn. The water was turned on. It took a while to get hot. Like they had done countless times, the men shed their clothes and got under the water. The intimacy of father and son seemed to fuel the conversation.

"This model girl, what did you get up to?"

"Hey, old timer. I'm not telling you. You'll have to remember the old days if ain't got dementia--but perhaps you never had a girl tie you to a bed."

"Can't say I have," said his father as he soaped under his armpits. Mr Stone had a farmer's tan as Colton well knew and he didn't look down to his foot with the amputated toes. He passed the soap to his son.

"Well, she liked that sorta stuff and had had plen'y of experience. I thought it was damn awesome an' I gave her a real good ride."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You know, she tied up m'balls and wacked them."

"No? That must have hurt some, boy," he said looking down to see if there was any evidence of damage. Colton looked down too, as if to make sure.

"Shouldn't be tellin' m'dad any of this, but it hurt like a fuckin' bitch but felt good at the same time. She thought I was the man. That make sense?"

"Yep."

"Don't know how many time times I--you know, cum--over those fifteen hours."

"Shit, boy, I was jokin' when I called you a stud, but I guess y'really are one."

"Maybe. Perhaps I shouldn't be tellin' you this stuff," he said again.

"I'm y'father and I used to be just like you, so I reckon y'can tell me pract'ly any damn thang without fear o'me blushin' like a school girl--though school girls prob'ly don't blush none these days."

"Well, she also liked to shove things up m'ass."

"Like a dildo?"

"Sorta. Sure made me fire off. You ever do that?"

"I don't mind a finger, if we're tellin' secrets. But with plenty of grease."

"Daddy, I'll get y'some good lube. Grease ain't that good for y'all."

"You mean you'll ship it in plain brown packagin'?" He laughed.

"Yeah, if y'want."

"Better give jus' give it me next time in case y'mom takes it into her head to open it. Warsh y'back boy?"

"Thanks, Daddy."

"Nice tan. And you ain't got much white skin left on y'ass."

"Yeah, Triatan made me buy this lil' bitty I-talian costume."

"Y'all such a big lump o'man, I think y'gonna have to be real careful of women--especially with your sex drive, Colty."

"Yeah, I figure."

"You were lucky to get that Mr Sleigh t'get you out of trouble this time--not that I'm sayin' you did the slightest thang wrong, but you know, it coulda turned out real bad. And I couldn't help you like Tristan and Mr Isley."

"Yeah, dat's true."

"I'll ship him a crate--no, two crates-- of wine. Okay by you?"

"Yeah, real nice idea."

"And Tristan treatin' y'right, Colt?"

"Of course, what d'y'mean?"

"I mean are you treatin' Tristan right?"

"Yeah, Daddy. We're treatin' each other pretty right."

"Thought so. I figure you need it right, boy, just like I did. You train him t'treat y'all right an' he'll be forever grateful y'did."

"Just like Earl, y'mean?"

"Somethin' like that."

There was silence for a while, only the hiss of he water to be heard in the barn.

"Dad, y'all wrong about one thang. Y'do help me like Tristan and Mr Isley."

"How's that?"

"You talk to me. You guide me on the straight and narrer."

"Well, I'd like to take credit for how y'all turned out, pup, but I wouldn't say it was 'xactly that straight and narrer path that they talks about in Sunday School. Not with you standin' here with that big boner," he added looking down.

"Dad, no one says, `boner'."

"Well, that babe-pleaser that I could hang m'hat on."

"Just take after m'ole paw, mister," said Colton laughing. His father gave him a friendly smack on the arse and threw him a towel.

Colton had a good night with his parents. They had no visitors and Michell and Dacey no longer lived nearby. Colton realised that his parents had embarked on middle age. They tried to avoid the topic of Madison Rusk, but it had a way of coming back to the forefront of their minds.

"I want you to take me into town tomorrer, Colty," said his mother.

"What d'ya need?"

"Nothin' much, but I want folks like Adelaide Couldrey to see you--know what I mean? See some of your Coyote buddies too. Give the lie to them rumours, dear."

"Y'don't need m'help, Dad?"

"No. Do as Mom says, boy."

Colton retired to his old bedroom--the one that he had shared in his youth with Dacey and Mitchell. Now he was in the left hand bed alone and preparing to go to sleep, naked, as was his want ever since he was twelve and his brothers had said that's how real men slept. He was FaceTiming Tristan, telling him about his day and something of his parents' reaction.

"You hard Colt?"

"Yeah."

"Show me."

Colton raised the sheet and pointed the camera. He tapped the end of his penis and brought forth a trapeze of his bronco butter for Tristan's delight. He tasted it off his finger, taking a selfie.

"Show me y'ass, Roomy."

Tristan juggled the phone and tried to in the dim light.

"Can almost taste it."

"I want to see you cum all over your chest, Colt."

"Sure thang, but I'll have to hold the phone steady. See m'balls? They is really sweaty n' really I need y'here to warsh 'em."

There was a soft knock on the door. "Colt, you awake?"

"Yeah, Dad, come on in." Colton hastily pulled up the sheet just as his father, still dressed, entered the room. "Just catchin' up with Tristan. Say hi." He turned the phone and his father could see that Tristan was also naked. Tristan spluttered.

"Hi, Tristan."

"Hi, Drake"

"See y'all late Sunday afternoon, Tris. Bye."

"Jus' wanted t'say goodnight, boy. Sorry if I was interruptin' somethin'.'

"No sweat, Dad. You weren't interruptin' nothin'." Colton was busy trying to make his erection go down. He pressed it uselessly down towards his knee, then tried to lay it to the left and then the right.

"S'all right, stud." He gave a short laugh. "Too big to hide." Colton gave up and he simply tented the sheet. Then, just as the conversation was about to resume, it slid off under the force of gravity leaving him utterly exposed.

"Sorry Dad, mind of its own." Colton grinned, relaxed and put his arms behind his head, lewdly and unashamedly leaving himself on full display.

His father stared in admiration. "I was wrong, boy. You sure don't take after me--must be your mom's side."

"No, I reckon it's after you, Paw."

"Anyhow, I just came in to say I enjoyed our talk--I felt it was kinda man-to-man, as you is all grown up n'all--a college man now."

"Yeah, I enjoyed it too. I seen a side of m'dad that I didn't know about. Helps me a lot. Figurin' out stuff n'all."

"Well, I also want to say that I'm damn proud of you, Colt--this new scholarship and all. This Madison business ain't changed that--only confirmed it. Your mom and I love you very much."

"I know that. Y'don't even have t'say it."

"She said to ask Tristan down next weekend or whenever--but real soon."

"Yeah, he'd like that. I asked him for this weekend, but he said I needed to see you--you know--alone."

"Perceptive of him. Goodnight, Son." He kissed him on the forehead, avoiding the erection.

Please look for the next chapter. Henry would love to receive feedback and will endeavour to reply. Please email h.h.hilliard@hotmail.com and put Tristan in the subject line.