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Best-Friend Fantasy Comes True
- Thread starter sfcfml
- Start date
consult28
On the Prowl
I don't write very often to thank the author for his story. Don't think the ramblings of an 81 yo that can't get it up will be of much interest to anyone. I do want to let you know that I really enjoy the Stu/Jay affair very much. It really brings back fond memories. Sometimes I even remember the name of my partner. thanks again for awaking fond memories. I just got out of a week in hospital and it was great having four chapters to catch up on. Keep up the good work.
It's really good to know that our story board has an appeal to all ages. We all wish you well consult28;5333094 and many moreyears of reading th best that JUB has to offer!
sfcfml
On the Prowl
Hi guys. Thanks for all the fantastic comments about the last part. It really was a climax, in more ways than one. And there's still another night!
This is a bit of a set-up piece, but it's shorter, and I hope you enjoy it, and hope you are able to take time to read it even though it's not as steamy. It's pretty important to young Stu. I've got one more part already written and the one after that well under way, so I'll try to post ASAP. Thanks as always for reading.
Part XXIX
When I first woke up, I was convinced that my explosive, under-the-covers escapade with Jay had been a dream. But when I rolled to my right, saw brown bed head, put my hand down, and wondered whether the wet spot was mine or his, I realized that what had happened was real. One hundred percent real. A fantasy come true.
My bliss lasted approximately twenty seconds until I heard stirring, flushing, and water running, and then saw a hairy-chested version of Jay emerge, white briefs and all. I had a sinking feeling as I remembered what his son and I had left behind in the bathroom trash: probably a dozen pieces of Kleenex, soaked with our cum. If Barry wanted to sniff for evidence of what his son and Resident Advisor had been up to as he and his 14-year-old son snoozed just feet away, he certainly could have found it.
Thankfully, Barry was smiling and spoke with a smirk and a whisper.
"Good morning, Stu."
"Morning, Barry." I listened to my own voice carefully. Those were the first words I had spoken since telling Jay that even though we had cum in each other's hands, we and he were OK. I didn't sound swishy. Did I?
"You sleep OK?"
"Yeah. Really well." I sounded the same as yesterday. Did I look the same too? Could Barry tell that I was feeling gayer than I had in my entire life, and that his sexy son in bed next to me was the reason why? "Seemed like you slept OK."
"Well, I didn't but that's nothing unusual at my age."
"It isn't?"
"Got to sleep fine, but then woke up."
"You did? When?"
"Yes I did but shhh. Don't worry. Everything's fine, Stu. Let your friend sleep."
I buried my head into my pillow and wanted to scream. If Barry had been awake, there would have been no way on God's green earth that he could've missed what his son and I had been up to one bed over. But Barry didn't seem like he was going to put me on the first bus back to Iowa. He must not have heard ...
"Sleepyhead there next to ya' didn't sleep so well. Did you Tiger?"
Tiger? I shook my head into the pillow upon hearing Jay's dad's pet name for his jock of a son. I imagined a little Tiger running downstairs in his Spider Man jammies, shrieking with joy that Santa had eaten the cookies and eager to see what had been placed under the tree. I was ready to laugh, and ready to cry.
Jay moved from his side to his bare tummy. The covers were just below his baseball-playing shoulders. "N-no, dad. Leave me alone. Please."
"I heard you tossing and turning, son. I'm sorry."
"Whatever. Jus' be quiet, both of you, 'K?"
It was 8:30 and I awoke fully refreshed, but Jay was hurting. Was it from lack of sleep, sexual regret, or a combination of both? Was our friendship over? Or was it just beginning? One thing was clear: I wasn't getting an answer right then and there. Sleep, not sex, was on the shortstop's mind.
Fourteen-year-old Jeremy was still out like a light. So Barry invited me to breakfast, just the two of us. I didn't want to miss Jay wake with morning wood, but I couldn't really say no. Plus, it had been more than a year since I had had a heart-to-heart with a dad. Barry wasn't my dad, but at the time he seemed to be the next best thing.
Barry said we had "just enough time" to eat and "maybe talk" before Jay's twin brother, Justin, arrived around 10. Talk? Uh-oh.
The restaurant was at the top of the hotel, overlooking what Barry said was Lake Michigan. He said to order whatever I wanted. So I did. I was starving, but a part of me also thought that this might be my last meal before I ended up in that water with a cement block chained to my leg. It was, after all, Chicago.
Within 10 minutes I had a large orange juice and a platter of pancakes, bacon, sausage, and three scrambled eggs under my nose. Barry, by contrast, had what I'd have for breakfast two decades later: a bagel with cream cheese and black coffee.
I was scared, and confused. There I was, talking with Barry, just hours after I had shot an almost disgusting volume of semen on his son's face. But Barry, I had learned, had a thing for Playgirls. What the fuck? My emotions were a blur as we started talking baseball and then moved into careers -- what Barry did, what I wanted to do. Barry said he had heard about my dad, and that he was so so sorry, and that he was glad Jay had invited me to come along. Barry seemed warm and not like a son-protecting killer, so I loosened up and poured on more maple syrup, trying to make sense of the situation and struggling to imagine a man like this paging through magazines like that. He seemed so, so, so ...
Normal.
"So you slept well then, Stu?"
"Yeah."
"Jay didn't. I could tell."
"That's too bad."
"And I know why."
"You do?"
"You know why too, Stu."
"I do?"
I felt the beginnings of pancake coming up the wrong way. But Barry just sipped his coffee.
"Stu, it was obvious. You two woke me up."
"I, ah, it was just --"
"Stu, stop. Just stop."
I spoke with a whisper. "Oh my God. I can't believe this. Mr. --"
"Relax, son. It's Barry. And everything ... is .. fine. OK?"
"It is?"
"Yes. Now, I'm not sure you two made the best of choices, of doing whatever you were doing, with me and for goodness sakes Jeremy in the room. If the little one had woken up, I probably would've put a stop to it, by going to the bathroom or something. But he slept through it. He is, after all, fourteen. His main job is to sleep and ignore things."
"Barry, I'm so sorry."
"Why?"
"Can I just say --"
"Stu. Shh. No need to. Not here. Let's go for a walk."
I was trembling as I followed Barry out the front door, into a tunnel under Lake Shore Drive, and next to Lake Michigan. Someday I would learn to love Chicago in the morning, and oddly even in the winter. But during my first daylight look at the city's massive skyline, I thought it was the ugliest city on earth. I just wanted to go home and hide in the corn.
"Stu, I know."
My voice shook as I asked what Jay's dad knew.
"I know my son is struggling. With his sexuality. A dad can tell."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "He can?"
"Yes Stu. And before he died, your dad probably had a clue about you too."
I looked at Barry with a sense of fake shock and denial. "But I have girlfr--"
"Stu, Stu, Stu. Yes you have girlfriends. So does Jay. Or did. He'll probably have more. I have a wife."
Barry paused waiting for me to ask him something, but I didn't, so he continued.
"And Stu you've had sex, right?"
"Well, last night we just --"
"No, no, no. You've had sex with girls, right?"
"Well, I --"
"I can tell. You have a quiet sense of confidence about you. You've gotten it over with. You're deflowered."
"I'm what?"
"You're not a virgin. You're OK in your skin, for your age. You are a bit older, right?
"I'm nineteen."
"Think back a year, how utterly confusing life was, for you."
"It was. Still is, Barry. Really confusing. Plus my dad, he --"
"Yes, I can only imagine to what degree you had to grow up mighty quickly, young man. Jay, well, he hasn't had to grow up nearly as fast. And he hasn't. You saw how he had forgotten about his sports physical, how you had to help bail him out of that one."
"It was my pleasure, Barry."
"Anyway, speaking of hasn'ts, Jay hasn't had sex with a girl or a guy. Hasn't gone all the way anyway, as a baseball player might say."
I had no idea why Jay's dad was telling me all this, but I was not about to put a stop to it.
"How do you know?"
"Oh, I just do. I know he's done some exploring, with that last girlfriend he had."
"What makes you say that."
"His mom told me. She found it in the laundry. He and his girlfriend obviously had an escapade in the car after a game. I can't believe they did, because Jay was a mess after the game and must've smelled like a locker room. But let's just say I know they didn't have intercourse."
"No?"
"Not judging by the laundry."
I smiled and tried not to laugh.
"Jay needs to, Stu."
"Needs to what?"
"He needs to explore. Have sex. Loosen up. Realize life isn't all about baseball."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing, from Jay's dad no less.
"So do you, Stu. We all do. Preferably when we're younger, when we're not attached. This bit of no sex before marriage? Absolute bullshit. Sorry for the language, but just my view. But we just need to stay safe, and remember what and who is important in our lives, keep all this sex stuff in perspective."
"Yes."
"We're much, much, much more complex than women give us credit for, Stu. And never let one of them tell you anything different, or at least don't believe them when they do. Because they will."
"Barry, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure Stu."
"Have you had this sort of talk with Jay?"
"No I haven't. I should. It's more difficult than you might imagine, to talk about sex with your kid. Particularly, I suppose, the talk Jay and I really should have. It's much easier to talk to you. You'll understand, when you're a dad, if the stars line up and you become a dad."
"I see."
"Justin and I have, though, believe it or not."
"Have what?"
"Had this sort of talk."
"Really?"
"You'll meet him soon. In about 20 minutes, actually. And you'll probably see right away why it's easier for me to talk about sex with Justin."
"Hmm. That surprises me, based on what I've heard."
"Jay told you Justin's a nerd, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"Justin's no nerd. He's very smart, and extremely perceptive for his age. Smarter than me, actually. Gets it from his mother. Smarter than Jay, without a doubt. Jay's way of dealing with that is to dismiss his brother's strengths and to dismiss books and writing as a waste of time. Justin does the same to Jay, of course, and thinks sports are a waste of time. They're both wrong, of course. And they may be twins, but they're still brothers."
I told Barry that I wished I had had a brother. What I wanted to say but didn't was that I wished I still had a dad.
"Stu, I'll tell you more, as long as you promise to keep it to yourself, OK?"
"OK."
"I'm telling you this because I think you can help Jay, help Jay come to grips with some stuff."
"All right."
"Stu, his brother is gay."
"Justin?"
"Yes, Justin."
"I, uh ... How do you know?"
"He came home stoned one night last spring."
"How does that make him gay?"
"I confronted him about it, and he lied, and said he hadn't been smoking dope. But I'm not stupid. You guys think dads are stupid and moms even stupider, and that everything you do we never did, or that perhaps I'd forget the smell of weed. You never forget that smell, Stuie. And that night, my kid had it goin' on."
"So, I'm not following."
"Yeah, anyway, I told him that it wasn't the weed that bothered me as much as the lying. That he was an adult, that I no longer had any control over what he did, but that the flip side of that was that we needed to have an adult-to-adult relationship built on honesty."
"OK ... And ..."
"Justin's eyes already were red, but they started getting redder, and within a minute my adult son was bawling like a 5-year-old who fell off his bike, crying on my shoulder, telling him he loved me. I knew it was partially the weed talking, particularly since he put the word 'man' after the words 'love you.' Still, it was one of those moments as a dad that you never forget. So he told me he had had a couple joints, told me where he got it, and who he was with. I said I was surprised when I heard, since the kid's dad is a pastor in town and the kid in question is a hell of a ballplayer."
"Better than Jay?"
"It pains me to say it, but yes, better than Jay. The kid's at the University of Iowa on full scholarship."
"So how does that make Justin gay?"
"Justin was screwing around with the ballplayer, the pastor's kid."
"Screwing around, like, sex?
"Sex."
"With a guy?"
"Yes. But it's more than that."
"No shit? Ah -- sorry."
"No shit, Stu. Apparently it had been going on for a year. They were basically dating. And smoking dope in the attic of the church. And having sex there too. But from the way they told it, they shared a lot more than bodily fluids. Justin told me he thinks he's gay, that he's attracted to males in pretty much every way."
"My God. Does Jay --?"
"Jay has no idea. Stu, Jay's gifted in so many ways. You should see him turn double plays. You will, this spring, I'm sure. He's fucking amaz-- Sorry. It's unbelievable. But my jock of a son is not so perceptive sometimes. Doesn't notice stuff around him. Keeps his eye on the ball, shall we way. He and Justin are identical twins, but they're so different in so many ways. I love each one to death. I'd throw myself off that pier over there to save either of their lives. It's true, what they say about dads and kids. But my twins are so different, and let's just say Justin is quite a bit more comfortable in his own skin than is Jay."
"What do you mean?"
"Stu, look. Stop. Stop and look at me. This stays between us, OK? But you're becoming good buddies with Jay. The bouncing sheets were a giveaway young man."
"Again, I'm sorry I --"
"Stu, stop. No need to apologize. I'm sure you and Jay had a blast. At least I hope you did, because Jay is a great kid."
"I'll say."
"I was pretty much exactly how he was, Stu."
"Exactly? You mean, like, a jock?"
"Yes, and then some."
"Then some?"
"Stuart, look. I did the exact same thing you two did last night, just not with Jay's grandpa and uncle in the room."
"Can I please apologize again?"
"No."
"But Barry, you, ah, goofed around, with guys?"
"Yes, more than goof around. And I started when I was a little younger than Jay. The first time was when I was sixteen, I think, in a baseball dugout, after dark, after my buddy had cut the infield grass."
"Did you like it?"
"Yes. Very much so. Mmm. I'll never forget the smell, of him, what he smelled like after cutting the grass, the smell of gasoline and grease and turf. To this day, Stu, I'll be honest with you, half the time after I mow the lawn at home, I need to, you know, take care of business."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. A dad -- Jay's dad! -- was talking about masturbating! While thinking about A GUY! I wondered about my dad, what he had done, what had turned him on, if he masturbated even after being married, if he jacked off while thinking of guys. Like I did. Sometimes. A lot of the times. But not always.
"Are you still attracted to guys."
"Of course. Do you think it goes away?"
"I was thinking so, that maybe you grow out of it."
"Think again."
"But you're ... married."
"I am, and I'm very much attracted to my wife. Always have been. And that isn't fake, and doesn't go away either."
"It doesn't?"
"No son. It doesn't."
"Oh boy."
"Yes, oh boy. So you, so maybe Jay, need to figure it this out, because it's what God gave you. You're adults now. See which way you lean. It'll be tough, because you will want to lean the other way sometimes. But the bottom line is to do your best to separate your sexual passions from the things that are really important in life."
"OK ..."
"Justin's got it easy."
"Being gay? Hardly!"
"At least he can put himself in a single bucket, more or less. He'll have tough times, but Stu, it's 1988, and times are changing. I can feel it. I'm jealous, in a way. Justin's nothing if not courageous, and I'm confident he'll find someone to love."
"Like, get married? To a guy?"
"Maybe."
"He'll have to go to San Francisco or New York, or something."
"Maybe. Or maybe here in Chicago. It's a wonderful city."
"He's certainly not marrying a guy in Iowa. That'll never happen!"
"Never say never, Stu. Never say never."
This is a bit of a set-up piece, but it's shorter, and I hope you enjoy it, and hope you are able to take time to read it even though it's not as steamy. It's pretty important to young Stu. I've got one more part already written and the one after that well under way, so I'll try to post ASAP. Thanks as always for reading.
Part XXIX
When I first woke up, I was convinced that my explosive, under-the-covers escapade with Jay had been a dream. But when I rolled to my right, saw brown bed head, put my hand down, and wondered whether the wet spot was mine or his, I realized that what had happened was real. One hundred percent real. A fantasy come true.
My bliss lasted approximately twenty seconds until I heard stirring, flushing, and water running, and then saw a hairy-chested version of Jay emerge, white briefs and all. I had a sinking feeling as I remembered what his son and I had left behind in the bathroom trash: probably a dozen pieces of Kleenex, soaked with our cum. If Barry wanted to sniff for evidence of what his son and Resident Advisor had been up to as he and his 14-year-old son snoozed just feet away, he certainly could have found it.
Thankfully, Barry was smiling and spoke with a smirk and a whisper.
"Good morning, Stu."
"Morning, Barry." I listened to my own voice carefully. Those were the first words I had spoken since telling Jay that even though we had cum in each other's hands, we and he were OK. I didn't sound swishy. Did I?
"You sleep OK?"
"Yeah. Really well." I sounded the same as yesterday. Did I look the same too? Could Barry tell that I was feeling gayer than I had in my entire life, and that his sexy son in bed next to me was the reason why? "Seemed like you slept OK."
"Well, I didn't but that's nothing unusual at my age."
"It isn't?"
"Got to sleep fine, but then woke up."
"You did? When?"
"Yes I did but shhh. Don't worry. Everything's fine, Stu. Let your friend sleep."
I buried my head into my pillow and wanted to scream. If Barry had been awake, there would have been no way on God's green earth that he could've missed what his son and I had been up to one bed over. But Barry didn't seem like he was going to put me on the first bus back to Iowa. He must not have heard ...
"Sleepyhead there next to ya' didn't sleep so well. Did you Tiger?"
Tiger? I shook my head into the pillow upon hearing Jay's dad's pet name for his jock of a son. I imagined a little Tiger running downstairs in his Spider Man jammies, shrieking with joy that Santa had eaten the cookies and eager to see what had been placed under the tree. I was ready to laugh, and ready to cry.
Jay moved from his side to his bare tummy. The covers were just below his baseball-playing shoulders. "N-no, dad. Leave me alone. Please."
"I heard you tossing and turning, son. I'm sorry."
"Whatever. Jus' be quiet, both of you, 'K?"
It was 8:30 and I awoke fully refreshed, but Jay was hurting. Was it from lack of sleep, sexual regret, or a combination of both? Was our friendship over? Or was it just beginning? One thing was clear: I wasn't getting an answer right then and there. Sleep, not sex, was on the shortstop's mind.
Fourteen-year-old Jeremy was still out like a light. So Barry invited me to breakfast, just the two of us. I didn't want to miss Jay wake with morning wood, but I couldn't really say no. Plus, it had been more than a year since I had had a heart-to-heart with a dad. Barry wasn't my dad, but at the time he seemed to be the next best thing.
Barry said we had "just enough time" to eat and "maybe talk" before Jay's twin brother, Justin, arrived around 10. Talk? Uh-oh.
The restaurant was at the top of the hotel, overlooking what Barry said was Lake Michigan. He said to order whatever I wanted. So I did. I was starving, but a part of me also thought that this might be my last meal before I ended up in that water with a cement block chained to my leg. It was, after all, Chicago.
Within 10 minutes I had a large orange juice and a platter of pancakes, bacon, sausage, and three scrambled eggs under my nose. Barry, by contrast, had what I'd have for breakfast two decades later: a bagel with cream cheese and black coffee.
I was scared, and confused. There I was, talking with Barry, just hours after I had shot an almost disgusting volume of semen on his son's face. But Barry, I had learned, had a thing for Playgirls. What the fuck? My emotions were a blur as we started talking baseball and then moved into careers -- what Barry did, what I wanted to do. Barry said he had heard about my dad, and that he was so so sorry, and that he was glad Jay had invited me to come along. Barry seemed warm and not like a son-protecting killer, so I loosened up and poured on more maple syrup, trying to make sense of the situation and struggling to imagine a man like this paging through magazines like that. He seemed so, so, so ...
Normal.
"So you slept well then, Stu?"
"Yeah."
"Jay didn't. I could tell."
"That's too bad."
"And I know why."
"You do?"
"You know why too, Stu."
"I do?"
I felt the beginnings of pancake coming up the wrong way. But Barry just sipped his coffee.
"Stu, it was obvious. You two woke me up."
"I, ah, it was just --"
"Stu, stop. Just stop."
I spoke with a whisper. "Oh my God. I can't believe this. Mr. --"
"Relax, son. It's Barry. And everything ... is .. fine. OK?"
"It is?"
"Yes. Now, I'm not sure you two made the best of choices, of doing whatever you were doing, with me and for goodness sakes Jeremy in the room. If the little one had woken up, I probably would've put a stop to it, by going to the bathroom or something. But he slept through it. He is, after all, fourteen. His main job is to sleep and ignore things."
"Barry, I'm so sorry."
"Why?"
"Can I just say --"
"Stu. Shh. No need to. Not here. Let's go for a walk."
I was trembling as I followed Barry out the front door, into a tunnel under Lake Shore Drive, and next to Lake Michigan. Someday I would learn to love Chicago in the morning, and oddly even in the winter. But during my first daylight look at the city's massive skyline, I thought it was the ugliest city on earth. I just wanted to go home and hide in the corn.
"Stu, I know."
My voice shook as I asked what Jay's dad knew.
"I know my son is struggling. With his sexuality. A dad can tell."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "He can?"
"Yes Stu. And before he died, your dad probably had a clue about you too."
I looked at Barry with a sense of fake shock and denial. "But I have girlfr--"
"Stu, Stu, Stu. Yes you have girlfriends. So does Jay. Or did. He'll probably have more. I have a wife."
Barry paused waiting for me to ask him something, but I didn't, so he continued.
"And Stu you've had sex, right?"
"Well, last night we just --"
"No, no, no. You've had sex with girls, right?"
"Well, I --"
"I can tell. You have a quiet sense of confidence about you. You've gotten it over with. You're deflowered."
"I'm what?"
"You're not a virgin. You're OK in your skin, for your age. You are a bit older, right?
"I'm nineteen."
"Think back a year, how utterly confusing life was, for you."
"It was. Still is, Barry. Really confusing. Plus my dad, he --"
"Yes, I can only imagine to what degree you had to grow up mighty quickly, young man. Jay, well, he hasn't had to grow up nearly as fast. And he hasn't. You saw how he had forgotten about his sports physical, how you had to help bail him out of that one."
"It was my pleasure, Barry."
"Anyway, speaking of hasn'ts, Jay hasn't had sex with a girl or a guy. Hasn't gone all the way anyway, as a baseball player might say."
I had no idea why Jay's dad was telling me all this, but I was not about to put a stop to it.
"How do you know?"
"Oh, I just do. I know he's done some exploring, with that last girlfriend he had."
"What makes you say that."
"His mom told me. She found it in the laundry. He and his girlfriend obviously had an escapade in the car after a game. I can't believe they did, because Jay was a mess after the game and must've smelled like a locker room. But let's just say I know they didn't have intercourse."
"No?"
"Not judging by the laundry."
I smiled and tried not to laugh.
"Jay needs to, Stu."
"Needs to what?"
"He needs to explore. Have sex. Loosen up. Realize life isn't all about baseball."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing, from Jay's dad no less.
"So do you, Stu. We all do. Preferably when we're younger, when we're not attached. This bit of no sex before marriage? Absolute bullshit. Sorry for the language, but just my view. But we just need to stay safe, and remember what and who is important in our lives, keep all this sex stuff in perspective."
"Yes."
"We're much, much, much more complex than women give us credit for, Stu. And never let one of them tell you anything different, or at least don't believe them when they do. Because they will."
"Barry, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure Stu."
"Have you had this sort of talk with Jay?"
"No I haven't. I should. It's more difficult than you might imagine, to talk about sex with your kid. Particularly, I suppose, the talk Jay and I really should have. It's much easier to talk to you. You'll understand, when you're a dad, if the stars line up and you become a dad."
"I see."
"Justin and I have, though, believe it or not."
"Have what?"
"Had this sort of talk."
"Really?"
"You'll meet him soon. In about 20 minutes, actually. And you'll probably see right away why it's easier for me to talk about sex with Justin."
"Hmm. That surprises me, based on what I've heard."
"Jay told you Justin's a nerd, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"Justin's no nerd. He's very smart, and extremely perceptive for his age. Smarter than me, actually. Gets it from his mother. Smarter than Jay, without a doubt. Jay's way of dealing with that is to dismiss his brother's strengths and to dismiss books and writing as a waste of time. Justin does the same to Jay, of course, and thinks sports are a waste of time. They're both wrong, of course. And they may be twins, but they're still brothers."
I told Barry that I wished I had had a brother. What I wanted to say but didn't was that I wished I still had a dad.
"Stu, I'll tell you more, as long as you promise to keep it to yourself, OK?"
"OK."
"I'm telling you this because I think you can help Jay, help Jay come to grips with some stuff."
"All right."
"Stu, his brother is gay."
"Justin?"
"Yes, Justin."
"I, uh ... How do you know?"
"He came home stoned one night last spring."
"How does that make him gay?"
"I confronted him about it, and he lied, and said he hadn't been smoking dope. But I'm not stupid. You guys think dads are stupid and moms even stupider, and that everything you do we never did, or that perhaps I'd forget the smell of weed. You never forget that smell, Stuie. And that night, my kid had it goin' on."
"So, I'm not following."
"Yeah, anyway, I told him that it wasn't the weed that bothered me as much as the lying. That he was an adult, that I no longer had any control over what he did, but that the flip side of that was that we needed to have an adult-to-adult relationship built on honesty."
"OK ... And ..."
"Justin's eyes already were red, but they started getting redder, and within a minute my adult son was bawling like a 5-year-old who fell off his bike, crying on my shoulder, telling him he loved me. I knew it was partially the weed talking, particularly since he put the word 'man' after the words 'love you.' Still, it was one of those moments as a dad that you never forget. So he told me he had had a couple joints, told me where he got it, and who he was with. I said I was surprised when I heard, since the kid's dad is a pastor in town and the kid in question is a hell of a ballplayer."
"Better than Jay?"
"It pains me to say it, but yes, better than Jay. The kid's at the University of Iowa on full scholarship."
"So how does that make Justin gay?"
"Justin was screwing around with the ballplayer, the pastor's kid."
"Screwing around, like, sex?
"Sex."
"With a guy?"
"Yes. But it's more than that."
"No shit? Ah -- sorry."
"No shit, Stu. Apparently it had been going on for a year. They were basically dating. And smoking dope in the attic of the church. And having sex there too. But from the way they told it, they shared a lot more than bodily fluids. Justin told me he thinks he's gay, that he's attracted to males in pretty much every way."
"My God. Does Jay --?"
"Jay has no idea. Stu, Jay's gifted in so many ways. You should see him turn double plays. You will, this spring, I'm sure. He's fucking amaz-- Sorry. It's unbelievable. But my jock of a son is not so perceptive sometimes. Doesn't notice stuff around him. Keeps his eye on the ball, shall we way. He and Justin are identical twins, but they're so different in so many ways. I love each one to death. I'd throw myself off that pier over there to save either of their lives. It's true, what they say about dads and kids. But my twins are so different, and let's just say Justin is quite a bit more comfortable in his own skin than is Jay."
"What do you mean?"
"Stu, look. Stop. Stop and look at me. This stays between us, OK? But you're becoming good buddies with Jay. The bouncing sheets were a giveaway young man."
"Again, I'm sorry I --"
"Stu, stop. No need to apologize. I'm sure you and Jay had a blast. At least I hope you did, because Jay is a great kid."
"I'll say."
"I was pretty much exactly how he was, Stu."
"Exactly? You mean, like, a jock?"
"Yes, and then some."
"Then some?"
"Stuart, look. I did the exact same thing you two did last night, just not with Jay's grandpa and uncle in the room."
"Can I please apologize again?"
"No."
"But Barry, you, ah, goofed around, with guys?"
"Yes, more than goof around. And I started when I was a little younger than Jay. The first time was when I was sixteen, I think, in a baseball dugout, after dark, after my buddy had cut the infield grass."
"Did you like it?"
"Yes. Very much so. Mmm. I'll never forget the smell, of him, what he smelled like after cutting the grass, the smell of gasoline and grease and turf. To this day, Stu, I'll be honest with you, half the time after I mow the lawn at home, I need to, you know, take care of business."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. A dad -- Jay's dad! -- was talking about masturbating! While thinking about A GUY! I wondered about my dad, what he had done, what had turned him on, if he masturbated even after being married, if he jacked off while thinking of guys. Like I did. Sometimes. A lot of the times. But not always.
"Are you still attracted to guys."
"Of course. Do you think it goes away?"
"I was thinking so, that maybe you grow out of it."
"Think again."
"But you're ... married."
"I am, and I'm very much attracted to my wife. Always have been. And that isn't fake, and doesn't go away either."
"It doesn't?"
"No son. It doesn't."
"Oh boy."
"Yes, oh boy. So you, so maybe Jay, need to figure it this out, because it's what God gave you. You're adults now. See which way you lean. It'll be tough, because you will want to lean the other way sometimes. But the bottom line is to do your best to separate your sexual passions from the things that are really important in life."
"OK ..."
"Justin's got it easy."
"Being gay? Hardly!"
"At least he can put himself in a single bucket, more or less. He'll have tough times, but Stu, it's 1988, and times are changing. I can feel it. I'm jealous, in a way. Justin's nothing if not courageous, and I'm confident he'll find someone to love."
"Like, get married? To a guy?"
"Maybe."
"He'll have to go to San Francisco or New York, or something."
"Maybe. Or maybe here in Chicago. It's a wonderful city."
"He's certainly not marrying a guy in Iowa. That'll never happen!"
"Never say never, Stu. Never say never."
pe_gay89
Porn Star
Great chapter, sfcfml! 
Undisclosed
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Great chapter indeed!
Barry sounds like an amazing dad and friend. Now I get why you said that this was a important for Stu.
Oh and ...Is that a hint of things to come at the end?
Barry sounds like an amazing dad and friend. Now I get why you said that this was a important for Stu.
Oh and ...Is that a hint of things to come at the end?
dylanwhite82
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I totally agree! I like to here every part of a story. Especially this one. I think this story has actually helped me realize who i am in a way, because i can relate to the things that happen to the characters. I feel more and more comfortable of who i am when i read this. Thank you so much.
Craiger
JUB Addict
Awesome chapter, sfcfml! I wish I had been in Stu, Jay and Justin's shoes. My dad died when I was a baby, so never had anyone to really talk to, let alone bond with in a paternal sense. Every young guy needs someone like Barry to talk with and to try and sort out the path that their lives will go. In today's society, girls tend to have it a little easier. Their mothers are there for them, usually, and it is less difficult to talk one on one. Men still have that macho image to maintain, unfortunately, and find it harder to discuss such things with their sons. I like Barry and his attitude. Can't wait to meet Justin.
Craiger
Craiger
SFCFML,
I agree with the others - a phenomenal chapter. I still have both parents alive, and I had an uncle who moved away from Rural IN because he was gay; i have a younger cousin who is openly gay and being accepted, BUT, I'm close to old enough to be his father, so the "generally accepted" wasn't so open back then - and I knew I was curious, even explored a little, but not much.
A heartwarming chapter and reflection of an ideal parent.
I hope I can emulate him if I ever need to.
I agree with the others - a phenomenal chapter. I still have both parents alive, and I had an uncle who moved away from Rural IN because he was gay; i have a younger cousin who is openly gay and being accepted, BUT, I'm close to old enough to be his father, so the "generally accepted" wasn't so open back then - and I knew I was curious, even explored a little, but not much.
A heartwarming chapter and reflection of an ideal parent.
I hope I can emulate him if I ever need to.
sfcfml
On the Prowl
Couple shorter parts coming the next few days. And then, more explosive fun. Stay tuned ,and thanks as always for reading and the feedback.
Part XXX
And there, in the lobby, was Justin. Jay's identical twin -- Jay's gay identical twin -- was perusing a newsrack of free publications. Justin's dyed black hair matched his wardrobe more or less, one that covered too much of the beautiful body that I had heard so much about. But when I looked beyond Justin's wire-rimmed glasses and met Jay's brother eye to eye, there was no mistaking that he was the baseball standout's genetic match. The way the brown-eyed 18-year-olds' facial features worked together was just so pleasing, so inspiring, so arousing ...
As Justin's eyes met mine, he lingered for a half-second longer than entirely straight guys need do when you meet them for the first time. I didn't have much gaydar then, but I did have enough to know that Justin was checking me out, not unlike the way I had checked out his brother as the baseball player reclined on his dorm-room bed.
"Justin, this is Stuart. Jay's Resident Advisor. And friend."
"Hey, Stu. Cool." Justin t seemed so alive and alert, not nerdy at all. "What's up, man?"
Justin extended a hand and held mine a half-second longer than gaydar detects entirely straight guys need to when they touch you for the first time.
"Hey, Justin. Heard lots about you."
"Lots?"
"Well, not lots."
"Lies. All lies, man. Jay-Jay doesn't know what he's talking about. Get that straight."
The words "Jay-Jay" and "straight" resonated in my brain as I struggled to piece together Jay's perception of his identical twin, Barry's acknowledgment that he was gay, and what I perceived to be the reality. Justin spewed out confidence and awareness, both of himself and everything going on around him.
The clock said a little past 10 and Barry urged us to get going. The game was at 1 and we had to take the train up to Wrigley, he said, and really should leave some time for exploring, this being my first trip to Chicago and all.
That fact got Justin's attention.
"So Stu, you've, um, never done it before?"
"Huh?"
"Wrigley? You've never done Wrigley before?"
"Oh, Wrigley, no. Never done Wrigley, never been to Chicago."
"You should check out White Sox park, where real men go and Cubs fans are scared."
"Maybe I will."
"Check out this."
Justin unwadded something from his duffel and put it over his black t-shirt. It was a White Sox jersey.
"That'll piss 'em off."
"Who? The fans?"
"Yeah, but Jay-Jay more than anything."
"Is that your goal?"
"Pretty much."
"I thought he was a Twins fan, no pun intended."
"He is, little jock. So it'll piss him off. The Twins hate the Sox. Plus, the Cubs hate the Sox. Or Cubs fans hate the Sox at least. So I hear. I don't really follow it."
"So, you're, ah, wearing it to the game?"
"Sure. This should be fun."
Pretty much every preconceived notion I had about Justin evaporated as the three of us went up to the room. Justin squeezed past me at his first opportunity, dropped the duffel on the floor, and greeted a slumbering Jay-Jay by ripping down the sheets, putting his knees on either side of the ballplayer's torso, and rubbing his knuckles into the athlete's bare chest that probably still had flakes of dried cum on it.
"Payback time, bro'."
"What the f--? Get the fuck off me, you fruit!"
Barry reminded Jay to use nice language while I thought how I would've paid 100 bucks to trade positions with Justin.
"And get that jersey away from me, you traitor!"
"That's a big word for little Jay-Jay."
I was starting to like and hate Justin at the same time. Jeremy, for his part, woke with a start to see what was the matter but then pretended to doze off again when he saw it was Justin and Jay, going at it again.
"Nice little white undies, bro'. Mom buy 'em for ya?"
"Shut ... up ... prick."
As Justin straddled his twin brother's crotch, I goosed my own as I wondered what, exactly, Justin had done with the pastor's kid in the church attic.
And then just like that, the Tiger awoke, launched his less-muscular brother from his midsection, arose, wiped sleep from his eyes, and glanced at me sheepishly as he headed to the bathroom wearing just his white briefs, sporting perhaps half-hard morning wood. I yearned to see both Jay's dick and his eyes, but more than anything for a word that all was OK, that he didn't hate me after last night. But all I got was the sound of Jay's urine hitting the bowl.
I thought to myself, well, at least I didn't damage the shortstop's plumbing.
Then the hotel's plumbing came alive, the shower I mean. Jeremy, still in his clothes, finally rose and showed love to his other older brother by bopping him in the back of his head and putting on headphones.
Jay emerged perhaps five minutes later with his hair still damp, water droplets on his tanned shoulders, and a hotel towel around his waist. It took every bone in my body to keep from ripping away the terry cloth and sucking semen from his dick, to the degree any remained. But more than anything, I just wanted to make sure he was OK.
"Good morning, Jay."
Jay spoke with a raspy whisper. "Hi Stu." I about melted. "Morning."
"You OK?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, um, ... You didn't sleep so well."
"I'm fine. Let's just, ah -- Let's just let it rest. For now. Talk later. 'K?"
Jay fumbled through his duffel to pull out a pair of boxers and pulled them on under his towel. I laughed to myself that the ballplayer was being so modest after I had pretty much seen, smelled, tasted, and felt the most intimate parts of his beautiful body.
"Who's next?"
Jeremy lunged for the bathroom fully clothed with a wad of clean clothes, locked the door, and started the shower. After ten minutes, Jay, in shorts and a Cubs jersey and waiting to brush his teeth, remarked that the "kid's been in there long enough."
Barry told Jay to "cool it," and to "remember when he was fourteen." Then Justin couldn't resist. "Yeah, Jay-Jay. Geez. When we were that age, I couldn't get in the fricking bathroom for sometimes 20 ... stupid ... minutes. Why, I have no idea, since ... we ... had ... our ... own ... rooms."
"I just liked to shower."
"Oh c'mon. We all know what you liked to do IN the shower, Jay. You really should've locked the door."
"Shut the crap up."
"Your name should've been Jack-Jack, not Jay-Jay."
"Oh, listen to you, Mr. Gee Let's Lean Against the Clothes Dryer and --"
"Boys, stop it. The water just went off. Jeremy probably heard you, and from what his mother tells me about the laundry, he doesn't need any more ideas. And speaking of dirty laundry, Stu doesn't need to hear you air yours."
Actually, I was relishing the thought of the twins' dirty laundry and seeing what exactly Justin did against the clothes dryer.
Finally Jeremy emerged, again fully clothed. But Jay just couldn't let it rest.
"Every inch of you nice 'n' clean, little guy? Took ... you ... fricking ... loooong ... enough."
"Shut up, douchebag."
"You don't even know what a douche is."
It was a tough crowd, so I grabbed my plastic bag of toiletries and intended to keep my shower short. I was in a hurry, so I hadn't realized that the shower curtain was basically clear and there was a sink-to-ceiling mirror right across from the tub. When I ripped opened the curtain to grab my towel, there was Barry, in the mirror right across from the tub, naked, eyeing my crotch, brushing his teeth and trying to talk through the toothpaste.
"Yoo don' min' if I'm in her' doo yoo Stoo?"
I stuttered out my answer, and Barry's response was to wipe away a vertical swath of mirror steam. He eyed me from head to toe, spending extra time on my dripping little dick. I tried not to make it obvious that I was doing the same thing to him, taking note of a pattern of chest hair that would someday be on Jay. It was pretty broad across his pecs but then narrowed as the trail made its way to his fairly hairy tummy. Barry's dick was a little shorter than Jay's, actually, but appeared to be just as fat. His abs were a little flabby but he was far from fat. He was in shape and took care of himself, that much was for sure.
So, according to Barry, did I, shorter dick and all.
"Lookin' good, Stu."
"What?"
As Barry tossed his disposable razor in the trash, he complimented me for "stayin' in shape."
"Well, I don't do much."
"You and Jay should hit the weights, maybe. You'd be good for each other."
I held my breath as Barry bent over the trash to retrieve the razor, bearing his lightly haired and strangely smooth ass and balls and explaining that "it had a little juice left in it."
My heart jumped. "Well, we tried to clean up after --"
"No, Stu. The razor. It has a little juice left in it. I shouldn't throw it away quite yet."
I stepped out of the tub and Barry got right in, explaining that time was tight.
Barry didn't say to leave or to stay, so I put a towel around my waist and started brushing my hair. My eyes spent most of the time behind the curtain. It was not 100 percent clear, so I mainly saw a nub of a dick, but it was a dick, it was nice, and it was JAY'S DAD'S!. And he had complimented me on my body, so I, ah ...
I took the towel from my waist, wiped steam from the mirror, and let the towel drop to the floor.
I didn't need a shave, but I spread on some shaving cream anyway, and it did not take Barry long to see I had removed my towel. As I caressed lather into my face, the 40-something dad did the same with his crotch. As I rubbed my face, Barry rubbed himself, and I felt my cock stir at the realization of being a voyeur and exhibitionist at the very same time.
My cock got to half-mast pretty quick, and Barry noticed it pretty quick. There was no question that the minivan-driving, Playgirl-reading, medical-supplies salesman was hard. He seemed to be a little smaller than Jay, but still sizable, still bigger than me, and still there behind the curtain.
Barry said nothing and neither did I. I wiped away more steam under the guise that I had to see better to shave, which was ridiculous based on the vertical path my towel took. As I removed two-day-old peach fuzz, it dawned on me that the hard penis I was looking at is where the DNA material had spurted out of 19 years ago or so, the magical stuff that put the twins on earth and their brother, Jeremy, too.
Thinking about that is what made my erection bend almost flat against my tummy. I really didn't know whether what I was doing was wrong or right. But I chose to stay, and reasoned that a guy's got to do what a guy's got to do, and Barry proved as much as he faced the curtain and starting bucking his hips into his palm.
As I watched Jay and Justin's dad jack off, I could not believe it. Was he thinking about his wife? His hot secretary? A guy in Playgirl? Looking at himself in the mirror?
Or looking at me?
That thought concerned me and turned me on at the same time. All I could do was be fixated on Barry -- his dick, his technique, how a 40-something man did the deed. I thought about my own dad, whether he masturbated during marriage, maybe in the shower. Whether he always thought about mom, or another woman. Or another guy.
Barry slowed down but then sped up and then put both hands on the sides of his erection, right before I saw perhaps four splats of goo appear on the inside of the shower curtain. I pressed my crotch against the counter as I anticipated more, but the rest must've landed in the tub for reasons that I would learn firsthand on myself 20 years later. By the time I was brushing my teeth, Barry's semen was starting to run down the curtain, and his dick that had been around since about the end of World War II seemed to have returned to its flaccid state in what I would have considered then to be record time.
Then, schhhhwhap!, Barry opened the curtain and reached for a towel, soft as a straight guy in the school shower, and as if nothing had happened.
"Ah, that felt good! I needed that!"
I didn't know what to say or to do, so I said nothing and reached for my towel.
"After last night."
"Yeah."
"The drive over, you know. Sorta sweaty, that traffic."
"M-hm. Traffic was bad. You're a good driver, though."
"Nothing like a good shower to get the juices flowing, you know Stu?"
"I know. I think I know."
Part XXX
And there, in the lobby, was Justin. Jay's identical twin -- Jay's gay identical twin -- was perusing a newsrack of free publications. Justin's dyed black hair matched his wardrobe more or less, one that covered too much of the beautiful body that I had heard so much about. But when I looked beyond Justin's wire-rimmed glasses and met Jay's brother eye to eye, there was no mistaking that he was the baseball standout's genetic match. The way the brown-eyed 18-year-olds' facial features worked together was just so pleasing, so inspiring, so arousing ...
As Justin's eyes met mine, he lingered for a half-second longer than entirely straight guys need do when you meet them for the first time. I didn't have much gaydar then, but I did have enough to know that Justin was checking me out, not unlike the way I had checked out his brother as the baseball player reclined on his dorm-room bed.
"Justin, this is Stuart. Jay's Resident Advisor. And friend."
"Hey, Stu. Cool." Justin t seemed so alive and alert, not nerdy at all. "What's up, man?"
Justin extended a hand and held mine a half-second longer than gaydar detects entirely straight guys need to when they touch you for the first time.
"Hey, Justin. Heard lots about you."
"Lots?"
"Well, not lots."
"Lies. All lies, man. Jay-Jay doesn't know what he's talking about. Get that straight."
The words "Jay-Jay" and "straight" resonated in my brain as I struggled to piece together Jay's perception of his identical twin, Barry's acknowledgment that he was gay, and what I perceived to be the reality. Justin spewed out confidence and awareness, both of himself and everything going on around him.
The clock said a little past 10 and Barry urged us to get going. The game was at 1 and we had to take the train up to Wrigley, he said, and really should leave some time for exploring, this being my first trip to Chicago and all.
That fact got Justin's attention.
"So Stu, you've, um, never done it before?"
"Huh?"
"Wrigley? You've never done Wrigley before?"
"Oh, Wrigley, no. Never done Wrigley, never been to Chicago."
"You should check out White Sox park, where real men go and Cubs fans are scared."
"Maybe I will."
"Check out this."
Justin unwadded something from his duffel and put it over his black t-shirt. It was a White Sox jersey.
"That'll piss 'em off."
"Who? The fans?"
"Yeah, but Jay-Jay more than anything."
"Is that your goal?"
"Pretty much."
"I thought he was a Twins fan, no pun intended."
"He is, little jock. So it'll piss him off. The Twins hate the Sox. Plus, the Cubs hate the Sox. Or Cubs fans hate the Sox at least. So I hear. I don't really follow it."
"So, you're, ah, wearing it to the game?"
"Sure. This should be fun."
Pretty much every preconceived notion I had about Justin evaporated as the three of us went up to the room. Justin squeezed past me at his first opportunity, dropped the duffel on the floor, and greeted a slumbering Jay-Jay by ripping down the sheets, putting his knees on either side of the ballplayer's torso, and rubbing his knuckles into the athlete's bare chest that probably still had flakes of dried cum on it.
"Payback time, bro'."
"What the f--? Get the fuck off me, you fruit!"
Barry reminded Jay to use nice language while I thought how I would've paid 100 bucks to trade positions with Justin.
"And get that jersey away from me, you traitor!"
"That's a big word for little Jay-Jay."
I was starting to like and hate Justin at the same time. Jeremy, for his part, woke with a start to see what was the matter but then pretended to doze off again when he saw it was Justin and Jay, going at it again.
"Nice little white undies, bro'. Mom buy 'em for ya?"
"Shut ... up ... prick."
As Justin straddled his twin brother's crotch, I goosed my own as I wondered what, exactly, Justin had done with the pastor's kid in the church attic.
And then just like that, the Tiger awoke, launched his less-muscular brother from his midsection, arose, wiped sleep from his eyes, and glanced at me sheepishly as he headed to the bathroom wearing just his white briefs, sporting perhaps half-hard morning wood. I yearned to see both Jay's dick and his eyes, but more than anything for a word that all was OK, that he didn't hate me after last night. But all I got was the sound of Jay's urine hitting the bowl.
I thought to myself, well, at least I didn't damage the shortstop's plumbing.
Then the hotel's plumbing came alive, the shower I mean. Jeremy, still in his clothes, finally rose and showed love to his other older brother by bopping him in the back of his head and putting on headphones.
Jay emerged perhaps five minutes later with his hair still damp, water droplets on his tanned shoulders, and a hotel towel around his waist. It took every bone in my body to keep from ripping away the terry cloth and sucking semen from his dick, to the degree any remained. But more than anything, I just wanted to make sure he was OK.
"Good morning, Jay."
Jay spoke with a raspy whisper. "Hi Stu." I about melted. "Morning."
"You OK?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, um, ... You didn't sleep so well."
"I'm fine. Let's just, ah -- Let's just let it rest. For now. Talk later. 'K?"
Jay fumbled through his duffel to pull out a pair of boxers and pulled them on under his towel. I laughed to myself that the ballplayer was being so modest after I had pretty much seen, smelled, tasted, and felt the most intimate parts of his beautiful body.
"Who's next?"
Jeremy lunged for the bathroom fully clothed with a wad of clean clothes, locked the door, and started the shower. After ten minutes, Jay, in shorts and a Cubs jersey and waiting to brush his teeth, remarked that the "kid's been in there long enough."
Barry told Jay to "cool it," and to "remember when he was fourteen." Then Justin couldn't resist. "Yeah, Jay-Jay. Geez. When we were that age, I couldn't get in the fricking bathroom for sometimes 20 ... stupid ... minutes. Why, I have no idea, since ... we ... had ... our ... own ... rooms."
"I just liked to shower."
"Oh c'mon. We all know what you liked to do IN the shower, Jay. You really should've locked the door."
"Shut the crap up."
"Your name should've been Jack-Jack, not Jay-Jay."
"Oh, listen to you, Mr. Gee Let's Lean Against the Clothes Dryer and --"
"Boys, stop it. The water just went off. Jeremy probably heard you, and from what his mother tells me about the laundry, he doesn't need any more ideas. And speaking of dirty laundry, Stu doesn't need to hear you air yours."
Actually, I was relishing the thought of the twins' dirty laundry and seeing what exactly Justin did against the clothes dryer.
Finally Jeremy emerged, again fully clothed. But Jay just couldn't let it rest.
"Every inch of you nice 'n' clean, little guy? Took ... you ... fricking ... loooong ... enough."
"Shut up, douchebag."
"You don't even know what a douche is."
It was a tough crowd, so I grabbed my plastic bag of toiletries and intended to keep my shower short. I was in a hurry, so I hadn't realized that the shower curtain was basically clear and there was a sink-to-ceiling mirror right across from the tub. When I ripped opened the curtain to grab my towel, there was Barry, in the mirror right across from the tub, naked, eyeing my crotch, brushing his teeth and trying to talk through the toothpaste.
"Yoo don' min' if I'm in her' doo yoo Stoo?"
I stuttered out my answer, and Barry's response was to wipe away a vertical swath of mirror steam. He eyed me from head to toe, spending extra time on my dripping little dick. I tried not to make it obvious that I was doing the same thing to him, taking note of a pattern of chest hair that would someday be on Jay. It was pretty broad across his pecs but then narrowed as the trail made its way to his fairly hairy tummy. Barry's dick was a little shorter than Jay's, actually, but appeared to be just as fat. His abs were a little flabby but he was far from fat. He was in shape and took care of himself, that much was for sure.
So, according to Barry, did I, shorter dick and all.
"Lookin' good, Stu."
"What?"
As Barry tossed his disposable razor in the trash, he complimented me for "stayin' in shape."
"Well, I don't do much."
"You and Jay should hit the weights, maybe. You'd be good for each other."
I held my breath as Barry bent over the trash to retrieve the razor, bearing his lightly haired and strangely smooth ass and balls and explaining that "it had a little juice left in it."
My heart jumped. "Well, we tried to clean up after --"
"No, Stu. The razor. It has a little juice left in it. I shouldn't throw it away quite yet."
I stepped out of the tub and Barry got right in, explaining that time was tight.
Barry didn't say to leave or to stay, so I put a towel around my waist and started brushing my hair. My eyes spent most of the time behind the curtain. It was not 100 percent clear, so I mainly saw a nub of a dick, but it was a dick, it was nice, and it was JAY'S DAD'S!. And he had complimented me on my body, so I, ah ...
I took the towel from my waist, wiped steam from the mirror, and let the towel drop to the floor.
I didn't need a shave, but I spread on some shaving cream anyway, and it did not take Barry long to see I had removed my towel. As I caressed lather into my face, the 40-something dad did the same with his crotch. As I rubbed my face, Barry rubbed himself, and I felt my cock stir at the realization of being a voyeur and exhibitionist at the very same time.
My cock got to half-mast pretty quick, and Barry noticed it pretty quick. There was no question that the minivan-driving, Playgirl-reading, medical-supplies salesman was hard. He seemed to be a little smaller than Jay, but still sizable, still bigger than me, and still there behind the curtain.
Barry said nothing and neither did I. I wiped away more steam under the guise that I had to see better to shave, which was ridiculous based on the vertical path my towel took. As I removed two-day-old peach fuzz, it dawned on me that the hard penis I was looking at is where the DNA material had spurted out of 19 years ago or so, the magical stuff that put the twins on earth and their brother, Jeremy, too.
Thinking about that is what made my erection bend almost flat against my tummy. I really didn't know whether what I was doing was wrong or right. But I chose to stay, and reasoned that a guy's got to do what a guy's got to do, and Barry proved as much as he faced the curtain and starting bucking his hips into his palm.
As I watched Jay and Justin's dad jack off, I could not believe it. Was he thinking about his wife? His hot secretary? A guy in Playgirl? Looking at himself in the mirror?
Or looking at me?
That thought concerned me and turned me on at the same time. All I could do was be fixated on Barry -- his dick, his technique, how a 40-something man did the deed. I thought about my own dad, whether he masturbated during marriage, maybe in the shower. Whether he always thought about mom, or another woman. Or another guy.
Barry slowed down but then sped up and then put both hands on the sides of his erection, right before I saw perhaps four splats of goo appear on the inside of the shower curtain. I pressed my crotch against the counter as I anticipated more, but the rest must've landed in the tub for reasons that I would learn firsthand on myself 20 years later. By the time I was brushing my teeth, Barry's semen was starting to run down the curtain, and his dick that had been around since about the end of World War II seemed to have returned to its flaccid state in what I would have considered then to be record time.
Then, schhhhwhap!, Barry opened the curtain and reached for a towel, soft as a straight guy in the school shower, and as if nothing had happened.
"Ah, that felt good! I needed that!"
I didn't know what to say or to do, so I said nothing and reached for my towel.
"After last night."
"Yeah."
"The drive over, you know. Sorta sweaty, that traffic."
"M-hm. Traffic was bad. You're a good driver, though."
"Nothing like a good shower to get the juices flowing, you know Stu?"
"I know. I think I know."
Take me out to the ball park, Take me out to the Game,
Peanuts, and Popcorn, and Cracker Jacks, I don't care if I ever get back from the Old, Ball, Game!
VERY Nice Chapter. A truly 21st century "Dad", we have here. Can I cum join in the fun? Please oh please oh please oh please?!
Thanks SO much, SFCFML! You're literary talents are shining through - must be all that wonderful Cream Oil Lubricant that seems to be popping out, bringing everything to a nice, Lustrous, shine!
Peanuts, and Popcorn, and Cracker Jacks, I don't care if I ever get back from the Old, Ball, Game!
VERY Nice Chapter. A truly 21st century "Dad", we have here. Can I cum join in the fun? Please oh please oh please oh please?!
Thanks SO much, SFCFML! You're literary talents are shining through - must be all that wonderful Cream Oil Lubricant that seems to be popping out, bringing everything to a nice, Lustrous, shine!
Craiger
JUB Addict
OMG! What an education Stu is getting in Chicago. That was some chapter. I feel sorry for Barry though because tonight he has to sleep in a room only with Jeremy. He's going to miss the main event.......lol
Craiger
Craiger
wyndhampaul
Slut
A beautifully well told story. I wish! I wish! Oh how I wish that it was I who had experienced this awakening.I now await more episodes of this great tale.
Undisclosed
Slut
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Aahh... Nothing like a good chapter to get the juices flowing, you know sfcfml?
I feel sorry for Jay, having to deal the rest of the day with the awkwardness between him and Stu, and on top of that with his twin brother Justin.
Cant wait for the next one...
I feel sorry for Jay, having to deal the rest of the day with the awkwardness between him and Stu, and on top of that with his twin brother Justin.
Cant wait for the next one...
goodbyemountainman
On the Prowl
Well, who knows Iowa is the first state of Midwest that legalizes gay marriage. I should have gone to school over there instead of this freaking Illinois. Great chapter btw.
sfcfml
On the Prowl
Hi guys. Been a busy week. Wish I could just write this for a living.
Part XXXI
As Jay, Justin, Jeremy, Barry and I rode down the elevator for a day at the ballpark, I wanted to stop it midway, throw all but Jay off, and have a heart-to-heart with my mutual masturbation friend who clearly was more than a mutual masturbation friend.
It wasn't to be, but once we hit the streets of Chicago my thoughts weren't centered so much on getting into the 18-year-old shortstop's head or even his pants. It was a Saturday morning in September, and Chicago was on fire. My glimpse of Chicago was much different than I had expected. The sidewalks had more poodles than cracks, trendy stores blended right in with the apartment buildings and condos, and we looked underdressed in our jerseys and baseball caps.
We spent an hour or so on what I was told was Chicago's Gold Coast, where nine years later a disturbing crime occurred. It was 1997, and a young man named Andrew Cunanan -- who, like me, was struggling with life in general and how to express sexuality in particular -- went on a killing spree that reached from Minneapolis to rural to Minnesota to Chicago, where a married 72-year-old real estate developer was among Cunanan's sexual customers and victims. The prostitute went on to murder another man in New Jersey before committing one of the most high-profile slayings of the 1990s: that of fashion designer Gianni Versace in Miami. Eight days later, Cunanan was dead. And let's just say the circumstances got me thinking.
But this was 1988, I was just 19, gay prostitutes were the furthest thing from my mind, and the Gold Coast was all a-glitter. It was just after 11 when Barry ushered Jay, Justin, Jeremy, and me into Chicago's underground and handed each of us an El token. "El," I learned, stood for elevated, as in Elevated train, and when I exhibited my confusion about catching an Elevated train underground, Justin said to "just wait."
Seconds later a string of silver cars groaned to a stop and I got on a subway for the very first time. I could not stop scanning the mix of people. There were plenty of whites and more blacks than I had ever seen, but what really stuck me were those who were neither, who were in between.
One such guy with milk chocolate skin was right in front of me. He was about my age, and smelled like shower and hair gel, and seemed to want his hair to be straight. But it did not want to be straight. His nose was broad but his face chiseled, sort of like Jay's actually, with a tight jaw that culminated in just the right place at his neck. The guy seemed to have more white in him than black, but he dressed like I had seen black guys dress on TV. The only thing clear to me was that the young man was FINE! Gorgeous, really. I remember him to this day, and looking back on it, there was no question that he had taken the best aspects of his white parent and his black parent.
The streetwise young man saw me stare with wonder at his crotch, so I switched to his eyes but I still could not avert my gaze. They were green! Green eyes on a black guy! I felt my male juices stir as the streetwise Chicago teen dismissed me as yet another ignorant tourist.
It was as the subway became the El when the light came on and I started really feeling the pain of trying to conform to the American tendency of putting everything in one of two buckets. On or off. Black or white. A or B. Democrat or Republican. Christian or doomed. With us or against us.
Gay or straight.
* * *
Barry's plan was for us to get lunch at a table for five near Wrigley, but the restaurants were jammed so we had to settle for hot dogs, chips, and -- honest to God -- popsicles from food carts outside the stadium. As I watched Justin's brown eyes get wide with every suck on his rainbow-colored frozen treat, I had what remains to this day as the weirdest, most vivid, maybe most disturbing deja vu moments of life.
Once inside Wrigley we had great seats, about 20 rows up midway between home plate and third base. The fabled stadium was even better than I had even imagined. The food, the breeze, the ivy, the knowledgeable fans. The only dark spot was when one of those fans threw a beer on Justin's White Sox jersey. But the gay twin brushed it off with not a bit of swish, told the prick to screw himself, invited him to "come watch a game on the South Side where real men go, you asshole." It was an outward toughness and aggressiveness that would, quite literally, save the gay man's life when challenged by gay bashers years later.
After the game, we took the El to Chinatown on Justin's suggestion and ended up at a round table for five with one of those turntable things in the middle. Jeremy ate by far the most, and by the time we got back to the hotel he claimed still to be hungry.
Not until then did I remember Barry had gotten us a second room. But my heart sank as Barry checked at the front as I heard the clerk say there had been "a mixup" and all the bonus rooms were full. But when the assistant manager overheard what was going on and recognized Barry as a regular, the smooth-talking dad ended up with a key to a room on the very top floor.
"Here guys." Barry tossed the key to Justin. "You, Jay, and Stu take it. Housekeeping says they'll bring up a rollaway bed. Then it can sleep three. So stop by the room, pick up your stuff, and we'll meet you in the pool while they do their thing."
Sleep three? Must be a broom closet, I thought to myself. With my luck, the twins will take the double bed and I'll be left all alone. But at least they had swimming suits to put on, so if the surroundings were tight, at least I'd get a close look at their privates ...
* * *
Opening the door of the bonus room was one of the most shocking experiences of my life. It was a suite -- a freaking honeymoon suite, with a king-size bed, lush robes, box of chocolates and all. The next morning we'd learn of the pain that was our gain, of a groom who had been left at the altar by his cheating bride. But on that night, the chilled champagne and whirlpool were ours.
I, unlike the twins, had forgotten my suit, but I was wearing shorts and boxers so figured they'd do. But because I had gotten hung up looking at the prices in the the room-service menu, I almost missed what I had been waiting to see: Justin undressed. By the time I realized what was going on, Jay's identical twin was bare from the waist up and on the way to pushing down his black trousers. Jay was right: their chests were pretty much the same, though Justin's was not as tanned or quite as buff.
I had no undressing to do, and my developing sense of gaydar told me that Justin would not mind, so I watched the brown-eyed teen slip out of his pants and linger in a way that Justin's gaydar told him was torture for me.
Justin flashed me a dimpled grin and raised his eyebrows twice. His brown eyes looked just like Jay's, minus the sexual confusion. Justin looked confident, sexy, teasing. He knew what I wanted, and he knew how to play with me.
What a fucker.
Over the previous few weeks, I had seen Jay's lovely penis many times -- in the dorm shower, Dr. Fitzgerald's office, and even my dorm room. But it had been less than 24 hours since I had first touched, and remarkably, made it come. My groin was on fire as I yearned to see Justin's too, to confirm what Jay had told me: that he and his identical twin were pretty much identical in the penis and testicles department.
Justin fished down his boxers perhaps two inches, brought the undies back up, and did it again and again and again. Finally, very slowly, he lowered his boxers to the very top of his dick and I held my breath waiting to see something marvelously familiar and quite honestly delicious. My eyes were fixated on the tube of Justin's soft penis as he revealed first one inch, then another, then another, then --
"What ... the ... fuck ... is ... THAT!?"
Jay had been watching too. I turned and hoped to see him in a state of nakedness whereby I could do a quick compare and contrast of the identical twins' plumbing, but ...
"Or, Justin, I should say, what ... the ... fuck .. ISN'T .. that?"
I had been focusing on Justin's dick, so it hadn't quite hit me. But when I spun my head back around I saw it right away. Justin had no public hair. None whatsoever. The brainy teen's penis might've been just a touch smaller than Jay's, but with no hair down there, it looked floppy, big, and ready to meet my mouth. As for Justin's balls, they looked delicious in their hairless state and swayed just like his brother's. And yes, the left one was larger than the right.
"Some of us try to stay nice and tidy, bro'. Unlike you, you slob."
"Fuck you."
What happened next has been jackoff material for me for more than 20 years. Justin, with neither clothes nor public hair, charged his twin brother, knocked him to the honeymoon suite's floor, and straddled the bare chested baseball player's torso. I watched Jay's lightly haired legs squirm as Justin's genitalia drooped and swayed. I moved to the side just in time to see the head of Justin's naked penis barely touch the top of the shortstop's abdomen, which heaved with each of Jay's annoyed breaths.
When Justin crawled on his knees toward his twin brother's head, I could not believe my eyes. Justin's erection, unlike Jay's, seemed to get longer before it got firmer. A LOT longer. It swayed back and forth just an inch or two from Jay's chin. I think I came a little when I realized that Jay was not pinned to the carpeting at all. Justin's legs were spread very wide and were on the floor just below Jay's shoulders. The muscular shortstop could've launched his twin to the other side of the room if he had wanted to.
"You want it Jay-Jay I know you do."
"Fuck you fag."
"Why don't you get it over with and see what a real one tastes like, instead of microwaving polish sausages and bringing them to your room."
"Who told you about that?"
"Jeremy. He caught you, he said. But why you left the door open, I have no idea."
"That was three fucking years ago. You and I were just fifteen, and he wasn't supposed to be home, and he's a little twerp, the shithead. I'm going to kill him. He wasn't supposed to --"
"Well, you got me earlier by letting Stu here know about me and the leaning-against-the-clothes-dryer bit."
"Yes, but I --"
"So it's only fair that Stu here learns a little bit about both of us, Mr. Shortstop Who Thinks He's So Straight."
"Fuck you."
"You're a switch hitter, and you know it."
"I bat right."
Justin glanced at me to see if I got it. I did, but apparently Jay hadn't.
"I mean, Jay-Jay, look. Having girls jack you off in their parents' car does sound sort of hot. And muscle magazines are one thing. Fine. Get your rocks off lookin' at studs even while you're trying to get past third base with the ladies. Sounds hot. But heating up polish sausages and then looking at muscle magazines at the same time? And arranging it so your 11-year-old brother catches you with a microwaved sausage in your mouth? Now that, Jay-Jay, is kinky!"
It was on the sixth time that I saw Justin's floppy penis brush against Jay's chin that I know a large glob of precum stained my shorts. But by then Jay had decided that he had to decide that he had had enough. The shortstop grabbed his brother by the bare balls, squeezed hard, and launched the naked twin from his torso. I wanted to caress both Jay and those bare balls, to make sure all were OK.
Justin chuckled as he put his arms around his knees and let his droopy penis and testicles brush against the honeymoon suit's carpeting. I was ready to come, no doubt about it.
"Was it good for you, Jay?"
"Shut the fuck up."
"Jay-Jay, you gotta loosen up, man. Go with the flooow."
"I don't smoke weed like you, you fruit."
"Maybe you should."
Jay made a charge toward his twin brother but backed off when there was a knock at the door. Justin got into his swimming trunks as quickly as he had gotten out of his shirt, but Jay froze as a nice Mexican lady wheeled in a rollaway and seemed to be praying in Spanish upon seeing three late teen guys -- one complete dressed, one in a swimming suit, and one just in boxer sorts -- in the honeymoon suite.
As the lady began unfolding the bed, Jay grabbed his suit, headed for the bathroom, and locked the door. We were out of there within two minutes, and three minutes later we were in a pool area that we had to ourselves. Jeremy was wondering what had taken us so long and asked why Jay's chest was all red. Barry told him to be quiet and get in the pool.
I, meanwhile, headed for the sauna. Thankfully Jay followed me in, but we had about 10 seconds of privacy before Jeremy joined us. About all I could do was talk baseball and realize Jay's suit was tighter than Justin's and that his soft penis still tended to hang to the left. After what seemed like 14 minutes, the 14-year-old realized how boring we were and headed to horse around with his other older brother in the pool.
Finally, there we were, alone, side by side, naked from the waist up. I bit my lower lip as I fixated on the beads of sweat running from Jay's temples and also from his toned abs onto his swimming suit's waistband. It had been a day of baseball, but there also had been an undercurrent of unexplored sexual tension, which for me had become something other than an undercurrent upon seeing Jay not really try to resist his naked brother's assaults in the suite.
We had to talk about this. At least I did. Jay and I had jacked each other off, with Jay's dad and little brother in the hotel room for crying out loud. In the grand scheme of my sexual life, the mutual masturbation could be seen as "just a couple handjobs," but at the time, it was a big, big deal for me. And also extremely hot. I needed to know whether the sexual contact was a beginning, or an ending.
"Quite a day, eh Jay?"
"I'll say. Isn't Chicago great?"
"Yeah."
Jay was silent and looked ahead straight, waiting for me to take the lead. I spoke next, very softly.
"Last night was great, Jay."
Jay unstraightened his gaze and looked me right in the eyes. They were shifting back and forth again, in that way they shifted when he was trying to figure out both me and himself.
"Stu, I --"
"It's OK."
"Stu, let me finish. I also, um, liked it."
Relief enveloped my body, but seconds later I felt a different sort of tension upon learning how complex and mysterious the 18-year-old jock seemed to be.
"Jay, I wouldn't say no to doing it or something like it again. How 'bout you, bud?"
"I guess not."
"You guess not?"
"I've been thinking about it all day, off and on."
"Me too."
"And trying to figure it out. I mean, Stu, look. I love girls. You too, right? I mean, you saw that chick at the stadium first. She was frigging hot."
"Yeah. I do. And she was hot."
"They turn me on. Lots of them do, Stu. Shit, just the thought of screwing that one we saw makes me hard right now, right here."
I looked down and saw Jay wasn't lying. In a flash, I started to get hard at the thought of Jay's seven-inch erection sliding in and out of that hot babe at the stadium.
"Me too. But Jay, I've let you know where I'm at. At least I think I have. And it seems to change day to day. I like girls, but I really like guys too. Today I really like them." I paused, but I had to say it. I HAD to. "I really like you. Specifically."
Upon finally getting oral confirmation of what I knew Jay knew, the ballplayer diverted his gaze from my eyes to his forearms as he squeezed perspiration onto his thighs. Making eye contact with me was not going to be an option as Jay struggled to explain himself in light of my confession.
"See, Stu, ahem. I like guys. Sort of. Sometimes. And you, I like you, in that way, it's true. You're the only one who knows it, who knows this about me."
"You might be surprised."
"What do you mean?"
"Never mind."
"See, it's in a different way for me, I think."
"How so?"
"OK, if somebody comes in, we stop talkin' about this. But here we go. I'll answer your question with a question, one I think I know the answer of. OK?"
"OK."
"After you were done, last night, how did you feel?"
"In the bathroom, I wanted to --"
"No, in bed. After you came. With me. How did you feel?"
"Great! It was awesome, Jay. It was super. I liked every bit of it."
"But I mean, how did you feel, what were your feelings like, like toward me? Afterward? After you blew your stuff? Be honest."
I paused and realized this was a turning point not just in my life, and Jay's life, but in our life.
"Jay, look. I felt really, really, REALLY attracted to you. Like we had shared something that just regular friends don't."
Jay looked me right in the eyes, deeper than he ever had. I broke the gaze to make sure he was still hard. He was, and that fact, plus the sight of sweat running down the shortstop's still-tanned pecs, made me pretty much fully erect too.
"See, Stu, after I come, after I came, last night, it's different."
"How?"
"Don't take this wrong, but I couldn't wait to get out of bed and clean up. Get away from the situation."
"So you weren't attracted to me, afterward?"
"I wouldn't say that, exactly. I was happy I had made you feel good, because you're my friend, and that's what friends do, right? But it's weird. And it's not just you."
"What do you mean."
"When I, you know, jack off?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, I've never told anybody this, or admitted it. But I do think about guys sometimes. A lot of the time, actually. Guys on the team. Now, guys on the dorm floor. In high school, even a band nerd or two. Even a student teacher we had a couple years ago, even though he was older. But at the end, when I'm ready to come?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm usually thinking about girls. Not always, but usually. Sometimes my girlfriend, sometimes a cousin, to be perfectly honest. It's like, guys help me get hard, but when it comes time to blow my stuff, it's a girl I want to blow it into. And if I'm thinking about a girl, at that exact time, it seems to shoot farther, it's more intense."
"Wow. That is different."
"When I come while thinking about a guy, it doesn't shoot as far. Not usually, anyway, unless it's been a few days. And I feel sort of, like, I don't know, wrong. Like it's not meant to be, not what God intended. Guilty, I guess."
"Huh."
"Let's just say that last night, if I had come first, I don't think I would have put my head under the covers to watch you come, like I did. And I'll be honest with you, because I still had to blast my stuff, it was cool."
"That was hot, with you down there, your head on my chest. That really turned me on, Jay."
"It's hot, Stu. Literally. I couldn't believe how warm it was, when it hit my face. I always wondered what a girl might feel if I came on her like that. Now I know, I guess."
"Sorry about that. But take girls out of the picture. Did you like it, just experiencing it, having me do it, having me shoot stuff all over your face?"
"Yes Stu, at the time, because I hadn't come yet." Jay smiled like I had never seen him smile before. "And you came in my mouth, Stu."
"I thought so. Sorry."
"No, it was good, at the time. I've been tasting it, or trying to remember what you tasted like, all day. Sorry, that's gross."
"No it's not. It's hot."
A familiar seven-inch lump appeared along Jay's left thigh as I started to massage myself through my shorts. Just then, Justin joined us in the sauna, eyes on our crotches, gaydar on full tilt.
"Ah, boys, getting to know each other, I see."
"Fuck you, dork."
"Isn't he awful, Stu? I've put up with this for all these years. And isn't he in denial? Jay-Jay, you sure say the word fuck a lot for a guy who hasn't fucked anybody."
"Shut the fuck up."
"See?
"I have too!"
"That chick who sucked you off in the car? You didn't fuck her, and you know it."
"Well, we almost did."
"Sort of hard to fuck her when you blast your jizz into her mouth without warning, and then break up with her. That's just bad form, man."
"Well, that was sex. Who've you screwed, gay boy?"
"Wouldn't you like to know."
"Tell me."
"In your dreams, bro'. Somebody you know. I'll just say that."
"Who?"
"Never mind." Justin's eyes went back to my lumpy crotch, and his advice continued. "Look, Iowa boys, why don't you two just get it on and get it over with." I felt the blood rush to my head as Justin continued. "I'll take the rollaway."
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh good lord. The two of you are utterly amazing, especially you, Jay-Jay. Stop thinking so hard, bro', stop thinking about what people think. You are who you are, man. Let it hang! I'll just sit back and watch cable while you two enjoy the honeymoon suite."
"Fuck you."
"No, fuck Stu, Jay. Or do something, for crying out loud."
"How do you know we haven't?"
After making that comment, the twins' eyes were on me, and the sauna fell silent. So without a word, I wiped sweat from my arms, wadded up a towel and held it in a strategic position, and led the two brown-eyed 18-year-old identical twins toward a night that I will never forget as long as I live.
Part XXXI
As Jay, Justin, Jeremy, Barry and I rode down the elevator for a day at the ballpark, I wanted to stop it midway, throw all but Jay off, and have a heart-to-heart with my mutual masturbation friend who clearly was more than a mutual masturbation friend.
It wasn't to be, but once we hit the streets of Chicago my thoughts weren't centered so much on getting into the 18-year-old shortstop's head or even his pants. It was a Saturday morning in September, and Chicago was on fire. My glimpse of Chicago was much different than I had expected. The sidewalks had more poodles than cracks, trendy stores blended right in with the apartment buildings and condos, and we looked underdressed in our jerseys and baseball caps.
We spent an hour or so on what I was told was Chicago's Gold Coast, where nine years later a disturbing crime occurred. It was 1997, and a young man named Andrew Cunanan -- who, like me, was struggling with life in general and how to express sexuality in particular -- went on a killing spree that reached from Minneapolis to rural to Minnesota to Chicago, where a married 72-year-old real estate developer was among Cunanan's sexual customers and victims. The prostitute went on to murder another man in New Jersey before committing one of the most high-profile slayings of the 1990s: that of fashion designer Gianni Versace in Miami. Eight days later, Cunanan was dead. And let's just say the circumstances got me thinking.
But this was 1988, I was just 19, gay prostitutes were the furthest thing from my mind, and the Gold Coast was all a-glitter. It was just after 11 when Barry ushered Jay, Justin, Jeremy, and me into Chicago's underground and handed each of us an El token. "El," I learned, stood for elevated, as in Elevated train, and when I exhibited my confusion about catching an Elevated train underground, Justin said to "just wait."
Seconds later a string of silver cars groaned to a stop and I got on a subway for the very first time. I could not stop scanning the mix of people. There were plenty of whites and more blacks than I had ever seen, but what really stuck me were those who were neither, who were in between.
One such guy with milk chocolate skin was right in front of me. He was about my age, and smelled like shower and hair gel, and seemed to want his hair to be straight. But it did not want to be straight. His nose was broad but his face chiseled, sort of like Jay's actually, with a tight jaw that culminated in just the right place at his neck. The guy seemed to have more white in him than black, but he dressed like I had seen black guys dress on TV. The only thing clear to me was that the young man was FINE! Gorgeous, really. I remember him to this day, and looking back on it, there was no question that he had taken the best aspects of his white parent and his black parent.
The streetwise young man saw me stare with wonder at his crotch, so I switched to his eyes but I still could not avert my gaze. They were green! Green eyes on a black guy! I felt my male juices stir as the streetwise Chicago teen dismissed me as yet another ignorant tourist.
It was as the subway became the El when the light came on and I started really feeling the pain of trying to conform to the American tendency of putting everything in one of two buckets. On or off. Black or white. A or B. Democrat or Republican. Christian or doomed. With us or against us.
Gay or straight.
* * *
Barry's plan was for us to get lunch at a table for five near Wrigley, but the restaurants were jammed so we had to settle for hot dogs, chips, and -- honest to God -- popsicles from food carts outside the stadium. As I watched Justin's brown eyes get wide with every suck on his rainbow-colored frozen treat, I had what remains to this day as the weirdest, most vivid, maybe most disturbing deja vu moments of life.
Once inside Wrigley we had great seats, about 20 rows up midway between home plate and third base. The fabled stadium was even better than I had even imagined. The food, the breeze, the ivy, the knowledgeable fans. The only dark spot was when one of those fans threw a beer on Justin's White Sox jersey. But the gay twin brushed it off with not a bit of swish, told the prick to screw himself, invited him to "come watch a game on the South Side where real men go, you asshole." It was an outward toughness and aggressiveness that would, quite literally, save the gay man's life when challenged by gay bashers years later.
After the game, we took the El to Chinatown on Justin's suggestion and ended up at a round table for five with one of those turntable things in the middle. Jeremy ate by far the most, and by the time we got back to the hotel he claimed still to be hungry.
Not until then did I remember Barry had gotten us a second room. But my heart sank as Barry checked at the front as I heard the clerk say there had been "a mixup" and all the bonus rooms were full. But when the assistant manager overheard what was going on and recognized Barry as a regular, the smooth-talking dad ended up with a key to a room on the very top floor.
"Here guys." Barry tossed the key to Justin. "You, Jay, and Stu take it. Housekeeping says they'll bring up a rollaway bed. Then it can sleep three. So stop by the room, pick up your stuff, and we'll meet you in the pool while they do their thing."
Sleep three? Must be a broom closet, I thought to myself. With my luck, the twins will take the double bed and I'll be left all alone. But at least they had swimming suits to put on, so if the surroundings were tight, at least I'd get a close look at their privates ...
* * *
Opening the door of the bonus room was one of the most shocking experiences of my life. It was a suite -- a freaking honeymoon suite, with a king-size bed, lush robes, box of chocolates and all. The next morning we'd learn of the pain that was our gain, of a groom who had been left at the altar by his cheating bride. But on that night, the chilled champagne and whirlpool were ours.
I, unlike the twins, had forgotten my suit, but I was wearing shorts and boxers so figured they'd do. But because I had gotten hung up looking at the prices in the the room-service menu, I almost missed what I had been waiting to see: Justin undressed. By the time I realized what was going on, Jay's identical twin was bare from the waist up and on the way to pushing down his black trousers. Jay was right: their chests were pretty much the same, though Justin's was not as tanned or quite as buff.
I had no undressing to do, and my developing sense of gaydar told me that Justin would not mind, so I watched the brown-eyed teen slip out of his pants and linger in a way that Justin's gaydar told him was torture for me.
Justin flashed me a dimpled grin and raised his eyebrows twice. His brown eyes looked just like Jay's, minus the sexual confusion. Justin looked confident, sexy, teasing. He knew what I wanted, and he knew how to play with me.
What a fucker.
Over the previous few weeks, I had seen Jay's lovely penis many times -- in the dorm shower, Dr. Fitzgerald's office, and even my dorm room. But it had been less than 24 hours since I had first touched, and remarkably, made it come. My groin was on fire as I yearned to see Justin's too, to confirm what Jay had told me: that he and his identical twin were pretty much identical in the penis and testicles department.
Justin fished down his boxers perhaps two inches, brought the undies back up, and did it again and again and again. Finally, very slowly, he lowered his boxers to the very top of his dick and I held my breath waiting to see something marvelously familiar and quite honestly delicious. My eyes were fixated on the tube of Justin's soft penis as he revealed first one inch, then another, then another, then --
"What ... the ... fuck ... is ... THAT!?"
Jay had been watching too. I turned and hoped to see him in a state of nakedness whereby I could do a quick compare and contrast of the identical twins' plumbing, but ...
"Or, Justin, I should say, what ... the ... fuck .. ISN'T .. that?"
I had been focusing on Justin's dick, so it hadn't quite hit me. But when I spun my head back around I saw it right away. Justin had no public hair. None whatsoever. The brainy teen's penis might've been just a touch smaller than Jay's, but with no hair down there, it looked floppy, big, and ready to meet my mouth. As for Justin's balls, they looked delicious in their hairless state and swayed just like his brother's. And yes, the left one was larger than the right.
"Some of us try to stay nice and tidy, bro'. Unlike you, you slob."
"Fuck you."
What happened next has been jackoff material for me for more than 20 years. Justin, with neither clothes nor public hair, charged his twin brother, knocked him to the honeymoon suite's floor, and straddled the bare chested baseball player's torso. I watched Jay's lightly haired legs squirm as Justin's genitalia drooped and swayed. I moved to the side just in time to see the head of Justin's naked penis barely touch the top of the shortstop's abdomen, which heaved with each of Jay's annoyed breaths.
When Justin crawled on his knees toward his twin brother's head, I could not believe my eyes. Justin's erection, unlike Jay's, seemed to get longer before it got firmer. A LOT longer. It swayed back and forth just an inch or two from Jay's chin. I think I came a little when I realized that Jay was not pinned to the carpeting at all. Justin's legs were spread very wide and were on the floor just below Jay's shoulders. The muscular shortstop could've launched his twin to the other side of the room if he had wanted to.
"You want it Jay-Jay I know you do."
"Fuck you fag."
"Why don't you get it over with and see what a real one tastes like, instead of microwaving polish sausages and bringing them to your room."
"Who told you about that?"
"Jeremy. He caught you, he said. But why you left the door open, I have no idea."
"That was three fucking years ago. You and I were just fifteen, and he wasn't supposed to be home, and he's a little twerp, the shithead. I'm going to kill him. He wasn't supposed to --"
"Well, you got me earlier by letting Stu here know about me and the leaning-against-the-clothes-dryer bit."
"Yes, but I --"
"So it's only fair that Stu here learns a little bit about both of us, Mr. Shortstop Who Thinks He's So Straight."
"Fuck you."
"You're a switch hitter, and you know it."
"I bat right."
Justin glanced at me to see if I got it. I did, but apparently Jay hadn't.
"I mean, Jay-Jay, look. Having girls jack you off in their parents' car does sound sort of hot. And muscle magazines are one thing. Fine. Get your rocks off lookin' at studs even while you're trying to get past third base with the ladies. Sounds hot. But heating up polish sausages and then looking at muscle magazines at the same time? And arranging it so your 11-year-old brother catches you with a microwaved sausage in your mouth? Now that, Jay-Jay, is kinky!"
It was on the sixth time that I saw Justin's floppy penis brush against Jay's chin that I know a large glob of precum stained my shorts. But by then Jay had decided that he had to decide that he had had enough. The shortstop grabbed his brother by the bare balls, squeezed hard, and launched the naked twin from his torso. I wanted to caress both Jay and those bare balls, to make sure all were OK.
Justin chuckled as he put his arms around his knees and let his droopy penis and testicles brush against the honeymoon suit's carpeting. I was ready to come, no doubt about it.
"Was it good for you, Jay?"
"Shut the fuck up."
"Jay-Jay, you gotta loosen up, man. Go with the flooow."
"I don't smoke weed like you, you fruit."
"Maybe you should."
Jay made a charge toward his twin brother but backed off when there was a knock at the door. Justin got into his swimming trunks as quickly as he had gotten out of his shirt, but Jay froze as a nice Mexican lady wheeled in a rollaway and seemed to be praying in Spanish upon seeing three late teen guys -- one complete dressed, one in a swimming suit, and one just in boxer sorts -- in the honeymoon suite.
As the lady began unfolding the bed, Jay grabbed his suit, headed for the bathroom, and locked the door. We were out of there within two minutes, and three minutes later we were in a pool area that we had to ourselves. Jeremy was wondering what had taken us so long and asked why Jay's chest was all red. Barry told him to be quiet and get in the pool.
I, meanwhile, headed for the sauna. Thankfully Jay followed me in, but we had about 10 seconds of privacy before Jeremy joined us. About all I could do was talk baseball and realize Jay's suit was tighter than Justin's and that his soft penis still tended to hang to the left. After what seemed like 14 minutes, the 14-year-old realized how boring we were and headed to horse around with his other older brother in the pool.
Finally, there we were, alone, side by side, naked from the waist up. I bit my lower lip as I fixated on the beads of sweat running from Jay's temples and also from his toned abs onto his swimming suit's waistband. It had been a day of baseball, but there also had been an undercurrent of unexplored sexual tension, which for me had become something other than an undercurrent upon seeing Jay not really try to resist his naked brother's assaults in the suite.
We had to talk about this. At least I did. Jay and I had jacked each other off, with Jay's dad and little brother in the hotel room for crying out loud. In the grand scheme of my sexual life, the mutual masturbation could be seen as "just a couple handjobs," but at the time, it was a big, big deal for me. And also extremely hot. I needed to know whether the sexual contact was a beginning, or an ending.
"Quite a day, eh Jay?"
"I'll say. Isn't Chicago great?"
"Yeah."
Jay was silent and looked ahead straight, waiting for me to take the lead. I spoke next, very softly.
"Last night was great, Jay."
Jay unstraightened his gaze and looked me right in the eyes. They were shifting back and forth again, in that way they shifted when he was trying to figure out both me and himself.
"Stu, I --"
"It's OK."
"Stu, let me finish. I also, um, liked it."
Relief enveloped my body, but seconds later I felt a different sort of tension upon learning how complex and mysterious the 18-year-old jock seemed to be.
"Jay, I wouldn't say no to doing it or something like it again. How 'bout you, bud?"
"I guess not."
"You guess not?"
"I've been thinking about it all day, off and on."
"Me too."
"And trying to figure it out. I mean, Stu, look. I love girls. You too, right? I mean, you saw that chick at the stadium first. She was frigging hot."
"Yeah. I do. And she was hot."
"They turn me on. Lots of them do, Stu. Shit, just the thought of screwing that one we saw makes me hard right now, right here."
I looked down and saw Jay wasn't lying. In a flash, I started to get hard at the thought of Jay's seven-inch erection sliding in and out of that hot babe at the stadium.
"Me too. But Jay, I've let you know where I'm at. At least I think I have. And it seems to change day to day. I like girls, but I really like guys too. Today I really like them." I paused, but I had to say it. I HAD to. "I really like you. Specifically."
Upon finally getting oral confirmation of what I knew Jay knew, the ballplayer diverted his gaze from my eyes to his forearms as he squeezed perspiration onto his thighs. Making eye contact with me was not going to be an option as Jay struggled to explain himself in light of my confession.
"See, Stu, ahem. I like guys. Sort of. Sometimes. And you, I like you, in that way, it's true. You're the only one who knows it, who knows this about me."
"You might be surprised."
"What do you mean?"
"Never mind."
"See, it's in a different way for me, I think."
"How so?"
"OK, if somebody comes in, we stop talkin' about this. But here we go. I'll answer your question with a question, one I think I know the answer of. OK?"
"OK."
"After you were done, last night, how did you feel?"
"In the bathroom, I wanted to --"
"No, in bed. After you came. With me. How did you feel?"
"Great! It was awesome, Jay. It was super. I liked every bit of it."
"But I mean, how did you feel, what were your feelings like, like toward me? Afterward? After you blew your stuff? Be honest."
I paused and realized this was a turning point not just in my life, and Jay's life, but in our life.
"Jay, look. I felt really, really, REALLY attracted to you. Like we had shared something that just regular friends don't."
Jay looked me right in the eyes, deeper than he ever had. I broke the gaze to make sure he was still hard. He was, and that fact, plus the sight of sweat running down the shortstop's still-tanned pecs, made me pretty much fully erect too.
"See, Stu, after I come, after I came, last night, it's different."
"How?"
"Don't take this wrong, but I couldn't wait to get out of bed and clean up. Get away from the situation."
"So you weren't attracted to me, afterward?"
"I wouldn't say that, exactly. I was happy I had made you feel good, because you're my friend, and that's what friends do, right? But it's weird. And it's not just you."
"What do you mean."
"When I, you know, jack off?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, I've never told anybody this, or admitted it. But I do think about guys sometimes. A lot of the time, actually. Guys on the team. Now, guys on the dorm floor. In high school, even a band nerd or two. Even a student teacher we had a couple years ago, even though he was older. But at the end, when I'm ready to come?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm usually thinking about girls. Not always, but usually. Sometimes my girlfriend, sometimes a cousin, to be perfectly honest. It's like, guys help me get hard, but when it comes time to blow my stuff, it's a girl I want to blow it into. And if I'm thinking about a girl, at that exact time, it seems to shoot farther, it's more intense."
"Wow. That is different."
"When I come while thinking about a guy, it doesn't shoot as far. Not usually, anyway, unless it's been a few days. And I feel sort of, like, I don't know, wrong. Like it's not meant to be, not what God intended. Guilty, I guess."
"Huh."
"Let's just say that last night, if I had come first, I don't think I would have put my head under the covers to watch you come, like I did. And I'll be honest with you, because I still had to blast my stuff, it was cool."
"That was hot, with you down there, your head on my chest. That really turned me on, Jay."
"It's hot, Stu. Literally. I couldn't believe how warm it was, when it hit my face. I always wondered what a girl might feel if I came on her like that. Now I know, I guess."
"Sorry about that. But take girls out of the picture. Did you like it, just experiencing it, having me do it, having me shoot stuff all over your face?"
"Yes Stu, at the time, because I hadn't come yet." Jay smiled like I had never seen him smile before. "And you came in my mouth, Stu."
"I thought so. Sorry."
"No, it was good, at the time. I've been tasting it, or trying to remember what you tasted like, all day. Sorry, that's gross."
"No it's not. It's hot."
A familiar seven-inch lump appeared along Jay's left thigh as I started to massage myself through my shorts. Just then, Justin joined us in the sauna, eyes on our crotches, gaydar on full tilt.
"Ah, boys, getting to know each other, I see."
"Fuck you, dork."
"Isn't he awful, Stu? I've put up with this for all these years. And isn't he in denial? Jay-Jay, you sure say the word fuck a lot for a guy who hasn't fucked anybody."
"Shut the fuck up."
"See?
"I have too!"
"That chick who sucked you off in the car? You didn't fuck her, and you know it."
"Well, we almost did."
"Sort of hard to fuck her when you blast your jizz into her mouth without warning, and then break up with her. That's just bad form, man."
"Well, that was sex. Who've you screwed, gay boy?"
"Wouldn't you like to know."
"Tell me."
"In your dreams, bro'. Somebody you know. I'll just say that."
"Who?"
"Never mind." Justin's eyes went back to my lumpy crotch, and his advice continued. "Look, Iowa boys, why don't you two just get it on and get it over with." I felt the blood rush to my head as Justin continued. "I'll take the rollaway."
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh good lord. The two of you are utterly amazing, especially you, Jay-Jay. Stop thinking so hard, bro', stop thinking about what people think. You are who you are, man. Let it hang! I'll just sit back and watch cable while you two enjoy the honeymoon suite."
"Fuck you."
"No, fuck Stu, Jay. Or do something, for crying out loud."
"How do you know we haven't?"
After making that comment, the twins' eyes were on me, and the sauna fell silent. So without a word, I wiped sweat from my arms, wadded up a towel and held it in a strategic position, and led the two brown-eyed 18-year-old identical twins toward a night that I will never forget as long as I live.
SFCFML,
You have become the master of the build-up.
And what's built-up in my shorts needs some attention, after that great chapter.
Justin certainly is comfortable in his own skin, as much as Jay isn't. That was a very interesting confession. Guys make him hot, but girls make his climax supernova.
And how much longer are we going to have to wait for the night to begin? They're in the sauna and pool now. Do we still have dinner with Dad and kid bro to deal with, or are we zooming "straight" to the climax?!
Thanks, again, for expending all this effort to bring a little excitement to our lives.
C,est magnifique'!
(Or something like that!)
You have become the master of the build-up.
And what's built-up in my shorts needs some attention, after that great chapter.
Justin certainly is comfortable in his own skin, as much as Jay isn't. That was a very interesting confession. Guys make him hot, but girls make his climax supernova.
And how much longer are we going to have to wait for the night to begin? They're in the sauna and pool now. Do we still have dinner with Dad and kid bro to deal with, or are we zooming "straight" to the climax?!
Thanks, again, for expending all this effort to bring a little excitement to our lives.
C,est magnifique'!
(Or something like that!)
sfcfml
On the Prowl
I know, I'm terrible. Sometimes I can't stand myself and this desire I have for build-up. Please don't kill me.
In partial answer to your question, dear loyal and horny Don Q and my other faithful readers, here's a sentence I wrote two minutes ago in what will be, yes, the very next part, I promise:
"As I pulled at the curls with my teeth, I felt the shortstop's seven-inch erection snake along the side of my cheek."
In partial answer to your question, dear loyal and horny Don Q and my other faithful readers, here's a sentence I wrote two minutes ago in what will be, yes, the very next part, I promise:
"As I pulled at the curls with my teeth, I felt the shortstop's seven-inch erection snake along the side of my cheek."
Ooooh La La, mon cherie!
My shorts are getting damp just from the "sneak preview" LOL
My mind will be running rampant all afternoon and evening.
I'll be lucky if I can focus on the Bride and Groom later this afternoon!
You are a TEASE of MAJOR Proportions!
My shorts are getting damp just from the "sneak preview" LOL
My mind will be running rampant all afternoon and evening.
I'll be lucky if I can focus on the Bride and Groom later this afternoon!
You are a TEASE of MAJOR Proportions!
