Best-Friend Fantasy Comes True

[hardreader]

Man, you just don't let up. Chptr XXXIV was so fucking hot. And it is so good to see these two guys finding their way, with a little help from a twin.

 

[Bodhi1]

Scorching hot chapter!!! First fuck - and still wearing his full uniform! Great writing and descriptive skills! I am really looking forward to the next chapter .... and the next .... etc ...

 

[ooosunny]

wow...this story is hot! Makes this bi/curious guy more curious!

 

[sheep]

I sure hope this story is still happening. I'm really enjoying your writing style. Humour, sexual tension, sex -- everything. Your people descriptions are incredibly complex.
I just left the guys blowing their loads at the doctors office but wanted to say thanks for a great story.

 

[dylanwhite82]

Cant wait for the next part! hurrry!

 

[leokitty]

Yes, more please. This story is hot and takes me back to a fun time in my life....LOVE IT!

 

[hardreader]

I've just finished Chapter 36 -- the second medical exam for Jay -- and needless to say I am rock hard and leaking and my relief is . . . Where is my relief? Still a chapter away! That's cruel! You're cruel! Get me all fucking worked up like this and now I'm out of time to read the next chapter for awhile. Man, you know how to tease a guy something aweful.

 

[sheep]

I was saving the last chapter for emergency use only. Today I had an emergency. My hormones acted like a teens. I needed relief. So I'm all caught up now. Waiting for more. The character development is superb.
The twins playing with each other saved me having to take matters into my own hands so to speak.
Stu needs to fuck jay-jay. The boy has to find out there are better things than fingers to put in his ass.

 

[DonQuixote]

Hey, Sheep, ol' buddy ol' pal,
Don't Sugar coat it for us.
Tell us it straight up! LOL

 

[thegeminiguy]

Wow. This is a truely amazing story. Cant wait for more!

 

[sfcfml]

Part XXVIII

The phone woke me up, but it was nearly nine. On the first ring, I noticed that Jay's stinky baseball jersey was still next to me, caked with the dried cum I had blasted on it a minute after the Freshmen had had an orgasm inside my rectum.

Remarkably, it had been the first time Jay had ever ejaculated into another person. Even more remarkably for Jay, the ejaculation had come inside a man, not a woman.

After it was over, Jay seemed relieved but also embarrassed, and true to form the shortstop scampered back to his dorm room in short order. But he had left his cum-soaked jersey behind. On the second ring of the phone, I realized how much I wanted more than that to stay. I yearned for Jay. Not just his cum.

I picked up the call on the third ring. It ended up being Dana, the girl who'd caught my eye, who was friends with Terry, and whose dad was pushing her to be a doctor when what she really wanted to be was a musician.

As I examined the pattern of dried semen on Jay's sports garment, my voice croaked as I began the first conversation of the day and started feeling sort of straight as I tried not to let on that my asshole hurt like a son of a bitch.

The reason of Dana's call was to invite me to a Wednesday Bible study. Terry would be there, she said. I have to admit, as I was wiping the sleep out of my eyes and feeling pain in my butt, I did take it as a sign from God.

So I said yes, that I'd be at the Bible study.

The next time the phone rang was when I was heading out to class. I knew who it was.

"Hello?"

"Stu, it's Kirk."

"I thought it might be you. What's the news?"

"The news, my friend, is, is --"

He didn't need to say it. I could practically feel my best friend's full-throated sobs through the phone line. Kirk managed to tell me that the cancer had spread into his mom's lungs, that things looked bad, and that there wasn't much that the doctors could do.

I promised to come home that weekend, to spend some time with my bud, to resume our heart-to-heart relationship that, looking back on it, was certainly unusual but definitely refreshing.

I also promised Kirk I'd do something I had never promised to do in my life.

Pray.

* * *

I knelt at the side of my bed as I began to address the Almightly.

Dear God, I know I haven't talked to you in a while, maybe since Sunday school. For that I'm really, really sorry.

But I need to ask you a favor. My friend Kirk, my best friend, I think, is really, really hurting. Well, his mom's hurting, but I'm sure you know that. And why do you do that? Not to offend, but, anyway, God? Kirk's been through a lot. I mean, so have I, what with my dad dying, and I've been meaning to talk to you about that too. But I mean, Kirk, it's not fair.

I know he's Catholic, and I learned in Sunday school that that means he can't talk to you directly, but has to go through Mary. Or maybe it's Jesus. Or the priest, in the little booths? I forget which. Anyway, I'm not Catholic, so I thought I'd talk to you directly, and ask you to please take this away from him, and make his mom better?

God, you know that Kirk and I are good buddies. I haven't been the best person in the world lately, frienship-wise toward him. And I think you know why.

I was waiting for God to say Jay's name, but (s)he didn't.

Yeah, OK, Jay and I, we've been goofing around.

I paused.

OK, well, we've been more than goofing around, and if it's not OK with you, or my dad up there, could you please let me know, send me a sign or something? I mean, I know, Jay and I, or any two guys, can't fuck and -- oh my God, sorry! I mean, two guys can't have, um, sex, and end up with babies.

And that's why they said in Sunday school that two guys living together isn't what God -- I mean, you -- intended.

So I guess I just need some clarification on that.

And so I guess I need some help too, God. I know, I'm asking a lot, and I only come to you when I have problems. But, well, um ...

Amen.

* * *

The night was quiet. My student-athletes were actually studying. And I honestly think God sent me a sign.

Write a note, God said. So I did.

Jay,

I've never written anything like this before. I just wanted to let you know that I'm really glad you're on my dorm floor, and that I know you, and glad that we're friends. I really appreciated you taking me to Chicago, and Wrigley, and meeting your dad and brothers. Really, thanks a lot. It was a blast.

I know it's hard for you to say what you're feeling sometimes, so if you want to write, for sure I'd read it.

That part came easy. The next part didn't.

Jay, about the stuff we've been doing, I like it, a lot, and more than I thought I would. And OK, I want to do it again. And don't worry, I'll keep it a secret. Nobody on the floor or your team will know. I just have to let you know this. What I need to let you know is that I do think of you as much more than a friend. I know, this might be really weird to hear from another guy. But I thought you should know.

Your (more than) friend
Stu

I folded the letter in half, stapled it, and placed it on my desk. I knew what had to come next.

I fished Jay's jersey from the floor and laid it out on the wool blanket on my bed. Within 30 seconds, I was naked, with my knees on the scratchy wool, and my bare chest on the coarse fabric of the baseball jersey. I pretended that my pillow contained brown eyes, and that coy smile, and those dimples, and his tender lips. As I tongued at the pillow, I imagined Jay's erection growing into mine, and I put my palms on the back of his jersey and imagined the feel of his back.

Then I went down on Jay, just a bit. The scent under the arms was still strong, absolutely intoxicating, completely arousing. Musky, sweaty, athletic. 100 percent young male athlete. I ignored my own caked cum and tongued at the garment, fantasizing that the fabric felt like what underarm hair would feel like. I imagined that the shortstop had put his arms around my bare chest, and was pressing his hard dick into my groin as I did the same to him.

But fuck, the jersey! What a turn-on knowing that the shortstop's muscled arms had been in that garment, that he had been wearing it at the very moment he had plowed his 7-inch dick into my behind.

Suddenly my palm became Jay's rectum. There was no need to spit in it. My precum was lubricant enough. I didn't care that (as I would later learn) the position I was in was completely unworkable for giving intercourse to another guy for the first time. I didn't care I was making the bed bounce in an almost unavoidable way. I didn't care that I hadn't planned ahead to prevent my grandmother's wool blanket from getting a steamy deposit.

At that moment, with my divinely inspired love letter to Jay written and on my desk, I cared about the shortstop and not much else. I felt my penis convulse and squeezed the tip hard, imagining that it was the tight fit of an ass more accustomed to running bases than getting screwed. I fucked and fucked, and when the moment came I tried to contain as much of it as I could, as the shortstop's butt or at least a condom would do. I imagined that with each spasm, I was sending a message of love to the 18-year-old over whom I had fantasized, then jacked off, then sucked, and amazingly fucked.

It was a very good orgasm but not great. Had I not restrained the ejaculate with my hand, I am sure it would have spurted a good 10 inches.

A great orgasm would've been having the shortstop there.

Jay would be there, eventually, for an orgasm of this kind. But it would be a rocky road for him and for me, filled with weekend trips to see Kirk, my continued fascination for Dana, drama of the dorm-floor kind, and my new-found willingness to talk to God.

 

[DonQuixote]

Dear SFCFML,
That was a keenly introspective and powerful chapter.

As Stu comes to grips with Kirk's situation, his feelings for Jay-Jay, Dana, AND a newfound willingness to open himself up to God.

OK, he's a bit off in his understanding of Catholicism, but I guess that's not unusual. We CAN talk directly to God, just like anyone else. We may ask others to intercede on our behalves, but that doesn't eliminate the direct channel. But I digress. . .

Thank you for this chapter. It has the deep feelings and passion I can recall having at extremely important times in my life. The love scene, while solo, was so transcendental in nature - Jay-Jay WAS there, in Stu's heart and mind. That, too, is something I can remember, passionately, and relate to from times in my life.

You are truly a talented author, and have a keen sense of humanity, self.
Again, my sincerest thanks for your continued sharing in this manner.

 

[Bodhi1]

Wow! A Very powerful chapter. A deep sense of Humanity, as DQ says ... the deep feelings that I am sure all of us have experienced. It's as if I were there ...

Please keep writing - I will certainly keep reading! Congratulations! And Huge Hugs!

 

[sheep]

Another excellent chapter. Thanks.

 

[hardreader]

Believe it or not, I'm caught up with this story which has left me hard and horny and begging for more. I so want to spend more time with these guys. Get into their minds. Muck around in all their horniness and uncertainty. Get in their pants and get them off. In every way possible.

So finally I can say, sfcfml, the ball is completely in your court. Make me moan. Make me groan. Make me cum time and time again. And please tell me the rest of this fantastic story.

 

[Undisclosed]

So, today I went out and got a pair of tissue boxes just to be prepared for the rough weekend Stu (and us faithful readers), have ahead of us. Poor Kirk his situation cant get any worse.

I'll post here this thing I made inspired by your emotionally moving story and in gratitude of your hard work...

...thanks for a great chapter.

PS: *Stu should totally switch places with big-organ-ezequiel and stay with Jay-Jay.*

 

[dylanwhite82]

Ooh.
Nice.
Me Like.
Good job Undisclosed.

 

[DonQuixote]

Yes, Undisclosed. A very nice cover art for this fine tale of enlightenment.

 

[haveyouconfessed]

I'm usually a lurker in this forum. But i have been so hooked, intrigued and astounded by your stories.

I coincidentally relate to Jay's struggle 100 %, as i am still struggling. So your stories are extremely cathartic to me. So in translation, you have helped me shed some light in myself and tremendously helped my self-esteem.

thank you so much for your time, effort and dedication! i CAN'T wait for your next installment.

=]

 

[sfcfml]

Hi all. No fears. I'm still here, and writing. Had a few other things come up. Needed to think about some stuff -- story-wise, and otherwise. Among the highly important decisions I've made is to stop using Roman numerals to identify the parts of my story. It's just getting too hard to figure them out, because there are just too many of them.

Thanks for reading, and for being willing to follow a story that I truly hope has more to it for us than sex. Hope you like this and that it gets some of you "trapped" bi guys to join me in thinking about how we got to where we are ...




Part 39

It was a quarter to 7, and Terry was going to meet me to walk to Bible study any minute.

My Bible, my only Bible, was in the bottom drawer of my dorm-room desk, buried under a pile of porn. It had been my deceased dad's actually. The Bible, I mean, not the porn. For a second I felt guilty, guilty that I had actually put my dead father's boyhood Bible under a pile of contraband from the Porn Palace. But as the clock ticked closer to 7, my guilt was replaced by horniness as I paged through the likes of Naughty Nurses, and then Blowjobs!, and then ...

A knock, and an opening door.

"Stuart?"

"Terry! Ah, hi ... Um, I'd prefer it if you let me answer the door."

"Sorry. What's in there?"

"My Bible, other stuff."

Because the lanky athlete towered over me by a couple inches, I'm not sure my attempt to block his view succeeded. But I made the best of it and grabbed the Good Book as fast as I could as I tried to usher the Freshmen athlete toward the door with the false explanation that I hated to be late for anything that had to do with church.

As Terry walked toward the hall, I began to formulate my plot for seeing him in a speedo once swimming season began. The small-town Iowan was, indeed, fine. He wasn't as muscled as Jay, but was still sexy as hell in a lanky, toned sort of way. The 18-year-old looked slender and lean in his navy blue long-sleeve T-shirt and white gym shorts -- shorter shorts than by today's standards, to be sure. As I handed Terry my Bible so I could close the door, he got taken by surprise and dropped the Word of God as I put the key in the lock. I held my breath as I watched Terry's tight ass strain against the little mesh shorts as he hurried to pick my "Children's Living Bible" off of the floor as if every passing second jeopardized his entry into heaven.

"Stu, sorry, I can't believe I did that."

"It's OK, no worries."

"Wow, Stu, this is an oldie. Look at the red letters. What're those?"

"I don't know."

"Oh I see. Anything that Jesus said is in red letters. That's cool!"

"Let me see yours. Your Bible, I mean."

Terry explained that his mother had packed his fourth-grade Sunday school Bible into his college-bound suitcase. I felt wistful as I examined the cover. It featured a brown-haired, blue-eyed Jesus -- with a swimmer's build, no less! -- holding a lamb. The words "The Children's Living Bible" appeared next to it.

"Well, this is pretty old too, Terry."

"I guess. I wanted a new one, but my mom said this translation was the best."

"Translation?"

"Or version. Whatever you call it."

"I didn't know the Bible had versions."

"That's what Mom said. But she said you need to trust the good publishers, who make the right versions."

"I see."

As we made our way to the Bible study in the student center, I thought about how Terry had been almost shockingly coy in the dorm's gang shower a few weeks earlier. That first time, he had kept his boxers on as he stepped into a room of otherwise naked 18-year-olds and still was partially clothed as he put his toned body under the spray. Eventually Terry had no choice but to take off his underwear and reveal to me his slender, 5-inch floppy penis. Looking back on it, his shyness is one reason why I popped a boner, which led him to do the same -- an experience that had fueled few of my jack-off sessions before Jay became the object of my desire.

But now I was with Terry, and we were off to Bible study to join up with a girl -- a girl! -- who had caught my fancy and, as it turned out, was from Terry's hometown where Dana's dad was the town doctor. With that fact and Jay's exam still fresh in my mind, I thought I'd inquire.

"So, when does swimming start?"

"We have informal practices next week."

"The baseball guys on our floor are already scrimmaging. According to Jay."

"That's what I hear."

"Yeah, I had to get Jay to the doctor, for a physical, since he had forgotton to have one before coming."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-hum. Um, let me know if I can help you, in that regard."

"OK, but that's taken care of."

"Really? Before you came?"

"Yeah. Dana's dad, he's my doctor. Has been for a long time."

"I see."

"So he took care of me. Gave me my physical. About a month ago."

"It went OK?"

"Sure. He's sort of old-fashioned, but he got the job done."

And then I broke a commandment. I lied to Terry.

"Well, Terry, my mom always came in during my sports physicals."

"Yeah, Dana's dad requires it."

I couldn't believe my luck! Terry was playing along ...

"Including for this physical, for college swimming, even though you were an adult?"

"Well, he gave me the choice. Sort of. Mom jumped in and said she was coming in, that if I was going to be playing college sports, she had a few questions to ask."

"I see."

"It was sort of embarrassing, since Dana's dad is sort of old fashioned and thorough."

"Old fashioned?"

"Yeah, you know, everything off."

"You were naked by the end?"

"No, at the beginning. While me and my mom sat there waiting for the doctor, too."

I didn't know what to say. So I said nothing at all and instead felt myself get instantly hard at the thought of Terry naked on the exam table with his mom staring at his 18-year-old privates. As we entered the door of the student commons, I glanced at the front of Terry's mesh shorts and guessed he was a little hard too, but it might've been my imagination.

But it was not my imagination when we met up with Dana and she signaled her attraction to me. As she blinked and lingered in my eyes for a second or two too long, I could not stop thinking about her dad and his method of giving physical examinations to 18-year-old swimmers.

And then we were sitting on the floor, in a circle, and the group leader -- Dan was his name -- was preparing us for prayer. Dana was on my right, Terry to my left.

Dear God, we give thanks that you have brought us together ...

Dana took my hand. Hers was soft, and warm, and comfortable. Her fingers were so much smaller than mine. I envisioned what they'd feel like at the side of my lips, on my neck, against my chest, at the waistline of my jeans. What they'd feel like if and when she ever touched my naked penis, how a strand of precum would trail along as she moved her hand from the tip of my erection to the bottom of my scrotum.

As we begin our school year, we ask for your blessings ...

Seconds later, Terry took my hand. His was of an athlete. It was larger and stronger than mine.

That you'll watch over us in our classes, and outside of classes, too ...

I imagined Terry hand cupping the water as he did laps at practice and during swim meets, and then peeling his speedo from his taut, exhausted body.

Lord, help us to make the right choices here at college ...

I gave Terry a little squeeze. I was pretty sure he was right-handed. This must be the hand he masturbates with!

There will be many challenges ahead of us this year ....

I wondered about Terry's technique. Did he do his jacking off dry? Or did he spit in this hand I was holding?

Temptations, temptations to sin ...

Did he cum in his palm -- this very palm I was holding -- and rub the steamy semen into his erection as it continued to pump?

People who will try to persuade us to do the wrong things ...

Or did he do what I usually did: hold his penis tight and in a way so the cum would shoot as far as possible up his swimmer's chest?

Believe the wrong things ...

Did Terry know the trick that I had used on Jay, the trick of pressing below your balls to prevent the semen from spurting out as your male plumbing did its best job pumping?

Lord, we're at a turning point in our young lives ...

Did he use his boxers or a sock to wipe it up?

We're at a point where the devil is a constant pressure, a pressure that can make us say things we don't believe, do things that go against your glory ...

Or maybe a roll of toilet paper he kept by his bed that his mom would keep returning to the bathroom?

And take part in things, here at college, before it's time ...

Or did Terry like to eat his cum?

Like drink alcohol ...

And then feel guilty about eating it?

And have sex ...

Or maybe he likes the taste!?

In ways that go against your word ...

So much so that the taste makes him cum again, for a second time, right then and there!

Amen.

Dana squeezed my hand. I think I squeezed hers. What I do remember is that I felt my dick squeeze out some precum. Terry, for his part, dropped my left hand as fast as he could.

And then I excused myself and whispered to Dana that I had made a mistake, I should've gone to the bathroom before I left the dorm.

I didn't have to pee. I had to cum. Usually I used my right hand. But under this circumstance, in a bathroom stall perhaps 20 yards from my first-ever Bible study, my left was my hand of choice.

* * *
When I returned, Dan, who was a fifth-year senior, was directing the group to find "First Corinthians, six-nine" and "read it to yourselves and pause in prayer."

First Corinthians? Was that in the Old Testament or New Testament? Terry seemed to know. He had his Bible between his legs, which gave me license to scan his crotch under the guise of me looking toward him for Biblical guidance. He looked delicious between the legs, but I had come perhaps two minutes earlier, so my desire was not overpowering. Terry was thumbing through the back of the book, so I thought I better do the same.

The swimmer found his place way before I did. The room was silent. Terry paused, sniffed in some air, held his breath, and out of the corner of my eye I saw the lanky swimmer rub his brow.

Finally, I found the chapter and verse. Though I did not understand all the words, it seemed innocent enough as I mouthed the words of my dad's old Bible:

Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God.

I was working backward and trying to figure out what an extortioner was when Dan chimed in.

"Terry, would you read aloud please?"

Terry seemed stunned. As he began, the swimmer struggled to keep his voice steady as he read what was in his book. I figured his nerves were attributable to the difficult pronunciations coming up. But I was wrong. Terry began:

First Corinthians, chapter six, verse nine. Thus saith the Lord ...

I thought to myself, where did he pick that up?

Don't you know that those --

I cut off Terry and whispered that he had the wrong verse. He whispered back to say that "no, Stu, this is right," cleared his throat, and continued, more confident than a couple seconds before. I, though, ended up beyond confused.

For fifteen painful years.

Terry started again:

Don't you know that those doing such things have no share in the Kingdom of God? Don't fool yourselves? Those who live immoral lives, who are idol worshippers, adulterers, or homosexuals -- will have no share in the kingdom. Neither will thieves or greedy people, drunkards, slanderers, or robbers.

"Thank you Terry. Now, what this verse is saying is that ..."

My head was spinning. Dan was talking, but about what I had no idea. "Homosexuals?" That wasn't in my version. Perhaps three minutes passed before I came to my senses.

"Sorry, um, Dan? Can I interrupt? Can ask a question?"

"Stuart, is it?"

"Stu."

"Sure, Stu, questions are encouraged, and with the grace of God I will try to answer."

"Um, that's not what my Bible says."

"What's not what your Bible says?"

"Mine says adultery, and drunkards, but doesn't mention, um, homosexuals."

I read my verse; Dana helped me with a couple of the tough words and then looked at my Bible, and then at me, as if we were both from Mars. Or at least Minnesota.

"Well, Stu, that's not what mine says. Mine mentions homosexuals and homosexuality."

"It does?"

"As does Terry's. Here's what the verse says ..."

Dan showed off his Bible. It was big and dark brown, and had the words "Good News!" emblazoned across the front.

Surely you know that the wicked will not possess God's Kingdom. Do not fool yourselves; people who are immoral or who worship idols or are adulterers or homosexual perverts or who steal or are greedy or are drunkards or who slander others or are thieves -- none of these will possess God's Kingdom.

"See, Stu, that's what it says."

"I think you said homosexual perverts."

There were a couple snickers, but not from Dana. The vibes I got from her suggested I was going too far.

"Dan, um, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be dumb. But Terry's says homosexuals. And yours says homosexual perverts. And mine says --"

Dana touched my knee. I stopped right there. Dan put down his Bible and crossed his arms in frustration.

"What's the difference, Stu?"

"What do you mean, what's the difference?"

"What's the difference between homosexuals and perverts?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking the question."

"Well, Stu, the answer is that there is no difference."

Terry put his knees close together. I felt flushed and pulled at my chin.

"But my Bible --"

"And if you want to be part of this group, you will need to learn to listen more closely, and prayerfully, and put your trust in God."

"But I --"

"And like the verse says, if you want to inherit the kingdom of God, you need to follow God's word. It's as simple as that, Stu. Homosexuality is a sin, just like being drunk and stealing is a sin."

"Those are two different sins, so I think the correct grammar would be to say 'are sins' instead of --"

"Don't interrupt me."

"Sorry."

"Simple as that, Stu. Simple as that."

"See, but my --"

"Look, I've had lots more college classes than you have. I'm a senior --"

"Weren't you a senior last year, too?"

I heard a quiet shriek of "Stuart!" from Dana. I had crossed the line. I was a newcomer, and I had taken on Dan.

"Stu, I don't have much more to say."

"Well, I --"

"Stu, we'll pray for you."

And, at the end, they did, followed by the Lord's Prayer, complete with the "deliver us from evil" and "lead us not into temptation" parts, which the whole damn group seemed to deliver with victorious, holier-than thou, or at least holier than I was, vigor.

I felt beyond evil. I felt led into temptation. By Rudolf. By Justin. Even by Jay. Homosexuality was a sin. The word was in the Bible! Or two out of three Bibles anyway.

First Corinthians six-nine. Six-nine. I had seen enough porn to latch onto a simple way to remember that chapter and verse, the chapter and verse that seemed to confirm that if I kept doing what I had been doing, hell is where I'd be going. And no time too soon.

* * *

It was not until fifteen years later when I learned the truth. By then, I was married with one child and another on the way.

Remarkably, I learned the truth from Justin, Jay's gay brother, the young man whom I blamed at the time, but who fifteen years later was a partner in more ways than one: at a prestigious law firm, and with a beautiful man originally from a conservative town in southern Indiana.

Justin and I stayed in touch over the years, and I looked him up each time I was back in Chicago for work, which was about twice a year. We were eating lunch perhaps a mile from the hotel room where he had fucked me in the ass fifteen years earlier in an effort to get his struggling twin brother, Jay, to come to grips with his sexuality and sexual feelings for me. It was in a new and fairly fancy Mexican restaurant off Rush Street where I told Justin about First Corinthians six-nine and provided a blow-by-blow description of what had happened in the basement of the student center during my sophomore year.

The details were still vivid, right down to the different words in the different versions of the Bible. Justin took it all in, nodding, as if he had heard it 100 times before.

The corporate lawyer was one of the smartest, best-read people I've ever known, and he was well-armed to explain exactly what had happened and why. My Bible, he said, the version that made no mention of homosexuality, was the King James version, a version that traced its beginnings to the early seventeenth century. Terry's version, which referenced "homosexuals," and which was a version commonly given to American Sunday school children, had been interpreted and published by a "scary outfit" called Tyndale Publishers.

"Heard of the 'Left Behind' series of stuff?"

"Yeah. I've read about it. Pretty controversial. Leads kids down the wrong path."

"Not just kids. Adults too. Well, Tyndale publishes it."

"'Left Behind'?"

"Yes, as well as that Bible that poor Terry had in college, God rest his soul."

"No kidding. And I'm just learning this? What about that group leader Dan's Bible, the Good News Bible? I suppose you know about that one, too."

"Sure. Also known as 'Today's English Version.' Published by an outfit in New York called the American Bible Society. They're a little better, but still, their mission is to get Bibles into as many hands as possible, and by doing so, dumbing everything down."

"Wow. And all these years, that word homosexual has lingered in my brain."

"And the word is arsenokoite."

"It's what?"

"It's not homosexual. It's arsenokoite. It's Greek. From the Greek version of the New Testament. Essentially means a gigolo."

"Gigolo? Isn't that Italian?"

Justin chuckled as he grabbed the check from my hand and fished out his American Express.

"Yes, Stu, I suppose it is. But essentially arsenokoite was a made-up word, made up by Paul, who wrote First Corinthians. Supposedly."

"I see."

"It means male prostitute, basically."

"Male prostitute?"

"Yes. At its extreme, First Corinthians six-nine suggests that male prostitutes won't go to heaven."

"I see."

"Of course, there's a fair amount of Biblical commentary suggesting that Paul was gay, but in denial, and trying to cover his tracks."

"No kidding?"

"No kidding. What a shame to live like that, under a shroud."

"Under a shroud ..."

Partly because of Justin, I had developed enough gaydar to appreciate the waiter lingering a little too long in Justin's eyes as he came to retrieve the check.

"You know, Stuart, there's a small group of scholars who think Jesus was gay."

"You've got to be kidding."

"If Jesus even existed."

"If Jesus even -- I can't believe you're saying that!"

"Look, Stu, how you tell the story, that Dan guy, the fifth-year senior, the churchy know-it-alls like that who berate you into leaving your brain at the door? They're part of the problem. I think."

"Well, you certainly do think. You're one of the smartest people I know. One of the sexiest too. Except for your brother."

I winked. Justin actually blushed.

"Seriously, Stu, even if there was a Jesus, and even if homosexuality was a sin, which it most certainly is not, who do you think he'd be hanging around with?"

"Hmm ..."

"Certainly not the supposedly morally superior hypocrites and homophobes. He'd be hanging around with gay guys. Or, more likely, guys struggling with their sexuality. Because they need the love and support the most."

"Maybe I'll go back to church."

"Well, better you than me, and good luck finding one that will put up with this sort of talk. Anyway, I have a deposition in a half hour. I should get back."

I rose and gave Justin a sincere hug. Not just a guy hug, but a loving, caring hug.

"Thanks."

"Anytime, Stu."

"And thanks for lunch, too. I'll buy, next time, when you're in Iowa. Maybe Jay can join us. Well meet midway."

"With all those kids of of his? Shit, Stu, if you're paying, we'll have to go to McDonald's, or you'll have to take out a second mortgage."