(Due to my ‘dealing with it' post from this morning, I would like you to know that this chapter is not changed. I didn't rewrite it, nor do I intend to rewrite the following chapters. This is how I wrote it originally, despite the opening paragraph which may indicate otherwise. - Neil)
WATCHING BRAD
Part XV
Okay. I've been honest with you up to now. I've told you everything worth knowing about me and Brad. I've left out all the boring bits and the stuff that doesn't matter, but I've told you everything else. So, at this point, I
should tell you about ‘my little secret'. But I won't. I almost did. I mean, I had it all written down and I decided I'd keep it a surprise, so I rubbed it all out and started writing again. Brad didn't even know about it yet at this time, so I don't think it's fair that you should know before
he did. But don't worry. The minute I tell him, you'll know, too.
Hey. What can I say, eh? Some days life just shits on you, and this is one of those days. Get over it.
Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Jacob, Brad and his stitches, Ryerson, Science Centre. Right. Okay. Here we go.
Jacob blew me away. I don't know how he found all the babysitters. I didn't ask. All I know is that he found them and interviewed most of them and had a list of all those who would be willing to testify at the custody hearing, or, at the very least, would supply the necessary notarized statements.
Lindsay had only three sitters with me: a young lady named Lisa, who adored Lindsay but had married and moved to Vancouver, and Mrs. ‘Goodyear Grinch/Gulch' Grange. Understandably, old Lard Ass refused an interview. (Or, maybe Jacob refused to interview her, I don't know.) But Lisa was willing to fly to Ontario if I helped with plane fare in order for her to testify in my defense. She couldn't afford it on her own. And now, there was Terry.
(As it turned out, I called my lawyer the next morning. He assured me notarized statements would suffice, but the more I could get, the better. It's doubtful the Judge would read them all, but the stack would be impressive. Jacob would get as many as he could get, including Lisa's.)
I'd lost count of all the sitters The Bitch had hired. Most of them had quit. The others were fired. Jacob had stopped at a dozen, but he said there were others on the list if I needed them. He showed me a photo album of all the men The Bitch had been seeing. The list was almost as long as the babysitter list.
Jacob gave me a list of his expenses. It was pitifully small. "Sorry, Jacob," I said. "Two hundred dollar minimum." I wrote him a cheque right in the restaurant and he gave me a receipt listing his expenses. It was worth every single penny.
* * * * *
It was pissing down rain when we left the restaurant. By the time I got home, I was soaked to the skin. Just running from the restaurant to my car and from my car to my house. Man! It was pissin' rain! Crack out the ark, boys!
Brad was waiting for me and the coffee was on. "Freeze right there, Mister!" he said and told me I wasn't going to be tracking all that water though the house.
"It's my house. I can piss on the floor if I want."
"Not while I'm here," he said. "Now, get them off."
I did my best soggy St. Bernard imitation and shook myself. Water droplets flew everywhere and then, with my best Lindsay imitation, I stuck my tongue out at him.
"Gee-sus, Murphy, Ted," he said with mock chagrin. "Is it always so hard to get you out of your clothes? Man!"
I started laughing. I couldn't help it. And Brad laughed right along with me. "I'll get your robe for you," he said as he laughed.
I was unbuttoning my shirt when he left. By the time he got back, I was taking off my pants. Brad had brought back a towel as well.
"Do suit pants shrink?" he asked.
"I don't know," I answered, "but these ones keep getting tighter around the waist every day."
"Timbit tummy," Brad said with a grin and a wink.
Yeah. Guess I'd better lay off them for awhile, especially since I wasn't sucking back on cigarettes anymore. Quitting smoking can make you go blimpo in no time at all.
So, there I was, down to my underwear. Even they were soggy. Brad was still standing there, watching me, looking down. He wasn't laughing anymore. I reached for my robe.
"Take them off," Brad said quietly, his eyes travelling up to meet mine. "I've never seen you naked," he said. "I'd like to see you naked." He waited, and so did I. "Please?"
How could I resist those beautiful, green eyes? How could I resist that beautiful face? His lips parted slightly and there was that chipped tooth. I melted.
I was a little self-conscious about standing there naked in front of him. Not really shy, just self- conscious. Brad had a
body. I just had a body. It held my guts together, that's all. Nothing to look at as far as I was concerned. But, Brad wanted to see what he was getting into. I had seen him starkers and it was only fair that he should see me, too. I was taking a big chance. This could end our relationship right here and now. I might end up with another puddle of puke on the floor. Well, better now than later when ‘letting go' would be a lot tougher to do.
I hooked my thumbs into the waistband and pushed, stepping out of them when they hit the floor. I stood up and waited. Brad's eyes started at my face and travelled slowly down. He reached my crotch and he stopped. And then he turned away and hung his head.
"I'm getting hard, Ted," he said. "It hurts when I get hard."
I could see his shoulders rising and falling as he controlled himself. I grabbed the towel, gave myself a quick wipe, then slipped into my robe, wrapping the towel around my neck to dry my hair. Brad set about preparing two mugs of coffee. I grabbed up my clothes and took them into the dining room, laying them over the chair backs to dry. I was towelling my hair dry when I went to join Brad.
Brad moved in and settled himself beside me. I set the towel aside and wrapped my arm around his shoulder and he settled in closer.
"What if it doesn't work, Ted?"
Okay, I was lost again.
"The sex, I mean. What if we try it and we can't do it?"
"Does that scare you?"
Brad pulled away and turned to look at me. "No. Not me," he said. "But it scares me when I think about you."
"Me? Why?"
"I don't want to hurt you. Ever."
I gave him my best smile, despite the serious look on his face. "I know you'd never hurt me."
He shook his head so slightly I barely saw it move. "You're wrong, Ted. I will. I've been thinking about this for awhile now. I think about the things we can do together, and I think of all the things I want to do for you and of all the things I want you to do for me. You don't scare me, Ted. I scare myself."
"I'm not sure I understand." I really didn't. I had an idea, but I wasn't certain.
He looked down at the floor and it looked like he was trying to find the words he needed to say hidden in the carpet. I let him search on his own. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He didn't look at me, though. "I'm like any other guy my age. I think about having sex sometimes. I know what two guys do together, and I want to do them with you." And then he looked at me. "But it scares me, Ted. It scares me that I'll hurt you, and I know I will. I'm too big to do all the things I want to do without hurting you." He paused, then whispered, "You know it, too."
I smiled at him again and brushed my hand through his hair. He watched my eyes and I put as much honesty and sincerity in them as I could. "You're too young to know this, Brad. This is all new to you, but you'll understand one day. That's all part of what being in love is all about. You do things not because you have to, but because you want to. It scares the hell out of me, too. It terrifies me, in fact, when I think of what it would be like."
Brad leaned back and turned all sad on me again. I pulled my hand away. I sensed that he needed me not to be touching him.
"It terrifies me, but love isn't all warm kisses and happy, good feelings. There's pain, too. It comes with the job. But there's two different kinds of pain."
It was Brad's turn to be confused. I can't blame him. I was confused, too.
"There's the pain you don't want to feel, like when someone hits you, or betrays you. That kind of pain stays with you forever. You never forget it. But there's another kind of pain that you don't mind, and it doesn't last forever. That's the kind of pain that you want because you love someone. It's the kind of pain that hurts the other person just as much. Maybe not physically, but in here." I tapped my fingertips against my chest. "I know the kind of ‘hurt' you mean, Brad. And, believe me, it would hurt you as much as it would hurt me. But it's the kind of hurt that doesn't last. It goes away and the good feelings come in to take its place. Do you understand?"
"I'm not sure," Brad answered quietly. "I think so."
"If it happens. . . when it happens. . . you'll understand better."
Brad looked at the carpet again and shook his head. "This love thing is really confusing. It doesn't make sense."
"No, it doesn't Brad. I'm still trying to figure it out myself."
Brad looked at me then. "Maybe some things are meant not to be figured out." And then he settled into me again and I put my arm around him again. "I like it here," he said. "It makes me feel good when you hold me like this."
I've spent my life holding people, just as I was holding Brad. No-one had ever held me like that. It suddenly dawned on me that I had no idea how it felt.
* * * * *
Brad walked taller after he got his stitches taken out. He was waiting for me when I got home Tuesday night after work. He was doing his best to cook dinner for me. Poor kid. He didn't know which end of the spatula to hold and my kitchen was a mess, but I didn't care. To this day I can't figure out how he messed up my kitchen so much when all he did was to bake frozen fish and chips in the oven.
But, it made him feel good, and his smiles were genuine, and he promised me that his stomach didn't hurt much anymore. Mostly, it had been the stitches pulling every time he moved. I've never had stitches, so I don't know what that's about.
Anyway, the fish and chips weren't still frozen when we ate them, and they didn't kill me, so I guess he did a good enough job after all.
"The doctor said I shouldn't do any painting for at least another week. Is that okay?"
"That's fine," I said. "I'm getting used to ‘sell-the-house' beige."
He laughed. "See?" he said. "I can laugh now without all that ow ow ow." He took another bite of fish. "Mom's going to teach me how to cook."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "I think I should be doing
something else around here besides eating all your food and looking pretty." He stopped with his fork half-way to his mouth. "I
do look pretty, don't I?"
I nodded and chewed. "Very pretty indeed, Brad." (Nothing like a little ego-stroking, eh?)
"Good answer," he said. "Too bad you aren't." (Nothing like a whole lot of ego-deflation!)
"I beg your pardon!?" I said as I sat back in my chair.
"You're not pretty. You're handsome. I don't like pretty. I like handsome." He took one more bite. "You're sexy, too."
"Now I
know you're lying."
Brad stopped eating and focused his attention on me. "No, I'm not, Ted. I've been thinking about what you told me. The outside is nice enough, but I've started looking at the inside, too. When you put them together, you're a very sexy guy."
"I'm hardly anyone's Prince Charming."
"You're mine."
I sat back again, staring at him. "Bradley Nelson Hayes," I said. "What in hell has got into you?"
"I'm feeling good, Ted. I got my stitches out today and I'm feeling good. I feel good about myself and I feel good about us. For the first time in my life, I'm in love, and I like it."
And then he looked at me. I don't know what he saw in my face. I don't know what was there, either. He just stared at me and then he said, "What?"
I blinked. "Well, for the first time in my life, I'm in love, too."
"You mean with another guy?"
"No, Brad. I mean ‘in love'. For real. For the first time."
It was Brad's turn to sit back. He did. A potato wedge was stuck on the end of his fork. He stared into my eyes again. "Gee-sus, Murphy, Ted," he whispered. "You're telling me the truth!"
"Yes, I am."
"But you were married. You had other girlfriends."
"And I loved them. But not like this."
Brad just shook his head. "I don't understand."
"Frankly, Brad," I said sincerely, "I don't understand it either. Just trust me."
* * * * *
Brad spent the night, of course. And the next night, and the next night as well. We still wore underwear to bed, though. Brad wanted to sleep naked, but he thought it was best, at least until his surgery had healed completely, so he keep everything tucked inside. Besides, his doctor had warned him against ‘any sexual release' until he could get an erection without any pain. He told me I could take mine off, but I thought it best that I didn't.
Maybe it was a throwback to The Bitch. She didn't like having a naked body in bed with her. At least not mine. Sometimes I think she'd have preferred me to be dressed in full hockey kit (without the skates, of course, but with a helmet and full, flip-down mask so she wouldn't have to kiss me) when we made love. So, I kept my underwear on as well. They weren't tightie- whities anymore, though. Brad and I had been out shopping one evening after I'd been soaked to the skin and he went to buy some new underwear for himself. He told me I should wear the same kind.
"I'd look a proper git in those," I told him.
"I think you'd look cute."
I bought five packages with three pairs in each box. No Fruit of the Looms protecting my family jewels anymore, but I didn't throw them away until I got used to not fishing myself out of the slit to take a leak.
So, there we were, lying in bed as usual. Brad was lying on his side, teasing the hair on my chest with his fingertip. The lamp on the bedside table was lit.
"I wish I had more hair like you."
"You can have it if you want," I told him. "I hate it."
"Why? I think it looks neat." He twirled some more. "Feels neat, too." He flattened his hand against my chest and began rubbing in big, slow circles. "Yup. Feels really neat."
He kept it up until I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed his hand in mid-swirl. "Brad, I think you should stop."
He looked up at me from my shoulder. "Why?" he asked.
"I. . . um. . . please, just stop."
His arm started moving lower. I tried to stop it.
"I'm stronger than you are, Ted," he said seriously. "You can't stop me."
His hand continued lower until it slid under the sheets. "Brad, you don't have to do this!" I whispered anxiously.
I tried to stop him. I really tried. But Brad was right. He was stronger than I and he didn't stop until his hand was lying right on my crotch. I already had a hardon. It had started when he was teasing me with one finger. I still had hold of his arm when his fingers closed around me.
I let out a long, breathy ‘Ahhh' when he did that. I closed my eyes to it and concentrated on the feelings I was experiencing. Brad's voice came to my ear.
"Please don't ask me to stop, Ted. I need to see if I can do this."
He was waiting for an answer. I knew I should stop him, but I didn't want him to. It had been so long since anyone had touched me there. I was still trying to decide when Brad said in a hushed voice, "Did you hear me?"
"Yes," I whispered back. And then I took my hand away from his arm and put it on the bed beside me.
Brad's hand lifted and moved, settling back on my panting belly, then sliding beneath the waistband of my underwear. His fingers found me again and wrapped around me again. I tensed, pushing my hips up into his hand. I didn't mean to. I just happened all on its own. I think I let out another sigh.
His hand began to stroke me, and then he pulled his hand away as he rose up on his elbow. He pushed the sheets down first, and then hooked his thumb into my briefs on one side and pushed down. He lifted the underwear up and over my cock and pushed down the other side. Back and forth until the cotton was around my thighs.
I was afraid to open my eyes. Afraid that I might stop him if I saw what he was doing. I clenched them tighter. Brad's hand wrapped around me once more and began stroking gently and tenderly. His upper body moved lower until I could feel his breath caressing me. I brought my hand to my eyes and held them closed. My jaws clenched and my teeth ground against each other.
And then I felt a touch. Warm, wet. It was Brad's tongue. It didn't last long. Just an exploration - a taste. I felt it again, longer this time. His tongue began to move lightly over the taut skin of my cockhead. I let a small grunt escape from my throat. The tongue continued to swirl, pressing harder with each moment that passed.
Something else was there. Lips. I felt Brad's tongue retract into his mouth. The lips parted and began to slide down. Slowly they went, exploring along the way, testing new territory. It seemed to take forever, but then Brad stopped moving. His lips were locked around the rim of my cockhead. He didn't go any further than that. I didn't care. I tensed once more and let out a long, loud moan of pleasure.
My hand moved from my eyes to the back of Brad's head, gently stroking the hair it found. I kept my eyes closed, but, in my mind, I could see Brad, his head on my stomach, my cock inside him. I could see his head rising and falling with every breath I took. I could see it all.
His tongue returned and it began to work on me. I remembered watching when Brad had teased himself. I knew what it looked like, and I imagined it looking exactly the same, except that it was my cock he was teasing, and it was my cock that was in his mouth. He sucked the air out of his mouth, his cheeks closing around me, and I could feel myself swelling. Another moan escaped.
Brad didn't move his head. He just lay there, sucking and teasing. Maybe it was just because it was Brad, or maybe it was because it had been years since my cock had felt anything other than my own hand, but my balls started rolling only minutes later. I knew the tell-tale signs and I warned Brad.
"I'm going to cum." It was more of a groan, I suppose.
Brad still didn't move. The electricity sparked faster, and I knew the moment was very near. "Brad, I'm cumming!"
The first shot went into his mouth. Only then did he pull away, releasing my cockhead and rising onto his elbow again. His hand began stroking, coaxing the rest of my orgasm to happen. The magic I had witnessed as Brad had jerked himself was happening again - with me.
I continued to spew my semen onto my stomach. I heard grunts and moans filling the bedroom. The grunts were mine. The moans were Brad's. It was one of the most exciting moments in my life, and I lay there enjoying it, burning every stroke and spasm and spurt into my memory so I'd never forget them.
It was over too soon. Much too soon for my liking, but all good things must come to an end. If nothing else happened between us, Brad had left me with fireworks going off in my mind.
Brad continued to stroke slowly and gently until my cock was soft. My chest was heaving and my body was still squirming. He released it and moved his hand to my stomach, circling it and rubbing the cream into the skin. I opened my eyes and found Brad's face. He was looking at me. His mouth was open and I could see my semen on his tongue. He closed his lips and swallowed He had kept it there all that time. And then he smiled at me.
He settled back onto my shoulder, his cum-slick hand now rubbing my chest. I knew I was a sticky, stinky mess, but I didn't care. Brad seemed comfortable with it, so I was, too.
It took awhile for my breathing to return to normal. Brad was okay with waiting.
"Brad?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you."
I could feel Brad nodding his head on my shoulder. "It was right for me, Ted."
I turned my head and kissed his forehead. It was the only place I could reach. "I want it to be right for me, too, Brad," I said as my hand sought his own cock. I found it easily enough. It was rock-solid, trapped against his stomach. I wrapped my fingers around it and sighed when I did so. It felt better than I had ever imagined it would. Brad sighed, too. I began to stroke.
I felt his body jerk. "Stop!"
I pulled my hand away.
"Sorry, Ted," Brad said as he looked at me. "It hurts when you stroke it. You can hold it if you want, but don't stroke it. I can't cum yet."
"I don't want to hurt you, Brad," I said, deeply concerned.
"It doesn't hurt if you just hold it. That's if you want to."
My hand moved back into place. Brad settled against me again, twisting his body slightly so I could hold him more easily. Brad didn't cum that night, but I swore to myself that his first orgasm, when he was able to have it, would be by my hand. No. Not my hand. Something better. And suddenly I felt like a five-year-old boy waiting for Christmas Day so I could see what was in the big, red and green box with the yellow ribbons wrapped around it.
I wasn't holding him anymore when I woke up, but the light was still on.
* * * * *
Brad had already decided that he wouldn't stay overnight while Lindsay was in the house, but he went with me when I drove to pick her up. He waited in the car, of course. I felt good. I bounced as I walked and I found myself whistling in the elevator as I rode it up to the eighth floor. I even skipped twice as I walked down the hall toward The Bitch's door.
The Bitch could do what she wanted tonight. I was in too good a mood for her to spoil it. "Give me your best shot," I said to myself.
I knocked on the door. I could hear Lindsay's footsteps running to the door. I squatted down to greet her. She pulled it open.
She was crying, and she jumped into my arms. "Lindsay, Sweetheart," I said, trying to comfort her. "What's wrong?" Her cheek was plastered against my chest and she held onto me for dear life. I stood up and clutched her to me for my own dear life.
"Please don't bring me back here, Daddy," she begged. Probably another little tiff with The Bitch. I took her right arm in my left.
"Ow! Daddy! Don't!"
I let go immediately. "Lindsay!? What's wrong!? What happened" The Bitch showed up in the doorway, holding Lindsay's overnight bag in her hand.
I gently grasped Lindsay's arm again, closer to her elbow, and held it up so I could see.
I saw.
My eyes turned to The Bitch. My eyes burned right through her. I was not polite this time. I was furious and I was ready to kill her. I screamed. "What in hell did you do to my daughter!!??"
To Be Continued
)
!!
:thewave: 
