oldbigballs
Virgin
love this story, hope you're getting better
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Watching Brad
- Thread starter gsdx
- Start date
Hey Neil
We miss you
We miss you
I happened to see this story a week ago. I was grabbed into the story from Chapter I. I have ignored the puppy, the boyfriend, the house cleaning and even work at times for since meeting Brad, Ted et al. I have learned about myself while learning some of the things everyone dislikes about Ted. For example BF was changing a filter on the refrigerator the other night and instead of taking over and telling him what to do I left the room.
I have loved this story and if it ends here, it ends here. I refrained from posting anything until I came to page 59 out of fear I might see something I wasn't ready for.
Neil -- I have enjoyed this story so much.. Before checking out some of the other stories you reference I really need to clean the house some and buy some groceries and take the dog for a walk. And maybe I should go to the gym after reading about all of those cookies, cakes and pies. (everyone else wants Brad -- I think I want his mom...)
I have loved this story and if it ends here, it ends here. I refrained from posting anything until I came to page 59 out of fear I might see something I wasn't ready for.
Neil -- I have enjoyed this story so much.. Before checking out some of the other stories you reference I really need to clean the house some and buy some groceries and take the dog for a walk. And maybe I should go to the gym after reading about all of those cookies, cakes and pies. (everyone else wants Brad -- I think I want his mom...)
arito10,
Welcome to The Geography and significant tourist parts or Central/Eastern Ontario, aka Watching Brad, written by our own Dear friend, Neil.
He's been a prolific author for JUB these past several years - I just joined last December, worked my way around from the smaller stories up to this magnificent Tome.
It's great, isn't it. It isn't even about the sex - although the little bit here and there is certainly nice! It a beautiful love story about what could be a model "alternative lifestyle" family. They are a great family. They all love each other. The two parents just happen to be gay - sorta kinda -- since they started out straight, and just fell into love with each other.
Neil has a great way with a word. You will also note that he has some physical issues with his spine that have made his life less than wonderful. This past winter is seems to have caught up with him with a vengeance.
I happen to live on the Southern Shore of Lake Ontario, while he resides on its Northern Shore, so we have similar climates. Based on weather patterns, I suspect his side gets a little colder, my side gets a LOT more snow. (It's called Lake Effect). Unless you've lived in the NE, particularly along the Great Lakes, it's not something I'd expect someone from Phoenix to be able to relate to. Your "Wet" season is not so much! I'll just remind you that Oswego, on the SouthEast end of Lake Ontario - about 90 minutes from my house, got 100" of snow in a couple three days the Winter before last.
In 2005, I was in Tucson in mid-October - when it's SUPPOSED TO BE temperate here - still in the 60's-70's during the day, low 50's at night, occasional risks of Frost at night. That Friday morning, when I came down to breakfast, some of the guys from Boston area that I'd met who had connections in my part of NYS, told me Buffalo had had something lie 24" of snow -- I jokingly said that's lake effect - what they get for being on the East end of Lake Erie, then said Yeah, Right -- till our CFO came down and confirmed it!
Anyway, This Winter was particularly brutal on Neil's body - made it very difficult for him to sit at the computer for any length of time, let alone think about writing. He used to spend 10+ hours a day at the computer writing these wonderful stories for us.
He's just finishing up the Alternate Ending Version of Best Friends Play Hard. The fact that it is the Alternate Ending version, says something about Neil - a whole lot of his faithful readers had "serious" feelings about the original, very emotion packed, version. That's all I'll say for now. He just logged in. I'm sure he'll be adding his own comments.
Welcome.
Welcome to The Geography and significant tourist parts or Central/Eastern Ontario, aka Watching Brad, written by our own Dear friend, Neil.
He's been a prolific author for JUB these past several years - I just joined last December, worked my way around from the smaller stories up to this magnificent Tome.
It's great, isn't it. It isn't even about the sex - although the little bit here and there is certainly nice! It a beautiful love story about what could be a model "alternative lifestyle" family. They are a great family. They all love each other. The two parents just happen to be gay - sorta kinda -- since they started out straight, and just fell into love with each other.
Neil has a great way with a word. You will also note that he has some physical issues with his spine that have made his life less than wonderful. This past winter is seems to have caught up with him with a vengeance.
I happen to live on the Southern Shore of Lake Ontario, while he resides on its Northern Shore, so we have similar climates. Based on weather patterns, I suspect his side gets a little colder, my side gets a LOT more snow. (It's called Lake Effect). Unless you've lived in the NE, particularly along the Great Lakes, it's not something I'd expect someone from Phoenix to be able to relate to. Your "Wet" season is not so much! I'll just remind you that Oswego, on the SouthEast end of Lake Ontario - about 90 minutes from my house, got 100" of snow in a couple three days the Winter before last.
In 2005, I was in Tucson in mid-October - when it's SUPPOSED TO BE temperate here - still in the 60's-70's during the day, low 50's at night, occasional risks of Frost at night. That Friday morning, when I came down to breakfast, some of the guys from Boston area that I'd met who had connections in my part of NYS, told me Buffalo had had something lie 24" of snow -- I jokingly said that's lake effect - what they get for being on the East end of Lake Erie, then said Yeah, Right -- till our CFO came down and confirmed it!
Anyway, This Winter was particularly brutal on Neil's body - made it very difficult for him to sit at the computer for any length of time, let alone think about writing. He used to spend 10+ hours a day at the computer writing these wonderful stories for us.
He's just finishing up the Alternate Ending Version of Best Friends Play Hard. The fact that it is the Alternate Ending version, says something about Neil - a whole lot of his faithful readers had "serious" feelings about the original, very emotion packed, version. That's all I'll say for now. He just logged in. I'm sure he'll be adding his own comments.
Welcome.
Thanks Don...
I was hoping to find somewhere that Neil's ailments had improved. I especially enjoyed the story because I have spent many summers in Ontario. My family had a cottage in "lake country" north of TO. (I knew what TO was). I knew the QEW the four oh one, and CN tower and so many things in the story. But it was the way the story was written that really made me feel included. I could have been 'the fly on the wall' throughout the story. Ok back to catching up on my life. I think I spent about 45-50 hours reading this wonderful story this loast week. I didn't even bring in the mail the last 3 days until about 20 minutes ago.
You probably won't. You may find indications that it's 'not as bad as it was', but you will never find one which indicates that it's improving. It's just one of those things life throws at you and you can either deal with it as best you can or sit back and be miserable and beg for sympathy all over the place.
However, if it's any consolation to you, it is easier to sit at the computer to write now than it was a few months ago when I couldn't do much of anything. (I still can't sleep lying down, though. I sort of miss being able to do that.)
Lots of lakes in 'Cottage Country' as we call it here in Ontario. Your cottage wasn't on Muskoka, by chance, was it?
This story is really the only one which is 'location-specific', meaning that the places are real. I seriously doubt that the story would have gone on this long had I selected, say, Vancouver or Calgary. I don't know those places and I couldn't make it real.
Virtually every other story (except for the Stargate SG-1 story and sequel, which is based in Colorado Springs as is the television programme) has some basis in the city I live in now. I 'borrow' locations from Peterborough and make them generic so they could be anywhere in Canada or the United States. Superexhibitionistic, in fact, is entirely based in Peterborough and all the locations exist. In fact, over the years of living here, I have personally tested out virtually every location I used in the story.
Anyway, thank you for your comments and I'm glad you enjoyed the story.
Neil
cottage country --- that is it. I couldn't come up with that phrase until much later last night. Yes we had a place on Lake Muskoka in Torrance. One of my favorite places in the world.
My family had a cottage (cabin to Americans) 5 miles from Torrance. We used to say when it rains in Bala it really coms down in Torrrance! hehe
Those where the days
Hi, Sheep. Long time, no banter.
I haven't seen you on the other story threads I've been visiting.
How are things on the NE side of TO?
I haven't seen you on the other story threads I've been visiting.
How are things on the NE side of TO?
pe_gay89
Porn Star
I'm finally all caught up! Woohoo!
Neil, what a fantastic story! I've loved this story from the beginning. I really hope Justin is okay! Thanks for your continued efforts with this story.
Neil, what a fantastic story! I've loved this story from the beginning. I really hope Justin is okay! Thanks for your continued efforts with this story.
Trust me, I'm working on it. This is my project in the works at the moment, but it has been slow going. I've had a number of very bad days of late. (For what it's worth, though, in the portion I'm writing at the moment, Brad is naked.)
Ooooh, what a teaser line THAT was!
And we still remember what Brad looks like naked, don't we?!
Thanks, I needed that.
And we still remember what Brad looks like naked, don't we?!
Thanks, I needed that.
uhmcrackerjacks
Virgin
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Just checking in. I hope all is well with you. I am keeping you in my private thoughts. 
It's been awhile, and I apologise, but the next chapter is finally here. And it's twice as long as usual. Sort of two chapters in one.
Enjoy.
Jeremy sat quietly on my right leg, occupying one half of my lap and facing his slightly-elder brother who occupied the other half. That was one of the few times that Jeremy held Justin's hand instead of Justin holding his. Both boys huddled themselves as close to me as they could, leaning their heads warmly against my chest and undoubtedly wishing that all was well and that they were sleeping snugly and warm in their own beds.
Justin still continued to sob and simper lightly, more, I think, to remind me that he was feeling poorly in hopes that I could fix it, but I could do little more than to continue to wrap my arm around him and cuddle him and gently rub his belly for him. Jeremy sat in silence opposite Justin, lifting his head from my chest occasionally at the sound of every approaching vehicle on the street. However, the moment that he recognised that the vehicle wasn't Brad's truck, his cheek returned to my chest and his attention returned to his ailing brother.
The puke bucket, which I kept within easy reach, was needed only once as we awaited Brad's return. It was a false alarm of sorts which did little more than to cause a series of dry heaves and another round of anxious crying for Justin. He coughed and retched for a minute or two, but finally managed to spit up what little remained inside his small tummy into the blue plastic bucket.
It was about ten minutes later that Jeremy lifted his head at a sound I hadn't even heard, then he looked up and my face and his open lips curled ever-so-slightly into a relieved smile. I knew Brad was on his way. I heard his truck a moment later, speeding down the street and finally slowing in order to pull into the driveway and park. Jeremy's eyes followed the sound through the walls. There was the sound of a truck door opening and closing and Jeremy sat upright in my lap. His head turned toward the open bedroom doorway and the front of the Winnebago where he knew his Daddy Brad would appear, which Brad did moments later. My Tiger came through the door, closing and locking it securely behind him, then hurrying through the darkened camper toward the bedroom and its three waiting occupants.
"Who would have thought some idiot would be buying two hundred bucks worth of scratch-and-win lottery tickets at this time of night?" he complained as he set the bag he was carrying onto the foot of the bed. "How's Justin?"
"Holding his own," I told him. To Justin, I said, "I know you probably don't feel like drinking anything right now, my Sonskyne, but I want you to try, okay?"
Justin nodded his head against my chest.
"What flavour would you like, Justin?" Brad asked. "Orange, grape, cherry, or apple?"
"Cherry," Justin replied in a small, simpering voice.
"Can I have one, too, Daddy Brad?" Jeremy asked hopefully.
"Sure," Brad smiled back at him. "Orange?"
Jeremy nodded.
Brad reached into the bag and pulled out a new package of plastic twisty straws. As he opened the package, he made his way to the bathroom where he turned on the faucet. I could hear him sucking water into the straws and spitting it back out through them to rinse them. Jeremy, meanwhile, abandoned his spot on my lap and crawled back into the space where he knew his Daddy Brad's lap would soon be. It wasn't long before Brad was back in the bedroom where he grabbed the desired bottles of Pedialyte out of the bag and twisted off the caps. Rapid fire plastic pops snapped loudly as the safety seal strip tore itself apart from the rest of the caps. Brad stuck a twisty straw into each bottle and handed them to our sons.
Jeremy accepted his bottle and began sucking at his straw immediately. I, however, stayed Justin's hands before he could start drinking. "Little sips, okay?" I said to him. "Just take one little sip and swallow it, then wait a bit before you take another one."
He nodded his head affirmatively and took his first cautious sip. I checked to made certain the bucket was still close to hand. Just in case.
Brad swiftly put a few of the remaining bottles of fruit-flavoured electrolytes in the small refrigerator and set the rest of them in a lower cupboard beside it. He checked the front door one more time to be certain it was locked before returning to the bedroom and stripping down to his briefs and climbing into bed beside me. Jeremy, of course, immediately held out his bottle for Brad to hold so he could clamber into Brad's lap. He settled with his feet astraddle Brad's legs and sat with his back pressed against Brad's chest. Brad lovingly wrapped his arms around his son just as Jeremy twisted himself around to offer his Daddy Brad a sip of his orange drink. Brad graciously accepted, playfully staggering his sucking so that the orange liquid danced in the serpentine see-through straw. It made Jeremy laugh. It was a good sound to hear, especially after all the sickly sounds we'd been listing to for quite some time.
Justin needed the bucket one more time that night, but it was due more to the fact that he had convinced himself he would need it rather than having a genuine need for it. I'd seen it happen many times when Lindsay was younger. The body of a child is easily swayed by the mind. Once they convince their brains they're going to puke, it's an easy job for the brain to get the stomach to do it.
Fortunately, the three of us worked together in perfect unison. Justin had barely drank enough of the cherry liquid to fill one of Lindsay's tiny toy plastic tea cups she played with when she was a little girl when I felt Justin tense up suddenly. He clamped his right hand over his mouth as he held out his bottle of Pedialyte beside him in his left hand. As Brad grabbed the bottle out of Justin's hand, I reached down and grabbed the bucket. I got it into place just in time. Justin pulled his and away and let fly. What came up this time was little more than the sweet, cherry-smelling Pedialyte.
Justin didn't really cry this time, but he continued to sob and whimper as I wiped his mouth for the umpteenth time that night and then cuddled him again. Brad handed him his Pedialyte again and I convinced him to drink some more of it. I also did my best to assure him that he wouldn't be sick again, that all of the bad stuff was out of him now. Thank goodness he trusted me enough to have another go and drank down about half the bottle when he twisted in my lap, handed me the bottle (which I set on the night stand) and he laid his head against my chest and became very quiet. Within seconds, his gentle and regular breathing told me that he was asleep.
I cuddled Justin and tucked the bed sheets over and around him, then bent my head over him and pressed my lips to his forehead. It still felt very warm but not enough to worry me. Once Justin had settled down, Jeremy was quick to follow his brother's lead, snuggling up against his Daddy Brad's chest. In only moments, both were sleeping soundly.
Brad managed to get a little sleep that night. I, on the other hand, may have nodded off briefly once or twice but, for the most part, I remained awake so I could be certain that Justin's fever didn't become worse. It didn't, much to my great relief.
Jeremy surprised us in the morning by insisting that he be allowed to go to school. I had told him it would be okay for him to stay home with Justin, but school was where he wanted to be so that is where he went. Terry made certain to tell Tom Kent about the previous night's adventure and to keep an eye on Jeremy. If he complained of a sore or upset stomach, have the school secretary phone us and someone would be there immediately to pick him up and bring him home.
Brad, of course, had gone to work - a bit bedraggled and haggard, but with that ever-present sparkle in his bright, green eyes and that chipped-tooth smile on his lips when he kissed me goodbye. I knew I'd miss him during the day. I always did when he wasn't around. Even after only a few months of marriage, we didn't do ‘apart'.
Terry returned to the Winnebago after taking Jeremy to school and stayed with Justin. I'd tucked him into our bed after giving him a few more sips of Pedialyte as I went to work long enough to assign projects to the staff, sort out one nagging bit of programming, and pick up my own bit of work which I could do at home on my laptop. He was still asleep when I arrived back home and I settled on the small daybed sofa and worked away on my laptop while the small stereo system built into the camper echoed with the gentle, mellow strains of a Boieldieu harp concerto.
Terry joined Bernice as I worked and laundered the soiled bedding for us even though I said we would take care of it later. I didn't think that ‘light housekeeping duties' should extend to handling and washing vomit-soaked bed sheets, but Terry insisted that she didn't mind. After that, she did whatever she usually did while awaiting the time that she would have to go back to the school to pick up Jeremy. I had told her she could take the afternoon off when she came back with Jeremy but she said she'd stay to help with lunch and to hang around in case Jeremy wanted to go outside to watch the construction next door as he and his brother often did in the afternoons.
Justin and Jeremy were like little sponges as far as the construction work next door was concerned, watching intently and absorbing every moment when someone was working with a tool or using a piece of machinery. Little boys are like that. I'm sure there's a ‘fascination with heavy equipment' and/or a ‘look at the big, loud, noisy, stinky trucks' gene in them somewhere which keeps them occupied with big boy toys for hours and hours on end. They never seemed to become bored watching men work.
At any rate, Terry needn't have concerned herself. David joined us for lunch and offered to sit with Jeremy in the afternoon if that's what he wanted to do. And David needn't have concerned himself, either. Jeremy joined his brother in my bed directly after lunch to sit with him for a few minutes before going outside to watch the construction workers, but he made the mistake of lying down beside his brother as I checked Justin's temperature once again (it was up a bit, but not alarmingly so) and Jeremy fell soundly asleep before I finished taking the reading. I pulled the sheet over him, tucked him in, gave both him and his brother a kiss on the forehead, and left them to sleep.
Terry relented and, at my suggestion, took the rest of the afternoon off. She even managed to get an appointment to have her hair done for her dinner and concert date with Tom Kent the following evening when her regular hair salon told her there was an opening if she could get there within fifteen minutes.
Sleep caught up to me after a time as well and I nodded off at some point with my laptop still in my lap. With my work finished, I had turned off my laptop and closed the lid, then lay my head back and closed my eyes for just a moment. The next thing I knew, I came awake with my swollen crotch pressing against my laptop (I wish I could remember what the dream was about) and something pressing against my left eyeball. That ‘something' pushed my upper eyelid upward and my exposed eyeball rolled around in its socket and spying both of my sons, each standing on either side of me. They were both blurred beyond recognition but the pyjamas on the son pushing open my eye told me which was which.
Justin spoke softly: "Are you in there, Daddy?"
I came awake immediately, sitting straight up on the daybed and putting my happy dream and swollen crotch completely out of my mind. His thumb fell away from my eyelid. "Justin, what's wrong?"
"I'm hungry, Daddy," he replied.
I pulled him closer, pressing my fingers against his forehead and then my lips. He felt cooler, but I wanted to be certain I wasn't imagining it and sent Jeremy off to the bedroom to fetch the thermometer for me. I wasn't mistaken. Justin's fever had broke and it was all but back to normal. With a great sigh of relief, I set my laptop aside and set about making something to eat for my son.
Now, as long as Jeremy didn't become sick, too, we might just make it to Toronto and our son and his brother might just be able to go camping in Uncle Barry's homemade tent after all.
* * * * *
"Gee-sus, Murphy, Ted," Brad exclaimed as he exited the bathroom fresh from the shower and turned his head toward the front of the Winnebago. "It's too friggin' quiet in here without the kids. I miss them already." He stepped toward the foot of the bed where he lifted the towel he held in his hands to his head and rubbed at his hair. A second, larger towel lay over his right shoulder. Otherwise, he was as naked as anyone can get.
The kids were, indeed, gone. Dad had stopped by on his way home from work to pick up Lindsay and Nathan had arrived shortly thereafter to pick up Justin and Jeremy, proudly stowing their packed backpacks into the trunk of the car as Brad and I gave our sons their obligatory hugs and kisses. Nathan buckled his godsons into their brand new car seats which were securely strapped into the back seat. He left with the promise that he would call us the instant either of them showed any sign of a fever.
Brad and I were left alone.
I was sitting on my side of the bed pulling on a pair of socks. The shower in the camper wasn't big enough for both of us, so I had grabbed my shower first. I took a moment to look at Brad, standing there in front of me, practically within arm's reach, and totally naked except for the second towel he had tossed casually over his shoulder. It still filled me with delight to see him like that, so innocent and fresh, yet more of a man than anyone else I knew.
"Yeah," I agreed with a smirk, "but it's nice to have some time alone once in awhile, isn't it? Unless you don't want to spend time alone with me."
Brad stopped rubbing at his hair and lifted the towel away from his face. He laughed out loud and his belly contracted with each hearty guffaw. "You know I love spending time alone with you, Pops," he continued as he rubbed at his hair again, "but I still miss the kids. I never imagined the three of them would become so important to me so fast. I mean, I really, really miss them."
"Well, if Jeremy gets sick, we might be back here sooner than you think."
"I hope not. Not that I don't want to see him getting sick, but I'm looking forward to my weekend in Toronto with you a lot more. I still love it when it's just you and me."
"Come here," I said to him.
"Why?"
"Just come here."
Brad approached and stood in front of me. I reached up for the towel on his shoulder. Then, placing my hands on his hips, I coaxed him to turn around and face away from me. He went back to drying his hair as I began rubbing his back, legs, and the luscious mounds of his backside. Brad was still talking but I don't remember a single word he said. My concentration was elsewhere. I think he was talking about the kids. I'm pretty sure I heard him mention Lindsay and Daniel.
I was so engrossed in his twin mounds, even leaning closer once or twice to give each one a loving kiss, that I didn't even notice that, not only had Brad finished drying his hair, he had finished drying his chest and arms and crotch as well. Even then I was still rubbing his butt with the same gentleness and tenderness that I used when I bathed Lindsay when she was a baby.
"Leave some skin for me to sit on, will ya, Pops?" Brad laughed as he pulled himself away from my manipulations and turned himself around to face me.
Of course, that provided me with a whole new set of toys to play with and I quickly dropped the towel to the floor and reached out with both hands, one to cradle the shower-heavy balls and the other to nestle the still-flaccid penis which dangled almost as low as his low-hanging testicles. Even after all this time, it still caught my breath and I would think to myself how lucky I was to be blessed with someone who was as blessed as Brad.
Not only is Brad an extremely handsome and superbly-built young man, but he is also one of the best people I know - loving and caring and giving. There isn't anything he wouldn't do for those he loves. Connie used to tolerate my bullshit. Brad scoops it all up and throws it all right back into my face. I need that sometimes. I need Brad to keep me in check. And, Lord help me, but I truly need what he was allowing me to hold in my hands that night. Having such wonderful toys to play with is a delightful perk of our marriage and, to this day, I have yet to figure out why I'm the one who was lucky enough to get the job to play with them. What surprises me even more, though, is the fact that Brad finds an equal attraction to mine. Chacun à son goût, I guess.
Brad is a handful - literally - even on the coldest days of winter. After a nice, warm shower, he is even more of a handful - or, to be more precise, two handsful - and those were my favourite times for digital explorations. My left hand formed itself into a bowl shape and lifted into his crotch to catch and cradle his loose orbs. My right hand was curled into a trough and Brad's cock lay in it like a bratwurst lying in a hotdog bun. Even with my fingertips pressing into the spot where Brad's ball sack and cock met each other, the tip of his still soft but pleasantly plumped cock practically reached my wrist, the dilated slit at the tip pointing directly at the heel of my palm.
I marvelled at it as I had done many times before and lost myself in it, enjoying its warmth and strength and softness until Brad's voice broke into my daydreams and memories.
"Sorry, Pops," he said quietly, "but we don't have time for this right now. We've got to get to Toronto, remember? Mozart awaits."
"It's Mousorgsky," I corrected as I diverted my attention away from his crotch to his face, "and he's dead. He can wait."
"But Terry and Tom can't. We don't have time."
"Not even for a quickie?"
"Nope."
"Aw, come on," I prodded with an eager grin as I looked back down at my hands and the treasures they held. I spread my fingers and thumb and curled them around his tube of spongy flesh. "I've seen you pull one off in less then five minutes when you put your mind to it."
Brad bent himself at the waist, planting his hands on my thighs and effectively pulling his crotch away from my hands. I reluctantly released him. His balls fell away. His warm cock slide over my palm, through the loose tunnel of my fingers, and off my fingertips until it swung freely once again between his legs. With his hands on my legs, we were face to face and his chipped-tooth smile beamed at me. "Yes, I could. But then I would need another shower and, if past experience is any indication when I do that, you probably wouldn't be able to catch it all and you'd have to change your clothes. We just don't have time, Pops. Sorry."
"Not even a quick taste?"
His smile beamed again. "No, but you can taste this." He leaned forward a bit, tilting his head as he did so, and he gave me a very delicious kiss.
I smacked my lips when he finally pulled away. "That should hold me over," I smiled.
Brad winked. "Just let me know when you need a refill."
"Do me a favour, then?"
"Sure, Pops. What?"
"Wear the denim-coloured underwear with the white squiggles tonight? I like seeing you in those."
Brad's grin widened. "You won't be able to see them unless I wear those white pants you bought for me. You know, the ones you can see through. And you know I don't wear those for anybody except you."
"I don't have to see them, Tiger," I explained. "Just knowing you've got them on is enough for me to know exactly what you look like in them."
"Okay, Pops. Anything for you." Brad continued to grin at me and stare into my eyes. "Have I told you yet today?"
"Yes. A couple of times. But you can tell me again if you want to."
"I love you, Pops."
"And I love you, too, Tiger."
Brad probably could have pulled one off during the time we spent kissing, but at least he didn't have to take another shower and I didn't have to change my clothes.
* * * * *
As requested, Brad and I had dressed with casual elegance - me wearing much the same thing as I wear at work - a pair of nice slacks and a nice, clean, lightly-striped shirt. Brad wore a brand new pair of rather fancy and tight-fitting black denim jeans and a shirt that was just tight enough to hint at the body hidden beneath the material. It was the perfect shade of pale lilac to make his already green eyes sparkle even greener. And I was the only person in the who knew he was wearing denim-coloured underwear with white squiggles on them.
"de Villiers and de Villers-Hayes," I said to the Maître d' of the restaurant. "We're here to. . ."
"Ah, yes," the Maître d' said with a huge smile and well-practiced bow. "Mr. Kent is awaiting your arrival." He motioned briefly with an outstretched hand. "Please, if you would follow me?" He gracefully and efficiently guided us around and between the many tables until he reached the one where Terry and Tom were already seated.
Tom rose to his feet and greeted us with an extended hand, looking particularly handsome in his tan slacks and Dodger blue long-sleeved shirt. The top two buttons were undone and a narrow, white, loosely-knotted tie hung around his neck and over his chest. Terry looked positively radiant with her newly-trimmed hair which was styled in a manner befitting dinner in a rather posh restaurant. Her black slacks and white blouse almost matched my own slacks and shirt. A lovely and delicate gold chain dangled around he neck and tiny stud earrings decorated her earlobes. In the time I'd known her, I don't ever recall Terry looking so very happy - more happy even than when she attended our wedding. I truly hoped the best for her and I hoped that Tom was the ‘catch' he appeared to be. After taking care of our three kids, Terry certainly deserved a bit of happiness on her days off.
As we shook hands with Tom, the Maître d' grasped the backs of the two remaining and adjacent chairs and pulled them away from the table for us before raising his right hand into the air and snapping his fingers twice to beckon our waiter forward. I sat to Terry's right and opposite Tom. Brad sat to my right between me and Tom. A moment later, our waiter was placing our menus in front of all of us, pouring our ice water, and taking our drink orders. Terry and Tom already had theirs. Brad and I both ordered a beer. We had already decided that, being the driver, I would have only one drink. After that, I'd limit myself to coffee. Brad could have had as much as he wanted, of course, but, being Brad, he wouldn't allow himself to have more than I.
"Teri-Lynne told me all about. . ." Tom began as our waiter left to get our drinks, but Brad cut him off.
"Who?"
"Teri-Lynne," Tom replied with a nod toward Terry.
Brad's lips curled up into a wide, bright smile and his eyes twinkled in the subdued lighting of the restaurant. "Is that your real name?"
Terry nodded shyly. "Yes. I'm not particularly fond of it, though."
"I like it," Brad said.
"Tom does, too," Terry said, "so I let him use it."
"Nobody else, though, eh?" Brad continued. "Sort of like Ted and his father. Dad's the only one who gets to call him Theodore. Anyone else who calls him that will probably get a bat ‘round the ear ‘ole."
Tom laughed out loud, which spread quickly around the table.
"Where did you learn that?" I asked though my chuckles.
"Your Mom said it to me once," Brad told me. "I can't remember what I was doing, but she threatened to give me one if I didn't smarten up and start doing it right." We laughed all over again. "Sorry, Tom. You were saying?"
"Oh. Just that Teri-Lynne told me all about your wedding and showed me her photo album and the DVD. I wish I'd known you back then. I would have loved to have been there."
The waiter returned with our drinks and took our orders quickly and efficiently. He didn't write anything down. As quickly as he had arrived, he disappeared again.
"I mean," Tom Kent continued, "I have to admit that you both looked fantastic in your matching tuxes, and your. . . what did you call him? Best man?"
I nodded.
"Yeah. In a wheelchair, even. Teri-Lynne told me you postponed your wedding because he was going to have surgery?"
Tom made it sound like a question, so I answered it as such. "Yes. He was recovering from heart surgery. I've known Warren since I was a kid. We grew up together. I wouldn't have not wanted him to be there with me, and it was just as important for Warren to be there with me. We decided to wait for him."
"Now, that's friendship," Tom commented.
"Oh, it's more than just friendship, Tom. We're more like brothers than friends. He's part of my family, and there aren't many people I love more than him."
Tom's eyes flicked briefly to Brad. "I'm sure," he smiled. "I guess it's just that I don't have many gay friends, and I certainly don't have any that are married to each other. My roommate in college was gay, but he was so deep in the closet that he'd named all the moths. I kinda felt sorry for him. He seemed so lonely. But this is a whole new learning experience for me and I really want to understand it. It might come in very handy as a teacher. I hope you don't mind if I ask you some questions now and then."
"Not at all," Brad assured him.
"Any time," I told him.
Our waiter served our entrées then and disappeared again. Casual conversation continued. Tom withheld whatever questions he might have had for us for another time. Instead, we spoke briefly about Justin and Jeremy and how they were doing in school as he we munched our salads. For the first time, I noticed that Tom was left-handed. Still, Tom was somewhat hesitant to talk a lot about our sons outside the usual parent-teacher meetings but mentioned briefly that he had been excited to see Jeremy's independence beginning to break through in the classroom, especially when he had shown up alone at school the day before.
"Well, it stands to reason, doesn't it?" Terry offered. "For all those years before they met Ted, the only constant in Jeremy's life was Justin. Justin was the only one who was always there to take care of him. Now he has more love coming at him than he's ever known before and he knows it's not going to go away like it always did before. There are other people he can depend upon now. He doesn't need Justin as much as he used to. In fact, he's showing Justin that he can rely on Jeremy now. I think that's why he went to school by himself. So he could share the day's lessons with Justin when he came home."
Tom practically beamed at her. "Not just another pretty face, eh?" he said to us, and then he leaned to his right, lifted his butt from the chair, and gave Terry a quick peck on her cheek before sitting back down and sticking his fork into a tomato wedge. Terry wasn't one for blushing, but her face flushed a delightful pink that night and she cast a quick, shy glance my way. I responded with the most heartening and understanding smile I could manage.
We were halfway through the main course when the conversation turned to Brad's landscaping business plans. "My mom loves gardening," Tom Kent said. "She's been trying for years to get me into it for years, but I can't even keep plastic flowers alive. They melt."
We all laughed.
"But seriously," he continued, "what are those. . . what did you call them? Micro-ecosystems?"
Brad nodded as he sliced off a piece of his baked potato. "You know what an ecosystem is, don't you?" He popped the piece of potato into his mouth.
"Like a forest, or a marsh, or prairies," Tom replied. "Things like that where certain plants grow."
Brad nodded again as he quickly chewed and swallowed. "Yeah, like that, but on a smaller scale."
"So, you have to figure out the ecosystem in someone's back yard and landscape to it?"
This time Brad shook his head back and forth. "More like having to figure out all the ecosystems in someone's back yard. There can be lots of them in a small space. Like, how much sun a spot gets and when it gets it. How much shade. How much wind. How much protection. How much rain. It's all important. I've just started studying it, but it's interesting to see how they all interact with each other and how one small system can affect another one. I really won't have to worry about that part too much, though. I don't expect I'll be doing very much designing, but I think it's stuff I really need to know and understand. It helps to know what you're talking about when you're trying to explain it to your customers."
"True," Tom agreed, "but aren't you afraid of competition? I mean, there's a lot of landscaping firms in the city, and some of them have been around for ages. It could be tough to get your foot in the door."
"I'm not that worried," Brad shrugged. "If you do good work and give your customers more than they expect to get, they'll remember you and send business your way when their friends are looking for a make-over. You just have to get your name out there."
"Have you thought of a name yet?"
"Baie Dankie Landscaping."
Tom nodded and actually said, "Cool. Who thought that up?"
"Nobody. It's Afrikaans for ‘thank you'."
Tom's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? Do you speak it?"
"Brad doesn't," I replied. "I do, a bit. I understand it more than I can speak it. My father is from South Africa and slips into it from time to time. My mother is British."
"From Sherwood Forest," Brad added. "We almost got there on our honeymoon but we had to come back early because of the fire. We're hoping to go back some day. Most of Ted's family is still there."
"Interesting family tree," Tom commented. "Roots in three different continents."
"Four," I corrected him with a smile and a wink. "Mom's father was born in Australia."
"So much culture for them to benefit from." Tom said, shanking his head slowly back and forth. "That's one hell of a legacy to leave your kids."
"Yeah, it is," I said as I thought about it. I hadn't considered that before. "Isn't it?"
"Hey, Brad," Terry said, interrupting my thoughts. "What did you mean by ‘more than they expect to get'?"
Brad took a sip of his beer before answering. "Well, you know when you're driving around and you see new landscaping? And on a lot of those landscaping shows on television? They usually end up with gardens covered with mulch and a few rinky-dink plants sticking out of them? On television, they usually tell the homeowners how wonderful it will look when it all fills in because they don't look anything like the drawings the people were shown at the beginning."
Terry nodded.
"Well, I want it to be like Matt James and Allan Titchmarsh. You know, those English guys on HGTV who create gardens? When they finish one, it looks fully grown. You know, like it's been there forever. That's what I want to do. I want to use grown plants. Not seedlings. Eventually I hope to set up my own nurseries so the company can grow the plants it uses. I'd like to be able to offer the people everything that goes along with landscaping. You know, like patios and decks, stonework, swimming pools, fish ponds, water features, gazebos. Stuff like that. Everything they might want in a back yard but would have to hire a whole bunch of different people. With Baie Dankie, they can get it all in the same place."
"Very ambitious," Tom said. "I wish you the best of luck."
"Thanks," Brad smile proudly as he shrugged one shoulder. "I made a straight man fall in love with me and marry me. Learning how to make pretty gardens should be a breeze."
* * * * *
The concert was wonderful, and it was great to hear the Toronto Symphony Orchestra again. Tom and I enjoyed it immensely and we're pretty certain that Brad and Terry enjoyed it as well. I sat between Brad and Tom with Brad on my right. Terry sat on Tom's left.
Brad held my hand throughout the entire concert as he had told Nathan he would do and even carried it out into the lobby during intermission. Tom was surprisingly relaxed and didn't even pull his leg away when my leg accidentally bumped against his. And he didn't mind our arms pressing together on the adjacent arm rests. He seemed more than comfortable when, several times throughout the concert, he put his hand on my forearm, squeezed it lightly, and leaned close so that he could whisper a comment on the performance into my ear. We got to know each other quite well that night and we became very good friends. I suspected there would be many more concerts in our future which we would attend as a friendly foursome.
"Do you have that Scheherazade on CD, Mr. Dee?" Terry asked as we left the concert hall. "That was so beautiful."
"Three versions of it."
"Which one's the best?"
"All of them," I assured her. "Take your pick and enjoy."
"You realise, of course," Tom said jokingly but with a tinge of seriousness in his voice as we walked toward the parking lot and our cars, "this won't have anything to do with whether or not your boys graduate kindergarten next year. Even though I'm dating their nanny and even though I'm friends with their fathers, they're going to have to toe the line all by themselves. They make it on their own or not at all. I can't play favourites."
"Okay," Brad said. "What about a big stack of unmarked twenties in a plain, brown envelope?"
I'm sure people halfway to Bloor heard out laughter.
"That was fun," Brad said as I the car through the busy Toronto traffic on the way to Mississauga and Warren's place. "It sounds a lot different when you're listening to it live like that. I enjoyed it a whole lot more than I thought I would."
"So did I."
"I really like Tom. He sounds like a really nice guy."
"Terry likes him, too," I said.
"I know. Did you see the way she looks at him? Her eyes go all dreamy."
"Sort of like yours when you look at me."
Brad leaned close and kissed my cheek. "Yeah, well, Tom's kind of cute, I suppose, if you're into his type, but he's not half as gorgeous and sexy as you are."
"Speaking of which," I began with a chuckle, "you've got a lot of cheek telling him that you made me fall in love with you."
"But it's true."
I looked at Brad. He looked very serious. As if to emphasise his statement, he reached across the console and placed his open hand on my thigh before leaning toward me to give me another kiss on the cheek. He left his hand on my leg as he withdrew.
"It's true, Pops," he repeated softly. "I knew I was going to marry you even before you met me."
I glanced at him again to see if he was still being serious.
He was.
Enjoy.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
WATCHING BRAD
Part 216
WATCHING BRAD
Part 216
Jeremy sat quietly on my right leg, occupying one half of my lap and facing his slightly-elder brother who occupied the other half. That was one of the few times that Jeremy held Justin's hand instead of Justin holding his. Both boys huddled themselves as close to me as they could, leaning their heads warmly against my chest and undoubtedly wishing that all was well and that they were sleeping snugly and warm in their own beds.
Justin still continued to sob and simper lightly, more, I think, to remind me that he was feeling poorly in hopes that I could fix it, but I could do little more than to continue to wrap my arm around him and cuddle him and gently rub his belly for him. Jeremy sat in silence opposite Justin, lifting his head from my chest occasionally at the sound of every approaching vehicle on the street. However, the moment that he recognised that the vehicle wasn't Brad's truck, his cheek returned to my chest and his attention returned to his ailing brother.
The puke bucket, which I kept within easy reach, was needed only once as we awaited Brad's return. It was a false alarm of sorts which did little more than to cause a series of dry heaves and another round of anxious crying for Justin. He coughed and retched for a minute or two, but finally managed to spit up what little remained inside his small tummy into the blue plastic bucket.
It was about ten minutes later that Jeremy lifted his head at a sound I hadn't even heard, then he looked up and my face and his open lips curled ever-so-slightly into a relieved smile. I knew Brad was on his way. I heard his truck a moment later, speeding down the street and finally slowing in order to pull into the driveway and park. Jeremy's eyes followed the sound through the walls. There was the sound of a truck door opening and closing and Jeremy sat upright in my lap. His head turned toward the open bedroom doorway and the front of the Winnebago where he knew his Daddy Brad would appear, which Brad did moments later. My Tiger came through the door, closing and locking it securely behind him, then hurrying through the darkened camper toward the bedroom and its three waiting occupants.
"Who would have thought some idiot would be buying two hundred bucks worth of scratch-and-win lottery tickets at this time of night?" he complained as he set the bag he was carrying onto the foot of the bed. "How's Justin?"
"Holding his own," I told him. To Justin, I said, "I know you probably don't feel like drinking anything right now, my Sonskyne, but I want you to try, okay?"
Justin nodded his head against my chest.
"What flavour would you like, Justin?" Brad asked. "Orange, grape, cherry, or apple?"
"Cherry," Justin replied in a small, simpering voice.
"Can I have one, too, Daddy Brad?" Jeremy asked hopefully.
"Sure," Brad smiled back at him. "Orange?"
Jeremy nodded.
Brad reached into the bag and pulled out a new package of plastic twisty straws. As he opened the package, he made his way to the bathroom where he turned on the faucet. I could hear him sucking water into the straws and spitting it back out through them to rinse them. Jeremy, meanwhile, abandoned his spot on my lap and crawled back into the space where he knew his Daddy Brad's lap would soon be. It wasn't long before Brad was back in the bedroom where he grabbed the desired bottles of Pedialyte out of the bag and twisted off the caps. Rapid fire plastic pops snapped loudly as the safety seal strip tore itself apart from the rest of the caps. Brad stuck a twisty straw into each bottle and handed them to our sons.
Jeremy accepted his bottle and began sucking at his straw immediately. I, however, stayed Justin's hands before he could start drinking. "Little sips, okay?" I said to him. "Just take one little sip and swallow it, then wait a bit before you take another one."
He nodded his head affirmatively and took his first cautious sip. I checked to made certain the bucket was still close to hand. Just in case.
Brad swiftly put a few of the remaining bottles of fruit-flavoured electrolytes in the small refrigerator and set the rest of them in a lower cupboard beside it. He checked the front door one more time to be certain it was locked before returning to the bedroom and stripping down to his briefs and climbing into bed beside me. Jeremy, of course, immediately held out his bottle for Brad to hold so he could clamber into Brad's lap. He settled with his feet astraddle Brad's legs and sat with his back pressed against Brad's chest. Brad lovingly wrapped his arms around his son just as Jeremy twisted himself around to offer his Daddy Brad a sip of his orange drink. Brad graciously accepted, playfully staggering his sucking so that the orange liquid danced in the serpentine see-through straw. It made Jeremy laugh. It was a good sound to hear, especially after all the sickly sounds we'd been listing to for quite some time.
Justin needed the bucket one more time that night, but it was due more to the fact that he had convinced himself he would need it rather than having a genuine need for it. I'd seen it happen many times when Lindsay was younger. The body of a child is easily swayed by the mind. Once they convince their brains they're going to puke, it's an easy job for the brain to get the stomach to do it.
Fortunately, the three of us worked together in perfect unison. Justin had barely drank enough of the cherry liquid to fill one of Lindsay's tiny toy plastic tea cups she played with when she was a little girl when I felt Justin tense up suddenly. He clamped his right hand over his mouth as he held out his bottle of Pedialyte beside him in his left hand. As Brad grabbed the bottle out of Justin's hand, I reached down and grabbed the bucket. I got it into place just in time. Justin pulled his and away and let fly. What came up this time was little more than the sweet, cherry-smelling Pedialyte.
Justin didn't really cry this time, but he continued to sob and whimper as I wiped his mouth for the umpteenth time that night and then cuddled him again. Brad handed him his Pedialyte again and I convinced him to drink some more of it. I also did my best to assure him that he wouldn't be sick again, that all of the bad stuff was out of him now. Thank goodness he trusted me enough to have another go and drank down about half the bottle when he twisted in my lap, handed me the bottle (which I set on the night stand) and he laid his head against my chest and became very quiet. Within seconds, his gentle and regular breathing told me that he was asleep.
I cuddled Justin and tucked the bed sheets over and around him, then bent my head over him and pressed my lips to his forehead. It still felt very warm but not enough to worry me. Once Justin had settled down, Jeremy was quick to follow his brother's lead, snuggling up against his Daddy Brad's chest. In only moments, both were sleeping soundly.
Brad managed to get a little sleep that night. I, on the other hand, may have nodded off briefly once or twice but, for the most part, I remained awake so I could be certain that Justin's fever didn't become worse. It didn't, much to my great relief.
Jeremy surprised us in the morning by insisting that he be allowed to go to school. I had told him it would be okay for him to stay home with Justin, but school was where he wanted to be so that is where he went. Terry made certain to tell Tom Kent about the previous night's adventure and to keep an eye on Jeremy. If he complained of a sore or upset stomach, have the school secretary phone us and someone would be there immediately to pick him up and bring him home.
Brad, of course, had gone to work - a bit bedraggled and haggard, but with that ever-present sparkle in his bright, green eyes and that chipped-tooth smile on his lips when he kissed me goodbye. I knew I'd miss him during the day. I always did when he wasn't around. Even after only a few months of marriage, we didn't do ‘apart'.
Terry returned to the Winnebago after taking Jeremy to school and stayed with Justin. I'd tucked him into our bed after giving him a few more sips of Pedialyte as I went to work long enough to assign projects to the staff, sort out one nagging bit of programming, and pick up my own bit of work which I could do at home on my laptop. He was still asleep when I arrived back home and I settled on the small daybed sofa and worked away on my laptop while the small stereo system built into the camper echoed with the gentle, mellow strains of a Boieldieu harp concerto.
Terry joined Bernice as I worked and laundered the soiled bedding for us even though I said we would take care of it later. I didn't think that ‘light housekeeping duties' should extend to handling and washing vomit-soaked bed sheets, but Terry insisted that she didn't mind. After that, she did whatever she usually did while awaiting the time that she would have to go back to the school to pick up Jeremy. I had told her she could take the afternoon off when she came back with Jeremy but she said she'd stay to help with lunch and to hang around in case Jeremy wanted to go outside to watch the construction next door as he and his brother often did in the afternoons.
Justin and Jeremy were like little sponges as far as the construction work next door was concerned, watching intently and absorbing every moment when someone was working with a tool or using a piece of machinery. Little boys are like that. I'm sure there's a ‘fascination with heavy equipment' and/or a ‘look at the big, loud, noisy, stinky trucks' gene in them somewhere which keeps them occupied with big boy toys for hours and hours on end. They never seemed to become bored watching men work.
At any rate, Terry needn't have concerned herself. David joined us for lunch and offered to sit with Jeremy in the afternoon if that's what he wanted to do. And David needn't have concerned himself, either. Jeremy joined his brother in my bed directly after lunch to sit with him for a few minutes before going outside to watch the construction workers, but he made the mistake of lying down beside his brother as I checked Justin's temperature once again (it was up a bit, but not alarmingly so) and Jeremy fell soundly asleep before I finished taking the reading. I pulled the sheet over him, tucked him in, gave both him and his brother a kiss on the forehead, and left them to sleep.
Terry relented and, at my suggestion, took the rest of the afternoon off. She even managed to get an appointment to have her hair done for her dinner and concert date with Tom Kent the following evening when her regular hair salon told her there was an opening if she could get there within fifteen minutes.
Sleep caught up to me after a time as well and I nodded off at some point with my laptop still in my lap. With my work finished, I had turned off my laptop and closed the lid, then lay my head back and closed my eyes for just a moment. The next thing I knew, I came awake with my swollen crotch pressing against my laptop (I wish I could remember what the dream was about) and something pressing against my left eyeball. That ‘something' pushed my upper eyelid upward and my exposed eyeball rolled around in its socket and spying both of my sons, each standing on either side of me. They were both blurred beyond recognition but the pyjamas on the son pushing open my eye told me which was which.
Justin spoke softly: "Are you in there, Daddy?"
I came awake immediately, sitting straight up on the daybed and putting my happy dream and swollen crotch completely out of my mind. His thumb fell away from my eyelid. "Justin, what's wrong?"
"I'm hungry, Daddy," he replied.
I pulled him closer, pressing my fingers against his forehead and then my lips. He felt cooler, but I wanted to be certain I wasn't imagining it and sent Jeremy off to the bedroom to fetch the thermometer for me. I wasn't mistaken. Justin's fever had broke and it was all but back to normal. With a great sigh of relief, I set my laptop aside and set about making something to eat for my son.
Now, as long as Jeremy didn't become sick, too, we might just make it to Toronto and our son and his brother might just be able to go camping in Uncle Barry's homemade tent after all.
* * * * *
"Gee-sus, Murphy, Ted," Brad exclaimed as he exited the bathroom fresh from the shower and turned his head toward the front of the Winnebago. "It's too friggin' quiet in here without the kids. I miss them already." He stepped toward the foot of the bed where he lifted the towel he held in his hands to his head and rubbed at his hair. A second, larger towel lay over his right shoulder. Otherwise, he was as naked as anyone can get.
The kids were, indeed, gone. Dad had stopped by on his way home from work to pick up Lindsay and Nathan had arrived shortly thereafter to pick up Justin and Jeremy, proudly stowing their packed backpacks into the trunk of the car as Brad and I gave our sons their obligatory hugs and kisses. Nathan buckled his godsons into their brand new car seats which were securely strapped into the back seat. He left with the promise that he would call us the instant either of them showed any sign of a fever.
Brad and I were left alone.
I was sitting on my side of the bed pulling on a pair of socks. The shower in the camper wasn't big enough for both of us, so I had grabbed my shower first. I took a moment to look at Brad, standing there in front of me, practically within arm's reach, and totally naked except for the second towel he had tossed casually over his shoulder. It still filled me with delight to see him like that, so innocent and fresh, yet more of a man than anyone else I knew.
"Yeah," I agreed with a smirk, "but it's nice to have some time alone once in awhile, isn't it? Unless you don't want to spend time alone with me."
Brad stopped rubbing at his hair and lifted the towel away from his face. He laughed out loud and his belly contracted with each hearty guffaw. "You know I love spending time alone with you, Pops," he continued as he rubbed at his hair again, "but I still miss the kids. I never imagined the three of them would become so important to me so fast. I mean, I really, really miss them."
"Well, if Jeremy gets sick, we might be back here sooner than you think."
"I hope not. Not that I don't want to see him getting sick, but I'm looking forward to my weekend in Toronto with you a lot more. I still love it when it's just you and me."
"Come here," I said to him.
"Why?"
"Just come here."
Brad approached and stood in front of me. I reached up for the towel on his shoulder. Then, placing my hands on his hips, I coaxed him to turn around and face away from me. He went back to drying his hair as I began rubbing his back, legs, and the luscious mounds of his backside. Brad was still talking but I don't remember a single word he said. My concentration was elsewhere. I think he was talking about the kids. I'm pretty sure I heard him mention Lindsay and Daniel.
I was so engrossed in his twin mounds, even leaning closer once or twice to give each one a loving kiss, that I didn't even notice that, not only had Brad finished drying his hair, he had finished drying his chest and arms and crotch as well. Even then I was still rubbing his butt with the same gentleness and tenderness that I used when I bathed Lindsay when she was a baby.
"Leave some skin for me to sit on, will ya, Pops?" Brad laughed as he pulled himself away from my manipulations and turned himself around to face me.
Of course, that provided me with a whole new set of toys to play with and I quickly dropped the towel to the floor and reached out with both hands, one to cradle the shower-heavy balls and the other to nestle the still-flaccid penis which dangled almost as low as his low-hanging testicles. Even after all this time, it still caught my breath and I would think to myself how lucky I was to be blessed with someone who was as blessed as Brad.
Not only is Brad an extremely handsome and superbly-built young man, but he is also one of the best people I know - loving and caring and giving. There isn't anything he wouldn't do for those he loves. Connie used to tolerate my bullshit. Brad scoops it all up and throws it all right back into my face. I need that sometimes. I need Brad to keep me in check. And, Lord help me, but I truly need what he was allowing me to hold in my hands that night. Having such wonderful toys to play with is a delightful perk of our marriage and, to this day, I have yet to figure out why I'm the one who was lucky enough to get the job to play with them. What surprises me even more, though, is the fact that Brad finds an equal attraction to mine. Chacun à son goût, I guess.
Brad is a handful - literally - even on the coldest days of winter. After a nice, warm shower, he is even more of a handful - or, to be more precise, two handsful - and those were my favourite times for digital explorations. My left hand formed itself into a bowl shape and lifted into his crotch to catch and cradle his loose orbs. My right hand was curled into a trough and Brad's cock lay in it like a bratwurst lying in a hotdog bun. Even with my fingertips pressing into the spot where Brad's ball sack and cock met each other, the tip of his still soft but pleasantly plumped cock practically reached my wrist, the dilated slit at the tip pointing directly at the heel of my palm.
I marvelled at it as I had done many times before and lost myself in it, enjoying its warmth and strength and softness until Brad's voice broke into my daydreams and memories.
"Sorry, Pops," he said quietly, "but we don't have time for this right now. We've got to get to Toronto, remember? Mozart awaits."
"It's Mousorgsky," I corrected as I diverted my attention away from his crotch to his face, "and he's dead. He can wait."
"But Terry and Tom can't. We don't have time."
"Not even for a quickie?"
"Nope."
"Aw, come on," I prodded with an eager grin as I looked back down at my hands and the treasures they held. I spread my fingers and thumb and curled them around his tube of spongy flesh. "I've seen you pull one off in less then five minutes when you put your mind to it."
Brad bent himself at the waist, planting his hands on my thighs and effectively pulling his crotch away from my hands. I reluctantly released him. His balls fell away. His warm cock slide over my palm, through the loose tunnel of my fingers, and off my fingertips until it swung freely once again between his legs. With his hands on my legs, we were face to face and his chipped-tooth smile beamed at me. "Yes, I could. But then I would need another shower and, if past experience is any indication when I do that, you probably wouldn't be able to catch it all and you'd have to change your clothes. We just don't have time, Pops. Sorry."
"Not even a quick taste?"
His smile beamed again. "No, but you can taste this." He leaned forward a bit, tilting his head as he did so, and he gave me a very delicious kiss.
I smacked my lips when he finally pulled away. "That should hold me over," I smiled.
Brad winked. "Just let me know when you need a refill."
"Do me a favour, then?"
"Sure, Pops. What?"
"Wear the denim-coloured underwear with the white squiggles tonight? I like seeing you in those."
Brad's grin widened. "You won't be able to see them unless I wear those white pants you bought for me. You know, the ones you can see through. And you know I don't wear those for anybody except you."
"I don't have to see them, Tiger," I explained. "Just knowing you've got them on is enough for me to know exactly what you look like in them."
"Okay, Pops. Anything for you." Brad continued to grin at me and stare into my eyes. "Have I told you yet today?"
"Yes. A couple of times. But you can tell me again if you want to."
"I love you, Pops."
"And I love you, too, Tiger."
Brad probably could have pulled one off during the time we spent kissing, but at least he didn't have to take another shower and I didn't have to change my clothes.
* * * * *
As requested, Brad and I had dressed with casual elegance - me wearing much the same thing as I wear at work - a pair of nice slacks and a nice, clean, lightly-striped shirt. Brad wore a brand new pair of rather fancy and tight-fitting black denim jeans and a shirt that was just tight enough to hint at the body hidden beneath the material. It was the perfect shade of pale lilac to make his already green eyes sparkle even greener. And I was the only person in the who knew he was wearing denim-coloured underwear with white squiggles on them.
"de Villiers and de Villers-Hayes," I said to the Maître d' of the restaurant. "We're here to. . ."
"Ah, yes," the Maître d' said with a huge smile and well-practiced bow. "Mr. Kent is awaiting your arrival." He motioned briefly with an outstretched hand. "Please, if you would follow me?" He gracefully and efficiently guided us around and between the many tables until he reached the one where Terry and Tom were already seated.
Tom rose to his feet and greeted us with an extended hand, looking particularly handsome in his tan slacks and Dodger blue long-sleeved shirt. The top two buttons were undone and a narrow, white, loosely-knotted tie hung around his neck and over his chest. Terry looked positively radiant with her newly-trimmed hair which was styled in a manner befitting dinner in a rather posh restaurant. Her black slacks and white blouse almost matched my own slacks and shirt. A lovely and delicate gold chain dangled around he neck and tiny stud earrings decorated her earlobes. In the time I'd known her, I don't ever recall Terry looking so very happy - more happy even than when she attended our wedding. I truly hoped the best for her and I hoped that Tom was the ‘catch' he appeared to be. After taking care of our three kids, Terry certainly deserved a bit of happiness on her days off.
As we shook hands with Tom, the Maître d' grasped the backs of the two remaining and adjacent chairs and pulled them away from the table for us before raising his right hand into the air and snapping his fingers twice to beckon our waiter forward. I sat to Terry's right and opposite Tom. Brad sat to my right between me and Tom. A moment later, our waiter was placing our menus in front of all of us, pouring our ice water, and taking our drink orders. Terry and Tom already had theirs. Brad and I both ordered a beer. We had already decided that, being the driver, I would have only one drink. After that, I'd limit myself to coffee. Brad could have had as much as he wanted, of course, but, being Brad, he wouldn't allow himself to have more than I.
"Teri-Lynne told me all about. . ." Tom began as our waiter left to get our drinks, but Brad cut him off.
"Who?"
"Teri-Lynne," Tom replied with a nod toward Terry.
Brad's lips curled up into a wide, bright smile and his eyes twinkled in the subdued lighting of the restaurant. "Is that your real name?"
Terry nodded shyly. "Yes. I'm not particularly fond of it, though."
"I like it," Brad said.
"Tom does, too," Terry said, "so I let him use it."
"Nobody else, though, eh?" Brad continued. "Sort of like Ted and his father. Dad's the only one who gets to call him Theodore. Anyone else who calls him that will probably get a bat ‘round the ear ‘ole."
Tom laughed out loud, which spread quickly around the table.
"Where did you learn that?" I asked though my chuckles.
"Your Mom said it to me once," Brad told me. "I can't remember what I was doing, but she threatened to give me one if I didn't smarten up and start doing it right." We laughed all over again. "Sorry, Tom. You were saying?"
"Oh. Just that Teri-Lynne told me all about your wedding and showed me her photo album and the DVD. I wish I'd known you back then. I would have loved to have been there."
The waiter returned with our drinks and took our orders quickly and efficiently. He didn't write anything down. As quickly as he had arrived, he disappeared again.
"I mean," Tom Kent continued, "I have to admit that you both looked fantastic in your matching tuxes, and your. . . what did you call him? Best man?"
I nodded.
"Yeah. In a wheelchair, even. Teri-Lynne told me you postponed your wedding because he was going to have surgery?"
Tom made it sound like a question, so I answered it as such. "Yes. He was recovering from heart surgery. I've known Warren since I was a kid. We grew up together. I wouldn't have not wanted him to be there with me, and it was just as important for Warren to be there with me. We decided to wait for him."
"Now, that's friendship," Tom commented.
"Oh, it's more than just friendship, Tom. We're more like brothers than friends. He's part of my family, and there aren't many people I love more than him."
Tom's eyes flicked briefly to Brad. "I'm sure," he smiled. "I guess it's just that I don't have many gay friends, and I certainly don't have any that are married to each other. My roommate in college was gay, but he was so deep in the closet that he'd named all the moths. I kinda felt sorry for him. He seemed so lonely. But this is a whole new learning experience for me and I really want to understand it. It might come in very handy as a teacher. I hope you don't mind if I ask you some questions now and then."
"Not at all," Brad assured him.
"Any time," I told him.
Our waiter served our entrées then and disappeared again. Casual conversation continued. Tom withheld whatever questions he might have had for us for another time. Instead, we spoke briefly about Justin and Jeremy and how they were doing in school as he we munched our salads. For the first time, I noticed that Tom was left-handed. Still, Tom was somewhat hesitant to talk a lot about our sons outside the usual parent-teacher meetings but mentioned briefly that he had been excited to see Jeremy's independence beginning to break through in the classroom, especially when he had shown up alone at school the day before.
"Well, it stands to reason, doesn't it?" Terry offered. "For all those years before they met Ted, the only constant in Jeremy's life was Justin. Justin was the only one who was always there to take care of him. Now he has more love coming at him than he's ever known before and he knows it's not going to go away like it always did before. There are other people he can depend upon now. He doesn't need Justin as much as he used to. In fact, he's showing Justin that he can rely on Jeremy now. I think that's why he went to school by himself. So he could share the day's lessons with Justin when he came home."
Tom practically beamed at her. "Not just another pretty face, eh?" he said to us, and then he leaned to his right, lifted his butt from the chair, and gave Terry a quick peck on her cheek before sitting back down and sticking his fork into a tomato wedge. Terry wasn't one for blushing, but her face flushed a delightful pink that night and she cast a quick, shy glance my way. I responded with the most heartening and understanding smile I could manage.
We were halfway through the main course when the conversation turned to Brad's landscaping business plans. "My mom loves gardening," Tom Kent said. "She's been trying for years to get me into it for years, but I can't even keep plastic flowers alive. They melt."
We all laughed.
"But seriously," he continued, "what are those. . . what did you call them? Micro-ecosystems?"
Brad nodded as he sliced off a piece of his baked potato. "You know what an ecosystem is, don't you?" He popped the piece of potato into his mouth.
"Like a forest, or a marsh, or prairies," Tom replied. "Things like that where certain plants grow."
Brad nodded again as he quickly chewed and swallowed. "Yeah, like that, but on a smaller scale."
"So, you have to figure out the ecosystem in someone's back yard and landscape to it?"
This time Brad shook his head back and forth. "More like having to figure out all the ecosystems in someone's back yard. There can be lots of them in a small space. Like, how much sun a spot gets and when it gets it. How much shade. How much wind. How much protection. How much rain. It's all important. I've just started studying it, but it's interesting to see how they all interact with each other and how one small system can affect another one. I really won't have to worry about that part too much, though. I don't expect I'll be doing very much designing, but I think it's stuff I really need to know and understand. It helps to know what you're talking about when you're trying to explain it to your customers."
"True," Tom agreed, "but aren't you afraid of competition? I mean, there's a lot of landscaping firms in the city, and some of them have been around for ages. It could be tough to get your foot in the door."
"I'm not that worried," Brad shrugged. "If you do good work and give your customers more than they expect to get, they'll remember you and send business your way when their friends are looking for a make-over. You just have to get your name out there."
"Have you thought of a name yet?"
"Baie Dankie Landscaping."
Tom nodded and actually said, "Cool. Who thought that up?"
"Nobody. It's Afrikaans for ‘thank you'."
Tom's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? Do you speak it?"
"Brad doesn't," I replied. "I do, a bit. I understand it more than I can speak it. My father is from South Africa and slips into it from time to time. My mother is British."
"From Sherwood Forest," Brad added. "We almost got there on our honeymoon but we had to come back early because of the fire. We're hoping to go back some day. Most of Ted's family is still there."
"Interesting family tree," Tom commented. "Roots in three different continents."
"Four," I corrected him with a smile and a wink. "Mom's father was born in Australia."
"So much culture for them to benefit from." Tom said, shanking his head slowly back and forth. "That's one hell of a legacy to leave your kids."
"Yeah, it is," I said as I thought about it. I hadn't considered that before. "Isn't it?"
"Hey, Brad," Terry said, interrupting my thoughts. "What did you mean by ‘more than they expect to get'?"
Brad took a sip of his beer before answering. "Well, you know when you're driving around and you see new landscaping? And on a lot of those landscaping shows on television? They usually end up with gardens covered with mulch and a few rinky-dink plants sticking out of them? On television, they usually tell the homeowners how wonderful it will look when it all fills in because they don't look anything like the drawings the people were shown at the beginning."
Terry nodded.
"Well, I want it to be like Matt James and Allan Titchmarsh. You know, those English guys on HGTV who create gardens? When they finish one, it looks fully grown. You know, like it's been there forever. That's what I want to do. I want to use grown plants. Not seedlings. Eventually I hope to set up my own nurseries so the company can grow the plants it uses. I'd like to be able to offer the people everything that goes along with landscaping. You know, like patios and decks, stonework, swimming pools, fish ponds, water features, gazebos. Stuff like that. Everything they might want in a back yard but would have to hire a whole bunch of different people. With Baie Dankie, they can get it all in the same place."
"Very ambitious," Tom said. "I wish you the best of luck."
"Thanks," Brad smile proudly as he shrugged one shoulder. "I made a straight man fall in love with me and marry me. Learning how to make pretty gardens should be a breeze."
* * * * *
The concert was wonderful, and it was great to hear the Toronto Symphony Orchestra again. Tom and I enjoyed it immensely and we're pretty certain that Brad and Terry enjoyed it as well. I sat between Brad and Tom with Brad on my right. Terry sat on Tom's left.
Brad held my hand throughout the entire concert as he had told Nathan he would do and even carried it out into the lobby during intermission. Tom was surprisingly relaxed and didn't even pull his leg away when my leg accidentally bumped against his. And he didn't mind our arms pressing together on the adjacent arm rests. He seemed more than comfortable when, several times throughout the concert, he put his hand on my forearm, squeezed it lightly, and leaned close so that he could whisper a comment on the performance into my ear. We got to know each other quite well that night and we became very good friends. I suspected there would be many more concerts in our future which we would attend as a friendly foursome.
"Do you have that Scheherazade on CD, Mr. Dee?" Terry asked as we left the concert hall. "That was so beautiful."
"Three versions of it."
"Which one's the best?"
"All of them," I assured her. "Take your pick and enjoy."
"You realise, of course," Tom said jokingly but with a tinge of seriousness in his voice as we walked toward the parking lot and our cars, "this won't have anything to do with whether or not your boys graduate kindergarten next year. Even though I'm dating their nanny and even though I'm friends with their fathers, they're going to have to toe the line all by themselves. They make it on their own or not at all. I can't play favourites."
"Okay," Brad said. "What about a big stack of unmarked twenties in a plain, brown envelope?"
I'm sure people halfway to Bloor heard out laughter.
"That was fun," Brad said as I the car through the busy Toronto traffic on the way to Mississauga and Warren's place. "It sounds a lot different when you're listening to it live like that. I enjoyed it a whole lot more than I thought I would."
"So did I."
"I really like Tom. He sounds like a really nice guy."
"Terry likes him, too," I said.
"I know. Did you see the way she looks at him? Her eyes go all dreamy."
"Sort of like yours when you look at me."
Brad leaned close and kissed my cheek. "Yeah, well, Tom's kind of cute, I suppose, if you're into his type, but he's not half as gorgeous and sexy as you are."
"Speaking of which," I began with a chuckle, "you've got a lot of cheek telling him that you made me fall in love with you."
"But it's true."
I looked at Brad. He looked very serious. As if to emphasise his statement, he reached across the console and placed his open hand on my thigh before leaning toward me to give me another kiss on the cheek. He left his hand on my leg as he withdrew.
"It's true, Pops," he repeated softly. "I knew I was going to marry you even before you met me."
I glanced at him again to see if he was still being serious.
He was.
To Be Continued
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Oh, WOW!, Neil!!
I just had the most Wonderful time! It's been quite a while since I've been in a Winnebago, or to a concert, for that matter! It was truly Great to get back with Ted, and Brad, the kids, and everyone! And, your writing put me Right THERE!!
Thank You! THANK YOU!! THANK YOU!!!
I know I shall sleep well tonight ... very pleasant dreams, and all ...
Keep smilin'!!
Chaz
I just had the most Wonderful time! It's been quite a while since I've been in a Winnebago, or to a concert, for that matter! It was truly Great to get back with Ted, and Brad, the kids, and everyone! And, your writing put me Right THERE!!
Thank You! THANK YOU!! THANK YOU!!!
I know I shall sleep well tonight ... very pleasant dreams, and all ...
Keep smilin'!!
Chaz
Neil,
It's great to hear about our favourite Canadian family, again.
I thoroughly enjoyed the extended chapter, particularly the somewhat cryptic closing lines from Brad --
A) I didn't think he knew he was gay before he met Ted;
B) He knew he was going to marry Ted before Ted even knew him . . .
It's kind of [FONT="]Déjà vu[/FONT]-ish - a la the twins "knowing" that Ted was going to be their "real" Daddy before Ted ever met them - and the viewing window - spooky how, even after all these months, just reading that triggers that memory. But an incredibly warm feeling at the same time.
You have a wonderful way with crafting your chapters- even after a long, hard Winter and Spring of attacks on your body.
I know we're not in a real time vein any more - it's just after Thanksgiving Day - Canada = Sometime in October, but, since we're reading and writing today, here's a public Happy Birthday to the Twins -- to match the PM I sent earlier tonight. And Happy Birthday Canada. We'll be another Year older in 3 days.
Take care, my friend. I hope this finds you not feeling too much the worse the wear for your extended efforts these past several days/weeks.
It's great to hear about our favourite Canadian family, again.
I thoroughly enjoyed the extended chapter, particularly the somewhat cryptic closing lines from Brad --
A) I didn't think he knew he was gay before he met Ted;
B) He knew he was going to marry Ted before Ted even knew him . . .
It's kind of [FONT="]Déjà vu[/FONT]-ish - a la the twins "knowing" that Ted was going to be their "real" Daddy before Ted ever met them - and the viewing window - spooky how, even after all these months, just reading that triggers that memory. But an incredibly warm feeling at the same time.
You have a wonderful way with crafting your chapters- even after a long, hard Winter and Spring of attacks on your body.
I know we're not in a real time vein any more - it's just after Thanksgiving Day - Canada = Sometime in October, but, since we're reading and writing today, here's a public Happy Birthday to the Twins -- to match the PM I sent earlier tonight. And Happy Birthday Canada. We'll be another Year older in 3 days.
Take care, my friend. I hope this finds you not feeling too much the worse the wear for your extended efforts these past several days/weeks.
Correction: The dinner and concert in Toronto took place on the Friday before the Thanksgiving long weekend. Thanksgiving Day and the big de Villiers/Hayes Thanksgiving dinner won't happen until the following Monday.
But, yes, you were correct that, in real time, today is July 1 and 'Canada Day'. Canada is 142 years old today.
pe_gay89
Porn Star
I was doing some labouring for my dad the other day, and we were working with stone from a company called 'Bradstone'. Naturally, that set me thinking about this story. Needless to say that made the day go a whole lot quicker than it would have done otherwise. I'm working with the Bradstone again tomorrow, so with new material, any chances of boredom have completely gone. Another great chapter, Neil.
