If you read my previous story, Some Kind of Wonderful, before
this one, many things will fall into place better. However, this story does
stand on its own. Happy reading. JWS
RALPH GETS HIS MAN
by
J.W. Smith
I couldn't believe that I'd just told Karl to go sleep with Clay, the
man I've devoted the last four years of my life to. I know it was my choice to
help Clay. No one made me do it. But just to be near him and know that he loved
me as his best friend was enough. So I'm a wuss. The
only other choice was to never see him again. That simply wasn't an option in
my book. Besides he needed me. After that damned 49er tackled him, shattering
his knee and ending his career as a Dallas Cowboy; Sandra, Clay's wife just up
and left him with a little baby to take care of.
Clay was still on crutches. He still needed someone to do a lot of
things that he couldn't manage, like carrying Kacy. I
volunteered and moved in without really discussing it with him. I simply took
over running his household. Hey! Someone had to step in and take care of both
of them. That someone was me.
Damn, I was glad to see that woman gone. From day one he'd regretted that he'd
married her. He'd somehow convinced himself that he could be straight if he got
married and had a kid. Well, he tried it and except for little Kacy his life was miserable. I'll never forget the day she
left. I'd taken Clay to his appointment with the surgeon to have his knee
checked out. I'd done this every time, because if Sandra had to take him; it
became an international event.
There wasn't a hint that anything was going to be different. Sandra,
apparently, had timed the previous times I'd done this and left just before we
got back. Kacy was in his crib happily playing. It
always thrilled me the way Kacy would be so delighted
to see his daddy or me. He called me Raffy. He was
bouncing as he clung to the top of the crib, yelling, "Daddy. Raffy."
Sandra knew that Clay would head for Kacy's crib
first thing when he got home; because her note was pinned to the top bar. Clay
read it and handed it to me. He picked up his little boy and held him to his
chest, all the while whispering, "Yes, yes."
The note was terse and to the point. Not even one crocodile tear.
Clay,
I'm out of here. Life with you is a dead end street. You can have your
dear little Kacy. He'd only be in the way if I kept
him. Besides, he's always preferred you.
You'll be hearing from my lawyer on the divorce.
Sandra.
It was a couple of days later that Clay discovered she'd emptied their bank
account and taken all of their savings. "That's a cheap price for giving
me my wonderful little son," Clay said and shrugged it off as he held Kacy. He had a good financial advisor and much of what he'd
made as a Dallas Cowboy had been well invested. His huge house in
My life was going nowhere at that time. I had just won a long nasty court
battle and had plenty of money. You see, Clay and I had done a really stupid thing
a year or so before he married. A well-known pornographer had approached some
of us Cowboys with a proposition to make a film that would only be released in
Clay and I had fucked around with each other and the other two guys that
had been approached. I saw this film as a possible chance to get him to stay
with me.
Anyway, while the film was being made the pornographer shot a number of
stills, which he verbally promised us was for his own collection. We'd had the
man sign agreements that our lawyer had put together giving us as much
protection as possible against any of this being seen in the
The camera man had made advances to me while we were shooting. He was a
real slime ball and I'd flat out refused him. He wouldn't take no for an answer
and I ended up telling him what I thought of him. He swore he'd make me pay for
my words. I forgot all about him until a week later; a fan e-mailed me through
the Cowboy's front office saying he really loved the picture of me on an
internet site called Muscular Men. It was one of the photos taken of me fucking
Clay. Clay's face had been blurred out but mine was very clear.
Needless to say that brought the proverbial house down around my head.
My career as a professional football player ended.....abruptly. I was furious.
Since I had nothing to lose, I brought a lawsuit against the pornographer suing
for 10 million dollars. My lawyers managed to keep the whole lawsuit thing
quiet. I'm still amazed that the press never got hold of the story.
I ended up being awarded 1 million and all of the film and stills were
confiscated and destroyed. The pornographer swore there were no more.
It was useless to do anything about removing the pic
from the internet site. By then it was in thousands of private collections. It
was an amusing coincidence that soon after the settlement, the slimy cameraman
ended up in a gutter with his throat slashed. I would have loved to have been
the one to do it, but I wasn't.
The house I had in
The move to Los Robles was uneventful. We stayed with Clay's mother for three
months until we found a suitable house. Clay insisted that it be near the
university because we both planned to go back to school.
Clay's dad, Howard Johnson, still lived across the street in the house
where Karl grew up. As soon as Karl turned thirty his mother had divorced
Howard, had moved out leaving the big old house to Howard, and had moved into
one of the elegant new high rise condos on the edge of the country club golf
coarse. Howard still saw Clay's mother on a weekly basis for dinner, but she
would not consider remarrying him. I didn't even try to understand the
relationship between Clay's parents. All I've got to say on the subject is that
money can do weird things to people; and make people do weird things.
At first I wondered why Clay wanted to live in Robles Hills. I knew that Karl
Johnson still lived here. Clay had told me all about them being best friends
when they were young, and how Karl had figured out that Clay was gay and pushed
him out of his life. I couldn't figure out why Clay would ever want to run into
him again. Clay's mom had told us all about Karl, how he'd turned in to a tall
strikingly handsome man who lived by himself and had become a vice president in
the old bank downtown.
The quiet little college town grew on me. It's set in
the rounded grass covered hills a few miles inland from the Pacific. I learned
that the town had been named after some man by the name of Robles, but also that Robles was the Spanish name of the Oak trees that lined
the streets and dotted the hillsides. Life in the little town was good, a
perfect place to raise a boy. Both of us entered the university. Kacy was in kindergarten. And Mrs. Ramirez, our next door
neighbor, babysat him when we were both in class, which was only about four
hours a week.
We lived here nearly two years before our paths crossed with Karl's. I caught
Clay occasionally brooding over a newspaper photo of the man. It'd make my
heart ache for him and for me, too. I'd considered looking Karl up and telling
him. But I'm not a meddlesome man. I let it be. I knew that sooner or later
they had to run into each other. I did wonder if Karl was aware that Clay lived
here and if he even gave a damn about it.
And then one Friday evening Clay insisted that we take a break from our studies
and go out for an early dinner. Mrs. Ramirez was taking care of Kacy. I loved these times when it was just the two of us
and I could feel like it was a romantic date. I wasn't really fooling myself.
We'd just parked on
I watched his expression go from startled fear to delight to
apprehension. When Clay introduced me, I did my best to be civil. It was
obvious that the man was so homophobic that he could hardly stand being near
us. Clay ignored it, shook his hand, holding it too long before he suddenly let
go and turned away, calling for me to follow. I stared in to Karl's eyes a
moment before following. I could see the desire in his eyes. He wanted Clay. I
decided that the man was definitely a closet case homophobe.
When I caught up with Clay, he put an arm around my shoulder as he
turned to look back at Clay. The angst in his expression stabbed me. I patted
him on the back and urged him on. When we got to the corner Karl was just
turning to walk in the opposite direction. He'd obviously stood there watching
Clay. I wondered if there was anyway I could protect Clay from getting hurt by
this man.
Two days later I answered the phone. It was the call I knew would eventually
come. I tried to put him off, but Karl insisted that Clay call him back as soon
as he returned from class. Imperative that he speak to
him was the term he used. I thought about not telling Clay that Karl had called,
but Clay was a big boy; I had no right to interfere. Clay eagerly picked up the
phone and ended up making a dinner date with him. I wanted so badly to tell him
he was a fool for running after that homophobic ass, but I kept my mouth shut.
While Clay went next door to pick up Kacy I couldn't
resist calling Karl and telling him to keep his homophobia to himself, and that
if he hurt Clay I would hurt him. He sputtered a protest and I hung up.
I kind of hoped that the reason for this get together was for Karl to
inform Clay that he didn't want anything to do with him. At least that is what
I was praying would happen. When he wasn't home three hours later I gave up and
went to bed. I let my imagination overrule my better judgment and made myself
absolutely miserable. I had a text book opened on my chest, but I stared
blankly at the blurred words as the seconds dragged into minutes and then into
hours.
I was still wake when Clay finally came in. I could hear him talking and I
cursed him for bringing Karl home with him. Then I heard Kacy's
piping little voice. I couldn't resist, I got up and put on a pair of cutoffs
and an old sweatshirt and stepped over to Kacy's
bedroom door. Karl was holding the little four year old boy who had his arms
around his neck. A flare of jealousy burned me when Kacy
kissed Karl's cheek and told him he loved him. I watched Clay take the boy and
put him back in his bed and lovingly tuck him in. I died a little as he
straightened up and wrapped his arms around Karl and kissed the side of his
neck and Karl in turn kissed the side of his face.
Karl's back was to me. He noticeably stiffened when Clay saw me and
said, "Hey, Ralph, we didn't mean to wake you. I just wanted Karl to meet Kacy."
"I was only reading." I said.
Karl pulled way from Clay and turned around to face me, his expression
unreadable. I studied him a moment and then said, "So you've stolen the
hearts of both of my men." I tried to say it in a light joking manner, but
it must have come out as an accusation.
Karl's expression crumbled into one of sympathy. "I haven't taken
anything from you, Ralph. I'm sure they both still love you as much as
ever."
I didn't want him feeling sorry for me. But before I could react Clay
limped over to me and wrapped me in a bearhug.
"You'll always be my best buddy, you know that. I would hope that you'd be
happy that I've finally got Karl back in my life."
"I am happy for you, Clay," I said, doing my best to sound
like I meant it. "It's just.... well, you know." I couldn't express
my sorrow, my loss of hope.
Clay almost brought me to tears saying, "I know, Buddy, but it's
time you find someone who can love you like you deserve."
"Yeah."
I agreed just to shut him up and changed the subject by asking, "Why are
you limping?" I dropped into a squat and felt Clay's knee. It was grossly
swollen. "Shit, what in hell did you do to it this time?"
Clay grinned and winked at Karl. "I was just playing Romeo,"
he said, making light of it
I went into nurse mode and insisted on helping him to his bed. Karl
stuffed a pillow under his calf and I went to the kitchen get an ice pack. Karl
followed me. He told me about putting ice on it earlier and giving him some
Tylenol. He asked about getting Clay's knee fixed properly. He volunteered to
pay for it. He was so sincerely concerned that I found myself beginning to like
the man, and when he spoke of leaving I insisted that he stay the night and
sleep in Clay's bed with him. I knew Clay would never let anyone, but him, do that.
We went back to Clay with the ice and found he'd taken one of his
knockout pills. I knew he had to be in a lot of pain to do that. The pill had
put him to sleep. Karl helped me undress him and get him between the sheets. I
noticed Karl slip an envelope out of Clay's pants pocket as he folded them.
When we got back to the kitchen I put on a kettle of water for tea; Neither Clay nor I drink coffee. Karl sat at the table,
opened the envelope and removed a number of photos. Before he even handed them
to me I knew what they were. Karl was talking and I wasn't really listening as
I sifted through the pictures. He was saying something about Googling me and finding the Muscular Man site. I was glad I
was sitting at the table, because I got hard looking at Clay's beautiful body
and remembering what it had been like to fuck him and be fucked by him, even if
it had been in front of a half dozen people and a camera. Karl was still
talking when I tuned back to him. He was saying that he was willing to make
amends for his grandfather. It took a minute but I figured out that he thought
his grandfather had something to do with the internet pic
and ending my football career. I quickly set him straight. When he offered to
let me keep the photos I refused them.
"Don't you want them?" he asked.
"No, Karl," I told him. "I don't need to be reminded
of......" I couldn't get the rest of the sentence out. I stared into my
mug and tried to swallow the lump in my throat.
"I'm sorry, Ralph," he said and reached across and grasped my
forearm.
I pulled away. "Don't. I knew what I was getting into. It's enough
to just be near him and to know he considers me his friend."
He nodded. I stuck the photos back into the envelope and pushed them
across the table. "If you don't want them put them back in Clay's pants
and let him do with them as he will," I told him and glanced at the wall
clock. "The ice has been on his knee long enough. I'll let you take it
off. I'm going to hit the sack." I couldn't take his feeling sorry for me
and stomped off to bed. I listened to the quiet sounds as he turned off the
lights and made his way into Clay's room. I lay awake for a long time. I was
happy for Clay, but I wondered what would happen to me now. I was suddenly a
fifth wheel. Big ol' football jock, me, was feeling
like little boy lost.
The following weeks passed in a haze that blurred into months. Clay was
happy. Clay spent a lot of time with Karl. I spent a lot of time with Kacy. The boy's insight is amazing. One night we were
sitting in front of the TV. I was off in my own world when Kacy
turned it off. When I looked at him he just stared at me. "What's
going on in that little head of your's, Kacy?" I asked.
"Raffy, (at four years old he still
insisted on calling me his baby name) I'm sorry you can't be my daddy's
boyfriend. I really like Karl, but you will always be my other daddy."
I lost it. Tears welled up and spilled down my face. Kacy
was instantly off the couch. He grabbed some Kleenex and climbed into my lap.
"I'm sorry, Raffy," he said, wiping my
cheeks. "I didn't mean to make you cry. You know what, Raff? We need to
find you a boyfriend... all of your own." This from a
four year old.
"I tell you what, Kacy, I want you to
help me, okay?" I felt rather condescending saying that to him. I should
have been ashamed of myself.
But he just grinned delightedly and said, "I'll help you, Raffy. And... and
he'll be the best boyfriend in the world."
I laughed at his exuberance, and wondered how he'd see me by the time he
was twelve or fourteen.
I soon forgot about the conversation.
I turned thirty-six that winter and soon after Clay turned thirty-five
followed by Karl. The big Victorian mansion up on Robles Hill, willed to him by
his grandfather, became his. He invited us to join him in inspecting it. Mr.
Dorsett, Karl's father who lived across the street in another huge old
Victorian, joined us. I'd seen him several times but this was the first time we
were actually introduced to each other. He is an older version of Karl, maybe
even a little more handsome and an inch shorter. I was surprised that a bank
president would be so affable.
The house had been kept in good repair. It looked to have been painted a
couple of years ago. As we stepped up on the porch Clay started humming the
theme to a scary old TV show called The Outer Limits. We all nervously laughed.
Karl opened the door and we all stepped into the foyer. It had been closed up
for several years and even though it had recently been opened and aired; it was
still a bit musty.
Nothing had been said about any of us living in this house until we got
upstairs. Kacy's eyes got big when the door was
opened to the old nursery. He Oh-ed and Ahh-ed
as he checked out all the old toys. Mr. Dorsett walked around examining
things, he commented, "George must have wanted a son. All these toys are
for little boys and they all look like they're brand new." I didn't
realize that he was dissembling. But as I thought about it, I realized that the
toys were like I had as a child. They weren't old enough to have been bought by
George for a hoped for son. He'd have had to be as old as Mr. Dorsett.
"Poor old man," I said, glancing at Mr. Dorsett, "I
wonder why he didn't move his grandson in here."
He snorted. "You never met Karl's mother, obviously."
Karl turned to his father and asked, "How did you happen to have an
affair with her, Dad?"
Mr. Dorsett momentarily looked shocked as he glanced at each of us.
"Well, the only thing I'll say is that even though Marcia was a strong
willed young lady she didn't turn into the harridan that we all know until
George forced her to marry."
I could see the questions in Karl's and Clay's eyes, both of them born
and raised in that entanglement. I know I had many questions myself even if I
wasn't involved. But our attention was drawn back to the moment when Kacy looked up at Karl and asked, "Can this be my room
and can I have all these old toys? They don't make neat toys like these
anymore."
Karl looked like a proverbial headlights lit deer. He glanced at his
father and then turned his eyes on Clay to see what his response was. I don't
think the two of them had ever discussed living together. Karl knelt and ran
his fingers through the boys hair. "I guess it's
time I talk to your daddy about that. But whatever we decide the toys are all
yours."
"Thank you Karl. I really like them."
A week later I came home from class and almost tripped over a stack of
boxes piled inside the kitchen door. Clay was packing. I was stunned. I could
hear my mother who once said to my dad, "You damned men are all alike, you
never talk, you just expect us to be mind readers."
My way of dealing with it was to walk over to the fridge and grab a long
neck. I plopped into the nearest chair and guzzled half the bottle's contents.
The bottle made a loud thunk as I set it a little too
firmly on the table. The sound brought Clay looking to see what had caused the
noise. "Oh you're home. We're moving up on the hill."
"I kinda figured that out. I guess I
better start looking for a place to live, huh?"
"What are you talking about?" Clay looked dumbfounded.
"It's simple, Clay. One and one makes two.
Not three. It's time for me to move on."
"You can't abandon us. We need you. Kacy
needs you."
"No you don't need me, Clay. You can hire people to look after you.
Kacy needs a sitter. So hire someone."
Clay stood there with head down. When he looked up at me there were
tears running down his cheeks. "I guess I said that wrong. We want
you in our lives, Ralph. You're my brother, my best friend. Karl was the first
to say it, even though I was thinking it. He wants you to live with us. I can
see how you could walk away from me, but how can you abandon Kacy. He's still just a baby. You're almost as much his
daddy as I am. How could I explain why you abandoned him?" He searched my
face And then whispered,"I couldn't."
"I'll think about it," I said and went into my bedroom, closed
the door and sprawled across the bed. I didn't want to leave my two men, but I
couldn't see moving into Karl's house with them. My thoughts drifted and I
finally dozed only to be awakened by the door banging against the wall when
Karl marched into my room. "What do you mean you'll think about it? You
are part of this family. There's nothing to think about. You're moving in with
us. Just because I came into Clay's life is no reason for you to abandon him
and Kacy. So get to packing."
I want you to know, I am six foot three and
weigh two hundred and twenty-eight pounds, none of it fat. That's four inches
taller and at least fifty pound heavier than Karl, yet his mad bull temper
scared me. No way did I want to push him. I started packing.
I didn't quite know what to expect in the mansion. I kind of thought I'd
be stuck down in the maids quarters by the kitchen. But Karl escorted me up the
stairs and turned to the left into a master suite. He opened the door and
motioned for me to enter.
I already knew that there were two master suites with the nursery in
between. I hadn't dreamed that one of them would be mine.
I walked through the sitting room into the bedroom with its huge
imposing bed. The four posts supported a wooden canopy. I craned to look up
inside and saw that it was mirrored. Grinning, I commented that the Victorians
were a kinky bunch. Clay had followed us in and asked, "Where do you think
the P.A. came from?"
A little voice asked, "Daddy, what is a P.A.?" We all looked
at each other wondering how to get out of this one without putting Kacy off, like so many parents would do, by saying,
"We'll tell your'e when your old enough to
understand." We simply never talked down to the child like that.
Karl scooped the kid up and said, "P.A. stands for
Karl set Kacy back on his feet and said,
"This was my grandfather's suite. All of his clothes were still in the
closets. The other suite was my grandmother's. They are identical, but mirror
imaged. Ralph, we want you to know that you're welcome here for as long as you
wish to live with us. And when you find a lover we'll welcome him to live here
with you, if you wish."
I was overwhelmed. I'd really expected to be cast aside. Now I was
ensconced in this place as one of the family.
Once we all got settled in I started getting up early and going for a
run. Spring had come unnoticed. Karl and Clay preferred to run in the evening.
They liked that extra time in bed of a morning. Running on a level was no big
effort for me. Running down the hill was easy. But it was going to take some
time and effort to be able to run up the hill without breaking stride. The third morning as I was huffing and puffing slowly up the hill,
Mr. Dorsett came running up behind me. He wasn't even breathing hard
when he slowed and greeted me. I couldn't keep going and talk too, so I
stopped. "Damn,...huffpuff...
How do you do it,...Huffpuff...
Mr. Dorsett?"
"Call me John or I'll roll you down the hill and you'll have to jog
back up," he laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. "I've been doing
this everyday for many years, Ralph. Keep up the effort and soon you'll be
keeping up with me."
"I'll do it or be damned." We started jogging. John was
actually facing me and running backwards. He may not have meant to, but he
shamed me; twenty years older, running backwards up
the hill and not even breathing hard.
"What time're you heading out tomorrow
morning?" he asked.
"Six sharp."
The sky was turning light by then.
"I'll meet you in front of the house. I've got to get going. I have
an early appointment."
I admired his backside as he gained distance and then disappeared at the
top of the hill. He was one fine specimen in his running shorts and shoes, lean
and slender like his son and just as muscular.
Karl had set up one of the guest rooms on the second floor as a gym.
When Clay and I started working out with him we had to add some heavier weights
to the collection. The Bowflex was great, but free
weights were what we were accustomed to. Karl invited his dad to join us in
weight training. I tell you my head spun every time, getting to ogle those
three men. It was hard to believe that John was in his mid fifties. His body
appeared to be about thirty and he looked like he was young enough to be his
son's older brother. I found myself wishing he was gay. I would certainly make
a play for him if he was.
One evening when John joined us for dinner, he did this regularly every
week, we were quietly eating and conversing when Kacy
looked at me and said in his loud little boy voice, "Remember, Raff, I
promised I would find you a perfect boyfriend?"
Everyone looked at me. I'm sure I turned red. "Yeah, I
remember."
"I've found him." he sang out in his little five year old
voice.
"So are you going to tell me who he is?" I asked playing along
with him.
"It's Grand Daddy John." He yelled out, jabbing a finger in
John's direction across the table.
I knew I was a dark scarlet, but this was my little buddy, Kacy. I wasn't about to tell him to shut up. I glanced at
Clay who was in my line of sight. He was grinning at his son's precociousness.
I was fearful of looking across the table at John. "So why do you think
John would make me a perfect boyfriend," I asked.
"Well, he's always watching you and you're always watching him. I
think you both like each other and are afraid to say anything."
I turned and looked at John. He grinned. "I think this young one
has got our number, Ralph."
I could only nod. John was saying he was interested in me. I couldn't
believe it. I turned back to Kacy. "You think
you're a smart cookie don't you."
"I'm sweet as a cookie, Raff, and I'm smart, too. Aren't I,
Daddy?"
Clay grinned at his son. "Yup, you're one smart sweet little
cupid."
"What's a cupid?"
"I'll tell you the story of cupid for your bedtime. Okay?"
"Okay, but don't you forget."
Clay ruffled his son's hair. "I promise not to forget." I
noticed him glance down the table at his lover. "Karl, are you
alright?"
Karl stood up and moved his chair back into place. "I'm fine,"
he said as he turned toward the livingroom.
"Have Yolanda serve coffee in here." (Karl had hired a young Mexican
National, who was trying to get her citizenship, as a live-in maid. The three
of us still did all the cooking, but it was nice not to have to do the cleanup,
too.)
We all watched him walk out. Clay started to get up and follow him. John
stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Let me go talk to him."
John went into the living room and closed the big doors that slid out of
the wall. It may have given them a feeling of privacy, but we could still hear
every word.
"Karl, would you tell me what has you upset?"
"Now why would you think I'd be upset? I can't believe that you of
all people are putting the make on Ralph."
"First off, I already told you that I am gay. I do find Ralph very
attractive. But have you seen me make any overtures?"
"Well whatever you're doing is obvious to a little five year old
boy."
"Which only says he very observant. But
why shouldn't I be able to approach Ralph? We're both mature adults."
"You're old enough to be his father."
There was a moment of silence as we listened. Finally Karl said, "I
guess that I'm acting childish. I just discovered you're my dad and now you're wanting to be my friend's lover. I guess I can accept
you being both."
"Karl, while we're having this conversation I think it would be a
good time to tell you who my previous lover was. You're bound to find out
sometime."
"I don't think that I want to know. Actually, I think that I've
figured it out already. I found a passage way in the basement. I didn't venture
into it, but I think I know where it goes." ( This
comment at the time went right over my head. My head was spinning with the
revelation that John was gay and interested in me.)
There was a prolonged silence. Clay leaned over to whisper in his son's
ear, "Why don't you go in the kitchen and tell Yolanda to start the
coffee." Kacy scurried off just as we heard Karl
say, "Your lover was my grandfather."
"Yes, George and I were lovers for over twenty years."
"Two staunch pillars of the community, queer
lovers, hiding in sham marriages."
"Karl, you don't understand. In those days you couldn't be open
like you and Clay are. We'd have been ruined and chased out of town if anyone
had gotten a hint that we were gay."
"So to hide even further you had an affair with my mother."
"No. It wasn't like that."
"So tell me, Daddy, how was it?" The cruel snide meanness in
Karl's voice gave me a hint of what his mother must be like.
"I can't tell you."
"Well, let me ask one question, just one pertinent question. After
I was conceived, after I was born, why did you and my dear grandfather leave me
to be raised in that loveless house?"
We could barely hear John's answer. "Because you mother found out
about us and threatened to expose us if we tried to take you."
"Oh."
Clay and I sat in stunned silence until Yolanda appeared with the coffee
service. Clay opened the door into the parlor. Neither Karl nor John were in the room. Clay turned to the maid and said,
"I'm sorry Yolanda, no one wants coffee now." He turned and headed up
stairs to find Karl. I heard Yolanda mutter, "Hay, que
gringones." I chuckled at the racial slur, and
headed out the front door to find John.
I rang John's door bell and when he didn't answer, I commenced to pound
on the door until he finally opened it. He held on to the door and asked,
"What do you want?"
I stared at him a moment wondering why he was breathing so hard. I
assumed that he'd been upstairs at the back of the house. "You," I
said.
"Why? I know you heard every word of the conversation I had with my
son."
"And that should change how I feel about you?"
He stared at me for nearly a minute before he stepped aside and said,
"Come on in."
I followed him into his den where he stepped behind the bar and poured
himself a stiff drink. He took a big swallow of it and then asked me if I'd
like one.
"Thank you, John, but I don't drink."
He harrumphed, took his drink and collapsed into a big comfortable
looking club chair next to the unlit fireplace. His breathing had settled. He
looked me up and down. "You're the most attractive man I've ever
met."
I stood before him with my fingers stuck in my back pockets and gave him
the once over, too. "Ditto," I said.
"Besides being so attractive, I find I like you. You're a nice man.
And don't say ditto. We both know I'm not so nice. Why are you standing there?
Sit down."
I sat in the matching chair on the opposite side of the fireplace.
"Well, one way to look at it, John, is that Karl
wouldn't be here if you hadn't done what you did. Hence I wouldn't be sitting
here talking to you."
He thought for a minute. "Good point."
When he didn't say anything more and seemed inclined to simply sit and
look at me, I asked, "Would you like to do more than just mutually admire
each other?"
"Do you have something in mind?"
"Yup."
"Do you want to tell me what it is?"
"I'd rather show you."
"Alright."
He still hadn't moved from his original position of half lying in the chair.
"So move your delectable ass out of the chair and show me to your
bedroom," I said.
We both stood up at the same time which put us face to face. He started
to move and I pulled him into my arms. He didn't hesitate to hungrily seek my
lips with his own. Having never kissed another man, I followed his lead. When
his tongue sought entrance to my mouth I opened and welcomed him in. And then I
explored the inside of his mouth, his teeth and his tongue with my own tongue.
When John pulled away, he said, "Damn, You are one hell of a kisser."
I dropped my forehead onto his shoulder. "I've never kissed anyone
before, John. You saw the set of photos Karl has, so you know I have fucked and
been fucked, but you are the first man I've ever kissed."
He raised my head with a hand under my chin and stared into my eyes.
"You're something else, Kid." He kissed my lips, softly brushing
across them.
I sighed. "I'm thirty-six years old, John. Hardly
a kid."
He kind of chuckled deep in his chest. "Yeah, but I'm still old
enough to be your father."
Even though I'm bigger and taller than John, I was enjoying being in his
arms and imagining him being my father. I never knew my real dad. I was raised
by my widowed mother. My dad had been killed in
"Come on, Kid, lets go find a bed. I want
to make love to you."
I know my heart skipped several beats when he said that. This time it
wasn't going to be about fucking. I was going to be loving
the man that wanted to make love to me. I eagerly gripped his glutes and pushed him up the winding staircase following
him to his bedroom.
We'd both seen each other wearing nothing more than our workout shorts.
We stripped down to our underwear. Me in my boxers and John
in briefs. We were both rampantly hard and had wet spots where our cock
heads pushed against the thin material. We hesitated and studied each other's
face. And then John grinned and we raced to see who could shed our undies fastest.
I'd wanted for months to see John naked, to see his cock and balls. I
wasn't disappointed. He stood still and let me get my fill of looking at him.
Of course, he was doing the same. I tentatively raised my hand to touch his
throbbing hardness. I wrapped my fingers around it and slid the foreskin back
exposing his bright red head. A pearl of viscous liquid appeared on the tip and
I dropped to my knees to catch it on my tongue.
I looked up at him and he smiled. My heart did a double flip. I looked
back at his cock and opened my mouth as I leaned into him. He moaned as I
swallowed, allowing the head to enter my throat. John grasped my head with both
hands holding me still. "Don't move," he commanded. After a moment he
regained control and sighed as he ran his fingers through my buzzed hair.
"Ahh, Ralph, I think I've fallen in love,"
he murmured.
I pulled off his cock and looked up at him through the blur of watering
eyes. "Don't say that again if you don't completely mean it," I told
him.
He caressed the side of my face and didn't reply, but there was a tenderness in his expression. He pulled me to my feet and
into a hug. "I want to be inside of you, Kid. I want to feel your heat and
your tightness around my cock. Will you let me in?"
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yes, I want that. I
want to feel your big hard cock inside of me." I wanted to say more, but I
bit my tongue and instead said. "Yeah, John, fuck me."
I was feeling really vulnerable as I lay on my back with my legs raised.
I was feeling things for this man that I wasn't sure I wanted to feel. I wished
he'd just give me a hard, quick fuck and say thanks. But John seemed to have
other ideas. He took his time playing my whole body like a finely tuned
instrument. He ignored my cock until I was writhing and begging for release.
When he sensed that I was ready to climax he sat back and looked into my
pleading eyes. "Don't you dare cum until I tell you to.
Do you understand me?"
I whimpered and nodded. He grinned maliciously, and bent to swallow my
throbbing shaft. I fought the sensations until I thought I'd surely lose it. He
pulled off and squeezed my nuts hard enough to hurt. I lost the need to shoot.
"Now we're going to get what we both want and need."
I thought that he'd simply grease me up and stick it to me. I was ready
and eager for it. But John still had other ideas. He started licking my scrotum
and took each testicle into his mouth and washed them well with his tongue. And
then he descended to my perineum and tickled it with the tip of his tongue
until I was gasping. Suddenly, I felt his oh so talented tongue touch my anus.
I momentarily froze. I didn't know if he understood that I was offering him
more than just my body when I pulled my legs back further to give him easier
access to my ass.
John dove in face first. In moments I was relaxed and open to him. I was
hoping for his cock, but he started with his fingers, stretching me and
relaxing the muscles. When he decided that I was ready, he scooped up the
puddle of precum that had filled my navel and smeared
it on and into my rear. I watched as he raised up and
pulled back his foreskin exposing his glistening, well lubed cockhead. He leaned forward and kissed me as he aimed his
shaft into my eager ass. We both gasped as he pushed to the hilt.
By two in the morning I had claimed him twice and he had claimed me again. He
dragged me into the shower and we tenderly cleaned and dried each other. I
dressed and he let me out his front door. I meandered across the street and entered
the house through the front door. There was a lamp on in the parlor. I tiptoed
in to turn it off. Karl's voice stopped me. "So, how was he?" I knew
he wasn't asking after John's health or state of mind. I slowly pivoted and
found him sitting in near darkness in a tall wing-backed chair. I studied him;
how stiffly upright he sat with an arm on each armrest, his finger gripping the
ends. His brow was creased and his lips were pinched.
"I would swear you told him you were okay with us."
"I lied."
I nodded, not knowing how to progress. He stared at me and I stared
back.
"It's funny how I can love Clay so deeply and still be jealous of
my father taking you as his lover."
"He hasn't done that. He hasn't taken me as his lover."
"He fucked you? You fucked him?"
"Yes." I knew damned well that what we'd done was a whole hell
of a lot more than just fucking, but I wasn't going to admit that to anyone.
"Well?"
I licked my lips. I savored the lingering taste of John's last kiss. I
looked Karl in the eyes. "He hasn't committed himself to me."
"He will. I've seen it in his eyes."
"Look Karl, I'll be out of here tomorrow. I'm sorry this has
happened. I didn't look for it."
He stood up and advanced on me. "Don't be an ass. Why do you think
I gave you that suite?" He stopped and looked momentarily dazed, his expression soften, his shoulder slumped. "I'll get over
my jealous little snit. I love my father, and I've come to love you as a dear
friend. I apologize. Forgive me and give me a hug."
I wrapped my arms around him. I swear I could feel his hardness against
my thigh. I was glad that he pulled away and headed for the stairs. I turned
off the lamp and followed. At the top he turned to the right and I went left.
Clay told me the next morning that after Karl's confrontation with his
father he'd found him sitting on the floor in the middle of the nursery, next
to the little bed where Kacy lay sleeping. He was
rocking the little wooden rocking horse with tears coursing down his face. Clay
told that he'd looked up at him and said, "My dad and grandfather put this
room together with high hopes of it being mine." He said it took a lot of
talking to get him out of the glum contemplative mood, but after a good session
of love making he was back to being himself. I didn't say anything to Clay
about my own early morning confrontation with Karl. It must have been mind
boggling for Karl to learn that John was his father and had been his
grandfather's lover. And now his father was now my lover. It's a wonder to me
that Karl wasn't a mental mess.
~~~
I wondered how two men, two responsible leaders of the community, could
have fucked up like they did. Sitting in the gazebo at the back of the yard by
myself I attempted to reconstruct the whole scenario.
I couldn't accept that John could have cold-bloodedly seduced his
lover's daughter with the sole idea of creating a child that he and George
could raise. Although, John won't talk about it, this is what I think happened.
At least, this is the way I want to believe it happened.
Marcia, Karl's mother, who from all reports had been a spoiled-rotten
rich man's twenty year old daughter, seduced John; probably at a party. They
were both probably intoxicated. She ended up pregnant. George Robles, learning
that his lover was the child's father refused to let his daughter have an abortion, he wanted to raise the child as his own. She
somehow discovered the covert love affair between her father and John and felt
like she was being used. In retaliation she blackmailed them, threatening to
expose them if they ever came near her son.
And as for Howard Johnson ending up being her
husband. That was probably part of the blackmail, too.
She'd been spurned by the young debonaire Howard
Johnson who had married Clay's mother. Howard, apparently, is a real sleaze.
He'd do anything for money. In retaliation Marcia made her father and John buy
him. They in turn gave Clay's mother a substantial amount of consolation money.
What I can't explain is why Clay's mother chose to live across the
street from her ex husband. She's a sweet lady, but rather simple-minded. Maybe
she thought she was doing the right thing raising Clay near his father. It made
my head ache thinking about it I got up and went in to study.
After that night at John's I saw him every night. Three or four times a
week he'd have dinner with us and after coffee in the Parlor we would ascend
the stairs, lock the bedroom door and enjoy the delights we shared with each
other. On the evenings that he didn't dine with us, he would come to my bedroom
door and quietly knock. I'd let him in and when we were sated and ready to
sleep he would dress and leave. There were a couple of times that we fell
asleep in each other's arms. But when I'd awake later he would be gone. It
frustrated me. I wanted more. I wanted a relationship not just a fuck buddy.
One evening when I'd had my fill of it, I left the house as soon as Clay
and Kurt had retired. I had thought I'd run into John before I got to his front
door. But when I didn't, I rang the doorbell. There was no answer. I stood on
the sidewalk and looked up at his windows. There were lights on upstairs and
only the one in the foyer downstairs. I knocked again, rang the doorbell and
knocked some more. Disheartened I sat on the top step of the porch, resting my
chin on my hands.
I sat there staring at our house across the street wondering why John
hadn't told me he would be away tonight. I was startled to see our front door
open and John come out. I stood up and watched him stride across the street. He
climbed the steps, took my arm and forcefully turned me around. I could see
that he was angry, and I wondered why. He unlocked the door and literally
thrust me inside. That got my ire up and I turned on him.
"What in hell is your problem?"
He simply stood there glaring at me. Finally, in a deadly quiet voice he
asked, "What are you doing, Ralph?"
"I came over to surprise you and found you weren't home. How did
you get into Karl's with out me seeing you, anyway?"
"I obviously got there before you left."
"You didn't use the front door."
"No, my son was kind enough to give me a key to the side
door." He held up a key. I believed him. "Well, since you're here
shall we proceed to my bedroom?"
"No, we need to talk."
He studied me a moment and motioned for me to precede him into his den.
I strode to the fireplace and turned to face him.
"So... what do you want to talk about."
"I want more out of this relationship. As it is, I feel like I'm
just an easy accessible piece of ass to you."
"You know better than that."
"Then let's start doing more than fucking each other. Let's go out
once in a while, maybe even live together."
"You can't live with me."
"You mean you won't let me."
"Alright, I won't let you. I have a position in this town to up
hold. I can't let the people down."
"The people.
These strangers who have nothing to do with our lives----"
John interrupted. "They aren't strangers. I personally know
everyone of them."
I flopped into one of the big club chairs in front of the fire place in
a pout. He strode over to stand in front of me, looking down at me like a stern
father. "You must understand, even in today's society, leaving out the
liberal university element, this is a small Christian town. I'd be ruined if it
got out that I'm a homosexual and have a lover. These good people would flee
from my bank."
I felt like a spoiled brat. I knew all of that and had chosen to ignore
it. But, hell, I was in love for the first time with someone who was in love
with me. You do understand, that I had no doubt about
John loving me. It was just unfair that I've loved only two men in my
thirty-six years and with neither of them could I have what I wanted.
After our first wild night in John's bed, our meetings only took place in
Karl's mansion. (I guess I should call it home, because that is where I live.)
This confrontation with John was only the second time I'd been in his home. I
glanced up at him. There must have been a change in my expression. He looked at
me curiously. "What?"
"I just realized in seven months of living across the street from
you and seeing you almost every night for the last four, this is only the
second time I've been in your home."
A shadow of some emotion, fear, guilt, I'm not sure what, passed through
his eyes. "It's more convenient for me to come to you," he said as if
that totally explained it.
"No, there's something going on here that doesn't quite fit
comfortably in my mind. Twice I've been in the parlor with the guys when you
appeared saying that you just let yourself in. The front door is right next to
that room and I don't recall ever hearing it open and close. The latch makes a
loud distinctive noise." John was now definitely looking guilty. "And
that side door that opens into the side garden I'd swear it's
painted closed."
"Are you calling me a liar, Ralph?"
"I don't know. Am I?"
"Alright, I admit it's the back door. I just feel like a sneak
thief using it."
"So why don't you use the front door like us gentry-fied folk?" I was trying to lighten the mood, but it
was a serious question. It didn't work
"One of the neighbors might see me. You know that."
I stared at him a moment and wondered if it was worth it; all the
sneaking and hiding. I know I'm a damned fool. Hell, I've spent nearly eight
years of my life living vicariously with Clay and now this. I let out a big
sigh and got to my feet. John stepped back, and I walked to the door.
"I'll see you tomorrow night. Just knock as usual."
"Don't I even get a good-night kiss?"
I looked at his pleading expression and grimaced. "No. We'd end up
in bed. I'm too uptight for that. I'll just let myself out." I turned on a
heel and left John staring after me.
Needless to say, I spent the night wide awake. I walked the floor and
would stop occasionally at the foot of the big four poster bed remembering all
the loving we'd done in it and wondering if I could go on letting that be
enough. Several times I got the feeling I was being watched. I wondered if ol' George's ghost was in the room with me. Once in my
meandering around the rooms I stopped and stared into the big mirror on the
wall next to the bed. I got a distinct feeling that I was being stared at. I
can't say that I don't believe in ghosts, but I came close to admitting that I
did that night.
The next morning I was unfit to go to class. I waited until Karl and
Clay had gone and then left my rooms. I got a big mug of strong black coffee
and wandered out to the gazebo at the back of the lawn. As I lounged there
mulling it all over for the ten thousandth time and enjoying the late morning
sun, I studied the back of the house. From the way the rooms were laid out
upstairs it should have been symmetrical, but I noticed that the right side,
which was my side, up stairs, protruded a good three feet further out than the
left side. There were windows on each side. The window on the right was dark. I
could see closed curtains. There was no window in my bedroom. As I pictured the
room where this window was on the outside, on the inside was a large mirror.
I'd supposed that old George liked watching himself and John having sex and
that was why the mirror had been placed on that wall covering over the window.
But that didn't explain why my side of the house was three feet deeper. My bed
room felt no deeper that Karl and Clay's. It disturbed me enough that I got up
and went in to check it out.
Putting one foot in front of the other, toe to heel, I measured off the
depth of their room. My shoe is approximately twelve inches long. It was twenty
footsteps across the room. I then did the same to mine. It measured exactly the
same. Then why the difference on the outside? I went
back out and examined the exterior of the house. There was nothing to explain
it.
I went back up to my bedroom and studied the back wall. It had the huge
mirror on it.
Wondering why the mirror hadn't been centered on the wall. I tapped on
the wall with my knuckles to left of it. It sounded hollow. I walked into the
sitting room and knocked on the outside wall. It sounded much more solid. I
tapped on an inside wall and it sounded less solid than the outside wall but
more solid than the back wall next to the mirror. I pondered what that meant,
and decided that the other side of the back wall must not be finished.
I sat on the edge of the bed and studied the mirror with its ornate
gold-leafed frame. It revealed nothing. I walked over and examined the outside
edge. It fit snugly against the wall. I couldn't see how it was attached to the
wall. I looked at the oil painting next to it. The top of the frame hung away
from the wall. "Curiouser and curiouser," I muttered.
I sat back down on the bed and studied the mirror frame. The design was
rather typical gold-leafed ornate Rococo. As my eyes wandered over the richly
carved surface, I suddenly saw something in the middle of the right hand side
that didn't repeat in the design on the left. I walked back to the mirror and
ran my hand over the anomaly. On close inspection, I could see that there was a
seam around it.
On impulse I pushed on it. It receded and the right hand side of the
mirror moved away from the wall. I grasped the edge and it swung out and away
like a door. It was a door. I peered into the darkness and saw steps descending
in to blackness. I searched and found a wall switch and flipped it. A bare bulb
lit the landing one floor down. Another switch turned on the ceiling light at
the top of the stairs.
Before descending, I checked the back of the mirror/door to see if it
could be opened from the back side. I could see that it could, but decided to
leave it open and went down the stairs. There were more wall switches at the
landing. One turned on another bare bulb above another landing at basement
level where I could see a closed door.
Descending to the door, I turned the latch. The door swung open into a
small room, about six feet square. I stepped into it and started to examine the
smooth walls. The door swung silently closed behind me. The latch clicked
sealing me in darkness. I momentarily panicked. I felt for a door knob where I
thought it should be. There wasn't one. The wall was as smooth as the other
three. Maybe I miss judged. I felt to the right, and then to the left higher,
lower; no latch release. I thought about panicking again, yelling for help, but
there was no one home , even if there was, I doubted if they could hear me. I
slumped against the wall and forced myself to calm down.
Once I started thinking logically, I knew there had to be a way to open
the door I'd just come through. And as I analyzed it, even though I'd not paid
any attention to it before, I recalled the conversation between Karl and John
the night John and I became lovers. Karl said that he'd found the entrance to
an access tunnel in the basement. So I figured there had to be at least two
other doors in this room; one into the basement and one into the tunnel.
I started on the wall that I knew I'd entered through. There had to be some little trigger to release the latch. The latch had been at normal height on the other side. And as I thought about it I recalled that the door had not bee