Date: Wed, 26 Sep 2001 20:02:18 EDT
From: RitchChristopher@cs.com
Subject: If-not-now...-1

			      "If not now..."

                                    by

                            Ritch Christopher


All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author.
This is a work of gay fiction. It contains graphic sex and explicit language.
If you are offended by such, underage, or live in a city or territory where literature of this nature is illegal or unlawful, please exit now.



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                              CHAPTER ONE



	The news had spread, as was usual in a small Southern town such as
Lumpkin, Georgia. The weather was typically tepid in late August, 1959.
Chad Larrimore, the local minister had gotten a phone call around 9:00 in
the morning from Aaron Teasdale, saying he had found his wife, Alma, dead
in bed from an apparent heart attack. Chad and his wife, Lois, had long
been friends of the Teasdales, their son, Bret, and a boy Bret's age, Ryder
Andrews, whom they had raised since Ryder had lost both parents in a car
wreck, some twelve years ago, when Ryder was only seven.

	The two boys grew up as close as brothers until the day Aaron ran
his son off the farm for reasons known to only Aaron and Bret. All through
junior and senior high schools, Bret and the Larrimore's daughter, Marge,
had been sweethearts. After Bret left town suddenly, Ryder took over Bret's
place in the Teasdale household and had moved in on Bret's territory by
dating Marge.

	Lumpkin was a town of about 3,000 people, mostly peanut and cotton
farmers. There wasn't much to do in Lumpkin. It had a movie theater that
was open only on Friday and Saturday nights plus a double feature on
Saturday afternoons for the kids. There was a section of Banning's General
Store cordoned off as an ice cream parlor, with a soda fountain, six stools
and four small round tables with red and white checkered table cloths ,
each table surrounded by four wrought iron ice cream chairs, which was more
than enough to accommodate the few high school students that got off there
by the bus stop after school was over.

	James Dean was dead but not forgotten as the boys still wore their
tight legged Levis, white t-shirts, red nylon zippered jackets, white
socks, and brown penny loafers.  All the girls, including Marge and her
best friend, Rhonda Flerl, still wore their poodle skirts over a dozen
crinolines. tight colored sweaters, pushed out with a double layer of foam
rubber falsies, white bobby sox turned down at the top almost reaching to
their brown and white saddle oxfords.  Rhonda didn't take the school bus
home. She rode her Western Flyer bicycle that her brother had bought years
ago at the Western Auto store in Columbus, about fifty miles away. She left
school early each day so she could don her waitress uniform and work in the
soda shop. Rhonda had gone too far one night on a date with Randy Simmons
on the high school varsity squad. She had let him feel her up and then
stopped him, but by Monday, Randy had told all the members of the team he'd
gone all the way with Rhonda and before long all the boys on the team were
bragging all over school that they had had her too. According to them. she
was an "easy make" and no matter how hard she tried to prove her innocence,
Rhonda's reputation of being a good girl was scarred for life.

	On this morning, Marge's mother, Lois, was home on her back porch
of the whole farmhouse, once new with white clapboard, long since turned
gray with age, talking with her neighbor, Mae Bradley, about Alma
Teasdale's unexpected demise. They usually talked once a day about the
weather or recipes, their chats sprinkled with gossipy tidbits that had
escaped the walls of the town's beauty parlor, but, today, the main topic
was the Teasdales.

	"It's just about the saddest thing I've ever heard of." Mae was
saying, "That poor man. Sometimes I just don't know why the dear Lord makes
someone like him go through so much. It just doesn't seem fair."

	"I know it, Mae," replied Lois, "but we're not suppose to question
the ways of the Lord. He does his wonders in mysterious ways. That means in
sad times as well as glad."

	"But, my heavens," Mae continued, "we both just saw Alma at church
last Sunday and she looked as well as you and I. Why, I've known her since
she was just a little girl and as best as I can remember, she's never been
sick a day in her life. She's been over to my house many times and she
never let on she had any kind of heart trouble."

	"Apparently no one knew...not even Aaron. As much as he loved and
pampered Alma, he would've made sure she'd've had the best doctors and
medicine money could buy."

	"I know that"s so." Mae added. "Do you know if Aaron got a hold of
Bret?"

	"I doubt it. I don't rightly know if Aaron even knows where Bret
is," said Lois.

	"My Lord," Mae, quickly interrupted. "that boy'll just be killed
when he finds out. Alma loved him more than life and he loved his momma,
too.  Do you know if Bret ever wrote her after he left?"

	Lois shook her head, "She never mentioned it all the times I talked
to her."

	Always one to dive into a good gossip conversation, Mae said,
"Aaron oughta be ashamed of runnin' that boy off the way he did. Why, I
know it must've broke little Marge's heart...his leavin' like that. Did he
even come by and say goodbye to her?"

	"From all I know, he left without a word. They all kept quiet about
Aaron's and Bret's fight that last night." Lois replied.

	"Whatever it was, it must've been somethin' big for Bret to throw
him out of the house.  He told him to get out of town and never come back.
Does Marge have any idea what happened or what it was all about?  asked,
Mae.

	"If she knows anything, she's not telling. I tried more than once
to get her to tell me and every time I did, she just got real quiet." Lois
responded.

	Lowering her voice slightly, Mae said, "I always wondered if it had
to do anything with Ryder. He just seemed to come to Marge's comfort and I
thought they were just best friends consoling themselves over their loss."

	"I think that's the way they started out, but then they started
dating and they've been going steady ever since." Lois said,

	"I would've thought Bret would've at least tried to get in touch
with Ryder. Those two boys were as close as brothers. Do you think Bret
knows that Ryder and Marge are going together now?" Mae asked.

	"I don't think so, Mae. I don't think Ryder would have moved in on
Marge if he knew Bret was aware of it."

	"Well, it just breaks my heart to think that a boy's mother is dead
and there's no way to tell him about it. You know as well as I, Bret would
make every attempt to attend his own mother's funeral. Speaking of
funerals, when is it? Is Chad gonna preach Alma's funeral?" Mae asked.

	"Day after tomorrow, and, yes, Chad is gonna preach the funeral.
Aaron called him from the hospital as soon Doc Barnes pronounced her dead.
Chad went to the hospital to be with Aaron and I think they both prayed
over her body before Tyler's funeral home came by and picked her up." Lois
replied.

	"Well, I know Aaron won't make an effort to find Bret. I just
wonder if Charlie at the police station could do anything on his own to try
to find Bret." Mae offered.

	"The only way Charlie would do that is if Aaron didn't know
anything about it." Lois said.

	"I just wonder if Charlie would tell and get me in trouble with
Aaron if I asked Charlie to do that. Just the idea of Bret not knowing is
goin' to keep me awake until I know everything's been done to try to reach
him." said Mae, almost on the verge of tears.

	"Because of Marge and also because of Marge and Ryder, I'm staying
out of it, Mae, and if you don't want to feel the wrath of Aaron, I'd
advise you to do the same thing."


	Just then, Jem, Lois' 14 year old son, came out of the house in
bathing trunks and a towel draped around his shoulders. He was a scrawny
kid, not yet developed,just going through the pangs of puberty. He had only
sprouted three hairs on his chin, which he refused to cut off. After all,
this was the start of a beard.

	"And just where do you think you're off to, young man?" Lois asked,
stopping him.

	"I'm goin' swimmin', Momma." Jem sassed back.

	"Oh no, you're not! There's enough happened without my having to
worry about you drowning in that old pond." his mother quipped back.

	"I'm only goin' wadin', Momma." Jem whined.

	"No, you're not going wading, either." Lois snapped.

	"Well, I gotta go somewhere. I can't stand being cooped up there in
the house with Marge a-sniffin' and a-snivelin' and carryin' on, the way
she is." Jem complained.

	"Is Marge that upset, Lois?" Mae asked, interrupting.

	"You know how young girls are, Mae. They love to take advantage of
a situation and over-dramatize it. I'm sure she and Alma were close, but
only when Aaron wasn't around," Lois explained.

	"Aaron didn't approve of Bret and Marge goin' together?" Mae asked,
in a suspicious tone.

	"No, and I never knew why. He did everything he could to keep the
two of them separated. It used to make me mad...like he thought Marge
wasn't good enough for his son." said Lois.

	"I don't blame you. It would've made me mad too. Why Marge is the
prettiest and most respected girl in the county...what with being
homecoming queen and voted the most popular in her class at high school."
Mae said, smiling.

	"And the most stuck up!" Jem, quickly added.

	"Jem, will you behave and do as you're told. Go back in the house
and take off that bathing suit and put on some decent clothes. Your dad
will be home in a little while and there's no tellin' who he'll bring with
him." Lois ordered.

	"Momma, can I just wait until Ryder gets here and see if he'll take
me swimmin'?" Jem asked, pleading his case.

	"No, the mood your sister is in...Ryder will want to spend all his
time with her. He won't want to take you swimming. There's too much going
on. This is not a good day to go swimming or for playing games. Your sister
is not the only one upset by Mrs. Teasdale's death. We should all be on our
knees praying for her and her family." Lois told her son.

	"Why do we have to pray for Mrs. Teasdale?  Wasn't she baptized?
Is everyone afraid she ain't goin' to heaven?" Jem asked.

	"No, Jem, if there's one person that's with the Lord, it's Alma
Teasdale. There never lived a finer woman." Lois replied.

	Jem was still filled with a thousand questions to ask. "Then why
did Bret run off and leave her? How come he broke up with Marge?

	"Those are the kinds of things little boys shouldn't be asking."
Lois said, trying to end his query.

	"I'm not a little boy. I'm fourteen years old. In two more years, I
can get my drivers' license." Jem boasted.

	"Oh dear Lord, now I have THAT to worry about!  Well, you're not
grown up yet. When that time comes, maybe then you can ask about some of
the things you're too young to know about just now. Now do as I say, or
you'll have your dad to reckon with when he gets home."

	"No wonder Bret ran away if his momma treated he the way I'm
treated." Jem said, giving up.

	"Now hush up and march!!" Lois said, with finality.

	"Yes, maam." Jem said, dropping his head and retreating back into
the house.

	Mae stood there with a "tsk tsk" sound coming out of her mouth,
"Boy, kids sure grow up fast these days, Lois. Is he really fourteen
already?"

	"Yes, fourteen going on forty and wearing me down to an early
grave." Lois sighed. "I declare I don't know what I'm gonna do about him.
Sometimes I think I'll just drown him and tell everyone he died of old
age," she joked.

	"I remember when you were carrying Marge and when you almost lost
her. You had that Caesarian operation and we thought you and the baby were
both gonna die." Mae reflected.

	"I know. Doc Barnes warned me not to try to have any more kids
after Marge was born, but somehow I got my timing all messed up and before
I knew it I was expecting, again." Lois sighed.

	"Yes, that was one of the times the Lord decided to make everything
turn out happy. I just wish He would've thought about it a little longer
before He took Alma to be with Him. Well, I guess I'd better get on home
and fix some covered dishes to take over to the Teasdale house. There'll be
lots of people stopping by and everyone of them will be hungry. Sometimes I
think the people around here go on hunger strikes and wait for somebody to
die just so they can go to the wake and fill up." Mae offered.

	"Mae, you're terrible. You don't mean that." Lois said, shaking her
head, hiding a smile, although she agreed with Mae.

	"I know. I was just thinking it, so I thought I might as well say
it." said Mae, not offering an apology.

	"Mae, you're not going down to see Charlie and see if he can find
Bret, are you?" Lois asked, hoping Mae would soon leave.

	"I don't know. I haven't decided. But if I do, don't let on to
anyone that you think it was me who did it." Mae said, almost whispering,
in case Jem was inside eavesdropping.

	"I won't. But if you do, be discreet." Lois said, matching Mae's
lowered voice.

	Realizing she'd probably stayed too long ---and said too much---,
Mae said, leaving, "I will. You know me, I'm always discreet. I don't tell
anyone anything...unless they haven't heard it yet from somebody
else... Well, gotta go. I'll probably see you at Aaron's. Bye".

	"Goodbye, Mae." Lois said, relieved.

	Mae left, scurrying off to the next neighbors house to start the
next conversation or to continue the one she had just had with Lois. After
Mae had gone, Marge, Lois' eighteen year old daughter came out the screen
door of the house wearing a pink and white calico dress her mom had made.
It was true, by all standards, that Marge was the prettiest girl in the
county or if the truth be known, all the surrounding counties. Her
complexion was smooth and creamy as freshly churned buttermilk, highlighted
by her shoulder length dark brown hair. The only make-up that Marge ever
wore was just a dab of pink cherry lipstick. That was all she needed for
perfection. Jem was right. Marge had been crying, and quite a bit, as her
eyes were a bit puffy. She had been inside the house waiting for Ryder, or
a chance to talk to her mother as soon as Mae had left. She had no desire
to listen to the daily gossip from the local carrier.

	"I thought she would never leave." Marge said to her mother.

	Going to her daughter to embrace her, Lois said, "Marge, are you
all right? Jem said you'd been crying."

	"I just can't believe Mrs. Teasdale's gone, Momma. She was always
so nice and kind to me every time I went over to Bret's.  Several times
when Mr, Teasdale was giving Bret a hard time, she always stood up for
Bret.  She loved him so much, Momma, and he loved her. I just pray that
somehow, some way, he'll get the message about her and get home in time for
the funeral. It would just be the worst thing if he missed it." Marge said.

	Lois stood at arms length and stared directly at her
daughter. "Marge, if I ask you something point-blank, will you give me an
honest answer?"

	"Of course, Momma. You know I've never lied to you about anything."
Marge said, a bit curious.

	"Do you know where Bret is? Has he written you or called you on the
phone?" Lois asked, pointedly.

	"No, Momma, I promise. I've heard nothing from him since he left."
Marge replied, earnestly.

	"You've never told me, but do you know what Bret's argument with
his father was all about? It must've been something horrible for him to run
Bret off that way." Lois continued her inquisition.

	"No, Momma, I swear. I don't know anything. I've always had a
feeling that Ryder knows something about it, but he won't tell anyone...not
even me," Marge replied.

	"If Ryder DOES know where he is, do you think he'll try to get in
touch with him to tell him about his mother?" Lois asked.

	"Yes, Momma. I'm sure if Ryder does know, he'll do all he can to
let Bret know." Marge assured her

	"What time is Ryder due over here?" asked Lois, looking at the sun
to estimate the time.

	"He should've already been here. He's late now and I'm beginning to
worry about him." Marge said.

	"Well, now don't start worrying about Ryder. He's been late before
and he always shows up. I'm just wondering what's keeping your dad? He
should've been here an hour ago." Lois said, trying ease Marge's concern
about Ryder.

	"Are you and Dad going to the funeral home tonight?" Marge asked.

	"Yes, after we drop some covered dishes off at Aaron's." Lois
replied.

	"What did you fix, Momma?"

	"I baked a ham and made a big dish of macaroni and cheese. I made a
big old peach cobbler in that big black pan I keep under the sink. It
should be enough for about thirty or forty people AND a banana pudding."

	Concerned, Marge asked, "Momma, why does someone always have to die
before the neighbors bring food to the house? Wouldn't it be better to bake
a ham and take it over for Mrs. Teasdale to enjoy as well...not wait until
she's dead and try to feed her family because you feel sorry for them."

	"I don't know, Marge, that's just the way things are done. It's
always been that way and always will, I guess." Lois replied, not really
knowing the answer.

	Ryder's jalopy is heard driving up followed by the sound of a car
backfire and the sound of a door closing. Marge pinched her cheeks to try
to hide the puffiness she'd acquired by crying. Lois helped her by
straightening Marge's dress and fluffing up her hair,

	"Are you two going to the funeral home?" Lois asked.

	"For a little while, Momma."

	Ryder had gotten out of his car and stopped long enough to check in
the side mirror of his car to see if his ducks were combed back. He had
thick ash brown hair and the six foot stud walked proudly in his skin-tight
jeans and t-shirt, torn at the neckband to give him the "look of the
fifties. He walked with a John Wayne gait around the Larrimore house to get
to the back porch where the family usually sat late in the afternoon. As
soon as he saw Marge, he smiled that "Pepsodent" smile. There was no two
ways about it, Ryder was good-looking and if he had had parents with money,
he'd've been the "catch of the county". Marge's face beamed when she saw
him turn the corner of the house

	"Hi, sweetheart...Mrs. Larrimore," Ryder said as he approached the
porch.

	Marge replied with, "Hey" and Lois Larrimore with. "'Afternoon,
Ryder."

	Marge came off the porch and met Ryder in the yard to get a big hug
and a quick kiss. Lois pretended not to see and looked away in the opposite
direction.

	"Work hard today?" Marge asked him.

	"Wasn't too bad," he replied, "Never is when I think of you all
day. How are you doin'?"

	Before Marge could say a word, Lois blurted out, "She's been in her
room crying all day ever since she heard about Amy.".

	"Momma, I have not." Marge said, correcting her mother.

	Ryder looked into Marge's eyes and said. "I'm sorry, honey, that I
couldn't get over here sooner. I knew how upset you must be. Aaron didn't
find her until I'd already gone to work, It's like losing my momma for the
second time. She and Aaron have been like my folks since my real ones
died."

	Lois had a one-track mind and asked, "Ryder, do you have any idea
if Bret's heard about his mother?"

	"No ma'am. I don't even know where Bret is," he replied.

	Still being adamant, Lois added, "Well, it's a shame somebody
doesn't know how to reach him."

	"Mrs. Larrimore, if I knew where he was, I'd drive all night to go
tell him and bring him back. The Teasdales raised us like we was brothers."

	"Momma, I told you Ryder doesn't know where Bret is. So don't try
putting blame on him."Marge said, trying to rescue Ryder.

	"I'm not blaming Ryder. I'm just saying that as close as they all
were, Ryder might've made an effort in finding him." Lois said, still on
her high horse.

	"Mrs. Larrimore, when Bret first left. I tried every way I knew how
to find out where he'd gone. But it's like he just vanished. He hasn't
called, written me, or nothing," Ryder said,

	"Aaron Teasdale ought to be horse whipped for running his own flesh
and blood off like that. But I guess if he's not punished for it now, the
good Lord will take care of him later on." Lois continued getting her last
two cents worth in.

	Marge was getting impatient with her mother, "Momma, excuse me, but
I thought you had to get some covered dishes ready."

	"I do." Lois replied, "I'll just go in and let you two be alone.
Listen for your dad. Don't let him drive up and catch you in some romantic
pose you can't explain."

	Marge almost screamed, "Momma, please! We know better than to
behave like that in front of Dad."

	"Just as long as you remember," were Lois' last words as she went
into the house.

	Marge and Ryder heaved a sigh of relief."Whew!  Come here, you, and
welcome me properly." Ryder said, pulling Marge close into him and kissing
her long and passionately. Marge was a little embarrassed and apprehensive
as she pulled back a little,

	"Ryder, please. It's broad open daylight." Marge said, freeing
herself from the kiss.

	"You know your dad can't see us from the road." Ryder sais, as he
once again made advances toward his girl.

	"I know, but I'm never sure when Jem's gonna get mad at me and tell
Dad all kinds of things." Marge said, still not willing to give in.

	"What kinds of things could Jem tell?" Ryder stopped to ask.

	"I can't be sure but Jem might have seen us making out in the
barn."

	"He couldn't've." Ryder said, "We only made out there twice and
both times it was at night with no lights. Guilt feelin's ain't giving you
the heebie-jeebies are they?"

	"Of course not." Marge replied, "Why should I feel guilty?"

	"You shouldn't. After all we love one another and I've asked you to
marry me. My gosh, Marge, I can't wait. When are you gonna tell your folks
so we can set a date?"

	"I don't know, but not just now." Marge answered.

	"You're hopin' Bret'll come home for his momma's funeral, aren't
you?" Ryder asked, suspiciously.

	Getting on her own high-horse, Marge lashed out, "Ryder, what do I
have to say to convince you that Bret is a thing of the past? He no longer
exists in my life. He showed me how little I meant to him when he left town
without so much as telling me goodbye. That was the end of any kind of
relationship we might've ever had...if we ever had one in the first place."

	"Marge, you know that just ain't so. Bret loved you and you know
it." Ryder answered back, sharply.

	"Well, he sure had a funny way of showing it." Marge added.


	As they continue to embrace, another car is heard coming down the
dirt road leading to the house.


	"That must be Dad." Marge said, trying to straighten her dress and
hair. "Now behave yourself. I don't want him getting any funny ideas about
us except that we're just going steady."

	"Shoot, Marge. Why don't you just tell him about us and let me ask
him for your hand, properly?"

	"Ryder, I've told you...not right now. Besides Dad is too busy with
Alma's funeral service and I don't want anything else to upset him."

	Chad Larrimore came around the house wearing his black gabardine
suit which was much too hot to wear in August, topped with a grey felt
hat. These were the same clothes he wore whenever his job as minister
required him to comfort the families in times of death. He walked over to
the bucket sitting on the well and scooped up a metal ladle filled with
cool well water. After he'd finished the whole cup in one swig, he noticed
Marge and Ryder who had moved over to the small gazebo in the backyard.

	"'Evenin' daughter...Ryder." Chad spoke.

	"Good evening, Dad." Marge said, ever so innocently.

	"Mr. Larrimore." Ryder replied, very courteously.

	"You folks up to no good?" Chad asked with a wisp of humor.

	"Dad, Ryder just came by to see what time I wanted him to pick me
up to go to the funeral home."

	"Is that right?" he asked, without thinking.  "I passed Mae Bradley
as I was comin' home. I reckon everyone in Stewart County knows about
Alma's death by now. When there's somethin' to tell, Mae don't stop until
she's sure everybody knows about it."

	"Yes, Dad, she just left here, I thought she was gonna spend the
night. She just stayed and stayed."

	"As long as we got her, there's no use to have a second radio
station for the news. That woman DOES love to talk. Ryder, are you all
right? I know how you must feel, losing Amy and all." Chad said in his
consoling voice.

	"I'm fine, sir. Yessir, she's been the only momma I've known since
my real one died." Ryder answered.

	"Don't 'spect you've heard from Bret?" Chad asked.

	"No sir." Ryder replied.

	"Sure wisht I knew how to find him. It just ain't right for a boy
to miss his own mother's funeral." Chad added.

	"Dad, I'm sure if Bret knew, he'd already be here, or at least on
his way."

	"I said a prayer on the way home that the Lord would give Bret a
sign or send an angel or somethin' to tell him to call home."

	"I'm sure the Lord heard you, Daddy."

	"'Course, if he don't get the message, that'll be God's will, too.
Well, I'll go on in and wash up and let you two youngsters have some
privacy. But don't stay out too long, Marge. I want the whole family to be
at the funeral home by 7:00 to meet all the mourners. Where's your mom?"

	"She's inside fixin' some dishes to take over to the Teasdale
house." Marge answered.

	"I mighta knowed it. I declare the way people are dyin' around
here, we're all soon gonna be in the poor house fixin' covered dishes. The
way some people eat at wakes makes me believe they sit around and go hungry
purpose-like from wake to wake."

	Chad went into the house, still mumbling to himself. Marge and
Ryder look at one another and heaved another sigh of relief.

	"One thing's for sure, Marge, --- When we get married, we're NOT
livin' at your house. I'd never be able to make love to you under the same
roof with him being in the next room. Sometimes he scares me half to
death."

	"Oh, he's not that bad. You just have to get used to him." Marge
said, almost laughing at Ryder.

	"I'd never get used to him. The way he preaches hellfire and
damnation from the pulpit upsets my stomach from Sunday to Sunday and you
have to live with him seven days a week. I'd go out of my mind. How was he
when you and Bret were going together?"

	"Bret was scared of him, too, but he never let on. Dad liked him
but he always thought Bret needed to go to the army to make a man out him."
Marge said.

	"There was nothing unmanly about Bret. He beat me up more than
once. I know how tough he could be. Maybe he should have beat your dad up a
time or two to prove himself." Ryder said.

	"Ryder, why don't you go on home and see about Mr,Teasdale. There
may be something he needs for you to do and I'll expect you around seven,
if that's OK?" Marge suggested.

	"That'll be fine. Give me one more kiss before I go?" Ryder said,
embracing her again.

	"OK, but make it a quick one...with Dad being inside the kitchen."

	Ryder kissed her, gave her a big hug and went around the side of
the house to get to his car as Marge went inside the house.

	As Bret started down the long dirt drive and turned onto the
highway, he wondered what Marge had meant about Mr. Larrimore's wanting
Bret to be drafted to make a man out of him. Just what did Mr. Larrimore
suspect? How much did he know...and more important, how much did Aaron know
about his son, Bret? Ryder knew he was suspecting things in his mind that
weren't true. If Aaron suspected anything about Bret or his relationship
with Ryder, Aaron would've run them both off, not just Bret. There had to
be another reason. Ryder had thought long and hard night after night what
had happened to make Aaron so mad at Bret. Bret had talked time and again
about running off to Atlanta to study at an art school there. Bret did have
talent when it came to drawing. He could pick up a number two Eagle lead
pencil and any kind of paper that was handy and in no time, he'd drawn a
bird or a squirrel, so life-like, it would almost leap off the paper. But
there was nothing girlish about him. Bret had lettered in football,
baseball, basketball, and wrestling and had broken the state record in
track while he was at Stewart High School. Ryder had always envied Bret the
way he excelled in sports. Besides sports, he had talent drawing and, most
important, he had the prettiest girl in the county, Marge. He was as near
perfect as a guy could get.

	When Bret had to leave town unexpectedly, it was only natural for
Ryder to go to Marge and comfort her. It was nearly a month before Ryder
got the courage to ask Marge to go on a date with him. They dated on and on
for about three months until Marge agreed to go steady with him.  Since
Bret was gone, having Marge as his girlfriend made up for some of the void
and emptiness in Ryder's life. He missed Bret more than Marge did. No one
knew, but he was more intimate with Bret than Bret had ever been with
anyone. Back when they were dating, Bret and Marge would go out on a Friday
or Saturday night and would kiss and make out and get Bret all hot and
bothered, and he would come home horny as hell with a hard-on pressed so
hard inside his jeans, he could hardly walk.

	That's how Ryder first learned about "beating off". Bret would
tip-toe into the bedroom after a date, trying to be quiet and not awaken
Ryder, who slept in the bed next to his. Bret would never turn the lights
on, but the room was always filled with light from the Georgia moon. Ryder
would pretend to be asleep and crack one eye just enough to watch Bret
undress. Any other time he saw Bret naked was in the showers in gym, or
swimming, or bathing in the house. But none of those times warranted an
erection. So it was only after a hot date with Marge that Ryder got to see
Bret full and hard. Bret would lie still for at least thirty minutes to be
sure Ryder was asleep and it was safe to start his weekend "private parts"
exercise. Bret would hide the motion under the sheets and quilt until he
was ready to climax and then he would throw them off, so as to not get any
of his explosive semen on the bed clothes. He would then reach under the
bed and get one of the socks he had just removed and clean up the mess he
had made with his manly weapon.

	Everybody has secrets whether they be thoughts or
actions...smoking, drinking, swearing. And these secrets should be
respected and remain with the individual until he was ready to share them
with somebody. So Ryder decided never to invade Bret's secret world unless
Bret invited him. Even worse, if Bret ever knew that Ryder was watching
him, he'd probably stop and that would be the end of the private show Ryder
enjoyed so much.

	What Bret didn't know was that Ryder was expecting him to come home
and perform his sexual activity in private, so Ryder always did his,
thinking about Bret, before Bret got home.

	Bret and Ryder had lived in the same room ever since Ryder's
parents had died. They shared everything like twin brothers, being they
were both the same age.  They wore each other's clothes, depending on who
had what clean to wear. Ryder always did Bret's homework for him while Bret
did some of Ryder's farm chores in return.

	Since Ryder was an orphan, so to speak, he had no one in his life
to love, so he focused all his love on his hero, Bret. Bret sensed it and
loved him back as if he were his real brother. Bret and his daddy had never
been close. He had been the light of Alma's life. To her, the sun rose and
set in Bret. Ryder almost felt the same way...and now with Alma dead and
Bret gone, who knows where, would Ryder continue living alone with Aaron?
Somehow he didn't think so. Aaron had never shown any real hostility toward
his "adopted" son, but when it came time for punishment, Ryder was whipped
with the same leather razor strop that Aaron used on Bret.

	After Bret left, Ryder tried to fill the void in Alma's world and
the two of them, both loving Bret, had grown closer than ever. Even though
he was nineteen years old now, every night at bed time, Alma would still
tap on Ryder's door and then enter to give him a good night kiss on the
forehead, the same way she had done to her two boys when Bret was still
there.

	After high school graduation and Bret had seen it was hopeless to
think about going to Atlanta or the art school. both boys had taken jobs
downtown in Lumpkin. Bret worked at Cannington's General Store, sorting,
marking merchandise and creating displays for the goods the way he had seen
them in nearby Columbus. Ryder, on the other hand, had no "feel" for that
kind of work, so he got hired by Hershel Henley, who ran a combination
blacksmith and auto repair shop, which meant that Ryder not only had to
learn how to change a fan belt or drain the oil from a car, he also had to
learn how to shoe a horse. Even though it was in the fifties, some of the
old die-hard farmers still came to town on Saturday in horse and buggies.

	Saturday was always the biggest day of the week in Lumpkin. Monday
thru Friday, only a few people came to town to shop, but on Saturday, you
could hardly make your way through the crowds on the sidewalk. All the
black people dressed up in the best they had and visited with each other
all day. Some sat on the high curbs and played checkers. The women all
seemed to find seats and sit there with their "Jesus" fans and try to keep
cool under all the fancy dresses and hats with veils. Hose with seams had
been out of style since the late 40's, but by a little darning here and
there, every woman still had a pair to wear with their finery. Most of them
brought picnic baskets filled with freshly caught, fried catfish and
hushpuppies. A majority of the men had half pints of Old Crow or Jim Beam,
hidden from their wives in their back pockets.  Between the nips and the
hot sun, nearly all of them were drunk by five o'clock. Everyone just hoped
and prayed that no fight would break out if anyone was accused of cheating
at checkers. As the evening drew to a close, all the women started singing
hymns and Stephen Foster songs that could be heard up and down the main
street. The men, those who were sober enough to join in, sang bass. In
those days there was no racial disharmony and the black folks thought
nothing about singing "Old Black Joe" or "Old Folks at Home" in which they
referred to themselves as "darkies".

	Sunday afternoons were quite different. Everyone went to church
with their picnic baskets to find a good place by the river to eat, fish,
and where the children could swim, after church services were over. The
streets of downtown Lumpkin were virtually empty. No one dared to open a
store or shop on the Lord's Day. Something as bad as that would surely land
you in a lake of fire when you left this world.

	By the time Ryder and Marge reached the funeral home, the place was
packed with mourners and well-wishers. Everyone sat in folding chairs
around the funeral parlor. The lid of the casket remained open and a side
panel dropped down so that anyone could see Alma from any angle in the
room. Many of the men had gone outside for a smoke and to talk about
sports, politics, or their crops, leaving the women inside to fan, whisper,
and whimper, blowing their noses from time to time in their frazzled piece
of tissue supplied by the funeral home. If you listened closely, you could
hear the familiar cliches and platitudes that had been said at every wake
since the beginning of time and would continue until Jesus returned..."I
didn't even know she was sick", "She looks so natural, just like she could
sit up and talk to you.", "They did a wonderful job on making her up like
she always looked", "Why did they have to dress Alma in that black dress,
as hot as it is and all?", "Wonder what Aaron will do now?", "Has anybody
heard anything about Bret coming home". "Do you suppose he knows about his
mother". These phrases went on and on into the evening until every woman
had had her chance to say them, individually. When someone new entered the
parlor, the whole commotion started all over with more snivelling and the
same remarks...you see, the newest visitor hadn't heard them all yet.

	Ryder and Marge stayed until about 10:00 PM and then left, after
saying their "goodbyes". Always the gentleman, Ryder opened the passenger
door of his truck first for Marge and started around the bed to get to his
side. Halfway around the truck, Ryder heard, "Psst." He stopped to see
which direction the sound came from. This time he heard his name called,
"Ryder, is that you?"

	"Yeah, who are you and where are you?" Ryder asked in a loud
whisper.

	"It's me, Bret!" replied the voice.

	"Bret? Is it really you? You old son-of-a-gun!"

	"Sure thing."

	"Well, come out so I can see you."

	"Here, boy!" Bret said, stepping from behind a japonica bush.

	"Gosh darn, it's good to see you." Ryder said, holding out his arms
to embrace his 'brother'.

	Bret ran fast to receive the invitation and hugged Ryder for all he
was worth. Tears streamed down both their faces. In their hurry, they'd
kissed each other on the cheek just in front of the ear. They held each
other tightly, trying to bridge the gap with memories of happier times.

	"How'd you find out about your momma?" Ryder whispered into Bret's
ear.

	"The sheriff in Columbus had a call from Charlie down at the police
department. Charlie had called him asking about my whereabouts and if he
saw me to give me the message."

	"Where you been all this time?" Ryder asked, anxiously.

	"I was in Atlanta for a while after I first left and then I came
back to Columbus and found work. When I leave here, I'm goin' back to
Atlanta and go to art school. I got enough money saved for my tuition."
Bret replied.

	"God, I've missed you."

	"Same here."

	Marge called from the cab of the truck, "Ryder, who are you talking
to out there."

	"Come out and see for yourself."

	Marge managed to open the creaky truck door and focused her eyes in
the dark to see the stranger standing next to Ryder.

	"Is that...Bret? Is it? Oh, Bret, come here and give me a hug."
Marge, all but screamed.

	Bret released Ryder's hug to run and embrace Marge. She expected a
kiss, but she thought she'd better not, since Bret didn't know about her's
and Ryder's relationship. Bret put his arms around her waist and picked her
off the ground and swung her around twice.

	"Oh Bret, I'm so sorry about Alma. You were all she lived for.. but
I'm glad you got home."

	"Is my daddy inside the funeral home?"

	"Yes, he won't leave until the last visitor has left."

	"I think I'd better stay out here until he leaves. I don't want to
have a scene with him in front of half of Lumpkin."

	"I know." Marge offered.

	"Hey, why don't the three of us go down to the river like old times
and wait until everyone has gone." Ryder suggested.

	"Sounds good to me." Bret said.

	"Ryder, I really should be getting home. Momma saw me leave with
you and she'll worry if I'm not home by the time she gets there."

	"All right, we'll carry you home and then Bret and I can go down by
the river."

	Marge sat between them on the way to her house. No one said a word
but the thoughts filling the truck were heavy. When they arrived at her
house, she suggested that neither of the boys walk her to the door. She
wasn't ready to reveal her secrets just yet. She kissed each of them on the
cheek and ran into her house.

	"Let's go down by the river," Ryder said, "I've got some beer
hidden down there, tied to a rock in the water. It should be nice and
cold."

	"I'm all for it," Bret replied.

	They were silent as they drove toward the river, about a half mile
from the bridge that led into Eufaula, Alabama, until Bret said, "I guess
you been seeing Marge since I left?"

	"Off and on. We aren't really serious if that's what you're worried
about." Ryder lied.

	"I'm not worried, I guess I'm sorta out of Marge's picture by now."
Bret said humbly.

	"For what it's worth, I don't think she ever got you out of her
system. If you ask me, I think she still loves you," Ryder offered.

	"It doesn't really matter now. I have plans and she doesn't fit
into them just now." Bret replied.

	"Oh, here's our turn-off. I hid the beer where you and I used to go
jaybird swimmin'".

	"Lots of memories made there."

	"I know." Ryder said as he parked the truck and walked down to the
river bank. Bret followed, quietly.

	"Yep, nice and cold," Ryder said, handing a can of Pabst Blue
Ribbon to Bret.

	They both sat down, opened their cans of beer and took a big swig,

	"This was our secret place." Bret said.

	"Yep."

	"Do you remember our first time together when we almost got caught?
We were too young to know what we were doing." Bret said, not looking at
Ryder.

	"I remember...but after three or four trips down here, we knew
exactly what to do."

	"Did you ever bring anyone else down here?" Bret asked.

	"You mean guys?"

	"Yes."

	"Nope. You were my one and only...What about you...You done
anything since you left here?"

	"I found a bar in Atlanta where only guys hang out and I went home
with a couple of them a time or two." Bret said, hesitantly.

	"You're kidding!"

	"Nope."

	"Did you do things with 'em like we used to do?" Ryder asked,
nervously.

	"I did all those things and some other things too,things that we
didn't think about or were too afraid to try."

	"Golly...what kind of things...if you don't mind my askin'? You
didn't go inside any of those guys, did you?"

	";Fraid so...and I let them go inside me, too."

	"Damn! What was it like...I mean...didn't it hurt?"

	"A little at first but I soon got used to it."

	"Hell, I feel like you've gone off and left me far behind." Ryder
said,

	"Not that far...Ryder, you know the one thing I always wanted to do
with you, but was always to afraid to try?"

	"What?"

	"I always wanted to know what it was like to kiss you. I was afraid
you'd get mad and start a fight."

	"What's so bad about that? I mean we put each other's dicks in our
mouths and swallowed each other's cum.  What's wrong with kissin'?"

	"It's just seemed kinda girlish. You know, the kinda thing I would
do to Marge but never to another guy...and then one night in Atlanta, I was
in bed with this guy and before I could say 'no' he planted a big one on me
and stuck his tongue in my mouth."

	"You mean that French kissin'?"

	"Yep."

	"Well what was it like?"

	"I'm afraid if I described it to you, you'd gag. It would be better
if you let me show you." Bret said, still not looking at Ryder.

	"You mean you want to French kiss me?"

	"I've thought about it at nights sometimes, when I'm beating off."

	"Well, if you're brave enough to try it...I can be brave enough to
let you."

	"You promise not to get mad?" Bret asked.

	"I promise."

	"Then lean back on the grass and let me lie beside you."

	"Damn. I'm gettin' hard just thinkin' about it." Ryder said as he
lay back on the damp grass.

	Bret sat his beer on the grass beside him, turning it over and
spilling its contents as he stretched his body over and upward to plant his
lips on Ryder's. Their mouths had touched only for a second when Ryder
withdraw and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

	"I'm sorry, Bret, but this is disgusting."

	"You didn't give it a chance. Let me do it once more, only this
time hold still longer while I insert my tongue in your into your mouth."
Bret said, almost pleading.

	"O.K. Just make it short and sweet because you know I'm not
enjoying it," Ryder replied,

	Bret moved quicker this time and before Ryder could object, he had
slid his hot wet tongue into Ryder's mouth. His tongue touched Ryder's and
Ryder felt a sensation all the way down to his toes. He didn't want to be
the invaded, he wanted to be the invader, so instantly he pushed Bret's
tongue back into his mouth, while he inserted his own into Bret's. This was
the thrill of all thrills, defying belief. The many weeks that he, Ryder,
had made out with Marge, never once had he felt something this
exciting. Then in a rush, the kissing process sped up as they moved their
heads from side to side, never breaking the mouth lock. To Ryder this was
an all time high in excitement. He thought his dick would burst forth from
his trousers through the zippered fly. Ryder took Bret's hand and placed it
on his own swollen crotch, as if to say, "See what you did to me?"

	Bret was all to eager to accept Ryder's invitation to explore his
lower regions as he quickly unzipped Ryder's pants and probed inside.

	"Damn! You're even bigger than I remembered," Bret whispered.

	"It was your kiss. I've never had an boner this large before."

	"I'm glad to see you still care for me." Bret said.

	"Care for you? Didn't you know, before you left, about my strong
feelin's for you?" Ryder said.

	"Then why the fuck didn't you let me know?" Bret queried.

	"I thought you'd run away and hate me if I said anything...but,
hell, you ran off anyway, without my ever telling you. How about you? How
deeply did you feel for me?" Ryder asked.

	"I cared about a lot you more than I ever cared about Marge." Bret
replied.

	"I always thought that if you ever left town, you'd take Marge with
you and marry her."

	"I had thought about that. At one point, that was my intention. But
I knew it wouldn't be fair to her if I married her, all the while wanting
you more."

	"Oh God, I'm so glad you came home to tell me all this. You see, I
sorta took your place in Marge's life after you left and now her parents
expect me to marry her."

	"Have you done the nasty with her?"

	"Sorry, bro, but I must confess I have."

	"You unfaithful, son-of-a-bitch. The whole time we went steady, I
never once made love to her. Oh, we used to touch each other at the
drive-in movies but it never went any farther than that;"

	"She implied many times that the two of you had made love several
times." Ryder stated. "I always felt she was trying to tell me that you
made love to her better that I did...and now I find out, you never touched
her," Ryder replied.

	"Nope. Never did." quipped Bret.

	"Hey, let's get naked and go for a swim," Ryder said, jumping to
start taking off his clothes, Ryder invited.

	"Sounds good. I haven't bathed since yesterday and I know my
armpits must smell sweaty." Bret said, beginning to strip. also.

	After both of them had removed all their clothing, the full moon
cast a light on their bodies, like a spot light.

	"God, you're some hunk of a he-man, Ryder."

	"So are you, good buddy," Ryder replied.

	They joined hands like two kids playing Red Rover in grammar school
and ran together in the water until both of them were submerged up to their
waists.

	"Feel good?" Bret asked.

	"It's much better when you're here."

	"Wanna fool around?" Bret asked, splashing a handful of water on
Ryder' back."

	"You bastard. I'll get even with you, after that." Ryder declared.

	"Go ahead, I'll take you on any time you're ready."

	Ryder sprung up, raising his body out of the motionless dark river,
reaching for Bret's head in order to dunk him. Both their erections had
withdrawn somewhat from the chill in the water, but they still met, face to
face. This time, Ryder was brave enough to instigate the kiss. They kept
kissing as the fronts of their bodies seem to melt into one flesh. Bret
moved his hand down, once again, grabbing Bret's erection as Ryder
reciprocated accordingly.

	"Come on, baby, let's go lie on the bank, head to crotch, crotch to
head like we used to. Or is that too childish to try again?"  Bret asked.

	"It doesn't have to be childish or girlish at all. Not if we do it
in the name of love." Ryder replied.

	So they were once again lying on the grass locked in a sixty-nine
position, even though neither one of them had ever it called 'sixty-nine'
before. Each lay there with a cock staring him in the face. They both
reached for the dick in front of them, giving it a squeeze to confirm its
firmness. They leaned forward at the same time and began gobbling the huge
penises inch by inch until they had managed to stuff the full length of the
monsters into their hungry mouths and awaiting throats. They assumed the
same bobbling rhythm with their heads with a vengeance, hoping that each
would make the other cum first. It had been a long time since they had done
anything like this to one another, so the first of the two expected
explosions was due any second. It was Ryder who gushed forth into Bret's
oral cavity with a huge thrust. Bret was swallowing as fast as Ryder could
shoot. Halfway through this action, Bret released his barrage of hot milky
liquid down Ryder's throat, causing Ryder to cough and gag. But Ryder
wanted every drop that Bret was bestowing into his mouth, so he took a deep
breath to stop the gagging and began drinking the mighty fluid as if it
were the first time for each of them.

	"Don't swallow it all," Bret spoke. "Keep some in your mouth while
we kiss."

	Bret turned his body around so that he could face Ryder and lunged
forward into a hot wet kiss...rach exchanging a mouthful of semen with the
other.

	When they had swallowed all there was to swallow, it was Ryder who
spoke first, "Damn! That was wonderful."

	"It was for me, too. Did you like this new game?"

	"It didn't take long to follow your lead." Ryder replied, smiling,
pleased.

	"Let's smoke a cigarette and wait a few minutes and I'll show you a
few more tricks I've learned." Bret said, reaching for a pack of
Chesterfields in his shirt pocket.

	"I guess it's true, what we saw in the movies, good sex should be
followed with a good smoke." Ryder replied, taking a lit cigarette Bret had
just lit for him. "What's next, Alphonse?"

	"You'll soon see..... or rather you'll soon feel." Bret said,
jokingly.

	"We're not gonna go inside each other, are we?"

	"I'll let you enter me, but I won't enter you unless you're sure
you wanna try it. Fair deal, bro?"

	"Sounds fair to me...but remember the only girl I've ever fucked
was Marge and you and she aren't built alike...so I may need some help in
showing me what to do."

	"Baby, you're in for the treat of your life!!" Bret said, excitedly
as he inhaled a big drag from his cigarette.

	"I don't want to disturb our mood or nothin'. but you wanna talk a
bit about your momma?" Ryder asked.

	"It didn't shock me none. I would have thought my dad would have
run her into the grave, way before this. I knew I had to get away from
him. Dyin' was about Momma's only way of escape. You know.....you live
there. You've heard the way he carried on and hollered at her.  The old
hens in Lumpkin would drop their drawers if they knew the way he really
treated her. Everyone thought they were happy as two peas in a pod...but if
they only knew..." Bret said, getting angrier the more he forced himself to
remember.

	"Do you mind my asking you now why he got so upset and ran you out
of town?" Ryder inquired.

	"Not just yet. I WILL tell you some time, but not now." Bret
replied. "You wanna jump back in the water before we start up again.  I
like it when we're squeaky clean."

	"Sure, I'm ready."

	Ryder chased Bret back into the water. The two of them splashed as
they did when they were ten years old. The meaningfulness of their
relationship had begun early and after Ryder moved in with Bret, they were
as close as twin brothers. They thought alike and finished each others
sentences, even in the classroom when the teacher would ask one of them a
question. No matter which one of the two started to answer, the other one
jumped in and completed it. This amused the teachers for awhile and then
they got annoyed by it. It was impossible to give them an accurate grade
when they studied and worked together so harmoniously.

	In a big city like Macon or Atlanta, it would be acceptable if they
loved each other, but in a small town like Lumpkin, there was only one word
that would describe them.  The big "Q" word. So everything that ever
happened between the two of them was never known by anybody, Bret felt that
people might be getting suspicious of his and Ryder's clandestine
shenanigans. That's why he started dating Marge. so that everyone would
think he was normal. Not even Marge had ever suspected anything between the
two guys.

	This newly found intimacy that Ryder had just experienced with Bret
made him lose his inhibitions as he reached for Bret time and again to kiss
him once more. He just couldn't get enough of it. Bret was pleased and more
than willing to oblige Ryder. Once more they felt the rush of their sexual
desires and swam back to the shore. They used their shirts to dry
themselves and Ryder reached to finish his beer. He let out a loud burp
after he had drained the can.

	"Sorry." Ryder said. It was always the southern custom to excuse
yourself after a belch, no matter who you did it in front of.  It could be
two big burly truck drivers, but as soon as one of them burped, it was
always followed by an "excuse me". Farting was a different story all
together...you never let ANYONE hear you fart...not even husbands and
wives.

	"That's OK. I like a good hearty burp, too." Bret said as they both
sat down on the grass, once again. "Well, are you ready to try the dirty
deed?"

	"I've been thinking about it." Ryder replied.

	"Look, I won't put any pressure on you. You do it to me and I know
you'll like it and I'll save doing to you until you're ready...some other
time." Bret said.

	"Well, I've been wonderin' what kind of positions we have to get
in, since a man ain't got no hole in the front."

	"I guess you've only tried it the missionary position with Marge on
her back, so that might be easier for you to get used to."

	"What the heck is a missionary position? You mean like getting on
your knees and prayin'?"

	"No, you fool, I get on my back and you get on top of me like you
would a woman and enter my rear from the front."

	"Whatever you say..." Ryder said confused.

	"Get yourself real hard and get the top of your dick wet with
spit. I'll use my spit to get myself ready."

	"Oh, I know all about that part. I always use spit. It goes into a
pussy easier."

      "Just keep that in mind while you're entering me...and for God's sake
don't get so rambunctious and go slow...did you hear me?...Slow!! Are you
about ready?"

	"Yep, almost there."

	"Now lie down on top of me while I lift my legs onto your
shoulders."

	"Marge never did that."

	"That's because, like you said, her hole is in the front."

	Slowly the two of them got into position with Bret's guidance. Bret
grabbed Ryder's dick. It was so large and hard by now, Bret almost backed
out on the deal. He'd never felt such a monster about to enter him. Once
Bret had him in place he bore down on his asshole to open it and the tip of
Ryder's cock slid in about a half inch. It was Bret that now had to relax,
so he wouldn't get hurt. He sighed a little after taking a deep breath and
inched Ryder inside him."

	"Godamighty! This feels good, Bret!!!"

	"I thought it would."

	"But ain't I hurting you?"

	"No, it feels just as good to me as it does to you."

	"You better not be lying if I decide to let you do me." Ryder said.

	"I didn't say it wouldn't hurt the first time. It does, but after
you get used to it, it's fantastic."

	"Now, you want me to fuck you?" Ryder asked, still seeking
instructions.

	"Yeah, but I want you to cover my mouth with yours and make love to
me...don't just fuck me."

	"I never thought I'd get used to kissin' a man so quickly, but
Bret, I can't get enough of you."

	"That's the way I feel about you, baby."

	Ryder began shifting his weight forward and backward, trying to
push deeper with each thrust of his pelvis.

	"Oh my God, Bret. I'm gonna shoot!...Shit!"

	"That always happens the first time. Go ahead and shoot and leave
your dick inside me, it won't be long before you're hard enough to do it
again. This time you can take your time...OK?"

	"Here it comes." And cum he did. Ryder felt he must've deposited a
quart of sperm inside his best friend and "brother".

	"Damn," Ryder said. "I bet there ain't no pussy in the world as
tight as your asshole."

	"Probably not." Bret said, grimacing slightly.

	"No wonder women don't like queers. Once a man fucks another man,
he'd never like the feel of a pussy again." Ryder said, thrusting one last
time and getting his breath.

	With that, Bret started to laugh. He laughed so hard he almost shot
Ryder's penis out of his anus. It occurred to Ryder what he had just said
and he started laughing harder than his buddy. Ryder stayed on top of Bret
and folded his arms across Bret's chest so that he could look down into
Bret's eyes and occasionall give him a quick peck on the lips.

	"God, I've missed you."Ryder said, "When you left you took half of
me with you."

	"If Momma hadn't died, I'd've still come home. I wanted to see
you. I dreamed every night of you and of you and me doing this. I had more
beat-off sessions thinking about you than I ever did with any girl." Bret
said intimately.

	"If I'd've known how to do this with you before you left, you never
would have gone anywhere...without me anyway." Ryder said, seriously.

	"That's another reason I came back. I want you to go with Atlanta
with me." Bret said anxiously.

	"Aw, I don't know if I could do that. Big cities are for some folks
but I ain't one of them." Ryder replied.

	"What are you makin' now? Two? Two and a quarter an hour? Why, that
don't leave you more'n sixty dollars a week take-home pay, after taxes."

	"Fifty-seven, ninety-four to be exact."Ryder said.

	"You could make twice or three times as much in Atlanta."

	"Doin' what?"

	"Same thing you're doin' now, or somethin' better. We could find a
place and live together...just you and me...and we could kiss, make love,
fuck, suck, whatever you wanted to do...every night...and no one would know
us." Bret pleaded.

	"I couldn't do that. What would people say if we went off together?
What'll people say when they find out you're home. You've got to face your
daddy, you know...and well, I'm in kind of a bind. I think Jem caught me
and Marge making out in the barn and he told Mr. Larrimore about it and the
old man didn't say anything to me about it because he thinks I'm gonna
marry Marge;"

	"You don't love her and she don't love you. Why, I bet I could take
her away from you as fast as you could spit." Bret said,

	"I don't know, Bret, we've been talkin' pretty serious like." Ryder
said.

	"I didn't mean to hurt your feelin's. I just know how much Marge
said she loved me." Bret replied.

	"Why don't we just wait and talk about it after the funeral and
everything...and we can decide how we feel and what's what, then...Are you
plannin' on goin' to see your daddy tonight?...I mean where you gonna sleep
and eat?"

	"I thought about it on the way home and maybe I could stay with old
Mae while I'm here."

	"Good Lord, Bret, you can't mean that! Why, that gossipin' old
heifer would have stories spread about you in three counties."

	"She'll only know what she has to know." Bret said.

	"I'm more worried about what she'll make up." Ryder replied.

	"Enough of this. Are you hard enough to go another round with me."

	"No, but I can get that way mighty quick."

	"Then get that way. I still wanna go over to the funeral home and
see Momma, if my daddy's gone."

	"Won't you tell me what happened between the two of you?"

	"I told you I would...but not just yet. Now shut up and get to
fuckin'".

	Once more, Ryder began to make love to Bret. This time it was
slower and had more meaning. It was almost twenty minutes before Ryder
achieved his climax this time.

	Afterward, the two of them washed in the river. They got in Ryder's
truck and headed toward the funeral home, just as Aaron was pulling out his
truck onto the highway to go home.


* * * * * * * * * *

(to be continued in Chapter Two)