Date: Wed, 18 Jun 2008 18:21:51 +0000
From: Steve Thomas <stevethomas535@hotmail.com>
Subject: Outing for Brian, Ch 16.

This is a work of pure fiction, but based on the author's feelings,
beliefs, and in some cases, experience.  Come to think of it -- it might
not be all that pure! There may be graphic sexual encounters at times
between men, so if this offends you, you are invited to retreat.  If you
are too young or it is otherwise illegal for you to be reading this kind
if story, shame on you for reading it - - please stop here.  If not, - -
ENJOY!

 Cast of characters:

Brian Weber -- That's me!
Deena -- my wife (Deceased)
Ronny -- my son.
Gary Foosdorf -- My Sweetheart
Dmitri Polczek-- Neighbor
Ericka -- Dmitri's wife
Alexandra -- Dmitri's daughter
Muhammad Zarindast -- Friend
Stan -- Muhammad's Afghan hound.
Mick Azerov -- 26 year old American Freedom Contender
Keyvan & Sohrab -- Persian wards.


From Chapter 15:

As we were drying off, Gary said, "I don't know if I'll ever get used to
your kid!"

"Sounded to me like you already are!  You kept up with him just fine!"

"It was a bit out of my zone.  But it was fun.  It's funny -- he really
is like a little brother, but at the same time -- like -- my son.  I
really love him."

"I know he loves you too."

"Mostly because he knows I love his dad to pieces."  Gary said.

"No more than his dad loves you!"  I replied.  We kissed again, got dressed
and went to the kitchen, where my boy -- erm -- I mean -- OUR boy
-- had tuna sandwiches made for our lunch.



Chapter 16

"You want me to do WHAT?"  I said to Mo.

With the completion of the house, Gary and I moved into our new quarters
downstairs.  Mo's architect made sure it was sound insulated with the
latest technology.  Both ours and the Polczec's new stables were full of
fine Arabian steeds.  Each of the boys had his own room, and Ronny and Mick
opted to turn their two rooms into one bedroom and a study.  They were both
back into the dating scene -- girls were definitely their choice -- and
they have enough class not to bring anyone home -- for the night - -
though they don't always come home themselves.  As open as my relationship
is with my son, he is not so open about his relationships with girls.  We
don't press him.

We see a lot more of Mo, with Michele and her mother living across the
street.  It was at one of those visits that he told me of his latest
request.

"Mo, you have asked me to do some pretty bizarre things, but -- I'm not
sure this is a good idea."  I said, wide eyed.  "Don't you want someone in
your church -- or whatever you call it -- to marry you?"

"I cannot.  I would have to lie to him about how I met Michele, and keep
silent as to how she and her mother came here.  What I did was against
Sharia law, wherein a man is the law in his own house."

"Do you mean you are giving up your faith?"

"My faith is in Allah.  I am not sure that anyone has any authority to
administer the tenets of my religion any more.  I will always serve Allah
and -- cherish the Quran.  I don't need a mullah telling me what it
means.  But you are changing the subject.  Will you marry us?"

"I don't have any authority to do that!"

"You can.  I have visited sites on the Internet -- where you can get this
authority -- via mail."

"Would you feel properly married?  And what about Michele -- and her
mother?  Don't they want you to be married in a mosque?"

"Brian -- my friend -- you will not dissuade me this time.  I consider
you my dearest friend -- and certainly the one in whom I place my deepest
trust and also -- you are one of the wisest men I know -- but on this
thing I will not be dissuaded.  Will you deny me this one thing -- after
all I have - " He started then stopped.  "No -- I will not resort to that
kind of persuasion.  Please consent to do this for your humble friend."

"Too late!  You HAVE resorted to arm twisting -- just by bringing up all
you have done for me.."

"For this I ask your forgiveness, but it is that important to me.  I would
rather be married in your beautiful and new front yard -- with the
magnificent trees and the landscaping that you have personalized, with none
attending, other than our closest friends.  This would be closer to heaven
than any mosque."

"I must agree with that sentiment.  Deena and I were married in her
parents' back yard -- and it was simple and homey.  You're right.  It was
more memorable than in any church."

"So -- for once you will allow me to be right?"  Mo grinned wider than at
any other time.  "And also - - do me this great honor?"



Mo had more friends than he let on.  Directly in front of the house we have
a canopy of tall scrub oak, under which Mo had placed new sod.  Grass will
not survive under the oaks with little sun, but for the afternoon wedding,
it looked plush and beautiful, with potted rose plants flanking a white
lattice, raised dais for the ceremony directly across the driveway (which
provided a buffer from the "gallery" where the attendees sat.)

There were 150 chairs set up under the trees, which faced west.  The
ceremony was set to end as the sun disappeared behind the hill.  Michele
looked like a Persian princess.  When she walked out of the house, over the
bridge-like front porch, all turned to look, after her mother's example.
There was an audible gasp heard from many of the guests, as Michele,
dressed in several layers of pure white robes that are typical of a Persian
wedding, with wreaths of flowers on her neck, walked down from the porch
and up the path to -- and through the guests to the dais, and to her
waiting groom.

There was white linen cloth spread on the grass through the chairs, all of
which were filled, with many others standing to the sides.  The linen
walkway proceeded across the driveway to the circle where the dais was set
up, and up to the dais itself.

Mo met her at the base of the dais, and escorted her up to meet - - me and
Ronny.  Mick, Gary and of course Michele's brothers, all dressed in simple
black tux's, flanked the aisle, at the foot of the steps leading on to the
dais.  The dais was also under another large oak tree, and Ronny and I also
were in black.  Mo was clad in an all white tux, also with flowered wreaths
around his neck.  His handsomely dark and swarthy complexion stood out
against the white clothing and pastel of the flowers.

Sadly missing were the female attendants that should be at a wedding of
this type, but there was a lone woman -- dressed in black robes --
standing next to Michele.  Mo told me later that she was his parents'
servant, and pretty much his nanny growing up.  His parents were absent,
but they had had "given" this lady to Mo.

Mo gave her "employment" in the home across the street from us -- which
meant that she retired there, to spend her remaining days in comfort among
people that she loved.  She grew to love this special young lady who was to
marry her "little" Mo, during the time before the wedding -- about six
weeks -- that Michele and her mother lived across the street.  No doubt
she would also serve -- unofficially -- as a nanny to Mo's children.

"Dearly beloved," I started.  That got curious looks from the Persian
attendees (which were most in attendance) but it was all I knew.  I
performed a rather bland and predictable wedding ceremony -- which of
course concluded with my pronouncing them man and wife.  They both wanted
this traditionally "American" wedding, but it was rather overshadowed by
the events that led up to it.

Before the actual ceremony, the attendees all congregated at the rear of
the house, where was set up -- again under a great oak tree - a large
white linen cloth.  In the middle of the cloth was Michele, dressed in --
again many layers, but these were all pastels.  She had a veil which could
not be seen through -- so her face was hidden. This side of the house
faces east which also has significance.

All around Michele -- to a distance of about 10 feet in every direction -
were many gifts and -- mostly --foods which were to symbolize
abundance.  Michele's mother sat behind her and to the right.  While
everyone watched, the groom appeared and offered a gift to the mother --
which she accepts and then whispers something to the bride.  The bride
shakes her head no and the groom is sent away to return "another day."

But of course in this setting he comes back while everyone waits and this
occurs several times until he either wears down the bride -- or offers a
gift worthy of her approval -- I'm not sure which!

In actual Persian tradition, this can last several days, during which time
the guests return each day (or stay the entire time) and feast on an
abundance of food, wines, rahadlakum, and other delights.

When the bride finally accepts the groom, he sits with her and a few of
designated guests hold a white canopy of transparent cloth over them as
they are showered with powdered sugar. (I think!)  The wedding gifts often
are placed around them at this time, by the very patient wedding guests.

This is an ancient Persian tradition which has been all but done away with
in present-day-Iran, with their strict Islamist theocracy, but is still
practiced in other Persian states -- and by Persians living in other
countries, including the USA.

"I wouldn't mind practicing that tradition!"  Said Gary.

"Yeah," quipped my ever astute (if wise-assed) son -- "You'd look good in
a veil, Mom!"  That got a laugh from the entire crowd, and got Ronny a
good-natured noogie by my sweetheart.  Ronny was wise enough not to object
any more than, "I'll get even later."

"I can hardly wait!" answered Gary.

I saw Keyvan and Sohrab grin at each other.  They were hoping for a
wrestling contest on the grass.  I was hoping it would not go that far.  I
got my wish.

After my bland ceremony in the front yard, Sohrab and Keyvan quietly
slipped over to the stables while The bride and groom performed a glass
breaking ceremony.  This surprised me, and I was told afterward that this
was indeed not exclusive to Jewish tradition.

The boys came back with two matched Arabian steeds, draped in the same
flowers that the bride and groom were wearing around their necks.  Flowers
were also woven into the tails and manes.  Mo helped his bride up onto one
of the Arabians and he swung himself easily up onto the other, whereupon
Michele snapped her whip on the flank of Mo's horse, which caused him to
leap out, almost leaving Mo behind.

Michele then turned and rode at full gallop over the hill, followed by a
grinning Mo.  Of course "over the hill" was directly to the house they
would now be living in.  Sohrab and Keyvan ran to catch up with them, but I
called them back.  "I think they want to be left alone to - - change for
the reception."  Most everyone laughed at that.

I don't know if these young men understood that "changing" might mean a
number of things to a newly wedded couple.

Champaign was broken out and everyone drank a toast to the newly absent
couple after which the party broke up only to reconvene at an elegant hall
down in Sacramento, where a six course meal was served and where there were
two bands -- one that played traditional Persian music and the other,
contemporary dance music.

The bride and groom did a dance wherein the other young members in the room
lifted them onto chairs and danced with them held high on the chairs.  Then
another couple did a wild traditional Persian dance, while the happy couple
looked on.  The party lasted well in to the morning, where at some time it
was noticed that the bride and groom were no longer present.

Mick had taken them to the airport, where they left for a honeymoon in an
undisclosed destination.  Gary and I went home, followed soon after by
Mick, who had returned and brought Ronny, the boys and their mother back up
the hill.  He dropped off Sohrab and Keyvan and their mother across the
street and then we heard Ronny and Mick coming in.  The boys were to stay
with their mother until the honeymooners returned.

"You can't go to sleep until he gets in, can you, Bri?"  Said my
sweetheart.

"Not if I know he's coming home.  Old habits are hard to break.  That's why
he always calls when he won't be coming.  He knows my habits!"

As it was 3:30 in the morning, and as we had been up since 5:30 the morning
before -- we opted to go to sleep.  We fell asleep in each others' arms
in a matter of minutes.

I woke up before Gary's alarm went off.  He has to commute further than I
do and be there earlier, so he gets up earlier.  My back was to him, but we
were not touching.  I turned and looked at him.  In the early morning
light, his face looked like a child's.

 The alarm went off.  His eyes sprang open and he looked disoriented and
stunned for a split second, then he saw me looking at him.  He smiled and
touched my face.  I turned my head and sucked on his fingers for a moment.
He closed his eyes and smiled.  I closed my own and drifted back to sleep,
sucking on his fingers.

I awoke again with a start of my own as I felt his moist warm mouth on my
semi-hard wood.  It sprang to attention, once it knew what was happening.
I grabbed his head and helped him bob by thrusting.  He choked a little,
but took it all, and I quickly came to my full head, and I started to pull
out, but he grabbed me and sucked with all his might, as I shot a healthy
load into his mouth.

He swallowed as fast as he could, and then kissed me.  The combination of
his morning mouth and my cummy taste, was strong and heady -- and not
exactly sweet, but - - sweet nonetheless.  I squeezed him with all my
might, his butt cheeks soft and smooth.

"I love you Bri!"

"I know.  Me too, Babe."

He came in before he left and told me that there was breakfast on the table
for me, Ronny and Mick.  Sohrab had an 8:00 AM class, so both boys had to
go early.  We usually ate breakfast together -- me, Ronny, Mick, Keyvan
and Sohrab - on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.  There were no more
altercations between the boys -- other than typical sibling rivalry.  I
wondered if they had worked out some kind of deal between them --
something that would satisfy Keyvans urges, but did not violate Sohrab's
will.  I didn't have to wonder long.

"Poppy?"  Said Keyvan, in a moment alone one evening.

"Yes, Son?"  That was calculated.  I know he likes to be called that.

"I have a question.  I don't want to hurt anyone, and I am wondering if
what we are doing is okay."

I waited for him to continue.  "Poppy, I still like to taste my brothers
seed.  But he doesn't like mine any more."  I started to say something, but
was interrupted, "But that's okay!  I just like doing it.  And that seems
to satisfy -- me.  With all of our work and our homework and studies,
there is not time for dating anyone else -- for either of us."

"How -- do -- you get your seed out, Sweetheart?"  I asked.

"Sohrab does it for me -- with his hand.  I don't think he likes it, but
he is grateful for my -- service -- to him.  Poppy, I love my brother
so much.  It hurts that he doesn't love me back."  I started to say
something again, and he interrupted again, "But that's not my question.  I
know that this is something that I must live with.  But -- is it wrong
-- what we are doing?"

"I know that a lot of guys your age experiment - "

"we are not experimenting, Poppy."

"I know -- but I don't know if what you are doing is any different.  You
are gay and Sohrab seems to be straight.  I dunno -- maybe if he was --
um -- satisfying himself in your -- um -- bum -- you anus -- that
could be a prob -- um -- has he ever done that?"

"No.  We've done it the other way a lot.  But I was always the top."

"Did he not want to be the - "

"Never.  And I don't do that to him any more, either.  But is what we do
okay?"

"Some would say no.  I would say that if either of you was not okay with
it, then it`s not okay.  Are you sure that Sohrab is okay with what you are
doing?"

"I -- I -- think so.  He does not object."

"Are you sure he is not afraid to complain?"

"Will you -- ask him -- for me?  I am not sure he would tell me.
Poppy, I love my brother.  I do not want to hurt him.  I am fearful that he
does this for me -- just because he loves me.  Is that enough?"

I considered it for a moment then said, "I'll talk to Sohrab.  Do you know
where he is?"

"He tarried in the stable -- to curry Sunset."

"Sunset?"

"Yes.  Our brother-in-law has given us horses of our own.  He gave the
chestnut mare to Sohrab.  Mine is "Night Sky" -- the one with the star on
his forehead.  We gave them their names.  Mo has changed them on their
pedigree records."

"I see.  Which horse is the fastest?"

"They both run like the night wind."

"You haven't raced them?"

"We will on a track someday.  Mo says they could break a leg here."

"He's right.  Chip and Dale have many holes to trip them."

"Yes, the ground squirrels are treacherous."  Said Sohrab, who had entered
through the side door.

"How much have you heard?"  I asked.

"Only that."

"Go comb your Night Sky, Kev."

Keyvan hopped up and went to the door, then came back and hugged me.  "I
love you, Poppy."  He got almost to the door and returned again.  "I love
you too, Saab."  He told his brother.  He hugged him and kissed his cheek.
Sohrab kissed his cheek in return.

"What's up, Dad?"  Said Sohrab as soon as the door was closed.

"Your brother is concerned, Saab."

"About what?"

"Something he doesn't feel he can ask you."

"He can ask me anything.  He knows that."

"Well, he asked me to talk to you.  Saaby, Kev is worried that -- well
-- let me tell you first -- he has told me everything that you boys do
-- when your room door is closed."

"Oh."  Said Sohrab, turning deep red.

"Saaby -- it's okay.  What Kev is worried about is -- he thinks maybe
you do this for him -- only because you love him."

"He has not forced -- um -- what?  Love him?  Of course I love him!"

"He knows that.  He feels you do -- those things -- for him -- only
because you love him."

"So -- I do!"

"Is that the only reason?"  I asked.

"What else?  I mean -- my brother would do anything for me.  And I would
not do this for anyone else -- so -- of course I do it because I love
him."

"I think he is worried that you are doing it against your will.  That if
you had more choice -- you would not -- DO -- those things."

"I DO have my choice, Dad!  Kev would not force me -- I would not let - "

"Saaby -- I think he is worried that you don't like doing it, but will
not tell him.  That you do it ONLY because you don't want to hurt his
feelings."

"I -- I -- don't mind it.  I mean -- how many guys get -- um --
get -- um -- their dick (is that the word?  I nodded) Don't you think
that most guys would accept another guy to suck his dick?  I mean, we don't
speak of this to anyone else, Dad.  But I don't turn down this service.
Would you?"

"I would if I was dating someone -- or in love with someone else."

"Well -- I'm not.  And he's not.  And -- Dad -- did he tell you that
I also do the masturbate for him?"

"Um -- yes -- he did."

"I don't mind doing that for him either.  I would not touch any other guy,
but this is my brother!"

"Maybe you can tell him this?"  I said.  "It would mean a lot to Kev to
know that you don't hate what you let him do -- or what you do for him."

"Can I ask you something, Dad?"

"Of course."  I said, expecting some hard to answer question about
something that Gary and I do.  I determined that I could answer his
question directly.

"I see you kiss Ronny -- on his lips.  Is this okay for a father to do?"

"I -- well -- I think most fathers DON'T do that, Saab.  But yes it's
okay.  It's not sexual."

"I know that.  But -- do you think -- that -- it would be okay --
for me to do that with my brother?"

"Do -- um -- what, Son?" I was getting a little confused.

"Kiss him."

I nodded and said, "I think that as long as both of you is okay with it
-- and it's not really sexual -- why not?"

"How about making out -- you know -- deep kisses?"

"You mean long french kisses?"

"Yes -- that.  Is that okay?"

"Well, that's a hard one."  I said.  Is it sexual to you?"

"No!"  He said.  "But -- I -- I mean -- well -- it probably is --
to Kev."

"As long as he knows how you feel - "

"Thank you, Dad.  I really don't want to hurt his feelings.  And -- I do
like kissing my brother.  I do love him!"

"And Saaby -- you are right to not to speak of it to anyone else.  And
when either of you finds someone else -- it should stop."

"I know, Dad.  Thanks.  I think I will go see my brother now."

I had the feeling this was not the last time we might be dealing with this
subject.

Sohrab walked out to the stable.  It was near dark, but I could see them
come together in a close embrace -- then a long, lingering kiss -- on
the lips.  Then they came back to the house.  They went directly to their
room, but came back out and to me.

"Thanks Dad."

"Thanks Poppy."

"Are you two ready for some rahadlakum?

"Yes!"  Said the boys in chorus.

"I think it is Kismet that we were born to the same family."  Said Sohrab.

"What is this -- kismet -- Saaby?"

"It is Persian for -- `meant to be', my brother."

"Funny you should mention that when you are eating rahadlakum."  I said.

"Why is that?"

"There is a song about this in a play called `Kismet'."

"A song about -- what?"  Asked Sohrab.

"Rahadlakum."

"Haha!  A song about a silly candy?"

"Would you like to hear it?"  I said.

"You can sing this song?"

"Yes, I learned it some years ago -- singing along with the music we
have.  But better yet, I will play it for you."

I got out the cd and put it into the cd player.

"On days when my lord feeleth restlessAnd bored with his sword and his
plumeHis handmaiden hath what he needethAnd what doth he
need?Rahadlakume!On nights when my lord looketh listlessAnd black is the
hue of his gloomHis handmaiden hath what he lackethAnd what doth he
lack?Rahadlakume!Tis sweet with the meat of a lichee nutCombined with a
kumquat rindThe kind of confection to drive a man out of his Mesopotamian
mindAnd lo, if my lord feeleth faithless And wanders by night from his
roomHis handmaiden fanneth her firesAnd out of the pan rises a tantalizing
perfumeHe scenteth the scentHe turneth his faceHis previous place, in her
embraceHe does resumeAnd love is in bloomThe while they
consumeRahadlakume!"

"Rahadlakum is so good someone made a song!"  Laughed Sohrab.

Sohrab understands things intellectual faster than Keyvan, but Kev got this
gist.

"I don't think this song is about candy, brother!"  Said Keyvan.  "I think
it is about sex."

"I think that it is compared to sex -- that this candy is this good."
Said Sohrab.

The boys looked at me for the answer.  I shrugged.

"It's not THAT good!"  Said Keyvan, laughing.

"I think it would be good to eat while doing it!"  Laughed Sohrab.  "Have
you done this?"  He looked at me.

"Haha!  No -- but -- I have eaten strawberries!"

"While having sex?"  Said Sohrab.  "Hahaha!  With yourself?"

"Saaby!"  Said Keyvan sharply.  "This is not a question that we ask our
dad!"  Sohrab looked extremely embarrassed -- and cowed.

"Look, Kev, it's not his fault.  I shouldn't have let it go that far."  I
said to Keyvan.  Then I turned to Sohrab, "Keyvan's right, Saaby.  But it's
not your fault.  I'm sorry that you were put in that position.  So -- I
will not answer that question."

Sohrab brightened back up.  He came to me and hugged me, snatched another
piece of rahadlakum and went to his room.  Keyvan did the same but he
grabbed two pieces.  I wondered if they were going to be doing some more
experimenting - - with the candy!



" -- and so, they went to their room and closed the door."  I said.

"You're right about not going too far, stimulating a teen -- I guess
maybe I need to be more careful about engaging Ronny too.  He is still a
teen, as well."

Gary and I were discussing the day, before going to sleep.  We were both
exhausted by another long day.

"Well, I don't think you can group him with the boys.  Ronny may be
impulsive -- like most teens, but he isn't as impressionable as the boys
are.

"So, Keyvan and Sohrab are a couple again?"  Asked Gary."

"I don't think that's gonna happen, Babe.  Sohrab seems pretty adamant that
he prefers girls."

"Is that normal?"  Asked my lover.

"What -- to experiment with guys?"

"Yeah.  I never did it."

"I did when I was very young, but -- I was too afraid of being accused of
being gay later on.  I didn't think I WAS gay -- but I was deathly afraid
of anyone accusing me."

"Well, I was too!  But then I KNEW that I was gay -- from about the 7th
grade.  Once I figured out that it was okay for me to be gay -- I was out
of high school and away from all those people.  That made me bolder."

"Bolder?"

"Oh gosh, Bri -- you know -- I slept with anything with a dick!  It's a
wonder I didn't have more disease than I did.  Oh my gosh!  I just don't
know when to shut up!  I'm sorry Bri.  You don't need to be reminded what a
slut I was."

"What you were -- is -- what you were.  You had your justification for
it.  Some would tell me that I wasn't being true to myself, and/or that
what I did was unfair to Deena.  But Sweetheart, you can't look back that
way.  We both did what we needed to do to cope with what we were dealt.
And look what I have for it.  Can anyone tell me that what Ronny and I have
is a bad thing?

"And also -- my Sweet Gary -- look what WE have!  I thank God every day
that you are in my life -- and if you had done anything different -- we
wouldn't have gotten together.  I loved Deena -- there is no doubt about
that.  She was my best friend.  But Gary -- sweetheart -- you are --
are -- what -- completes me.  You are what I always needed, but never
knew it.  You are my soul mate!  I can't imagine anyone else loving someone
as much as I love you.  How can that happen in such a short time?"

In the dark, I could see tears glistening on Gary's cheek.  I kissed them
away.  "I love you to, Bri.  G'night."

"Just like that, huh?"  I said.

"Huh?"

"Were you just going to turn around and go to sleep?"

"No -- I was going to hold you until we both fell asleep."  He said.

"Oh.  Okay.  But if you hold me -- I am not responsible for what that may
start."

"I thought you said you were tired."

"I am -- but that doesn't mean I'm dead.  I can still react to you."  I
caressed his face, and put my finger in his mouth.  He sucked it and that
gave me a good start on my wood.  I climbed on top of him and kissed him
-- and I could feel that he was coming alive too.

"I really am exhausted, Bri.  Mind if we make it a quick fuck?'

"Fill my dreams, Sweetheart.  Fill me with your love."  I said, getting off
him and onto my back.

He mounted me and I swung my legs over his shoulders and he took me gently
- - at first.

Notes: Fathers have to be careful not to over-stimulate their young sons.
Comments are welcome to Steve at stevethomas535@hotmail.com.

thanks and - - love, Steve