Date: Tue, 01 Nov 2005 20:23:32 -0700
From: Joseph Farrin <bigblaise@hotmail.com>
Subject: BEYOND DREAMS - PARTS 3 AND 4

I was so stunned that I couldn't think of anything to say.  So, I
did the dumbest thing I could possibly have done.  I ran
upstairs, locked the door and cried.  It was in effect, an
admission that the anonymous caller had told the truth, an
admission that I was guilty, an admission that I was gay.

Curiosity soon got the best of me, to a degree, I stifled my
tears, opened my door and listened to my mom screaming into
the phone; she was evidently talking to Mildred (Jim Boy's
mom) accusing Jim Boy of taking advantage of me.

I was over the tears stage and started thinking of what I could
do and decided there wasn't much.  I worried about what I'd do
without Jim Boy.  After Gene had purchased a butt plug, a dildo
and several bottles of lube on the Internet and given them to
me, I'd learned to take all of the of the huge thing he had
between his legs.  That's not to say I was comfortable with it but
Jim Boy had been patient and I didn't want to have him wait any
longer.  So, I did the best I could confident that anyone would
have trouble taking Jim Boy.

The first thing I knew about a meeting between our parents was
when dad came up the stairs and tried to get me to open the
door so he could talk to me.

Around 5:20 I heard cars driving up, my dad taking some
kitchen chairs out to the patio and rearranging the patio
furniture.  I looked out an open window; they were all on the
patio including Gene.  I guessed Jim Boy had asked him to
come.

I heard my dad tell Jim Boy he'd called me to come downstairs
but I wouldn't answer; I had my door locked.  Jim Boy walked
out a ways from the patio, looked up at the window, and called
up telling me to get down there right now, or he'd come up and
drag me down.  I was there in 30 seconds.  Jesus, I was afraid
he was angry that I gotten him into such a mess, but when I
walked out onto the patio, he motioned for me to sit beside him
and said, "Don't worry, Jase.  We'll find some way to work
things out."  As upset as I was I saw a double meaning to his
remark and wondered if he'd phrased things that way on
purpose.

Mr. Townsend suggested that we take numbers and each have
our own say without interruption, or else everyone would be
trying to talk at once.

The sequence of numbers pulled out of a jar must have boiled
my mom, because the order was as follows:  Mr. Calvin, Me,
Mrs. Townsend, Jim Boy, My mom, Mr. Townsend, my dad.

Mr. Townsend said he and Mildred were in agreement and she
would speak for him, so he'd not need a turn.

MR. CALVIN was first and started by saying he hoped he
wasn't intruding but Jim Boy had asked him to attend because
he was made the faculty counselor for both Jim Boy and me
when our former counselor, Mrs. Atkinson, had left the school
last spring.  He'd only known us for one year but there was
nothing in our records from our first day at school through
yesterday that required, by school guidelines, to be reported to
the principal.  He added that, to the contrary, we were both well
adjusted and well liked in school.  He also explained that,
despite being a new teacher, he had done a lot of practice
teaching at the University and taken a lot of child and
adolescent psychology courses to qualify for his teaching
certificate and schools all had counselors because a lot of
students sought advice on subjects that they didn't want to
discuss with their parents.

He continued by commending me for telling the truth when my
mother confronted me, saying it took a lot more courage than
George Washington had to muster when admitting he cut down
a Cherry tree. (He evidently didn't know I freaked out, started
crying and ran up to my room.) Then he said that in the event
they weren't familiar with the term, what I had done was called
"Coming Out", I had admitted to being gay.  It was an extremely
traumatic thing for any boy to admit to his parents, especially
one as young as I was and especially a boy in a rural area.
The larger the community the easier it is for a boy to admit he's
gay.  Being so is not considered a "big deal" anymore in many
areas because it happens more and more every year.

He closed with saying as he looked at Jim Boy and me now, we
looked exactly like the two students he met when school started
last September and had become friends with.  In fact, we were
the same two boys and he was proud to have us as friends.
Then he added an after thought.  On my way over here I
wondered if this was just a prank call from some secret admirer
of Jim Boys.  I can't see why anyone would have gained any
satisfaction from such a call, otherwise.  It was a mean-spirited,
mindless thing to do.

My dad asked for a time out, he took me in the house to help
him carry out a tray of several liquors and beer plus plastic
glasses and an ice chest.

"I thought maybe we could all use a drink, I've also ordered
pizzas delivered.  I appreciate all of you coming here to find out
how to help Jim Boy and Jase."  (Maybe there was some hope
after all.  My dad seemed to be expressing a different attitude
than my mom.)

JASE (It was my turn after they'd poured their drinks and settle
back down again):

Thanks Mr. Calvin, I'm happy you think of me as a friend; right
now I need all I can get.  I think of you as a friend, too. In fact, I
think every student in school thinks of you that way.

Next, I want to make it clear that Jim Boy did nothing to
threaten or encourage me.  I'll swear to that in a court of law.
What happened just happened.  Maybe you can't believe that.
Maybe you see our relationship in terms of nasty, forbidden sex
acts.  Well that's not the way it was, or is I should say.  I
closeted myself in my room all afternoon and I've had time to
think about how it really was and is and I'll tell you.

Before I was school age, Jim Boy's mom or my mom walked
one or the other of us over to the other's house so we could
play together.  When I started kindergarten, my mom drove me
to school because it was a half-day.  On my first day in the First
Grade, Jim Boy held my hand, warned me to stay way back to
the edge of the road and close my eyes because the school
bus made a lot of dust.  Yesterday, when the school bus came,
Jim Boy told me to stand back and close my eyes, but he didn't
hold my hand.  For eight years we have sat together in the third
seat back from the front on the left side of the bus both going to
school and coming home.

Do you have a guardian angel?  Do you know his name?  I
have one. His name is Jim Boy.

When did everything really start?  When our parents went to a
political convention in Omaha, about a month after school
started and I stayed with Jim Boy for a weekend.  (I saw my
mom lean forward and bury her face in her hands, as if it was
all her fault.)

What happened?  Well, we realized we were not only best
friends but we loved each other, just as God tells us to do.  It
was a miracle.  It's much easier and more honest than saying
you love God, when you've never seen him, but don't like your
next-door neighbor who you see every day, even though he
was created in God's image.

If you're thinking, so what, a lot of boys go through school
together, graduate and never see or think of the other again, I'd
have to agree.  But, that isn't the case with Jim Boy and me.

I've talked a long time, so I better quit.  I've come to the end of
my story, anyway, because I don't know what is going to
happen to me now.  We were all together Thanksgiving, if you'll
remember, and my brother Jarred will send me Russia to be put
away for life in Siberia if he has his way.  My mom and dad
might have me see a shrink, but they'll just be wasting their
money.  I'm sure my parents and Jim Boy's will both ban our
seeing each other again.  So, I'll just close by saying that no
matter what happens there is nobody, not even Jim Boy
, that can remove him from my heart.  I love him, and I always
will.  This is not to say I don't love my parents and realize they
love me, but loving Jim Boy is different. I ended with saying:
"Jim Boy, I love you and I love knowing you love me. Mom and
dad, I'm sorry I've hurt you.  I didn't set out to do that."

Neither Gene nor I had stood.  We just spoke from our chairs.
When I finished, Jim Boy turned his head toward me and patted
me on the leg.  I could see that he was near to tears.

MILDRED (Jim Boys' mom) was next.

She began by saying, Jase, you were wrong about one thing.
As far as I am concerned you and Jim Boy can see each other
anytime you want.  If you want to come live with us you're
welcome.

I asked Peggy (my mom) earlier why she didn't tell our
anonymous caller to "stick her information up her backside".
That's what I told her.

And I also told her I couldn't see why she had her panties in a
twist.  We've known each other all our lives and our families
have been neighbors for three generations, four if you count our
children.  If she looked back she had a great uncle, Harold, and
I had a second cousin, George, who used to take the Union
Pacific's City of Denver streamliner to Denver and back every
so often on weekends.  They were called "confirmed
bachelors".  Bachelors they were and they were probably gay,
too, even though the word wasn't in use then.

Too, every farm family knew that all their neighbors had
originally come to Nebraska to homestead because they hoped
to fair better than they had back east or in Europe.  Everyone
was more sympatric because they all had the same problems
and hardships to endure.  If some family had a personal
problem their neighbors didn't gossip about it.  Guess that's
why they're called the "Good Ole Days".

I don't see why Jase should be the only confessor in the crowd,
so I'll tell you that I didn't really know, but I've always thought
there was a possibility that Jim Boy might be gay.  It never
bothered me because the day a nurse handed him to me I
promised the doctor that had delivered him that I would do
exactly as his birth mother had told the doctor was the one
condition she put on his adoption, which was that I would love
him until the day I died, regardless of what might happen. If
he's gay, a convicted felon or whatever I'll love him just as
much as the moment that doctor handed me the cutest little
baby boy I'd ever seen or ever have seen since.  That's why my
husband forfeited his turn.  He thinks the same way.

It's like Mr. Calvin said, "It's no big deal."  Unless, of course,
you want to make it into one, which I can't understand anyone
wanting to do.  If the two boys are happy, I'm happy for them.  I
rejoice in their happiness.

The pizzas arrived; everyone had another round of drinks, a
cup of coffee and chatted on various subjects before we
resumed.

JIM BOY took his turn.  (He surprised the hell out of me.)  Jase
told you how it was and still is with us.  He had a lot of spunk to
say what he did.  I love him, too. He knows that. We must tell
each other that a dozen times a day.  What Jase said I agree
with, so I won't be repeating what he said.  I'll pick up where he
left off.

Even Jase doesn't know that my step-grandfather on my
mother's side left me a trust fund in his Will, available when I
am 21 unless my parents agree to my accessing it earlier,
which they have just done.

On the other hand you all know I have been admitted to the
University of Colorado and I intend to pursue a medical career.
I want to become a doctor.

If there's going to be any unpleasantness at graduation
Wednesday, I'm for skipping it.  I don't think our physical
presence is necessary for graduation but we can ask Mr. Calvin
about that.

I remember in Mr. Calvin's Modern History Class, his talking
about the conditions imposed on Germany at the Versailles
Treaty, at the end of WW1 and how it was one of the underlying
causes of WW2 and how Hitler, in his early victory over France
and almost England, except they escaped across the channel
from Dunkirk, tried the same tactics on France.   You might not
see what I'm aiming for with that statement but as Mr. Calvin
explained, the conditions didn't work because they robbed the
loser of all dignity and no country, no individual, not even an
animal, can live if all their dignity is taken from them.  If you rob
a person of his dignity you rob him of his spirit at the same time.

If graduation is to be messy, or embarrassing for Jase, I don't
want him to go through it.  I'll be damned if I'm going to let
anyone take even a part of Jase's dignity away from him and I
think his parents are of the same mind on that.  I don't believe
any one or any group has the right to not only take but to even
diminish a human beings' dignity. It's like a God given thing.

I hadn't intended to leave for college until September, but I'd
leave in 10 minutes if Jase's mom and dad would let me take
him with me, even if it's only for the summer, until things have
calmed down, or as long as it takes if necessary.  My
grandfather left me quite a large sum of money and I can take
good care of Jase, even his college education when he's
through high school.

And, I promise I will bring him home every weekend.  I'm not
trying to take him away from his parents.

If it's just for the summer it will give everyone time to maybe get
used to the way things are.  I say, "are", because I agree with
Jase that nobody is going to change him and nobody's going to
change me either.  We like the way we are, we're warm and
comfortable in our relationship and we intend to stay that way.

This has been a difficult day for all of us.  I don't expect an
answer right now, but I do wish both our parents would think of
what I've said as a possibility.

Now it was MOM'S turn:  Everyone so far has seemed to justify
Jim Boy's and Jase's behavior.  I don't know that I am ready to
do that.  That doesn't mean I don't love him or love him any
less.  I'm just afraid for him.  All I can think about is Matthew
Shepard, that boy from Casper that was murdered when he
was a student at the University of Wyoming in Laramie, beaten,
tied to a barbed wire fence and left to die.  The first time I saw
the picture of him hanging on that fence, in the snow, all I could
think about was Christ's crucifixion.  I don't want to get a call
from the Sheriff some night and learn something like that has
happened to my son.

For that matter, I wouldn't want something like that to happen to
Joe Bob either.  God knows I love him too.

I don't know how to explain how I feel.  This morning Jase was
a typical 14-year-old boy, just like any other 14-year-old
schoolboy in the Keith County Schools.  Then, one phone call
in the afternoon and he's gay.  How should I feel?  I don't know.
Tell me!  I don't know.

When we all sat down here together I felt like it was a public
debate on a personal family matter.  But you are all so
concerned for the two boys; I've changed my mind.  You've all
been very kind.

That's a little progress. Like Jim Boy said, I need a little time to
come to terms with the situation.

My DAD said he, like Mr. Townsend would forgo comments
because they would be repetitive of what my mom had said and
thanked everyone for their input.  Then he asked if anyone had
any last comment.  No one did.

As things broke up, I asked my dad if Jim Boy and Mr. Calvin
could have another beer and could I have one, too.  He said
"Sure".  I hadn't told him about my drinking a beer now and
then, but I guessed he knew.  He was more intuitive than mom.

Gene, Jim Boy and I walked well away from the patio toward
the barn, lit up cigarettes and sipped our beers.

Gene said he didn't want to make light of the situation but I was
ahead of him a long ways.  I asked what he meant.  He said I
was 14 and had come out of the closet but he was 23 and still
hadn't mustered the courage to do it.

He also thought the evening had gone well.  Whether it would
resolve anything was yet to be seen, but he thought there was
a good chance I wouldn't be drawn and quartered.

I told him that remark didn't make me feel any better.  He
laughed and said that no matter what he and Jim Boy would
stand behind me and he really thought everything was going to
turn out OK.  We hung around for fifteen minutes or so talking
when the yard light came on and we saw my dad walking
toward us, carrying a six-pack of beer.

"Jase, with a million chances you'd never guess what just
happened.  Your mother and I just got into the house when the
phone rang, it was Jarred.  He's spent the day loading a U-Haul
trailer and he's ready to leave Lincoln to come home.  He'll be
here in about five hours.  He's bringing Amy with him; they were
married yesterday, Amy's three months pregnant.  He's not
going back to school.  They want to move in with us. They can't
afford anything else."

Just like when mom told me about the anonymous phone call, I
completely lost my cool and said, "Dad!  You're shitting me?"

He laughed and said, "You know, son, I half way wish I was."

Together they had another beer and another cigarette together,
including my dad.  Jim Boy told me, "No more for you, Jase.
One beer and one cigarette is enough.  My dad noticed and I
think he got the idea that Jim Boy, in a way, was my guardian
angel and I think he was impressed, just as he probably was
when Jim Boy told me to come downstairs and right now.

He told Gene and Jim Boy we had time, as my mom would be
on the phone for another hour. I don't know why she told Jarred
about Jase but I could hear him exploding all the way across
the room.  She might want Jim Boy to get Jase out of the house
ASAP as a matter of personal safety.  And you know, Mr.
Calvin, by the time Jarred finished his tirade against gays he'd
lost a lot of his dignity, without any help from anyone.

And that's exactly what happened.  It wasn't too long before
nom began hollering at us to come into the house.

She was frightened for me and yet she couldn't refuse Amy a
place to live when she was three months pregnant.  For a while
anyway it seemed best if Jim Boy did take me to Colorado.
Gene said he'd pick up my graduation certificate and Jim  Boy's
diploma and deliver them to our moms.

It was now Gene's turn to help me move.  The three us literally
cleaned out everything in my room, except for a few posters on
the walls.  Gene said I better take the computer, too, in case
there was something on it that I had forgotten to delete.  We
shoved everything in the back of Jim Boy's new truck.  It had a
camper top and it was beginning to thunder and lightening
strikes were all around us -- one of our spring thunderstorms, so
spectacular to watch out on the prairies of western Nebraska.

We were too mentally exhausted to do anything other than fall
asleep with Jim Boy's arm wrapped around me.  But, during the
night, I evidently had shifted positions and woke with my hand
around Jim Boys cock, already erected. It often happened when
I slept with Jim Boy.

I reached around to the night stand and found some Kleenex,
knowing all I would have to do was hold his cock for a while and
I'd shoot off.  It happened, I rolled over; Jim Boy again put his
arm around me, reached down and ran a finger over my piss
slit checking to see it was sticky. It was a little.  He said,
"Trigger Dick" and fell right back to sleep.

What amazed him even more was that I could get off holding
his cock when it wasn't even hard.    When he was asleep on
his back I liked putting my hand around it with the palm on the
underside and watch the front end of it flop down.  It was so
fucking big.  It would never cease to excite me.

In the morning we took most of my stuff out of the truck and put
it in Jim Boy's room as we'd be back again on the weekend.
Jim got some luggage out of the closet, we packed, my parents
came over and we had a tearful farewell and left for Colorado.
Half a mile down the road we pulled over to the side of the
road, called Gene and got his Norfolk address, he said he'd
come to see us sometime during the summer.

We stopped one more time on the way, at a small town in
Colorado called Sterling, not 	quite halfway between Ogallala
and Denver.  The motels there are very close to the freeway.

When we passed the Julesburg turnoff, Jim Boy took his dick
out of his pants and asked me to hold it. I held it for sixty miles
until we reached Sterling.  By that time we were both desperate
for something more than foreplay.

What happened when we entered our motel room was an
experience that I'll never forget and one that we were due to
repeat often.

We threw our clothes on the bed and went, naked, to the
bathroom.   Jim Boy spread a big towel over the rim of the
bathtub, sat down with legs outspread.  With his help I sat on
his legs, got my feet up to the edge of the tub and slowly
lowered my love hole down onto his big, fuck machine.

By then I was in one of my disastrous frames of mind where
Jim Boy's cock was the one and only thing that mattered.  I was
crazy hot; as he'd said so often that he'd make me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and he wrapped his around
my waist and we were of one mind and one body as he guided
his erected sex organ it's whole eight inches slowly into my
body

We were face to face, kissing each other often and I could look
into his dark eyes and read in them his wild, untamed
desperation for sexual climax as well as the pleasure he was
feeling in achieving it.  At the same time, I knew he was reading
the same thing in my eyes.

I was mesmerized with looking into his eyes as we fucked.  It
made it so much more intimate than it had ever been before.  If
I was feeling any physical pain, my mind was not able to
process it.  Everything seemed perfect.  Everything was perfect.

At mid day, I doubted that the adjacent rooms would be
occupied.  I was glad.  Never had I heard Joe Boy have such a
noisy climax.  As he ejaculated deep inside my body, I
ejaculated all over his stomach, as my little dick was straight up
hard.

We went to bed; I asked what made him think of that position
for sex.  He said he saw a picture on a porn site of an older,
gray haired guy and a kid about my age that was skin and
bones thin doing it in an abandoned building in Europe (I guess
Europeans like abandoned buildings.)  He remarked that they
both must have had tiny dicks, as they were never shown in the
series of pictures.

We didn't wake for several hours.  When I did, I was on my
back and he was astraddle of me with an enormous erection.
He said only three words,

"Jack me off."

I did and I milked it of every last dry.

"Well I think you sucked me dry.  We ought to make it to Denver
now without stopping again."

PART 4

Although I neglected to tell you at the beginning, this story
started in the Fall of 1999.  As you know it is now early
November of 2005, so six years have passed.  When Jim Boy
and I first started having sex together, we soon realized we
were in love with each other, but we never in our wildest dream
would have guessed, then, that we would be living our lives
together, away from our parents, despite the fact that I was only
fourteen.  But, that is what happened.

We go to Ogallala  almost every weekend but never for
Thanksgiving, Christmas or New Year's Eve.  Jarred and Amy,
along with their two children, Peter, 6 and Mary Margaret, 4
(named after my mom) still live on the farm.  Dad purchased a
large, doublewide, mobile home and had it erected in a location
much like the one Gene still lives in on the Johnson farm -- on
the other side of the driveway into the farm.  It's a nice house
and Amy loves it.  She and Jarred both have jobs in Ogallala
and mom baby-sits the grand children, which keeps her on
Cloud 9.

When we visit our parents, Jarred always disappears for a while
to give Jim Boy and I time with my mom and dad.  I wish you
could hear Mary Margaret argue with Jim Boy over his name.

"Uncle Jim Boy, why do you have a funny name?  You aren't a
boy, you're a man."

"No I'm not, I'm still a boy going to school, ask Uncle Jase."

"He won't answer.  He always says he wont take sides."

"Ask Peter then."

"He thinks you're a man, too, and Jim is a nickname for James
like Pete is a nickname for Peter."

"Well, call me James then."

"No, I'm going to call you Jim Man."

Isn't there an old saying, "Never argue with a woman?"

My mom and dad are so proud of both Jim Boy and me.  Last
month, Jim Boy passed his examination and received his
certificate to practice medicine in Colorado and has joined a
group of five other doctors, at least, as he says until I get
through school then we'll open a practice together.  In
September I started my second year of Med School, with
encouragement and prodding from Jim Boy.

I never knew it until Jim Boy showed me his certificate.  His full
name is James Robert Townsend.  I'm going to tell Mary
Margaret she can now call his Jim Bob instead of Jim Boy.

There has been only one rough spot in our relationship, for me
-- not for Jim Boy.  For a spell he was out every Friday evening
on the pretext that he had a night class.  There are very few
night classes on Friday, but I didn't want to cross-examine him,
as I didn't want to chance making him angry.  I made myself
think it was probably some off campus class -- like pottery or
water coloring. Well the outcome was that he was taking
instruction classes to join the Catholic Church.

He always made me go to Mass every Sunday -- one of the
things he'd promised my mother he would do.  And, he always
went with me to make sure I didn't cheat -- still my guardian
angel. Then one Sunday he ups and receives communion.  I
told him he shouldn't have done that.  Then he told me where
he'd been going Friday nights.

When my mom found out what he'd done she thought it was the
most wonderful thing she'd ever heard.  I wasn't so sure about
that.  For some reason, converts to Catholicism are more
devout than Catholics who grew up in the faith.  I might say, at
times disgustingly so.  I am glad that we share the belief that
our love life is not a sin -- or he would be in the confessional
with me seeing that I told the truth.  When he had a few
troubles with the sex issue, I told him I had once expressed my
problem with the same issue to Fr. Martin and his reply was:
"No one can resolve all the dictates of the Church, separate
what's required by God from what's required by the Church.
Let me tell you this, if you can recite the Apostles' Creed and
believe it, you are a Catholic.  Just put the other stuff aside."

We always go to St. Luke's with mom and dad on Sundays
when we were at home, which is now more like every other
weekend.  One Sunday Fr. Martin dispensed with the sermon to
lay down the financial troubles of the parish regarding some
badly needed repairs to the church and how in two months time
they were only half way and still short $5,000, winter was close
and the repairs should be made nor or they'd become worse
and more expensive.   Unbeknown to me Jim Boy writes and
puts a check for $5,000 in the collection plate.  Fr. Martin looks
in the phone book, finds only one Townsend listed, is referred
to our house and after lunch comes out to the house to thank
Jim Boy personally.  It was the first time he'd ever been in our
house.  He had a drink with Jim Boy and my dad, two or three
to be more accurate.  He tuned out to be a non-stop talker.  He
stayed for three hours.  There were no Catholic doctors in
Ogallala and he drove us crazy trying to extract a promise from
us that we'd come back home to practice.  By the time he finally
left Jim Boy was mom's number one favorite son.

Just a few more things before I say goodbye.  Last week,
Jarred called me.  It was the first time I'd heard his voice since
the Thanksgiving he'd brought Amy home with him.  He was
crying and it took him a while before he could manage to get
out why he'd phoned.  Until he did I had started to worry if
there'd been a death in the family.  Finally, though, he was able
to apologize, said he'd been so wrong, he loved me, he loved
Jim Boy and he wanted us to come home for Thanksgiving and
Christmas, like it used to be -- our family and the Townsend
family all together on holidays, as neighbors should be.

He made me cry, too.  It had been a long time.  Better late than
never.

Too, mom was going to get Gene to come.  Jim Boy and I saw
him quite often, but this was his last year at our old school.  He
was taking time off to get a Master's Degree.

Before I say goodbye, I want to say thanks for the many, many
e-mails.  I will answer each and every one who wrote.  I really
appreciate receiving them, especially the one a guy sent me
attaching five or six beautiful, self-pictures, totally naked.  He
sure has a beautiful smile -- among other assets. (Don't ask for
his e-mail address because I won't give it to you.  If you want it,
post your own story in Nifty.)

Too, maybe I should apologize.  Beyond Dreams began as an
Adult-Youth story but didn't quite end that way.  Jim Boy is now
25 and I am 20.

All my best wishes to all of you.

THE END