Date: Wed, 28 Jan 2009 16:22:00 -0800 (PST) From: Master Terra D <masterterradil@yahoo.com> Subject: Adult Youth: Home for Teenagers part 3 "Joe should be here," Marcus pushed. "Unless his dad's willing to pay rent like Oscar's trust fund, then I don't know how I could swing another boarder," I said. "Which one is Joe, anyway? I haven't been able to match a face to the members." "Statistician." The basketball team's statistician was hot. I don't mind admitting it. The boy is hot. Movie star hot. Marcus was handsome, cute, etc., but Joe was my type. Chiseled, square jaw, jet black hair, kind of Tom Selleck-Pierce Bronson-Tom Cruise all rolled into one. My fun with Marcus last night was a mistake, and I knew it, but he'd been right, too. Marcus was a jock slut. I started wondering how many teammates had sampled the star athlete's ass. He was right about Joe, too; as much as I lusted for Joe, though, I knew I couldn't swing another mouth in the house. At least, until it was warmer. The house was big and old, and a nightmare to heat. In a couple of months, another "wayward homo" would be an option. "Joe." Damn, I couldn't get the boy out of my head. He had the looks that were just my type: tall, at least 6'2"; muscled from weights; dark hair with a facial shadow that made me think more than his face was hairy; and that classic movie-star square jaw. I was already thinking about him down between my ass cheeks, his stubble stimulating my flesh. "Christ, you should have taken care of your morning wood earlier!" Oscar was startled, obviously. I was going to have to quit wearing lounge pants, or get heavier ones. "Just take care of the bacon, young man," I warned. "Have you seen Marcus this morning?" "He's washing my morning cum shower off," Oscar smirked, grabbing his crotch. "Breakfast is almost ready," I said, more to fill in conversation than anything else. The toast had just popped and I was filling the Fiestaware bowl with scrambled eggs. Oscar was watching the bacon crisp in the oven. "You two are playing safe, right?" I asked. "Yeah, I buy a box of 100 rubbers every couple of months," Oscar said, rather dryly. "I'm not a virgin by any stretch of the imagination." I knew that. He'd regaled Marcus and me with his adventures with both sexes. The boy liked sex. He was versatile, but preferred being on top. After his first story, I told him to change the names to protect the horny. Marcus appeared wearing a towel. "Bacon smells good," he sniffed. "It's off your parents' farm. You brought it in a week ago," I said. "I'm surprised they raise their own livestock." "Self-sufficient," he replied, sitting down. "Don't wolf it down, but don't take your time, either. You're running late to school," I started, then cut off Oscar's reply. "Don't speed either. Mr. Kregger said he'll pay tickets, but not bail." Mr. Monte Kregger was Oscar's trust liaison. I received weekly memos, mostly detailing everything the trust wouldn't cover. Shortly, the boys were dressed and off to school in Oscar's Hummer. I checked the clock and headed into work. School nights weren't too bad. The boys were usually in bed by 10 p.m. at the latest, and I enjoyed an evening of writing for the various freelance publications to which I submitted work. I was finishing up a story when I heard a knock at the door. I closed the file, then went to the door. "Who is it?" "It's Mr. Patterson again, Mr. Kerry. I came to apologize and talk." "The hour is late, and my patience is worn," I said through the intercom system. "Let's set up a time for later, Mr. Patterson." I was tired. Not that I minded looking at Joe Patterson's dad. He was an older version of his son, and just as tall. "I'd rather talk now," he pressed. I sighed, and opened the door. "Yes?" "My relationship with my son is terrible," he started. "I've tried to make amends, but I'm afraid I can't get past family traditions. "Joe is an only child, heir to my fortune, and the keeper of the family lineage. That's a little tough to do when he's not interested in women." "It's late. At this hour, I little interest in your personal issues." My voice was weary. "I told you yesterday what you need to do." He reached inside his suit coat and pulled out a leather billfold, an old one, wrapped with a leather string, not a folded one. "I've set up an account for Joe. You'll have access to it, for rent, food, clothes, whatever," Mr. Patterson said. "You tell me when, and I can send over all of his stuff, clothes, bed, everything." "You're disowning your son?" "No," he claimed. "I'm trying to put some distance between me and my son without having to go so far as to disown him. The Pattersons need an heir, a blood heir. I'm pursuing another avenue and trying to maintain a relationship with Joe without ruining it." "Mr. Patterson, I can appreciate your position, though the 1800s it may be, but despite the house's appearance, it can maintain only so many people." He stared at me, and I stared back. "It's late, Mr. Patterson. I need to get to bed, and you do, too. Sleep on it, and I'll give you a call in the early evening." He turned, slowly, wanting to continue, but knowing my resolve. What was becoming apparent to me was that parents weren't raising their children like they used to do. While my parents wouldn't have agreed with my homosexuality, I wouldn't have dreamed of the amount of sex at that age these kids were apparently having. I had a feeling Oscar had cut down on the number of partners since he'd come under my roof, a move I hoped was part of my influence. Damn. Joe. My pants were tented again. Mr. Patterson had left the billfold. I opened it during lunch and took a look. A contract, bank account, medical information. The grocery business must be good; the bank account was well-funded. The contract was pretty standard for guardianship, including a proposed rent,etc. The basement was the only space left. Well, not the only space, but it would be presumptive to make my bed Joe's, especially is what Marcus said was true. Joe was a top, but Marcus' information wasn't first hand. Or maybe it was. That boy was a power bottom. The week was spent in negotiations with the Patterson attorney, over everything. Vehicles, room assignment, personal possessions, rent, food/diet, grooming protocols. "I feel like I'm negotiating the stay of a prince," I sighed, late on a Thursday afternoon inside the Pattersons' attorney's office. "He is the heir to the Patterson fortune," the attorney harrumphed. "His interests must be protected." "I have a better idea. Why doesn't Joe come visit Saturday morning, and look things over. Maybe he doesn't want to move out." "He does. Exactly whose idea do you think this was?" "His father's, but apparently not," I extended an opening. He didn't take it. "You're probably right, though. He should see your place firsthand." I think Saturday morning was the first time Marcus had worn a full complement of clothes since he'd entered my house. The morning started an hour before Joe's scheduled arrival. Marcus and Oscar appeared at the study door. "Wilson, we have a proposal," Oscar began. "We know the place is a room short, and Marcus and I practically sleep in the same room anyway..." I could see where this was going, but they were going to have to say it. Marcus looked impatient. "We can sleep in the same room, the same bed," he blurted out. "It's not like we ain't humpin' anyway." "So much for the speech lessons." "Crap." "Boys, I appreciate the gesture, but I'm not sure how I feel about you two sharing a bed when each of you, well, has partners outside it," I said. "I'm not a prude. I'm not Mr. Monogamy either, but you two in the same bed...one of you will reach a point sooner than the other, and want it to be just the two of you." They looked at their feet, then up each other's bodies, then into each other's eyes. "We already do," Marcus said and Oscar nodded. "Well, mostly. He still likes dicking girls." "I'm getting over that." Oscar had a sort of pouty look on his face. "One of the band members got his girlfriend pregnant. We watched a child-birth film with him; that's nasty!" I laughed to myself. "I'll keep this in mind when Joe arrives," I said guardedly. I'd shown them the basement bedroom last night when I told them Joe was arriving this morning. "I'm sure he wouldn't be too keen for the basement. "But there's always the chance one of you would end up in the basement, too. "Now, go distract yourselves until he arrives...with his attorney." The pair arrived shortly. I introduced myself to Joe, and greeted the attorney I'd been negotiating with for the week. I gave them a tour of the house, starting in the basement, and working my way up to the second floor. During the tour, he said hi to Oscar and Marcus, both of whom he knew from school. They were playing video games in the living room. "This is a really nice place," Joe complimented. "I wasn't thinking it'd be so modern." I had invested in a modern, Art Deco décor. The kitchen was stainless steel appliances, and the dining room set was a 1930s or `40s Deco table, chairs and hutch set with Fiestaware. "Victorian just isn't my style," I smiled. "I meant the electronics. What's Victorian?" Joe asked. "Most of the electronics are Oscar's," I explained, ignoring the Victorian comment. We were standing on the second floor landing. I wasn't sure exactly what else we needed to cover. Most everything was already negotiated. "Which bedroom is mine?" Joe asked. "I mean, would be mine, if this is agreeable." The house is filling up, as I'm sure you're aware. The bedroom downstairs is the only currently empty one, but it's possible we could move the guys around and put you in one up here," I proffered. He turned to his attorney, "If I take a bedroom up here, we'll need to up the rent." I blinked. I won't lie; I'd inflated the rent to try to deter this next resident. To me he said, "And there's the matter of when I'd be able to move in. Oh, and we need to talk about where I'd put the rest of my stuff. Is there attic or more basement storage?" "There's a storage room off the kitchen," I reminded him. He'd seen it during the tour. "The attic is merely a space for holding up the roof. Difficult to even crawl around up there. I guess if you have a lot of stuff, I could spare some room in the basement." Okay, that last part was all lie. The rest of the basement is my play space, my dungeon. "As for when, that'll depend on which room you're wanting." He gave it some thought. I figured he'd want to move in today, but picking an upstairs bedroom would delay that. "How about I take the basement bedroom until one of these is ready?" he proposed. I gave that some thought. I was right; he wanted out of his parents' house now. "Joe, I think we have a deal," I grinned, extending a hand to shake. He took it and we sealed the deal. "We can sign the papers in your study, Mr. Kerry?" the attorney asked. "Certainly," I said. Joe flipped open his cell phone. "Dad." The phone dialed. "Send the van now." He hung up. To me, "I hope that's okay?" "It's fine. Have them pull to the back to unload. Anything that doesn't fit in the store room, we can set around until the bedrooms are moved." I didn't have to bother with house rules; those, like everything else, had been negotiated. By the time school started Monday morning, Oscar and Marcus were together in the front room, and Joe had selected the back. The storeroom was at its maximum capacity, but it held everything that came with Joe. Joe was a bit more modest than Marcus or Oscar. While underwear was the most Marcus wore, Oscar usually wore pants and some sort of shirt. Joe always wore pants and a shirt. The four of us settled into a routine shortly, and the next month was calm. Oscar and Marcus did, indeed, become more monogamous, although not completely, but they were both happy with that. Joe studied, a lot. Part of his possessions were a set of weights and exercise equipment. I couldn't give up the guest bedroom downstairs (it was frequently used by my guests), but the entry hall was huge. I set up folding screens to keep eyes from seeing the equipment under the stairs and along the back wall if they entered from the front. Despite the stories, Joe never had anyone over, and when I asked, he just said he always went out. Of course, the basketball team was doing well, and March Madness would bring another change to the house, although this one was totally unexpected. To be continued Chapter 4 will bring a surprise to the household for everyone (and should fulfill some of your pleas for more sex). Men and boys, thanks for your comments. If you send something, remember to put something sensible in the subject line (do not leave it blank), or I'll think it is spam and delete it. Master Terra D masterterradil@yahoo.com