Date: Thu, 9 Jul 2015 22:16:01 +0200
From: Nick Brady <y2kslacker@mail.com>
Subject: Marco in the Park - Part 13

Marco in the Park - Part 13

This story includes consensual sex between a teenage boy and a young man,
so you should be 18 to read it.  Please send comments to
y2kslacker@mail.com and please make donations to Nifty.

Copyright 2015 by Nick Brady, all rights reserved.


------------------------------------

The relationship between Marco and myself seemed to grow stronger as the
days went by. Probably the main reason for this was that we tried to keep
things real between us. We had our rough spots of course, but basically we
were trusting each other to be honest, even when that proved difficult.

One Saturday morning in late spring we had enjoyed one of Marco's fine
breakfasts. When he was baptized at Easter I had surprised him with a gift
of three books. Two were traditional for an Episcopal baptism, a nice
annotated NIV Bible and a Book of Common Prayer, both leather bound.

The third was not so traditional but for Marco a real treat – a
hardbound copy of 'The Joy of Cooking'. This not only had tons of good
recipes but a lot of information about how to prepare certain types of
foods. It was really a short course in culinary arts and a recipe book all
in one volume. He got a big kick out of it and blessed us with many mostly
successful experiments. This morning was his attempt at Eggs Benedict,
complete with homemade hollandaise sauce.

	"Was that the same as you had in San Antonio?" I asked him.

	"It was pretty close. Did you like it?"

	"To tell the truth I never had it before, but it was delicious."

	He grinned. "Not all my experiments have turned out so great, but I
thought that was pretty good."

	"You know, David is somewhat intimidated by your cooking. He
regards himself as something of a chef and you have often outdone him."

	"Well, I don't know about that. He does some cool stuff."

	"Don't be modest, you are pretty good yourself."

We cleaned up and were sitting out on our little patio behind the apartment
drinking coffee. I thought back to our conversation on the way home from
San Antonio over the Christmas holiday. His honesty had touched me and I
felt a pang of guilt that I had not been as honest about some of the things
from my own life. I hesitated to spoil a mellow mood, but had some air to
clear.

	"Things are going pretty well for you Marco. How do you feel about
us?"

	"What do you mean?"

	"Well, I remember that you were concerned that I might not
understand about some of the things that happened to you before we met. You
were very honest with me and that turned out to be a good thing for both of
us. I really respected that."

	He looked at me. "So what's your point?"

	I sighed. "I wonder sometimes what you think of me. How do you see
me as a person."

	"I'm not sure what you're getting at. I think you are a great
person. I really look up to you if you want to know."

	"Did you ever consider that I might have some skeletons in my
closet too?"

	"Well, nobody is perfect. But you seem like a pretty straight up
guy to me. I don't guess you've ever done anything to be too ashamed of."

	"Well that's the thing Marco. I have done some things that I'm not
at all proud of and it bothers me that you might think less of me if you
knew about them. Maybe I have not been as honest with you as you have been
with me."

	Marco nodded. "So you are afraid that if I knew everything about
you I wouldn't love you?"

	"Yes, maybe I do worry about that. I'm afraid maybe you have me on
a pedestal."

	"Hey, don't tell me anything you don't want me to know. I don't
really care what you've done."

	"But maybe I feel bad about some of those things. Maybe I need to
tell you so I don't have to worry about them anymore.

	I turned in my chair to look at Marco. "How did you feel after you
told me those things about your mother – after you told me about Grant?
You were afraid I wouldn't respect you, but I did. How did that make you
feel?"

	Marco looked thoughtful. "I felt good, not good maybe, but relieved
I guess. I probably would never talked about that stuff, but you sort of
pulled it out of me. To be honest, I felt like a big weight had been lifted
off me. I wasn't worried about what I did so much as I was afraid you would
find out about it."

	"Right. My point is that I am carrying around some things that I
don't want you to know and it bothers me that I have not been honest with
you. I think I am sort of where you were, but I've been putting that off."
I forced a smile. "Maybe I need for you to pull some things out of me."

	Marco waited a moment, then asked. "So what did you do, kill
somebody?"

	"No, not like that. But I might not be the upstanding guy you think
I am."

	"OK, so now I'm curious. What's bothering you? I mean, we're both
gay, I think I can relate."

	I took a deep breath. "When I was in high school I guess I knew I
was gay. I found other guys more attractive than girls. But I didn't want
to be gay. I couldn't accept it, so I pretended to be mister straight
arrow. There were a couple of guys that I messed around with – we jerked
off together and even jerked off each other. I pretended like it it was no
big thing, like we were just horny and were helping each other get off, but
it was a lot more than that for me. I liked it, really liked it. I wanted
to do more."

	Marco nodded. "Yeah?"

	"So there was this guy my age, his name was Phil. He was gay too I
think, but we never talked about it. He was kind of feminine, you know? I
didn't really like to hang out with him because the other guys thought
maybe he was queer, but I would go over to his house and we played around
with each other."

	"How old were you then?" Marco asked.

	"I don't know, 15, 16. We did that for a long time. After he got
his drivers license we would go out in his car and find some place
private. He was the first guy I sucked off. We would do stuff other, like
play with our dicks then take turns sucking each other off. I didn't even
like Phil, but I loved to suck his cock. I think I liked that better than
when he sucked me, you know?" I watched Marco's face.

	"OK, what else?" He nodded but his face was composed.

	"Well, I liked it, but I felt really guilty about it. I was so
afraid that someone else would find out what we were doing. I was afraid
that my mother would find out. It really bothered me, but we still got
together and played around a lot. We would get naked and rub our cocks
together and stuff. I let him cum in my mouth and I liked that too. He
wouldn't let me cum in his mouth and I thought he was the one who was
queer, you know? I was doing more and more things. I didn't like the guy. I
just liked the sex."

	Marco nodded but made no comment other than to say, "Go on."

	"Alright, so I did that stuff, and more. When I was a senior in
high school I was in a mall restroom taking a piss, and this guy came in
and stood next to me. He was a little older, maybe in his early thirties I
guess. He started looking over at my dick and when I looked back, I saw he
had an erection. That got me hard and I leaned back so he could see me. He
reached over, took hold of my cock and started to stroke me. I shot almost
immediately. I don't think I was ever so turned on before in my life."

	"Then what did he do?"

	"As soon as I shot he slung my cum off his hand and left. He
grabbed a paper towel on his way out and just left me standing there
dripping my wad in the urinal. But I liked it, Marco. I wanted to do it
again. So I started hanging out in toilets, pretending to piss.  There were
other men who like to look and wanted to feel me and play with me. I felt
them too. It was scary because I was afraid of getting caught, but that
just made it more exciting. There was one time I sucked this kid off and
let him cum in my mouth. He couldn't have been more than 14."

	I took a deep breath and decided to go on. "One time a guy asked me
to leave with him and we went out to his car and blew each other in the
parking lot. Another time a guy took me to his apartment and we got naked
on his sofa. We blew each other then he wanted to fuck me. I had never ever
done that before, Marco. I kind of wanted to try it but I was afraid. He
tried to do it but when he got part way in it hurt like hell and I bucked
him off. That really scared me and I got dressed and left in a hurry."

	"Then I discovered the parks. There are places where guys hang out,
looking for other guys who want quick sex. It was like in the mall, guys
meet for sex and a quick jerk off or blow job. I started to hang out there
a lot. I never had any idea who those guys were and didn't want to know. I
let guys come sit with me in my car and we would jerk off together. We
never said anything, we just got off and then the guy would be gone. Later
I felt ashamed, but then I'd go right back. One time I saw a guy I knew
from school and he turned and walked away.  When we saw each other the next
day in class we acted like it never happened, although I think we were both
embarrassed by it.

Marco never changed expression. He just looked at me and nodded. I felt
like I was going to puke but I went on.

	"Then when I was 18, I met Philip. I told you about him. I thought
I really liked him and while I was going with him I quit doing the toilets
and did all kinds of things with Philip. He was nice looking and he was
sweet to me. He said he loved me and I told him I loved him, but really I
was just saying what I thought he wanted to hear. It was exciting while it
lasted and then he found someone else and dumped me. I moped around for
awhile then went back to looking for anonymous sex. I wanted guys were just
looking to get their rocks off. That's all I thought I wanted. I was
depressed and I started to drink a lot, and started smoking too."

I looked at Marco, waiting for him to react with disgust, but he just
looked back at me and kept nodding his head slowly. Finally he reacted. "So
who was the first guy to fuck you?"

	I winced at the directness of his question. "Philip – Philip was
my first, and it hurt like hell. He told me I would learn to like it but I
never did. I let him do it because he said he loved me. But really, I think
the idea of being in love just gave me an excuse. He told me he loved me,
and then he dumped me. He was the only one, Marco. The only one until you."

	Marco frowned. "Did I hurt you? Did it hurt when I did you?"

	"No, it didn't hurt. I thought it would hurt, but it was different
with you. I wanted it with you, and it seemed right somehow. Maybe I was
more relaxed with you, I don't know."

	He shook his head, "I thought you had done that lots of times
before."

	"No. I had done everything else a lot of times before. but not
that. But don't you understand? I did anonymous toilet sex with dozens of
guys, I don't even know how many,"

	I leaned over feeling sick, " Don't you see, I'm the slut Marco,
not you."

	He looked at me and nodded again. The expression on his face was
one of compassion, not disgust. "What else do you want me to know?" he
asked quietly.

	I took a breath then let it out. "That night in the park, I thought
you were hot. I offered to take you home hoping I could have sex with you,
that's all. I wanted to feel you up and maybe suck you off, and figured I
would never see you again. But that's not what happened is it?"

	Marco shook his head. "No that wasn't it at all, was it?"

	"No. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but to me you were a real
person, not just some guy to get off with. God knows, we had good sex, but
there was so much more to it than that. We really talked to each other, you
came home with me, and within a day I think I fell in love with you. For
the first time in my life I found something that felt real and honest. I
found you Marco."

I felt tears on my face. When I looked at Marco I saw that his eyes were
wet too.

	"I don't know what happened Marco. After you came I didn't want to
do those kinds of things any more. It was like I found what I had been
looking for. I didn't want anybody else." I choked out a twisted smile," I
just wanted you."

	Now Marco's face was streaked with tears. His expression was sad,
but not for himself. "Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

	"Yeah, I guess that's it. Marco, I'm not who you thought I was. You
see, I'm not really a very nice person."

	Marco was shaking his head. "I know who you are Marty. I don't care
who you were or what you did before I met you. I did some things too. I
didn't tell you everything I ever did."

	"Aren't you disappointed in me?"

	Marco looked at me with love on his face, "I told you what I
thought about that. I think God sent you to save me from all kinds of
terrible things. If that's true, and I really think it is, how can you be
used by God to do something so good and not be changed yourself? There's
something going on here that neither of us really understands."

	He got up and sat in my lap, wrapping his arms around me. "I love
you Marty. Nothing you said, nothing you have ever done could keep me from
loving you. You just make me realize that we are so much alike. We are both
messed up. I know it sounds corny, but I think we are meant for each
other. We are meant to be together."

	"Oh Marco," I cried, "I don't deserve you."

	"I don't deserve you either," he tried to explain. "That's the God
part."

We held each other for a long time. I relaxed and felt at peace with myself
in a way that I had not for a very long time. Perhaps I had dealt with my
own demons.

	"I think you're right Marco. I think we are meant for each other."
I looked in his eyes. "For a kid who had a lot of problems with religion, I
think you understand this God thing a lot better than I do."

I couldn't think of anything else to say so I just held him in my arms and
was thankful for him.

	Finally he pushed me away gently. "Hey, it's a beautiful day. Want
to go for a bike ride?"

	"Yes," I sniffed. "that's a great idea. Let's do it."

We rode over to the Rivertrail next to the Arkansas River and all the way
down past the big Indian casino to 101st Street, stopped for a soda at a
convenience store and then started back. It was a long ride and my legs
were tired, but it felt good. I followed Marco, admiring his strong back
and beautiful body as I rode behind him. I felt so thankful for this
beautiful, wise young man. I was the one who needed to learn from him.

His faith was so simple, so true, and I loved him so much. I really
believed he had it right. We had been sent to each other, saved by each
other from lives that were going in the wrong directions, and were now felt
clean and healthy. It was a very good thing, almost miraculous. If I had
not understood that before, Marco made it clear to me.

---------------------------------------

Soon Marco was getting ready to graduate from high school. I came home one
afternoon from work to find him smiling, proudly wearing a rented cap and
gown brought home from school. He was standing just inside the apartment,
waiting for me with his arms outstretched for my inspection.

	"We don't get the tassel until the ceremony," he explained. "Mine
will be gold because I'm such a stud," he grinned. "I have to return the
suit but I get to keep the tassel."

	"Man, I wouldn't miss that for the world," I assured him.

	"Father Hoover told me he would come and see me graduate," he
said. "How cool is that?"

	"You are such a stud," I had to admit.

The graduation was on a Sunday afternoon. At the church service that
morning, Father Hoover recognized the graduates in the congregation, making
a little extra fuss over Marco.

Marco had his own little cheering section at the graduation ceremony. I was
there, Fr. Hoover was there, even Wayne and David were there. He had
graduated with honors and was recognized for his TCC scholarship among
other things. Mr. Blankenship made a point of seeking him out and shaking
his hand after the ceremony. Fr. Hoover excused himself after the ceremony
but the rest of us went to Hideaway Pizza to celebrate. Marco was beaming.

	"I'm glad you guys could come," he told us.

It was a happy time. We lingered for awhile, Marco passing his gold tassel
around for us to admire. By the time we got back to the apartment it was
late.

	"It has been quite a day for you," I said.

	"You had a lot to do with this, you know," he said modestly.

	"I just cheered you on. You did it all yourself," I reminded him.

	"I'm kind of tired," Marco said. Would you like to take a shower?"

Of course I would. We undressed and went through our familiar ritual. He
adjusted the water and waited for me to get in. I washed him, lathering his
beautiful hair and carefully washing him from head to toe, and everywhere
in between. After he rinsed and I inspected those places where soap might
be lingering, he washed me.

The shower dance was very special to us. It was a form of extended foreplay
and very intimate. It occurred to me that washing Marco's body was a loving
thing, and something very enjoyable. But allowing him to wash me was even
more intimate. There was something trusting about it. I thought about the
foot washing ceremony that was part of our Lenten custom at church. I had
always been told that allowing your feet to be washed was more difficult
than washing the feet of another. I thought it was true, although I had
never taken part in that ritual. I decided that perhaps next year Marco and
I should go up and volunteer to be part of that. I began to see an almost
worshipful element in our showers – very loving, very trustful. It was
part of what bound us together. Sex and love and intimacy were all part of
the same thing for us.

We took turns drying each other then went into the bedroom and lay coupled
together, our skin warm and damp between us. It was such a tender thing
when we made love. I wanted to pleasure him and he pleasured me, each very
attentive to the needs of the other. This too was almost a sacramental
activity. I wondered if that thought was blasphemous but put the idea aside
for now.

I loved this boy with all my heart. We kissed and explored mouths with
tongues, sucked on lips, kissed eyes, cheeks and necks. We lingered over
each others faces, stopping to look and smile. I suckled his nipples, ran
my tongue down the fine line of hair from his navel to the pubic hair above
his penis, and suckled that too until he arched his back and moaned. He
raised his knees to receive my mouth against his hairless ass and slobber
him very wet. He loved that, and I was in no hurry to proceed until he
began to make the movements that told me he was ready for me to enter him.

I rubbed his hole with the head of my penis until he thrust against me, his
body begging for mine, then moved gently inside him. I could feel him
shiver and saw his face break out into a smile. I tried to make it last,
moving slowly and gently, trying to find just the right spot to make him
gasp with pleasure.

We stopped and he went to his hands and knees, arching his rear up to
receive me again, this time I plunged even deeper and was rewarded by his
incoherent mumbles of pleasure. Clearly he was enjoying this as much or
more than I, while I was in ecstasy as his beautiful body pressed into
mine. After a few attempts to prolong my orgasm he squeezed and wiggled and
I could hold off no longer. I emptied myself into him, holding him tight in
my arms. He collapsed onto his belly and we lay like that for quite a few
minutes before he turned over and looked at me.

	"Are you sure it doesn't hurt when I do you?" he asked. "I wouldn't
want to hurt you Marty."

	"Oh no, you never hurt me, it feels wonderful when you do it to
me. Do I hurt you?"

	"Oh hell no. I love it. It feels so great. It makes me feel good
all over."

	"Then do me like that," I smiled.

I turned over and raised my ass up for him to get me ready. By now he was
an expert at this stage of preparation. He kissed and tongued my ass,
sucking on my hole and making me feel relaxed and wonderful. I let him know
I was ready and he rose up and pressed himself against my entrance, pushing
slowly and gently, and slid into me with a sigh. There was no pain, only an
exquisite feeling of fullness. In truth he was not as large as I was and I
could have accommodated him even if he had been larger. I realized he was
exactly the right size, a perfect fit as he stroked me from the inside. I
had never known greater pleasure and tried to maneuver him to play against
my prostate in a way that I knew was good for him as well. When he began to
tense and I knew that he was getting close to climax, I stopped and rolled
over on my back.

	"I want to look at you," I told him. "I want to look at your
beautiful face."

I raised my knees and saw that he was smiling. His hair was cascading
around his face and sweeping over my chest while he entered me again. The
feeling of his hair against my body was almost as pleasurable as the
feeling of him inside me. He was thrusting with passion now, in as deep as
he was able, then out almost to the point of withdrawing then back in
again. I wanted him almost to the point of madness, gripped his butt cheeks
and pulled him hard against me as I felt him let go. His face fell to my
chest and his hair went all awry. He pressed his face against mine and
slobbered over my chest as he pushed himself into my ass, gasping and
crying out with the intensity of his orgasm.

Again we lay still. He was breathing hard and gently kissied my
nipples. Yes, this was a spiritual experience, blasphemy or not, and I was
thankful for it. We were in no hurry to uncouple and lay like that until he
shrank and fell from me. Then we kissed some more, gentle kisses on lips
and cheeks.

	I could hear him whispering, "I love you Marty. I am so glad we
found each other."

Before I could respond we fell asleep in each others arms.

-----------------------------------------

Now that high school was behind him, Marco threw himself into his classes
at the Junior College. Not content to go part time he enrolled in 9 hours,
a full load for the summer. He carefully selected those classes that would
be required for a degree at Oklahoma State and would fully transfer, He
didn't want to waste any time.

He scheduled all his classes for Monday, Wednesday and Friday and arranged
to ride the courier service for Mercer on Tuesday and Thursday. In
addition, he still worked weekend nights for Luigi. I advised him that he
was trying to do way too much, but he assured me that he could handle it. I
figured if anybody could, it was probably Marco. He was smart and willing
to work very hard. My admiration for him only increased.

I dropped by one Tuesday afternoon to check on him and chatted with his
boss while Marco was out on a run.

	"Hey Mercer. How are things?" I asked him.

	"We're doing okay," he replied. "I have missed Marco. That boy is
something else."

	"Oh, yeah? In a good way I hope."

	"I have nothing to say about Marco but good things. He shows up on
time and makes his deliveries faster than anybody. He is prompt and polite
and the customers love him. I wish he had time to work for me full time. He
is really a great kid."

	"Yes he is," I agreed. "You know he is going to TCC full time while
he is working for you, don't you?"

	"Yeah, that's what he said. Where does he find the time?"

	"I don't know. He is just very disciplined," I said.

I tried to tell Marco that he would burn himself out at this pace but he
shrugged me off.

	"Riding for the courier service is a break from school,"he
explained. "When I am riding I don't think about my classes. Besides, I
need the exercise."

What could I say? He was his own boss.

Near the end of June we acknowledged that we had been together for a whole
year and declared it an anniversary of sorts. I took him out for a nice
dinner at the Outback Steak House where we pigged out on a blooming onion
and big steaks, and toasted ourselves with big glasses of iced tea.

We had shared with each other those things that we had kept hidden from all
others, and now there seemed to be no barriers between us. We enjoyed a
level of openness that set us free. Our routine kept us very busy but we
worked together on everything.

As busy as he was, Marco assumed the cooking duties when he could. When he
could not, our dinners were barely adequate but he never complained. I
became the dishwasher and housemaid, leaving him time for the considerable
schoolwork that went with his heavy academic load. He persevered and his
grades were excellent. He was handling everything just as he said he
would. Marco was very strong in his quiet way.

Saturdays I insisted on making as nice a breakfast as I knew how, and tried
to let him get some extra sleep. He spent much of the day completing school
projects that were coming up in the next week. He was a very busy guy. What
little social life we had was now nonexistent. I worried about him and
tried to do as much as I could to free up some time for him. It was a busy
time for us both.

At my insistence, Sundays were our day of rest. We slept in, went to church
and made a breakfast out of what goodies were to be found at the coffee
hour after the service. Sunday afternoons I tried to find something fun for
us to do. We took little drives to wherever we thought looked
interesting. A few times we went out to the lake for a quick swim, Marco
proudly demonstrating that his time with the YMCA swimming lessons had been
well spent. Sometimes we sought the cool interior of the movies and saw
whatever was available at the dollar shows.

Marco's counselor from high school continued to help him with applications
for financial assistance and saw that he would qualify for a generous Pell
grant at OSU based on his good scholarship and financial need. The obstacle
of gaining his mother's cooperation evaporated when Mr. Blankenship met
with her and explained that her cooperation was not optional. The details
of his conversation with her were not discussed, but Blankenship was a big
fellow whose personality was as persuasive as his size. Marco's mother
provided everything that was required. When he had all he needed from the
Junior college, he would be ready for OSU.

One of the advantages of keeping very busy is that it makes time pass
quickly. Marco enrolled in 18 hours for the fall semester. He was clicking
off his required classes for OSU at a good rate. He seemed to be able to
compartmentalize his activities so that whatever he was doing was the focus
of his complete attention. He amazed me although I continued to fuss about
his trying to do too much.

	"I'm OK, really," he assured me. "I like to be busy. Besides the
classes at TCC are not that tough. It's like high school. A lot of the
other students are not well prepared and the instructors take things slow
and explain things really well. I think I am learning enough, but it isn't
all that hard. The courier service was kind of fun, and Luigi's is good
money. I have to save up for OSU next year. This is my chance, Marty. I
have to do this."

Near the end of the summer he had a week before classes were to start again
at TCC. He had already enrolled, purchased his books and was ready for
classes to begin. We decided that a small vacation was in order. The idea
of another fishing trip with our friend Bobby sounded tempting, but time
and finances dictated a more modest agenda.

We drove over to Lake Wedington straight east of Tulsa just into Arkansas
and rented a little cabin for 4 days. It is a small but beautiful little
lake surround by a hardwood forest with a 7 mile hiking trail that
encircles the perimeter. The cabins were built by the WPA back in the
1930's and were constructed from large shaped native stones, a single layer
thick with big stone fireplaces. Despite their rustic appearance they had
been fitted with a modern kitchen and a bathroom with a shower. It was nice
to see the shower. It was also nice to find that the cabins were air
conditioned. All the comforts of home in a rustic environment.

We took bacon and eggs for breakfast, and fruit and sandwich makings for
lunch. This was a little vacation and Marco was relieved of his cooking
duties, except for breakfast. He preferred to cook our breakfast rather
than endure mine. We would drive into nearby Fayetteville for dinner where
there were many nice places to eat.

We hiked around the lake, walked in the woods and spotted a flock of wild
turkeys. There was a nice swimming beach where we horsed around between
half hearted attempts at swimming. We were not interested in anything
strenuous, but played like a couple of little kids. We checked out a set of
horseshoes from the office and laughed at our inability to pitch them into
the pits, let alone around the stakes. An older man watched with amusement
and offered to give us some pointers. It seemed to make a difference in how
the shoe was held, and in the approach before the swing. True to form,
Marco began to zero in and beat me handily.

To tell the truth, a good part of our time was spent in either the shower
or the bed, making up for lost time as we honed our skills at the dance. We
had not forgotten how. Good sex is very relaxing.

	It was a nice break in our busy routine. On the way home I asked
Marco, "Did you enjoy that?"

	"Yes, I did. I guess I have been pretty caught up in school and
work. It was nice to get away for a few days."

	"You know, you don't have to kill yourself. You are only 17, you
will be 18 in a few months. I can't tell you what to do kiddo, but I worry
about you."

	Marco looked over and smiled at me. "I know. I appreciate that. You
have been great Marty. You have picked up a lot of the slack so that I can
do this. I won't let you down."

	I reached over and squeezed his knee. "We are in this together
Marco. You realize that this is about you, not me."

	Marco nodded. " I suppose, but sometimes it feels like it is too
much about me. I mean, you work hard too. I know you have a lot of
responsibility on your job, but you take off work to do things for me and
are helping me so much right now. I kind of feel bad about that."

	"Why? Don't you feel like you're worth it? What you are doing right
now will set you up for your future. I am just trying to help you get
through this."

	Marco looked out the window. "I guess that is a new idea for
me. I'm not used to it."

	He looked over and smiled at me. "I love you Marty. Just let me get
through the next two semesters. I'll feel better when I am past the
preparation stage and really working on a degree. You know, I still don't
know where that's going."

	"How do you mean?"

	"I mean picking a major. I don't know what I want to do when I grow
up." He grinned, "I might decide to be a fireman."

	"You would make a good firemen if you decided to do that," I
laughed. "But you would probably run into the fire and burn yourself up
trying to put it out all by yourself."

	"Well, okay, maybe not a firemen," he smiled. "But do you know I
would have to graduate college just to be a firemen in Tulsa? I guess that
degree really is important. Actually I think I want to know more about
computers. One of the TCC classes I will take this semester is an
introduction to computers."

	"You haven't told me what classes you're enrolled in."

	"Oh – well, the computer class, and English composition,
Calculus I, Government, US History I, and Physics."

	I blinked. "Oh, is that all? That's a hell of a load, Marco."

	"Those are all required classes. I think I can do this but I guess
we'll find out. You'll see Marty, I can do it"

We got back to Tulsa just before time for Marco to begin his Friday night
at Luigi's. It was back to the grind and classes started for him on Monday.
It was time to shift into high gear. We spent the rest of the weekend doing
laundry and cleaning house like an old married couple.

As I thought about our relationship I realized that we needed to come to a
decision about our status. At least I had to make a decision. Marco had
already defined his position on that subject. Although I had expressed my
intentions with a proposal of sorts, we had left that discussion open.

Very recently there had been two major events that would serve to reopen
that discussion.  The Supreme Court of the United States struck down a
lower court decision banning gay marriage, essentially overturning all such
bans throughout the country. A week later at their national convention in
Salt Lake City, the Episcopal church had ruled to accept gay
marriage. There appeared now to be no legal obstacle which would prevent us
from marrying. It was clear that Marco was ready to take this step and my
objections had been primarily based on his age. He would turn 18 in October
and we needed to talk about this again. But before we did, I wanted to have
a conversation with our priest, Father Hoover.

After church on Sunday I took Fr. Hoover aside to ask his opinion on the
matter.

	"Could we speak privately about something," I asked him.

	"Of course, would you like to step into my office?"

	Once in in the privacy of his office I hesitated, then posed my
question. "Sir, I believe you are aware that Marco and I are more than just
friends."

	He smiled. "Yes, I gathered as much. Marco and I had a little
conversation about that."

	"Well sir, in view of the recent decisions by the Supreme Court and
of the church, I wanted to know where you stood on the subject."

	"He smiled again. "Are the two of you making some plans to
formalize your relationship?"

	I hesitated again. "Yes, actually, we have talked about it. How
would you feel about that?"

	"If you are asking if I would marry you, the answer is that I would
be happy to do so. Of course I would require that the two of you meet me
for premarital counseling just as I would for any couple making such an
important decision."

	I felt a wave of both relief and a certain apprehension. I had
reached a point of no return. "Well sir, there is the matter of Marco's
age. You see he is only 17."

	Hoover nodded. "I see. And when will he be of legal age?"

	"His birthday is October 22nd," I told him.

	Father Hoover smiled. "Would you like to set a date for a November
wedding?"

	Now the ball was in my court. Was I serious about this or would I
waffle? I cleared my throat. "I think I would like that, and I know that
Marco would. I do need to have a conversation with my mother. I'm not sure
how she will take this."

	Father looked a bit concerned for the first time. "Does your mother
know about you and Marco?"

	"Yes Sir. We visited her at Christmas. She met Marco and we told
her that we loved each other. I don't know that she was thrilled, but she
seemed willing to accept us. She is a lovely person and I think she will be
alright with this decision. I can't say she would have chosen this for me,
but.... She did say that she wanted me to be happy, that she wanted both of
us to be happy."

	He nodded. "I understand. That is a matter for you to work out with
your mother. After the two of you have completed your plans and are ready
to proceed, I will be most happy to discuss this with you again. It is a
very important decision."

	He leaned back and his chair and smiled. "I think the most
important thing for you to decide is what is best for you, and for
Marco. My personal opinion is that you are both very good people, and like
your mother, I wish you both to be happy. Marriage is an important and life
changing decision. Be sure that it's the right decision for you both."

He paused and I realized that the initial part of our conversation had
concluded.

	"Thank you sir. You have told me what I needed to know. I
appreciate your counsel very much."

	He chuckled and stood. "Be assured that I will give you more
counsel when we talk about this again. In the meantime I suggest that the
two of you pray about this. I will certainly pray that you make the right
decision. I wish you the best."

I went back out into the Parish Hall to find Marco. He was sitting in what
was now an almost empty room.

	"Where have you been?" he asked with concern. "You disappeared on
me."

	"I was talking to Father Hoover," I explained.

	"Yeah? What was that about?" he asked.

	I took a deep breath. "We need to talk."

We walked out to the car and started for home.


TO BE CONTINUED

--------------------------------

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