Date: Sat, 15 Nov 2008 11:01:00 -0800 (PST)
From: adm2780 <adm2780@yahoo.com>
Subject: Second Time Around  Chapter Twenty-Eight

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted by any
means, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author.
As in real life, the sexual themes unfold gradually and are kept to a
realistic level.  If you are looking for sex on every page, then this is
not the story for you.  Comments on the story are appreciated and may be
addressed to the author, Dwight Wilson, at adm2780@yahoo.com

This story contains descriptions of consensual sexual contact between
males, adult and minor.  As such it is homoerotic, designed for the
entertainment of mature adults.  If you are not of legal age to read such
material, or if the subject matter would create irresolvable personal moral
dilemmas, please exit now.

NOTE: Special thanks to Matthew for his time and efforts proof reading and
editing the chapters.  Want to read a couple of good stories?  Try "Never
Take Love For Granted" or "One Gift To Give".  They are both excellent.


Chapter Twenty-Eight:  Second Time Around


It was Wednesday morning before David could return my call.  He began with
an unnecessary apology for not calling sooner and explained he was working
on his first major mini-convention.  He sounded tired, but excited, and I
had to ask him to define a mini-convention; I had never heard of a
mini-convention.  The simple explanation was that it lasted less than a
week and consisted of only a few hundred people.  I asked him to expound on
his first major project and he declined, explaining it would be too boring
unless I was into convention work.  I insisted he tell me every detail, and
learned a lesson.

The meeting was for a group that called themselves reptiles.  I learned
that 'reptile' was an acronym for Real Property, Probate and Trust Law
Section of the state bar.  The section divided themselves into two groups
known as 'dirt' and 'death'.  After gaining this earth shattering knowledge
I decided that David wasn't tired, he was bored to death.  Five days of
sitting around and listening to a bunch of lawyers talk about dirt and
death did not exactly rate high on my list of 'can't miss' things to do.
To David, it was an opportunity to impress his boss with his talents as a
convention director and begin his career with a nice feather in his cap.  I
really was happy for him.  I also knew something else; I missed him.

David and I talked for a little over half an hour.  After I explained the
situation with Sean and then my worries with Michael, he expressed the same
concerns that I already had.  Sean needed to be the priority at the moment.
Somehow, I needed to get Sean to understand that he needed to stand up to
the people that attacked him.  Sean could not be allowed to become a
runner; runners become losers and Sean was not a loser.  There was also a
hope that if Sean's problem could be addressed adequately, Michael's issues
might also disappear.

Before I hung up I told David that I missed him and he reciprocated.  It
wasn't what we said, but the way we said it.  Why on earth a guy as good
looking as David, and as young as David, would want to hang out with a guy
my age, not to mention the luggage I carried, I could never understand.
However, I did say a small prayer of thanks every night.  He had to work
the next two weekends and the weekend after that was to be ours.  I wasn't
sure how I was going to work it out, but I knew that I would.

                                           * * * *

When I got home after work, I walked in to find Frank in the kitchen, a
fire in the fireplace and a wine glass sitting on the breakfast bar.  Frank
stood at the stove stirring what smelled like spaghetti sauce; he wasn't
even wearing an apron.  He turned around when he heard me come in.

"Hey, Dad.  How goes it?"  Frank always had an upbeat way of greeting me.

"That's what I was about to ask you.  What are you working on?"

"S'ghetti sauce; the easy way.  I browned some ground beef and added a jar
of sauce."  He stopped stirring and reached in the refrigerator for the
wine.  "Anything else I need to add?" he asked as he poured the wine and
handed me the glass.

"A little garlic, a pinch of salt, black pepper and oregano.  Let it simmer
a few minutes while the spaghetti cooks and you should be done."

"Cool.  I can handle that."

"Uh, Frank, you might want to be careful how hot you let the sauce get.  If
it decides to start popping and some of that hot sauce hits Little Frankie,
believe me, you'll know it."

Frank looked at me and laughed as I handed him a full length chef's apron.
Now the only thing exposed was his bubble butt.  If he backed his butt into
a hot stove and got burned, I was pretty sure he would only do it once.

"Where's your brother?"

"In your bedroom.  He's waitin' on you."  I gave Frank a questioning look
and waited for him to say more.

"He's been actin' funny since he talked ta Sean this afternoon.  When I
asked him what was wrong he told me one of the guys that attacked Sean
showed up at the hospital last night with some other kids.  Dad, there's
only one reason that dude would've showed up."  Frank paused to see if I
understood what he was telling me.  I nodded and headed for my bedroom.

"Uh, Dad?  I didn't tell ya anything.  Okay?"  I gave him a little wave to
acknowledge what he said and kept moving towards my room.

Michael lay on my bed.  He was about a quarter of the way on his stomach
with his right leg pulled up to keep himself from rolling completely over.
He looked to be asleep and I decided to leave him for the moment.
Undressing and putting away my clothes as quietly as I could, I was headed
out of the room when I heard him.

"Da-ad?" Mike almost whined.

I turned around and approached the bed.  As I got near, he pushed himself
up on one arm and looked up at me.  All I saw was those puppy-dog eyes
filled with sadness.  I sat on the bed next to him.

"Hey, kiddo.  I thought you were asleep."

"Only kinda.  I been waitin' for you ta get home."  I knew he was more than
'kinda' asleep because he looked to still be half-asleep.

"Dad.  Can we talk?"

"You know we can, son.  What's wrong?"  He didn't answer me until he lay
back down and cradled his head in my lap.  I ran my fingers through his
hair.

"I talked ta Sean today; actually, me and him's been talkin' every day.
Dad, one of the ass-holes that attacked him came to the hospital with some
other kids.  The a-hole acted like him and Sean was best buddies and he
cared how Sean was doin'.  Can you believe that?  That guy's got some real
bozongas doin' that.  Course, what he was really doin' was lettin' Sean
know they could get to 'im and he better not squeal on 'em."

"Did the kid tell Sean that?"

"Noooo."  Michael answered me like I was asking the most unreasonable
question of all time.  "Dad, he didn't have to say that.  Sean's not dumb;
he knows what these guys mean.  You don't really think the fuck-ups gonna
come right out and say anythin' with them other kids around, do ya?"  Mike
took a deep breath and looked into space.  "I shoulda been there for 'im,
Dad.  Me and Sean's always been buds and covered each other."

"And if you had been there, do you think things would have turned out any
differently.  Except, of course, both you and Sean could be in the hospital
instead of just Sean.  Mike, people like the ones that attacked Sean don't
do things fair.  They blindsided Sean, and would have done the same thing
to you.  If you had been there, there isn't anything you could do to make
it come out any differently."  Mike looked up at me and rolled over so he
lay on his stomach.  He placed an arm across my chest and pushed me down on
the bed as he lay his head close to my arm pit.  I rolled over on my side
so I could reach across and rub his back.

"Sean said you told him he should squeal on the guys that attacked 'im."

"Yes, I did.  Remember me telling you and Frank that Sean isn't the first
boy at school this has happened to this year?  Someone has to stand up and
stop it before someone else gets hurt.  Mike, I understand the teenager's
creed about not squealing, but there's a lot of other kids that could be
hurt.  Also, I don't like thinking about Sean running scared for the rest
of his life.  He has to stand up for himself."

"Dad, Sean's no coward.  He's stood up for himself lots of times.  It's
different though when there's a bunch of guys after ya."

"Is it, Mike?  Is it really all that different?  It's not one or two, or
however many, guys we're talking about standing up to.  We're talking about
standing up to the bigotry and violence pushed onto someone because they
may be a little different.  Standing up to them doesn't always mean coming
to blows face to face.  Sean took a beating, but he still has a way to
stand up to them and protect others at the same time."  Mike didn't answer
me other than to shrug a shoulder and lie there while I rubbed his back.
He was thinking, and I thought that was good.  I decided to broach the
subject that concerned me.

"The other night, when the three of us played around on the sofa, you sat
in my lap with your weight on your knees.  When Frank joined us, you leaned
back and let me restrain you."

"Yeah," Mike acknowledged what I said.

"Letting someone dominate you like that isn't your usual method.  Before,
you've always wanted to be in a mutual pleasuring situation.  What I'm
trying to ask you, son, is why?  I'm concerned you may feel guilty about
what happened to Sean and possibly trying to punish yourself."  I waited
patiently for him to answer.

"Maybe.  Kinda."  Mike sounded unsure of himself which was unusual for him.
"I feel bad about Sean and wish I coulda been there.  Sometimes, I think I
maybe did something I shouldn't and should be punished, but that really
wasn't it; I figured that was kinda stupid."  He turned to look at me and I
could see the hesitation in his eyes.

"Dad . . . well, you know that sometimes all us boys have those days where
we're just so horned up that all we wanna do is have sex all day.  It's not
like that everyday, 'cept we do have to get our nut a couple times every
day.  You know what I mean, don't ya?"  I simply nodded and smiled.  "Well,
sometimes I get these dreams or thoughts, 'specially if I been readin' some
stuff on the net, and I get myself all horned up thinkin' 'bout havin' some
kinda kinky sex.

"One of my things was for somebody to hold me so I couldn't move and I'd be
impaled like we were the other night.  Then two or three other guys would
join us and drive me nuts playin' with my stuff and maybe workin' my nips
over real good.  If there was another guy, maybe two, they could tongue
fuck my ears.  While they did all that to me they'd be jackin' off and
everybody would cum at the same time and shoot their stuff all over me."
Michael paused a moment.  "Kinda sick, huh?"

"I don't think I would say sick, son.  Oversexed, horny, sexually obsessed,
hormonal overload and a crazy imagination, maybe.  But I don't think I'd
say sick."

"You wanna hear 'bout some other fantasies I had?  I had some real good
ones 'bout me and you.  There was this one where . . .  ."  We were
interrupted.  Thanks heavens.

"Hey, you two.  Supper's ready and on the bar.  Come and get it."

"Sorry, kiddo, I didn't mean to leave you in there doing everything.  Mike
and I just got involved talking."  Then I turned to Mike.  "You know what
this means don't you, Mike?  Frank cooked, so you get the dishes tonight."

"WHAT!?  Man, that sucks!"

"No bro, you the one that sucks; real good too."  Frank was bouncing around
mimicking someone he had seen on television.  "But that wasn't our deal.
The deal was if I cooked then I get a nice piece of ass for desert; yo
little ass."

"OOOOOO.  And it'll be the best piece o' ass you ever got, too." Michael
answered, mimicking and bouncing past his brother.

"No, bro.  I had that ass before.  It sure is nice and I plan on pounding
it good.  Promise."

I listened to the two of them going back and forth as they headed towards
the kitchen.  Mike bounced along, flexing his glutes to emphasize his
bubble butt and tease Frank.  I just threw my hands up and plopped back on
the bed.

                                           * * * *

I was cleaning up Mike's after dinner clean-up job when the phone rang; it
was Phyllis.  She had been to the hospital to check on Sean and knew he was
upset.  The problem was that Sean wouldn't tell her why.  She did learn
that Sean and Mike had been talking and hoped I had some insight as to what
was going on.

"Phyllis, when I got home tonight Michael was also upset.  We talked and I
found out that one of the boys that attacked Sean has been there to see
him."

"You mean here, at the hospital?"

"That's what Mike said Sean told him.  We're guessing that it was a warning
to Sean not to say anything.  Intimidation."  I could hear Phyllis take a
deep breath and let it out.

"Rick, I'm really lost here.  When he was little he always came to me and
told me what was wrong.  Now, I feel like I'm almost locked out.  Give me a
clue, could you?  What can I do to help him now?"

"I don't know any easy answer.  Right now, I'd say the most important thing
is for you to just be there for him.  You know, when kids are little they
don't care if other kids see them cry.  When there's a problem, they know
that Mom or Dad can solve any crisis.  When they get to be teens,
particularly boys, they think they have to act all grownup and handle
things themselves.  The biggest problem is they don't understand, or won't
admit, they still need help.  That's where Sean is right now."

"So, what are you telling me?  I have to just stand back and let him
suffer?"

I moved toward the sofa to get more comfortable.  I could tell from the
exasperation in Phyllis' voice that she didn't understand.  As I moved
around the room I could see the boys' bedroom door was open.  From the
sound of the grunts and groans, plus Frank's exclamations of something
feeling unreal, I suspected Frank was collecting on his deal with Mike.  I
just hoped Phyllis couldn't hear them.

"Phyllis, just tell Sean that you love him and when he's ready to talk,
you'll be there.  That may sound a little trite, but it's all you can do
right now.  Sean needs to work some of this out in his own mind."

"Alright, you're the expert with the boys.  I'll do what you suggest."
Phyllis hesitated and then I heard her tone change.  "Rick, have you
thought any more about what I asked the other day; you know, about Sean
staying with you and the boys?  I was planning on talking with Sean tonight
if you were still willing.  The doctor says he can be released from the
hospital in a couple of days and I'm sure he's worried about what could
happen to him when he returns to school."

"If you're sure that's what you want, and Sean wants, then he's more than
welcome to be a part of our home.  Why don't you talk with him and I'll
talk to my boys.  There will be some details we'll have to work out, but I
don't see any problems there."

"Thank you.  I know Sean will be happy and it takes a big worry off me.
Don't worry about his expenses, there's a trust set up for him and I'll
direct the bank to send his living allowance to you."

"When I mentioned details, I was thinking about a power of attorney or
guardianship papers of some sort.  If he'll identify who attacked him, then
we'll need to work out a schedule with the police also.  Phyllis, is his
trust strong enough for him to attend the same school as the boys?"

"His trust has assets a little way into seven digits and it's very
lucrative.  I'll call my attorney and let him know what's happening and ask
him to prepare the papers.  Is that alright with you?"

When I hung up the phone, I couldn't hear any more sounds coming from the
boys' room.  They had either learned to be very quiet, which I doubted, or
were recovering from their activities.  After sitting on the sofa for a
couple of minutes, I decided to talk with the boys.  I knew the
conversation was unnecessary, but they needed to be part of this decision;
it was their home, too.

When I called the boys, Frank was the first to come out of the room.  He
walked down the hall, smiling like he was proud of something.  He sat on
the ottoman in front of me and I could see a light coating of sweat.  He
also looked as though he had been through quite a workout.

"What's wrong, Frank?  Is Mike getting to be more than you can handle?" I
teased.

"No way!  But you wouldn't believe what I had ta do.  You see, I was
supposed to make him shoot twice before I stopped and I had ta do it
without touching Little Mikey.  I had him on his back and his legs over my
shoulders.  He kept jumpin' around so much. Every time I stroked across his
cherry he flopped around like a fish out of water.  I had ta lean over him
and pin his wrists down.  I was up on my toes to keep my weight on him.
When I got the right angle, I stroked his cherry on the up stroke and the
down stroke.  I did just what I said I'd do, too.  I pounded his tight
little butt and he begged for more."  Frank finished with his famous
shit-eatin' grin.

"Did you reach your goal?"  I was biting the inside of my mouth to keep
from laughing.

"Oh yeah!  You wouldn't believe how much that boy can shoot.  His balls
must be workin' overtime.  He shot his juice all over the front of both of
us.  In fact," he stopped to wipe under his chin.  "Look a there.  I still
had some under my chin." Frank licked his fingers clean as soon as he
stopped talking.

Mike joined us a couple of minutes later.  He apologized for taking so
long, explaining that he had a personal problem to deal with.  I couldn't
help but wonder if there were any other parents that had to put up with all
this.  It was going to be interesting if I ever had grandchildren and had
the opportunity to tell the tales.

"Guys, I'm not going to beat around the bush.  I have a question to ask."

"Yes, it's okay." Frank answered before I even asked the question.  Mike
started laughing.

"Okay, smart guy.  What was I going to ask?"

"You were gonna ask us if it was alright if Sean lived with us.  Right?"

"How'd you know?"

"Just because we're in there playin' around doesn't mean we can't hear.
You were just talkin' with Sean's mom and our door was open.  Was I right?"
There was that grin again.

"Yes, you're right.  However, we need to talk some.  Just because Sean may
come to stay with us a while doesn't mean the rules change.  I still expect
the grades and for you two to fulfill your responsibilities.  We'll setup
the guest room for Sean, He can take care of his room and have
responsibilities just like you guys."

"Dad, you are kidding us, right?" Frank answered. "You know what happens
when Sean stays over.  All three of us are in the same room.  No big deal,
me and Mike are in the same room now."

"No, wait, Frank." Mike decided to contribute to the conversation.  "The
guest room has a queen size bed and we only have doubles.  S'pose the three
of us move into Sean's room?"

I took a deep breath and tossed my head back on the sofa while I exhaled
slowly.  Michael straddled me and sat in my lap.  He put his hands behind
my head and lifted it.  I found the courage to open my eyes.

"Relax.  See, the truth is, me and Sean have been tryin' to figure out a
way to convince you and his mom that he should come down here while he
recuperates.  Now, this is a lot better.  You and his mom figured it out
for us, only better.  Can I call Sean and tell 'im?"

"No. his mother will be talking to him tonight.  I'll assume his answer
will be to come here from what you guys are saying.  There's something I
want all of you to appreciate though.  Sean's mother is really making a
huge sacrifice to protect him.  You need to remind Sean of that so he can
do what's right by his mother.  Get my message?"

"Yes, sir.  We will" Michael started bouncing around on my lap.
Occasionally, he forgot that he was no longer a light-weight child.

"Hey!  Guess what?  When I feel this good and somethin' this good happens,
guess what I feel like doin'?"  He bounced around rubbing Little Mikey
across my abdomen.

"How many guesses do I get?"

"None," Mike laughed. "It's titty-twister time!"  With that, he grabbed
both of my nipples and twisted them.  It burned!

"Boy!  Do you know . . .  ."

I didn't get any further before Frank attacked me from the rear.  He came
over the back of the sofa and pushed me and Mike off balance.  The next
thing I knew I was on the floor wrestling with two hyper teenagers.  When I
had them on their backs, I applied 'the claw' to their abs.

"NOOO! . . .STOP!! . .STOP!! . . .NOOO! . . .AAGGH GAAHD!  . ."

For two boys that wanted to play they sure knew how to complain.  I would
have been concerned if it wasn't for the laughter and giggles between their
pleas.

"Say it," I advised them.

"NEVER!" I applied a little more pressure. "NOOO!! . . .AAGGHHH! . . .OKAY!
OKAY! . . . UNCLE!! . . .UNCLE!! . .WE GIVE!"

"You guys are getting' soft.  Maybe you need to start doin' more crunches
every night." I teased as the two of them held their abs and rolled in the
floor laughing.

                                           * * * *

We were back in New York Friday night.  My original plan was to leave the
boys with their grandmother.  That was my plan, not the boys' or their
grandmother's.  She thought I should take them and they might be of some
help getting Sean to identify who attacked him.  I picked up a rental car
and headed for the hospital.  On the way I called Phyllis who was already
with Sean.

When we walked into Sean's room I looked at the boys and could tell they
were shocked.  I tried to prepare them for how he looked, but like most
kids, they didn't take me as seriously as they should.  Sean also saw the
look on their faces and began getting upset.  I got the boys' attention and
nodded my head towards Sean.  They understood and one went to either side
of the bed.  The way Mike and Sean looked at one another, I thought they
were going to cry.  Phyllis and I left the room to give them some time.

"I'm glad you brought the boys.  I think it'll be good for Sean."

"I'm not sure I could have kept them away on this trip.  How is Sean?"

"Well, if you're asking about the move to Florida with you, I think he's
ecstatic.  If you're asking about the attack, he's wavering.  I'm hoping
the boys will help convince him to identify who did this."

"Have you talked to Sergeant Morgan recently?"

"This morning.  I called to let him know what we decided for Sean.  He
still wants to find the boys who did this, but . . ."

"I know; he needs Sean to ID them."

"That, and he said he thinks if Sean will testify, there's a good chance
one of the other boys will cooperate."

We walked nearer the door and could hear both Frank and Mike telling Sean
he had to tell who did this if he knew.  They reminded him that no one
could hassle him when he was in Florida.  It didn't happen until the next
night after we had taken Sean back to his home.  He agreed to tell
Sgt. Morgan who the boys were.  The only condition Sean asked for was that
he could name them at school.  When I talked with him about it, he simply
stated he had to let those guys know that he wasn't afraid of them, even if
he was just a little.

Phyllis and I had spent part of Thursday and Friday having Sean's school
records faxed to Bolles.  Based on his records he was accepted and would
begin immediately upon our return.  My plan had been to return home Sunday
afternoon, but with Sean insisting he identify the boys at school, I
postponed our flight until Monday afternoon.

We talked with Sgt. Morgan on Sunday.  He made the necessary calls to have
several plain clothes policemen at the school Monday morning.  He also
arranged with the principal for the boys to be brought to the principal's
office for Sean to identify.  At the last minute, the principal asked to be
able to call an assembly of all the students.  He wanted the students to
know what had happened and who did it and that such activities would not be
tolerated.  I wasn't sure how Sean would react, but he seemed enthused over
the idea.  Sean told us a lot of the students had come to the hospital to
visit him so probably everyone at school knew what had happened.  He was
also willing to bet a lot of the students knew who did it, too.  Such
things worked their way through the school grapevine.

We arrived at the principal's office at the designated time and within a
few minutes the assembly was called.  Fifteen minutes later the principal
was calling the students to order.  The boys and I stood off stage.  When
the students quieted down, the principal turned and signaled Sean to walk
out.  Sean took my arm letting me know he wanted me to go with him.  When
we reached the podium, Sean just stood there and looked at the students for
a long minute.  Then, he surprised us by unbuttoning his shirt.  He asked
for help getting it off.  It wasn't pretty with the bandage around his ribs
and the bruises.  He took the microphone and stood center stage where
everyone could see him.  You could hear the murmur in the auditorium.

"This is what some students from here, right here in this room, right now,
did to me.  They did it because they thought I was different.  Two of 'em
play football; one plays soccer.  They thought they were better'n me.  One
of 'em even came to the hospital with some of my friends.  He was there to
warn me not to talk.  I'm not afraid of 'em and as far as I'm concerned,
they're not as good as me or any of you.  I'm talkin' guys."  Sean stopped
and looked around the room.  He pointed to the section on the right.

"They're about half way back in that section.  Kyle Jenkins.  Ben Thomas.
Adam Morgan."

"No way, ass-hole!!  You fag!  You lie!  You just wait!" One of the boys
yelled.

Four men, that I assumed were policemen, moved towards the boys.  Students
near the boys moved away.  The students were quiet at first, then the dull
roar grew as the students turned on the three boys.  They didn't attack
them, but they did let them know that what they did was unacceptable.  The
kids did the worst thing that could happen to any kid; the boys were
ostracized.

After signing some papers for the Sergeant and then some more with the
attorneys, we all headed out for some lunch.  It was a subdued group in one
way, a relieved group in another.  I didn't ask the boys what they said to
Sean to get him to talk, I was just grateful that it happened.  Sean would
have to come back to testify.  The Sergeant had promised to keep us posted.

Lunch was a leisurely meal with lots of reminiscing.  I watched Phyllis and
knew she was fighting to keep a good front for Sean.  Inside, she was
hurting.  No parent can give up custody of their child without feeling a
deep sense of loss and, possibly, failure.  Phyllis hadn't failed Sean.  If
anything, she had made the big sacrifice for his well being.  She would
come to visit him and he would go back to visit her.  How long he would
stay with us, only time would tell.

When we got on the plane to head south, we were all worn out.  The boys
talked and joked around, like any teens, but they were relatively quiet.  I
settled back in my seat for a nap.

I thought about David.


End Ch Twenty-Eight To Be Continued

Comments Welcome: contact Dwight Wilson at adm2780@yahoo.com