Date: Sun, 28 Dec 2008 14:38:03 -0800 (PST)
From: adm2780 <adm2780@yahoo.com>
Subject: Second Time Around

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".  He has posted "A Simple
Christmas Story" in the Young Friends category.  Try it, you'll like it.


Chapter Thirty-Two:  Second Time Around


There are milestones in everyone's life.  What exactly those milestones are
may vary from person to person, but there are some we all have in common.
An example of a common milestone would be taking the first steps.  The
child may not appreciate the significance of the first steps other than to
realize they can now get around faster and with less pain to the knees.  To
the parents, first steps are a huge milestone in their child's life.  Not
only is it the physical act of achieving greater mobility, but the act
itself is a significant step towards growth.  It is another step up life's
ladder to maturity and adulthood.

Where small children may share common milestones, those milestones will
begin to diversify as the child ages.  This is particularly true when we
add in the difference in the sexes.  Certainly one big milestone is when a
child learns that there is a difference between boys and girls.  Another
common milestone may be when girls learn that boys can be cute or hot, and
boys learn that girls are more than a pain in the neck.  Once they learn
the difference in the sexes, the milestones become more diverse until they
learn there is a reason for that difference and understand what that reason
is.

Recognizing the differences and what one sex may admire, or pant for, in
the opposite sex, is one reason girls place a high value on developing
breasts.  Boys recognize that girls look at their muscles and their butts.
To a boy, pectoral development and growth in the 'boyhood' area are prime
concerns.  If he can get them, every boy also wants dimples in the butt
cheeks.  After desiring all this, few boys will wear a speedo in public.
Of course, board shorts do have an advantage in their ability to hide or
camouflage a boy's natural reaction to many things he may see or feel.

Then there's the parents and how they react to all the little milestones.
The first steps, the first word, potty training and the first "I love you"
are all cherished milestones.  There's a sense of amusement when Dad
discovers the boys exploring themselves.  There's a sense of pride in the
boy when he discovers he can do some of the same things as the big boys,
particularly if it involves deriving pleasure from his natural equipment.

Never having had girls, I cannot contemplate the various milestones they
hope to achieve or the level of importance attributable to each of those
milestones.  However, having boys around, and having been a boy, I
recognize there are certain milestones that are considered to be "given".
These "given" milestones don't just include the physical benefits derived
from being a boy.  There are things a boy feels are his natural right and
only the most unreasonable parent could consider denying those rights.
These are just some of the thoughts that ran through my mind as I sat in my
car, parked in the parking lot, in front of the office that I was beginning
to perceive of as the enemy.

Winter was rapidly moving off, staying to the north.  The time was
approaching for sports tryouts at school. Frank wanted to go out for the
baseball team.  Sean wanted to go out for track.  I found Sean's choice to
be interesting since I was never fond of having to run in circles any more
than necessary; each to his own.  Eric wanted to go out for the swim team.
He knew he wasn't big enough, or strong enough, for the varsity, but he
could try for junior varsity and work his way up over the next couple of
years.  I had never seen Eric swim, but Bonnie said he was good.

Sitting in the car, I tried to convince myself that there had to be a way
around all this.  The boys hadn't hassled me for several days, most likely
because they thought they had pushed this envelope as hard as they dared at
the moment.  When I made this move, I knew that three boys would be
thrilled.  They would view this as taking one more step up the ladder to
personal independence.  As a parent, I would be happy for them, but also
feel that one more layer had been removed from the shell of protection I
tried to keep around them.

Laughing at myself, I took one more deep breath and let out a slow sigh.
Digging deep, I got out of the car and walked to the office I had been
staring at for at least thirty minutes.  A nice lady, who appeared to be
about the same age as Mother, asked if she could help me.  I told her what
I needed and she gave me a pleasant smile, saying "I'm sorry" as she handed
me three handbooks for the boys to study for their driver's license test.

                                           * * * *

When I got home that afternoon, I walked in to a little surprise.  All
three boys were walking around wearing jogging shorts.  I stopped in my
tracks for a moment, but when I looked outside, I understood.  The pool
people were still in the backyard working.  I walked up to the glass doors
to observe the activity and realized two men were in the pool's bowl.  They
were spraying the marcite, which meant the pool should be ready for use
soon if the weather cooperated.  Walking outside, I spotted the hot tub
that had already received its finishing coat.  The foreman, Alan, was next
to the pool, overseeing the spraying.

"Alan, how are you?  Looks like we're getting near the end."

"Mr. Geoghagan, good to see you.  Yeah, it won't be long now.  If this
weather will hold up for us, we should be able to fill it in about ten
days."

"Ten Days?  I didn't think the concrete would dry that fast."

"It doesn't; not thoroughly, anyway.  It'll be solid enough to fill.  Once
we fill it, it needs to set for about three days so we can get the water
balanced.  You'll be able to use it then.  The concrete will continue to
cure and won't be completely dry for about thirty days.  It'll be fine
though as long as no one drives a car into it or drops a tree on it."  I
had to laugh.  "Don't laugh.  We've either seen it happen or had it happen
to us.  Get right at the end of a job and the strangest things begin to
happen."

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the boys walking around.  They
hadn't put any additional clothing on and I could see more than one person
out there eyeing them.  There was one young fellow that I guessed to be no
more than nineteen, really giving Mike the eye.  The kid tried to be
somewhat discreet, but his eyes followed Michael everywhere.  I guessed he
was stripping Mike in his mind, and probably thinking of doing a few other
things, too.

The boys were goofing off, acting like they wanted to push one another into
the pool bowl.  If one of them fell in he'd have something broken or one
terrific headache.  Two of the guys were taking turns glancing at the boys
and whispering to each other.  I watched them and then looked over at the
boys myself.  Being accustomed to seeing them with little or nothing on, I
rarely paid any attention to how they looked.

The jogging shorts were made of some kind of parachute material and I knew
they had a support built into them.  I also knew the boys weren't wearing
anything except those shorts.  These were the same shorts that I had
purchased for them last spring.  The boys had grown in more than one way
during the ensuing months.  When I looked closer I realized that if they
hadn't followed David's trimming lesson, there would most likely be patches
showing.  When they ran or pushed one another playing their grab-ass games,
there was plenty of movement inside the shorts.  I think it was called eye
candy and, while the boys may not have been aware of it, I was.

"Boys, it's getting cool out here.  You need to either put something on or
stay inside where it's warm so you don't get sick."

The boys ran inside, still picking at one another and giggling worse than
little kids.  I stayed outside to watch the workers and talk to Alan a
little more.

"Mr. Geoghagan, something tells me you don't have what we would call a
quiet household."  He made the comment with a friendly smile.  "I thought
you had just two boys."

"Well, originally, yes.  The two dirty blonds are mine.  The thin boy is my
ward.  He's been a friend with my boys for years and most people back in
New York thought he was one of my sons.  If you think they can be a little
rambunctious now, you should see them when my nephew comes over and stays.
You either learn patience and how to tune them out, or go crazy."

"I have a younger brother who just turned seventeen.  He's been living with
me now for a little over three years.  It didn't take me too long to figure
out he would try to push the line with me; trying to figure out his
boundaries.  Once he found them, having him with me is one of the best
things to ever happen.  He can be a royal pain in the ass, but I wouldn't
give him up for anything."

"Alan, you sound like an experienced parent.  My boys are just old enough
that I don't have to spend all my time watching them, but they're also
young enough that they still have a lot of little boy fun in
them. Admittedly, I do need a break once in a while, but that's why they
have a grandmother."  The patio door opened and Frank stuck his head out.

"Dad!  The timer's goin' off on the stove."

"Okay, I'm coming."  I turned back to Alan.  "I'm sure you understand the
priority a teenager puts on his stomach.  Guess I better feed them before
they pass out from malnourishment."

                                           * * * *

"Boys, finish loading the dishwasher, then sit back down at the table.  We
need to talk."

Frank and Sean approached the table looking a little apprehensive.  Michael
just went with his usual flow.

"Hey, Dad, guess what; David was right.  When you wear stuff like these
shorts are made of, it feels neat the way they rub your balls.  It's kinda
hot!"

I didn't say anything; I didn't even attempt an answer.  However, I did
wonder if my first born ever thought of anything other than his sexual
package; except food, of course.  More worrisome was the fact that he would
be the first to meet the qualifications to obtain his regular driving
permit.  I laughed at myself, wondering if I could be arrested, or fined,
for turning a nuisance loose on the general public.

"Ooooooo, dude, I don't think Dad wanted us to sit here to talk about how
good your balls are feelin'."

"Frank," Michael whined, "shut up.  You're bein' an ass."

"Yeah, and I'm feelin' kinda silky, too.  Wanna feel?"

"Okay, both of you, cool it!" They had just ruined any pleasure I had hoped
to get from this.  "You know, I sat here because I thought that maybe, with
the slightest bit of luck, you guys had matured enough for me to try and do
something nice for you.  Then, both of you turn around and start acting
like little kids, again."

"No, Dad!  Wait!  You don't understand."  Frank stumbled over his own
tongue.

"Yeah," Mike quickly jumped in to support his brother.  "We was just
goofin' off; really.  I mean, like, we're brothers.  We really do love each
other."

Frank grinned at me, and then he reached for his brother.  Frank pulled
Mike backwards into a prone position and laid a lip-lock on him.

"See, Dad, we really do love each other.  Mike's right, we were just
goofin'.  We didn't mean anything."

Before I could get started on the two of them, Sean got up and ran into the
kitchen.  He returned with a cold beer in his hands.

"They get to me sometimes, too, Mr. G.  You might find that sometimes it
takes more than one of those to block them out."  The 'those' Sean
referenced was the ice-cold beer he handed me.  I figured one was a start.

"One day, you two," I pointed at Frank and Mike, "are going to figure out
that I might be looking for two boys to show me a little maturity."  I just
sat there and looked at them for a minute.

"Sorry," they mumbled almost simultaneously while holding their heads down.
If they thought I was still buying that trick after all these years, they
deserved a swift kick.

"I'm not buying the act either.  You two have been pulling that stunt on us
since you were three years old."  That's when both of them slipped down in
the chairs a little.  Message received.

"Now, I'd like to know if anyone still plans on trying out for the sports
team and when are the tryouts."

"Not me," Mike answered immediately while Sean and Frank nodded.

"They're next week Dad and we still got a problem; transportation."

"Transportation won't be a problem if you don't make the team."

"We'll make it," Frank answered quickly.  I just looked at him.  "We will;
we're good.  Maybe we aren't the best around, but we're still better than a
lot of the guys."

"I'll tell you that, right now, your grandmother and Aunt Bonnie will do
the taxi service until we can find out what options the school offers.
Remember, Eric wanted to try-out for the swim team.  Transportation will be
an issue for him, also.  However, in the mean time I have something for
you."

I definitely had their undivided attention now.  I reached beside me and
picked up the handbooks that I had placed while the boys cleared away the
dishes.  No explanation was necessary.

"Yeah!  Oh shit, yeah! . . .Uhhh, sorry.  Cool!"  Michael blushed and hoped
that I didn't take the book back.  I'd heard the language many times, but I
wasn't accustomed to them using it with me.

"Hey, does this mean you're getting' us a car?  We're gonna have wheels,
dudes.  How cool is that?!"  Frank could jump from point A to point J
faster than anyone I knew.  Sean also looked excited, with reservations.

"Don't jump to any wild conclusions, guys.  All this means is that I'm
willing to concede that all of you are getting older and, like most boys,
want to be able to drive.  Right now, all you're getting is a learner's
permit.  When I'm satisfied that you can handle the car responsibly, then
we'll talk about getting your regular permit."

"When we get our regular permits, does that mean we get to drive your car
to school?"

"If I let you take my car, what do you think I'm going to drive?"

"We'll take the Caddy and you keep the Mark.  That works."

"Yeah, for you it works.  I think I'll keep both of my vehicles, thank you.
But I will let you drive the Caddy when you're learning and for your tests,
maybe."

"Cool, I'm gonna go read this." Michael had his book open and was reading.
With his photographic memory, I knew he'd soon be asking to go take the
test.  "When can we test?  If we pass and get our permit, does that mean we
get ta drive home?"  That was just a slight bit faster than I had
anticipated.  Mike didn't wait on an answer; he was completely absorbed in
the book.

"Thanks, Dad."  Frank came around to give me a hug and a peck on the cheek
before he took off.

I noticed that Sean stayed at the table.  "Sean, this includes you, too.
I'm afraid they only gave me two books, but I imagine Mike will be finished
with his tomorrow."  Sean just smiled.

"Thanks, Mr. G, but there was somethin' else I wanted to talk to you about.
Is now okay?"

"Sure it is; sounds serious."

"Well, I guess it is.  It's 'bout New York and those boys.  That sergeant
called here today.  He asked for you but I told him you weren't home yet.
When he knew it was me, he talked to me some, but he said he still has to
talk to you."  Sean was stalling, trying to work up courage or decide what
he wanted to tell me.

"Mr. G, he said I had ta go back to New York and testify.  He said it might
be soon."  Sean's eyes had one of the saddest, pleading 'help me' looks I
had ever seen.

"Sean, would you like to go for a walk and talk?"

"Yes, sir, that'd be nice.  I gotta put some clothes on though." He tried
to give me a little smile.  "It'll only take me a minute."

                                           * * * *

Sean and I walked down Mandarin Road.  We moved so slowly, it was more of a
stroll than a walk.  The cool air, and being outside with just the two of
us, seemed to help him relax.

"Sean, are you worried about having to testify?"

"Not really, but kinda, I guess."  I had to smile and he saw me.

"Guess that was kind of a dumb answer, huh?"

"Not dumb, Sean, just honest.  I imagine there are a lot of emotions kind
of tumbling around in you right now."

"Mr. G, I know what those boys tried to do to me.  I know they'd a tried to
rape me or beat me, or some stupid somethin'.  The thing is, except for
beatin' me that one time, they never did anything else.  If they go to
trial and get convicted because of what I say, then they'll wind up in
jail, or prison.  I've seen that show they call "Scared Straight".  If what
those men on the show say is true, then those boys'll just wind up bein'
some guy's bitch or whore.  They'll probably wind up bein' beatin' a lot
more and a lot worse than what they did to me."  Sean and I had stopped.
He didn't say anymore; he didn't need to.  When I saw that pleading look,
my heart really went out to him.

"Don't you think they should be punished for what they did to you?"

"Yes, sir, but not like that.  If that happens to 'em, then when they get
out, they're just gonna be that much worse.  They'll blame guys like me;
guys who might be gay, for the bad stuff and it'll start up all over again.
That's not what I want.  That's just like 'em movin' in a big, viscous
circle that nobody can get out of.  Know what I mean?  I want 'em to have
to do somethin' where they'll learn to let everybody live the way they want
to.  I just don't know how to say it."  I put an arm around Sean's
shoulders, and we turned around to walk back home.  I could feel his weight
leaning into me.

"Sean, do you have any idea what you think might be fair or how those guys
can learn to respect others and how they live?"  I knew that if he was
going this far, talking to me, he had to have some idea what he wanted.

"I've seen on TV where kids get into trouble and the court will make them
do community time and learn about whatever it was that got them into
trouble in the first place.  Most of the time it's where some kid gets
stopped for drunk driving and the judge makes 'im work someplace, like the
emergency room at a hospital, so he can learn what happens to people
driving drunk and getting' in a wreck.  That's the kind of thing I'd really
like to see happen, if it can be done.  I've heard of centers or shelters
for kids that've been kicked out of their homes because their parents found
out they were gay.  I think they should have to work like volunteers in one
of those places.  Do you think the court would do that?"  We were back,
standing in front of the house.

"Sean, I can't promise anything.  I can call the sergeant and talk to him.
I'll ask him to talk to the district attorney and see if something can be
done.  If those boys have any brains at all they should realize that you're
probably saving their butts from a very nasty experience.  My guess would
be that since you were the victim, the court would probably listen to you.
Do you think you could talk to the court?"

"Will you be there with me?" I nodded. "Then, I think so.  They won't think
I'm just a dumb kid, will they?"

"I think the court will look at you and see a young man who has just taken
a big step towards being an adult and a man."

My adult-man quickly teared up and leaned into me.  I just held him until
he was ready to let go.

                                           * * * *

David and I talked every two or three nights after that weekend he taught
the boys how to lap dance.  I told him I thought of him every time I heard
the grunts and moans coming from the boys' bedroom.  Their favorite
exclamation at night had become "ride that big boy".  I couldn't express to
David how much I appreciated that.  We both laughed, knowing they could
have learned something a lot worse.

We also discussed Sean and the talk I had with him.  David told me there
were centers like Sean described in most major cities, but they normally
preferred to operate quietly, out of the limelight.  The reason had to do
mostly with protecting their clients' or patrons' privacy.  David
volunteered to make a few phone calls and find out if there were any
centers near the boys' homes.

Three days after my talk with the boys, I received a call from my sister
conveying a very facetious message of gratitude.  She and I had discussed
the fact that the boys were approaching the age when they could qualify for
a license.  Having been a teenage boy, I understood how important it was to
them.  A license was a sign of becoming a man, of independence, of status.
I had forgotten that when Bonnie was a teenager, she couldn't have cared
less about having a license.

Bonnie wasn't upset about the license; she knew the day would come.  It
also helped that Mother had talked with Bonnie, cautioning her that the day
was rapidly approaching.  The day was the same day that Eric found out that
I had given the other three a book to study.  The result of the phone call
was that I would have the pleasure of taking the boys to take their
individual test.  Assuming they passed, and there was no doubt that they
would, I would then have the pleasure of teaching four boys to drive.  I
had to laugh at this last item because every boy always claimed that he
could drive; he didn't need to take lessons.  Yes, I remembered telling my
father.  He taught me anyway.

Again, assuming the boys passed their test, and assuming they wanted to
improve the natural driving skills every boy has, the issue became what
were they going to drive.  There was no way that I was buying a car for
each boy.  The point of the license was to let each of them have what every
boy knew he couldn't live without, and solve the transportation issue with
their various sports schedules.

I had been thinking for several months of getting a utility vehicle.  I
knew that we would need to get fertilizers, plants and various other items
for the yard from time to time.  Using the Caddy as a utility vehicle
didn't appeal to me; using the Mark wasn't even a consideration.  A pickup
was ideal, but then I needed a four-door pickup or there would be boys
riding in the back.  I seriously doubted they would care if it was rain or
shine if they were just coming home from practice.  One night I had a
nightmare involving a pickup truck spinning out of control from taking a
turn too fast.  Two teens were thrown from the back of the truck; the two
inside the cab were seriously injured.  Message or paranoia?

A SUV sounded like a good solution.  It could be comfortable
transportation, and with the back seats folded down, a good utility
vehicle.  The question was what kind.  I did some research and decided a
Jeep Grand Cherokee would satisfy our needs.  It was masculine enough for
the boys to feel good with it and built strong enough for their protection
to make me feel good about it.  In my mind I was replacing one layer of
protection with another, this one made of heavy steel.  Shopping over the
internet, I happened upon an older model Grand Waggoneer.

The Waggoneer was big, heavy, rugged, a four-wheel drive, and fairly cheap
due to its age.  The vehicle was in St. Augustine and, in the pictures,
appeared to be in half-decent shape for a fifteen-year-old vehicle.  On my
way to inspect the vehicle, and talk to the owner, my cell phone rang.

"Hey, Dad!  Guess what.  Me, Sean and Eric all made our teams.  Neat, huh?"
Frank was excited and I congratulated them; then, I heard the question I
hoped they would forget.  "When can we get our licenses?"

"Where are you now?"

"At school.  We called Grandma; she's on her way.  When can we get our
licenses?"

"Do you have your practice schedules?  It will have to be one afternoon
when you don't have practice."

"Uh-huh.  The license place is open on Saturday mornings.  Can we do it
this Saturday?"

"Okay.  We'll see what we can do this Saturday."

I was trapped and knew it.  Those boys had already been on the internet or
made the calls necessary to figure out how quickly they could test.

When I pulled into the driveway, the Waggoneer was parked in plain view.
The vehicle was cleaner and looked nicer than I expected.  It was white and
the wood grain trim down the sides was in good shape.  The interior was
red, a mixture of simulated leather and cloth.  The vehicle was just in
much better shape than I thought it would be and I couldn't complain.
Everything worked, the engine sounded good, I couldn't detect any
hesitation or slippage in the trans, and the owner had good maintenance
records.  Thirty minutes after arriving, I owned the Waggoneer.

Three days later, Saturday morning, the boys and I pulled up to the license
bureau in the Waggoneer.  They weren't sure they liked having to share a
vehicle, but their option quickly changed their minds.  Their option was
two wheel or two-footed transportation.  The boys were both nervous and
excited.  I was exhausted from having to listen to them argue who would be
the first to drive "their" vehicle.  Somehow, I had lost my utility
vehicle.

The boys entered the office, trying their best to look calm and in control.
I walked in praying for the strength to survive what I was about to turn
loose on an unsuspecting world.

A beer, maybe two, would have been real good about then.


End Ch Thirty-Two
To Be Continued

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