Date: Sat, 23 Feb 2002 20:07:20 -0700
From: RJ Murrin <rjmurrin@theriver.com>
Subject: SMALL TOWN GAY BOY -PART 5

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SMALL TOWN GAY BOY - PART 5

Chapter 1

My first two months in Denver bordered on miserable.  I should have arrived
earlier to look for housing.  I had to settle for a room in a practically
unfinished basement and share a bathroom with two other rented rooms.  No
cooking was allowed so I had to eat out.  There were no facilities to even
make a cup of coffee in the morning.

I was homesick.  My first week at classes made me realize that I may have
graduated at the head of a small town high school class but students from
city schools were more than a match for me.  I knew I was going to burn the
midnight oil if I was going make it.  This kept me from seriously hunting
for better living accommodations until Clay appeared one evening to take me
out to dinner.  He hit the ceiling.  I told him I had saved some money,
anyway, and I would give it back to him.  Oops!  That made him even
angrier.

Then, to aggravate matters still further, my 18-year-old hormones went on a
rampage.  I was leery of going to gay bars; besides I didn't know where any
were.  I went home every other weekend.  Clay always managed to work
Saturday morning but Conrad was another story - we could hardly do it in
the furniture story.  So, on the alternate weekends I spent in Denver, I
spent late night hours on Friday and Saturday in a gay bath on the west
side of the I - 25 Freeway, just off Speer Boulevard.

You could suck a lot of cock in the dark, encounter rooms or the cubicles
with holes cut in the walls.  The only trouble was that being a teen aged
cocksucker, I could suck six or seven cocks on Saturday and six or seven
more on Sunday and wake up Monday morning with an erection - hungry to
pleasure another cock

My one exception to bars was a bar at the leading downtown hotel.  It was
not a gay bar, but high-class and expensive.  It was possible to meet an
out of town guy or a local, who like myself, was on the discreet side of
gay. The reason for telling this is I met a 23 year- old guy, Barry
Rossini, a teacher at East High School one evening - he enters into my
story later on.

My luck either changed or I wised up.  I finally realized that the "Denver
Post" and "Rocky Mountain News" both included their Sunday's Classified
Advertisements Section in their Saturday editions.  This gave sort of a
jump-start to people looking for an apartment, employment, etc.  I focused
on a listing that was just a little above my upper limit as far as cost,
but sounded very attractive.  It had two telephone numbers listed.  I
called the first without a response.  I tried the second and a man answered
"Antique and Contemporary".  I told him I was calling about his classified
advertisement for an apartment.  He asked me quite a few questions
including my name and finally said that they had several people scheduled
to look at the apartment later Saturday or on Sunday.



Then he said: Toby, my name is Frank.  I am at my store in the area just
north of Cherry Creek Shopping Center.  He gave me the address and wanted
to know if I could be there within an hour.  I replied in the positive and
drove the speed limit all the way.  Luckily I had no problem finding the
address, just a little trouble finding a parking space - typical for the
area. The signage on the store (which was a furniture store) was clever:
Top line read - Antiques + Contemporary.  Bottom line, in smaller print
read - Nothing in Between.

A nice looking guy in his forties, balding, stocky, with a King Edward
beard asked if he could help me.  I asked if he was Frank.  He said no, but
to follow him.  Before we even approached Frank he said:

You must be Toby.  Toby this is my partner Art Fay and my last name is
Marostica.  Art and I own the furniture store together. What is your last
name?

Mason.

Nice name, Art should have been so lucky.

Why?

It is obvious his parents didn't know Pig Latin.  (It took me a while to
get that one, before I laughed.)

Art asked me to excuse Frank, in much the same way Kim would ask me to
excuse Clay when he first started joking around with me in front of her.

So, if your parking is good for an hour, lets go out the back and I'll
drive you to the apartment, it's not very far.  Frank was a well-built guy
with skin and hair color that testified to his Italian heritage.  He was in
his late thirties, or so I guessed.  We pulled into the driveway of a
brick, one-story house typical of Denver but not the neighborhood.  The
Cheesman Park area, for the most part, was composed of larger two story
homes.

I was totally amazed and genuinely impressed when we walked in the door to
his and Art's upstairs' space.

Frank, this is fantastic?

That is what most people say when they see it for the first time, but no
body can say why.  Give me your analysis.

Can I wander through the whole house before I do?

Be my guest.



Frank, I have never seen a contemporary interior before.  In this house it
is a total surprise the minute you enter the door, especially given the
exterior.  The off-white beige walls, light beige carpet, white woodwork
and the simplicity of the furnishings, plus the total lack of clutter are
great.  The colors in small accessories and the light window treatments all
contribute to making the small rooms look so bright and so large.  I love
the mix of contemporary furnishings mixed with a few antiques.

Why do you like the mix?

Frank, I know less about music than any other subject.  But, I remember
hearing once that classical music always had a major and a minor theme.  I
think that is what your antiques introduce - a minor theme.

We went down the stairs into the basement.  The stairs were covered with
heavy, tan, safety tread rubber covering.  The first room you entered had a
washer and dryer, but the floor was vinyl tiled in a tan color and the
walls were painted the same as those upstairs.

Then he opened the door to the apartment, I experienced the same sensation
that I had when we entered the front door - exact same colors and
contemporary furniture with an occasional antique piece for an accent.

The big exception was that the ceiling was exposed floor joists and heating
ducts, which had both been spray, pained a nice brown.

The apartment was exactly one half as big as the upstairs and located under
their Living Dining Room and Kitchen.  The antique accents were a
chest-on-chest in the Bedroom and an ornate marble topped coffee table
between two leather sofas in the Living Area.  The floors were vinyl that
looked like wood planking and there were oriental rugs in the bedroom and
sitting area (Areas is the right description. The rooms just flowed
together with hardly any separating walls.) The bed was exactly the same as
in, what I assumed was, Frank and Art's bedroom. A queen-sized mattress (no
box springs) rested on and was surrounded by a foot wide apron of polished
wood that projected a foot out at each side of the mattress but widened at
the head into space for bed lamp, alarm clock, etc.  It just seemed to
float above the floor.

I asked Frank where the bathroom was.  He explained that it had to be
located above the bathroom upstairs.  A door from the bedroom led into a
well-lit storage room and the large, tiled bathroom was on the other side
of the room.  The intervening storage room was finished and had walls of
cabinets plus a single bed with a nightstand.  Frank explained that some of
the cabinets were designed for hanging clothes.  If I had off- season
stuff, there was plenty of room.  The bed was to accommodate a guest, if
required.  All of basement rooms had 36 x 48 inch windows in large window
wells.  The windows were new, white vinyl with double pane glass -
obviously a part of the remodeling - and made the basement rooms light and
airy.

Finally we sat down, me on one sofa and Frank on the other, facing each
other.


What do you think Toby?

I have only seen two apartments in my life, but I realize this is a one of
a kind gem. Can you give me a couple of hours to decide?  It is just a
little over the high end of what I can afford.

Toby, don't hit me on my Italian jaw, but can I ask you a question?

Sure.

Are you gay?

Yes.  (I thought this might be one of the times where an admission was to
my advantage.)

OK, Toby.  Forget the $500.00 price in the paper. Is $350.00 satisfactory?
Before you answer let me explain that we have only one electrical and one
water meter.  So, utilities are included.

I walked over and gave him a kiss on his cheek as a sign of acceptance.

Oh, Toby.  I forgot one thing - utilities include phone service.  I will
give you the phone bill each month and you can identify your long distance
calls.  If we had put in separate meters and phone lines we would have
needed to get a building permit.  The apartment was slipped in illegally.

On the way back to the store, Frank explained that the former tenant, of
two year's duration, was a sour bitch that never spoke to them.  She would
tape her rent check to their door to the basement stairs and that was all
the communication they had with her.  Besides that, it took both he and Art
three Sundays to clean the place.  Both he and Art wanted someone
compatible and someone that wouldn't mind looking after the place during
their vacations and that sort of thing.

When do you want to move in Toby?

This evening if that would be convenient - oh shit, I don't have bedding,
dishes, anything else.

Don't worry come after 5:30, we will give you keys and, you can sleep in
the bed in the storage area and you can go on a shopping spree tomorrow.

Art met me at the door and invited me in. They had me stay for cocktails
and dinner before I went downstairs.  Frank was a great cook - simple but
filling Italian food with salad, bread and wine.  We became friends within
minutes.  After dinner, while Art was loading the dishwasher, Frank told me
go out in the back yard with him.



Art said - Toby, slap his face if he tries anything.

Frank said - We like to embarrass each other, Toby, but Art started it.

He had forgotten to show me that there were two parking spaces at the side
of their garage, behind the fence.  It was exactly like Carpenters set up
except one garage door faced the driveway at the front and the other stall
was entered from the alley.

I felt really comfortable in the apartment and felt as if it was my new,
Denver home.

Clay liked it too, especially the first night he stayed over and we
initiated it with hot, lusty sex.  He also thought Art and Frank were
terrific.



Chapter 2

In about two months Frank knocked at my door.  I had company.  They had
rang the door bell on the front door, so Frank just walked him through the
house instead of making him go around the outside.  It was Barry Rossini.

Besides conversations in the downtown hotel bar, he took me home one night
to an attic apartment much like Brad Kinny's room.  You entered from an
exterior, wooden stairs at the back of the house.  Before we entered he
said - Toby, it's just for sex.
  No talking.  Just whisper.

That night I discovered that Barry liked men's attention, but he had a
hang-up on returning it.  The only thing he was comfortable with was
jacking a guy off, but he did it slowly, tenderly and left you feeling very
satisfied.  (Who doesn't like to get jacked off.)

Toby, I shouldn't have come without calling you.  Hey Barry, that's what
friends are for.  He told me that yesterday night (Sunday) he had taken a
guy from the bar home.  He was a young guy from Kansas and his wife had
just kicked him out.  The guy had been drinking but Barry hadn't realized
that he was slightly buzzed.  Anyway, the guy starts calling Barry a fag
and demands a blowjob, he shoves Barry onto the floor, stomps down the
stairs and pisses on the lawn at the foot of the stairs.  When Barry left
for school today (Monday) the landlady stopped him when he walked by her
front porch and told him to get out the day the rent became due that she
didn't rent her upstairs out as a male whorehouse.

Barry wanted look for an apartment so he could move during the next weekend
and wanted me to help him move.  He would have every thing packed and with
two cars he could get out of the place quicker.

I told him that he was so upset he wasn't thinking clearly.  He could stay
with me until he had time to find what he wanted rather than renting the
first thing he looked at for a quick, temporary fix.  Then I said - Hell,
Barry.  Just move in.  Lets go upstairs and talk to Art and Frank.



Barry was about 5'-8" tall but looked taller than he really was because he
was rail thin.  He had prematurely graying hair, and a black mustache, fair
skin and blue eyes.  (I found out later that his feet were so small he had
to wear women's loafers but no one would have noticed if he hadn't told
them.)  His dick was a match for my 7 inch one except he was cut.  He was
cute but at the same time attention getting handsome.

I introduced him to Art and Frank and they listened to me relate Barry's
problems and my invitation to move in with me.  They readily accepted the
idea - Art told Barry I needed someone to keep me home nights, off the
streets and out of the bars.  I asked what they would want for rent with
two occupants in the apartment.  Frank almost got angry.  For Christ's sake
Toby, I told you want the rent was.  What do you expect me to do - lower it
just because we have two gays renting it now?

By the way Barry, what's with this Rossini shit?  You aren't an I-tie.

Barry explained that his father's grand parents were both from northern
Italy and his father was tall and blonde.  That satisfied Frank.

Shit, you northern Italians are more Swiss than Italian, but your so damn
good looking I'm going to let you stay any way.  But before you two go
downstairs I want to frisk Toby.

I asked - What are you talking about Frank?

First you bring Clay in here, now Barry.  They have got to be the two
best-looking studs in Colorado.  I've heard of gaydar but never a gay
magnet. I want to find it. I want to borrow it for a while.

I followed Barry back to his apartment, when we left we had all of his
possessions.  I rang the landlady's doorbell, when she answered I handed
her a key and said it was Barry's key to the upstairs apartment.

We slept with me spooned around Barry's curled up body.  I was a good boy,
even though a horny one.  I knew Barry was tired out and stressed out.

I have mentioned previously that I felt at home in the apartment.  Barry
did more to further that feeling.  He took on the role of a wife until I
became slightly pissed with it but I held my tongue.  Eventually, I learned
not only to enjoy it but, also, to depend on it.  He did the house
cleaning, cooked the meals, did my laundry with his and brought home
decorative accessories that complimented the contemporary furnishings, plus
occasional fresh flowers.  One night I awoke around two in the morning.  I
thought I was having a wet dream but Barry was sucking on my dick.  Another
night he shook me and said he couldn't sleep and asked me to fuck him.  He
had lost his all of his reservations about being gay.  It was really a home
now.  Barry fully satisfied me sexually.

Barry and I lived in the apartment together until I graduated from Denver
University and he stayed on a few years more.



Neither Barry nor I ever told each other we were in love with the other.
But he was the best friend I ever had.  We had a wild, fun time just with
ourselves, plus my friends, a few of his friends and some of Art and
Frank's friends.


Chapter 3

I will be selective in writing about the friends or this story could turn
into a lifetime occupation but I need to include a few sentimental
occurrences, though, because they seem essential to the continuity of the
story.

Conrad and Sharon finally got around to marriage.  They were being married
in Denver.  Conrad asked me to be his best man.  The marriage was on
Wednesday.  The rehearsal and the groom's dinner for the wedding party was
Tuesday, early evening.  Sharon, of course, stayed at her parent's house.
Conrad had a room at a Holiday Inn on Colorado Boulevard, where the Tuesday
dinner was held.  His parents couldn't attend but were at the wedding.

Sometime later, after the dinner, Conrad phoned me and said he was nervous
as hell, could I come over.  He thought a blowjob would calm him down and I
hadn't given him one for a long time.  I said, Conrad, if we get involved I
will be busting my butt to get back home to shower and change before the
wedding.  Why don't you check out of your room?  I will meet you in the
Lobby and you can follow me home.  That way we can help each other get into
our monkey suits in the morning.

We stood around and sat around drinking highballs with Barry, telling
jokes.  (Conrad did take a few drinks occasionally, but it was no longer a
problem for him.)  Suddenly Barry wasn't around.  Conrad asked where he
was.  I said he was probably in the bathroom jacking off.  Conrad laughed.
After a few more minutes, I took a look to see where he was - he had gone
to bed in the guest bed.

Conrad, it looks like your last night as a bachelor is going to be spent in
bed with me.

That's a pleasure I hadn't counted on.

Conrad was rock hard the minute we started to undress.  In bed we started
fondling and kissing each other.

Conrad, will you do something for me.

Anything Baby.

Fuck me.

He raised himself up on one elbow and said.  Since when has that been an
option with you?

Since, with my consent, Clay deflowered me on a Labor Day Camping trip a
couple of years ago.



And you haven't given me any boy pussy, yet?

No, but I have thought of getting naked and sticking my dick between the
seat cushions of one of the sofas in your store to see if you would top me
in front of a customer.

Toby, the thought of it has my sex drive in high gear.  I shouldn't you
know, getting married tomorrow, but the idea is wickedly tempting - do you
think we should?

Conrad, after Clay fucked me and I felt his hot cum shoot into my ass I
felt like he had put something of himself inside me and he was a part of
me.  It is the last chance for you to make me feel that way about you.

Do you have something we could use for lube?

There just happens to be a tube of KY under your pillow.  I reached in back
of me and switched on a bed light.

I won't put in on right away.  You like my mouth on your cock.  I'll suck
it a little. Then you can fuck me.  I put the KY on Conrad and told him I
would really smear around his cock rim.  I didn't want his oversized cock
head to get caught in there when he tried to take it out.

Oh shit, Toby.  Can you imagine me taking my vows with my dick caught in
your ass?

Conrad fucked me and shot a lake of fuck juice into me when he climaxed.  I
guess he had been saving a load for his bride and I got it instead.  It was
sooo goood!

A couple of hours later Conrad woke with me sucking on him again.

Toby, please don't - I've have to be able to get it up for Sharon tomorrow
night.

You will, you will get excited. You've always said she wouldn't let you in
until you were married.  Besides, if she is a virgin you might not get it
in for a couple of nights?

I got back on his cock and he began fucking my mouth.

Barry went to the wedding reception with me.  (Conrad invited him.)

Aaron never did return from his summer in Greeley the year of my
graduation.
  He stayed and earned a Master's Degree and became an instructor at the
university there.  He called me one evening that he had met a guy at a
restaurant, a farmer that lived near Windsor, between Greeley and
Ft. Collins.  He still taught but commuted to work.  His partner, Lee
Dalton, had inherited the farm; they lived in a huge, old Victorian
farmhouse - much remodeled.  Barry and I loved to go visit them on a
weekend now and then.  Each bedroom was almost as big as our entire
apartment.






Aaron told me, on the sly, that it was a good thing I had gotten to him
between his buns.  Lee would have killed him trying to he loosened him up
if I hadn't trained him to like it.  Guess Aaron got a big one to spend the
rest of his life with.  I was happy for him.

Chapter 4

One night about 8:30 Frank knocked at the door and said to come upstairs.
He wanted to introduce us to someone.  When I entered the Living-Dining
Room the visitor said - Hi Toby.

Well I'll be damned.  Are you Mike or Matt?  I never could tell you guys
apart.

Frank and Art looked quite dumfounded, pointing back and forth - Do you
guys know each other?  What's with the Mike, Matt stuff?

(Mike and Matt were twins.  Their father was a minister, self proclaimed I
think, of a Hispanic Church called "Iglesia de Dio" - Church of God.)

Matt explained that he had known me, casually, all of his life.

The other's just listened while Matt and I talked.

I knew Mike a little better than you.  He was a friend of Brad Kinney's.
Where is Mike?

In Phoenix, married and is a new father to a baby girl.  What are you doing
in Denver?

Going to Denver University, and you?

I work for UPS.  My dad kicked me out of the house when he found out I was
gay.  My mom slipped me some money.  A few weeks later, Mike told the old
man to stick his religion up his ass and left, too.

How do you know Frank and Art?

I see them almost every day.  I deliver UPS packages to their store.

Toby, weren't you a buddy of Taylor Smith?

More of a neighborhood friend.

Did you know he was the town's biggest cocksucker?

Really?







He saw me pissing in a urinal in Westgate Park.  He wanted to give me
$20.00 to suck my dick.  I told him mine was worth a $100.00.  One day at
Westgate Park, while walking through the trees, going to the swimming pool,
I entered one of the openings with picnic tables.  An older guy was sitting
on a table; Taylor was sitting on a bench between his legs with his head in
the guy's crotch bobbing up and down on his cock.

All the time I was talking to Matt my eyes, embarrassingly, were glued to
the ball lump in his crotch and what hung down his pant leg below his
crotch. I copped a look at Barry and he was doing the same thing.  Matt was
Hispanic, shorter, thinner and more petite even than Barry and had
beautiful bedroom eyes; the cock that was transmitting through his pant leg
would be large even, for a 6-foot tall stud.  (But one never knows what
pleasure God deemed to place in another guy's pants, does one?)

The next day Frank told Barry and I that Matt was truly hung like a horse
and that he certainly must wear a jock strap in the summer or it would hang
out the leg of his UPS summer shorts uniform.  Also, he was a total bottom,
no reciprocity, not even kissing.  But you could kiss him all over his
body, except on his mouth.  What he wanted was to look at lesbian magazines
and straight fuck mags while a cocksucker hung on his dick, preferably all
night.  He and Art took turns sucking on him.  I asked how he could last
all night.  Frank said he would lie on the bed, legs apart and space out on
poppers.  If he did get close to climax he would push you off, have a beer
and take a piss before going back to bed and jacking it hard again.  He
actually could feed you horse cock all night.

Being Matt and I had known each other a long time, and with hope in my
heart, I went to an adult book store the first chance I had - I bought some
plastic, shrink wrapped mags that were sold in packages and some poppers,
which I put in the back of the fridge.

To Barry's and my good fortune, Matt knocked at our door one Saturday
evening, while I was on an errand for Barry to the supermarket.  Barry had
invited him in and he was drinking Barry's specialty (a dry martini).

Matt explained that Frank and Art weren't home, so he came down to see us.
(Oh boy, did I hope I knew what for.)

Hey, Matt, I thought you drank beer.  You better be careful of those
Martinis.

Why?

They are like a woman's tits, one is not enough and three is too many.

I'm on my second so I have a one left to go before I switch to beer.

Matt was sitting on one of the leather sofas and Barry and I sat on the
opposite one looking at his package.  I think we both had the mother of all
erections.

Matt had to piss.  Barry showed him where the bathroom was.  I placed the
porno magazines and a bottle of poppers on the table between the sofas
before Matt returned.





When he returned Barry told me I had some phone calls while I was gone.  We
went into the bedroom area.  There weren't any calls but we whispered that
maybe we should give Matt a few minutes to decide what he wanted to do.

When we returned, Matt had his flaccid horse out of his pants and was
reading the mags.  In addition to a 9" fuck tool, his cock head can only be
described by saying that it looked precisely like the head of a real
horse's dick.  (Put your thumb on the top of your cock, just at the back of
the head; with your forefinger, pull the skin on the bottom of your shaft
back until your cockhead has a flat appearance.)  That is the best I can
describe it.  Hope you readers have actually seen a horse with his dick
hanging all the way down.

Matt, Frank told me what you liked.  (He didn't answer.)  He just continued
reading.  I asked him: Matt why do you like lesbo and fuck mags?

Because Mike and I used to fool around as kids.  He said we wouldn't be
queer if we called my cock a pussy.

Well you have a nice pussy.  No wonder Mike liked to play with it.

Are there any shaved pussies in those mags?

A few.

Have you ever wanted to shave your pussy?

No.

The conversation stopped.  (Couldn't think of a way to entice or excite
him.)

In a few minutes he opened the plastic seal on the poppers with his
thumbnail and inhaled.  He unzipped his pants, pushed them down to his
shoes and began to jack his incredible, beautiful piece of dick flesh until
it reached that stage between getting excited and totally erect.

Finally I though of something to say: Matt would you like me to grab a beer
for you?  Barry and I are both good cocksuckers and we could take turns
slobbery sucking your big meat all night.

Matt took off his shoes, threw his jeans and shirt on the floor and went to
the bedroom and flopped himself in the middle of the bed, spread his legs
and continued reading the mags.

Barry and I had a session with Matt that can only be described as a
cocksucker's wildest dream.  Barry sucked.  I sucked.  Matt's prick would
drip; he would rest occasionally, just as Frank described.  Neither of us
had ever been so high on cock.






Barry and I milked his cock like a couple of whores.  After hours of
sucking Matt, around 2 o'clock in the morning, blew his nuts.  Barry got
the load but kissed me and transferred some of it to me.  Matt collapsed in
the middle of the bed and Barry and I masturbated each other until we, too,
climaxed so we could get some sleep - one on each side of Matt.  All three
of us slept until almost noon.  After several cups of coffee, Matt left.
He gave us both bear hugs and said he would see us again.

Finally I completed my law studies.  The day of my graduation from Denver
University turned into on of the saddest and most bizarre days of my life.

Chapter 5 -

My parents, Art and Frank, Conrad and Sharon, Clay and Kim, Barry and
several other friends attended the graduation ceremony.  After dinner my
parents left for home.  About 2 o'clock the following morning Frank knocked
at my door.  A Colorado Highway Patrolman had knocked at his door (the
patrol car parked in front, lights flashing) and had asked for me.

The patrolman told me that my parents had been killed in an accident with a
truck.  They had (according to witnesses) switched from the left lane to
the right lane of the freeway to exit and were hit by a truck.

Their gasoline tank exploded and their automobile became their crematorium.
It took the police a while to decipher the burned license plate and more
time to locate their home address and to relate the story to a next-door
neighbor and inquire about any children or other relatives that should be
notified.

The neighbor and my parents had keys to each other's houses in case of an
emergency.  She told the police about me and helped the police find my
Denver address and that is how they were able to contact me.

Frank drove me home, arriving about 5 o'clock in the morning.  We rested,
but did not sleep until about 8 o'clock when Frank called Clay.  Both Clay
and Kim came immediately.  They insisted I stay with them, but Frank was
staying until Sunday evening.

It was a full week before Clay drove me back to Denver.  In the week's
time, Clay had the house appraised and listed it with a realtor.  Kim and
Frank helped me find my parents' will, insurance papers and all the other
things I needed, which I turned over to Clay.  Frank advised me not to sell
the furniture with the house or sell it locally.  He would arrange for a
truck come from Denver and pick up the furniture.  He wanted to buy some of
the items and the remaining would make more money in Denver and he knew
where to send them to get them sold.  Kim helped me sort through linens,
dinnerware, silverware, and other items.  Some she advised me to keep and
we packed those and took them to her house for storage until I wanted her
to send them to me.  Clay found a deed for two cemetery lots and took me to
the cemetery office.




The man in the office said I could sell the lots but he thought it would be
nice if I contracted with the local monument company to have a stone bench
placed on the lots in memory of my parents, which choice I thought was the
best.

I stayed in my parents' house after Frank left.  My last day, before Clay
took me back to Denver, he took the afternoon off and brought with him all
the documents that required my signature.

Toby, I was surprised that you were described in your parent's will as the
"nephew of John Mason.  I had assumed John and Debra were your parents.

No my parents lived in Douglas, Wyoming.  My mother died one year after I
was born and my father (John Mason's brother) couldn't cope with a
one-year-old child so my uncle John and aunt Debra agreed to take me.
Later, my father died but I was never legally adopted.  I knew this but it
was just a technicality and it didn't bother me.

Toby, I don't want to unload a lot of stuff on you but I feel I must tell
you what I have been thinking about.  Toby, I want to adopt you.

What?  Why?

Do you remember us sitting on a bench under a tree on the DU campus and my
telling you I had inherited a fortune when my father died?

Yes?

Well, since my father's death the money has multiplied through investments.
It is making me guilty that I have never told Kim about it.  Now I want to
set up a family trust for Kim and the Ann Kimberly and tell Kim about it.
But, and this is a big but!  Before I do it I want to adopt you so I can
set up a separate family trust in your name.

Clay, I already owe you so much.  I just can't let you add this to what you
have already done for me.

Toby, you are looking at it the wrong way.  I want to do it.  It would make
me very happy if you would agree.  Whatever you think you might owe me, I
owe you a thousand times more.  By the way, Kim knows about our
relationship.

Oh my God!!!!!

She's not angry with you or me.  She told me one night that she had known
for a long time.  If I had been cheating on her with another woman she told
me she might have killed me.  But she began to realize that our
relationship evidently satisfied a need of mine that no woman could
fulfill.  Believe me, Toby; I doubt I would still be married to Kim if you
had not been around the corner for me for all these years.





I signed the papers Clay wanted me to sign, including adoption consent
papers and the family trust papers (which were blank at that time).

Now Toby, I want to confess something to you.

What?

Despite your distress, I have been packing around a hard cock for the
entire time you have been home.  I can't help it, Toby; I want you so bad.
I feel so cheap even telling you about this when you have been through so
much this week.

I walked around the table to where he was sitting, put my arms around him
and kissed his cheek.

Clay, there is nothing cheap or disgusting or bad about one human being's
wants for another human being.  Those wants are right, beautiful and full
of love.  You said I would make me happy by signing those papers.  You
would make me happy if you used my body in any way that would satisfy your
needs.  I want you, too; in fact there is never a day goes by that I don't
want you.

Clay, get naked, come to my bed.  I have always fantasized about us making
love together there.

Clay had a bottle of poppers; he said they would slow him down.  I locked
the doors and pulled down the window blinds.  In semi darkness I took him
into my mouth.  I loved to suck Clay; he was so masculine - even his cock
looked manly.  I wanted to suck on him forever, as I felt Clay did, too.
Forever, turned out to be more like a few minutes.  Clay's 8 inch gift from
God signaled eruption.  Clay grabbed my head and pulled it into his crotch,
burying his cock deep into my throat.  His ball sack shrank and his balls
rose into position on each side of his cock shaft.  His cum nuts discharged
a flood of his warm, sticky, love juice into the back of my throat.

More to follow.