Date: Sat, 26 Jan 2002 14:56:05 -0500
From: Tom Cup <tom_cup@hotmail.com>
Subject: Terms Of Living - Chapter 3 Gay/Bi - A/Y

Copyright 2001, 2002 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All
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Terms of Living
By Tom Cup
Chapter 3
Homework


Andrew was feverish with flu.  Of course I hovered over him, taking his
temperature, forcing him to take fluids, pumping him with aspirin, and
laying cool face clothes on his forehead.  He smiled up at me with the
glassy eyed look of the merely lucid.  He pleaded with me not to leave him.
I stayed with him as much as I could, ignoring most of my other duties.

"I don't want to die yet," he said.

"Andrew, you're not going to die."

"I don't want to die until we make love."

"Now I know the fever has you," I smiled and turned to leave. Andrew began
to cry.

"You don't love me.  You don't love me."

He looked so frail and helpless, sick with fever but sicker of heart. I
loved him.  We both knew this. His words meant something else. They meant
that I didn't love him enough to forget my inhibition. Andrew was asking me
to admit my feelings for him.  He was asking me to state plainly my
intentions.  In a world that forbade the thought, Andrew was asking me to
promise that one day we would be together.

"I do love you," I whispered, "You know I do."

He cried. I sat down on his bed, gathered him in my arms and kissed him
lightly on the top of his head.

"I'm so alone," he said, "I'm so alone."

"I'm here Andrew.  You're not alone."

"Yes I am."

We didn't speak of it again that day but I knew that my time of denial was
over.  I would have to face these feelings, one way or another.  It was not
enough for me to be his friend, mentor or confidant.  Andrew wanted me as a
lover.  And I wanted him in the same way.  Even as he lay in my arms hot and
wet with fever, I was sexually charged.  I wanted him.  I wanted the warmth
of his body, the soft firmness of his flesh, and the communion of his
spirit.  I wanted to dwell in the rapture of sexual fulfillment with him. I
wanted to hear his panted joy of ecstasy.  I wanted to feel him quake in
pleasure.  I wanted see the awe of love in his eyes. Yes, I wanted him. I
had to face the fact.

*****


"What's this?" Craig asked

"My resignation."

"You're not leaving us John."

"I don't believe I can be of any further service to you."

Craig crumbled the letter and threw it into the wastebasket next to his
desk.  I stared unbelieving into the basket.  Surely he understood that my
resignation was the best for all concerned.  I was doing this to protect his
family, to protect his only son. I could no longer count on my self-control
where Andrew was concerned.  I had to leave. It was the honorable thing to
do.

"First," Craig said, "If I accepted that resignation neither Sheryl nor
Andrew would ever forgive me.  Second, John running won't change the way you
feel about Andrew; and God knows it won't chance how he feels about you."

I sat, not because Craig gave me permission or because I wanted too, but
because my knees went weak.  I couldn't stand. I couldn't stand and listen
to a man I considered a son speak of my having a relationship with his son
as if it were... natural.

And yet that was what Craig was doing.

"Look," he said, "John I know this is hard for you.  God knows what I would
do if I were in your shoes. Hell, I'd probably want to turn tail and run
too.  But I know a few things about Andrew.  He won't give up just because
you resign.  He may even go and experiment with someone that would wind up
hurting him.  I don't want that for my son.  I would prefer if he weren't
attracted to you... I mean, John, I would prefer if he was head over heels in
love with some girl or woman.  But he's not and indications are that he may
never be.  He's had a thing for you for a very long time now."

He stopped and laughed, no doubt recalling how I was the last one in on this
secret.  I felt sick to my stomach.

"I can't ask you to do this John. I really don't want to think about it.
You know? But he loves you and you love him.  Sheryl and I know you won't
hurt him.  We believe that. So whatever happens between you, it's OK. But
the resignation, I can't accept."

And so my noble gesture failed. Craig was right. No matter what happened
between Andrew and I, I would never hurt the boy.  In that statement I found
the answer I was looking for.  What was I afraid of? I was afraid of hurting
Andrew.  I was afraid that one day he would look back and think I had taken
advantage of the situation, taken advantage of him.  I was afraid that he
really didn't know what he wanted, that after I had given myself to him he
would decide I was not what he wanted. I was afraid that I would one day
look in his eyes and see disgust.

					***********

"You think to much," Andrew said as we sat in the cottage discussing my
feelings, "It's not like I don't know what I want."

"How can you be sure?"

"How can you?"

"Andrew you answered a question with a question."

"That's because it was a stupid question. You can't be sure about anything.
Nobody can."

"You think you want me.  Maybe after we make love you will decide that you
don't want me. I have all my experiences behind me Andrew. I can look back
over...."

"So do I!  I don't have as many experiences as you do but all mine tell me I
want this.  Why can`t you believe that John?"

"Because all of society says..."

"Screw society! I don't care about society.  All of society isn't here right
now! I am talking about you, John.  Why can't you believe I want this?"

Why couldn't I believe it? I had answered one question and was presented
with another.  I was having a hard time believing Andrew knew what he
wanted.  Maybe it was because I had known him since birth.  That made it
hard to accept.  I looked at him and remembered the bare assed baby having
green poop wiped from his buttocks.  I remembered his first steps, his first
word ^Ö `ball' ^Ö I remembered how proud he'd been to learn to use the big
potty.

He was so familiar to me and yet unfamiliar. This new phase in his life, and
in mine, was terrifying to me.  I expected him to poop in his diapers.  I
expected that he would walk and talk and learn to use the `big potty'.  His
feelings for me, however, were unexpected.

"I didn't expect this," I said.

"What?"

"I can't believe it because it is so unexpected.  I thought it was because
of social mores but when it comes down to it, it's because I didn't expect
it. What you are asking is so unexpected that it is unbelievable to me."

Andrew laughed.  "Believe it."

One of the hardest things to understand is one's self.  I continued to be
surprised at the new lessons I was learning as I dealt with my feelings for
Andrew.  I had believed that, at some point, both Andrew and I would be
merged back into the lives we once knew, like a wayward tributary winding
its way back into the river's main flow. I convinced myself that this was a
passing phase and social values would take hold, molding us once again into
responsible citizens ^Ö upholders of social norms, deniers of individuality
for the sake of communal consistency. I was too old to be a rebel with a
cause!

"What am I going to do with you?" I whispered.

He sat sidesaddle on my lap. His right cheek rested on my left shoulder. I
wrapped him in my arms. The heat from his body mingled with mine.  His hair
had the faint smell of strawberry from his morning shower. I ran my hands
over the silky softness of his adolescent arms. We both sighed.

"I want to make love with you John.  I want to try everything with you."

"I don't know what that means, everything."

"Everything."

He hopped off my lap, grabbed my hand and led me to the computer. ^Ö  It was
a wonderful machine, Craig told me, a gift that Andrew insisted that I have.
I used it for maintaining appointments and creating shopping list, those
sorts of activities. Andrew was about to open a new world to me. ^Ö He
explained the concept of DSL to me. I wouldn't have to remember any phone
numbers.  He showed me how to bookmark pages and store them in my browser
history.

"I think I'd better start you off slow," he added with a knowing grin.

The screen opened to Nifty Erotic Story Archive. I could feel my body heat
rising, my pores opening, sweat escaping my body.  Two more clicks and we
were in the Gay Men ^Ö Adult/Youth section of the site. I looked at Andrew as
he stood and offered me the seat.

"Start reading," he said.

"Andrew, how did..."

He rolled his eyes. "John, my dad works for Microsoft.  Come on."

"Yeah, I know but how did you find this...this... place?"

"Site," He corrected getting pleasure from becoming my mentor, "It's called
a `site.' You can find anything on the web if you know what you're looking
for. I was looking. So I found it."

"But why?"

"Because I wanted to know, John.  I wanted to know if there were other
people out there that felt the same as me.  I wanted to know if people
dreamed about the same things I dreamed about.  And there are, John.  It's
not just you and me.  Look at it! Look at all the stories. We're not alone.
We're not crazy."

I looked at the screen. It was filled with names of stories.  Andrew reached
around and clicked one. It opened.

"These are fictional you know?" I said to Andrew scanning the disclaimer.

"Yeah," Andrew countered, "But when I read them it's like I'm there.  I want
the world to be like this John.  I want to be able to love you and have you
love me, and you not feel bad about it. And I want to do everything they do,
with you.  Everything."

We held each other's gaze for a moment. The boy I once knew vanished from my
eyes.  In his place was an erotic tutor handing me my first homework
assignment. I then looked to the screen and began reading my first gay
erotic story: Davy's Diary.

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