Date: Thu, 21 Mar 2002 09:39:58 -0500 From: Tom Cup <tom_cup@hotmail.com> Subject: Terms Of Living - Chapter 4 Gay/Bi - A/Y Copyright 2000, 2001, 2002 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving alternality sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ************************************************************************ Terms of Living By Tom Cup Chapter 4 Coming Together My hands were shaking as I finished the story and closed down the computer. Andrew was sleeping peacefully on my couch. He looked like an angel with not a care for this world. I admired his teen androgynous shape, the length of his closed eyelashes, the gentle slope of his nose, and the rose color of his cheeks and lips. The boy was beautiful to me. As I stared at him not seeing him, I envisioned my dilemma. I loved Andrew and wanted to do the best for him. And yet I knew him well enough to know that what was seemingly the best was not the answer. What would it do to my beloved boy if I pushed him away? Craig was correct to think that Andrew might seek someone else to explore his sexual yearnings. The boy had demonstrated knowledge of the computer world that I did not possess. Surely if he wanted to find someone else he could. But that was not what troubled me. I was afraid that Andrew would take my refusal as rejection. I feared that no matter how delicately put, the boy would begin to hate himself, feel that there was something wrong with him. This was my true dilemma: how do I stay faithful to all involved? How do I remain faithful to my oath to be a faithful servant to Craig and Sheryl, to care for Andrew, and still remain true to who I am, who I aspired to be? How is it that the intellect and body aspire to different goals? Are we one soul or a fragmentation of many beings merged into one, always at odds with ourselves? These were the question flowing through my mind as I watched my beloved child sleep. -- My beloved child. -- I chuckled in realization of how I thought of this boy. He was my child. I had raised him as surely as Connie. And that was the rub, was it not? Connie and I were his true parents. Though I loved Craig and Sheryl, the truth was that they were not parents to the boy. They cared for him but they had no time to nourish him with love and attention. That had been the job of Connie and I; and we did it with relish. I could not help but to weep for Andrew and for myself. "What's the matter John?" I was startled by Andrew's voice. He came to me immediately and wrapped himself around me. The warmth of his body made me want to cry more. I held him trying to find the words. No matter how I framed the argument in my mind he was still too young to understand that I wished only the best for him. Societal mores demanded that I abandon him. His parents transferred their obligation to raise him, to see him through this difficult moment of his development, to me; and Andrew -- Andrew cared nothing for societal norms or parental wishes or the consequences of his actions -- Andrew merely wanted to be loved. "Please John, please," he begged, "Please don't cry. I'm sorry. Please don't cry!" I shook my head and waved my hand trying to communicate that it was not he that was to blame but to no avail. He was weeping now also; his body draped over mine, his warm sorrow enveloping me. "Please John. I'm sorry. I'll stop. I promise. I won't try to make you do anything every again. I promise." We cried until there were no more tears to shed and in that silence that followed our weeping, in his pleas for me to be comforted, I learned that Andrew truly loved me. ***** Andrew and I made a game of ignoring our sexual attraction for one another. But there were those occasional moments when one or the other of us forgot. I must say that I began looking forward to those moments when we held each other a bit too long, and longingly. What can I say? I confess that I am also human. Andrew's desire for me did not wane because we had come to terms with his feelings for me, my feelings for him, and with what I could allow myself to do with him and still feel like an honorable man. So I allowed him to sit on my lap as I read to him even though he was too old for that kind of activity. We nestled together over a comedy show -- neither of us convincing the other that the show was important. It was the warm feel of two bodies close together, the intimacy of holding each other that we craved -- And of course the good-bye kiss. The story that Andrew had me read showed me the world that Andrew envisioned. What I understood was that I could not give that world to Andrew, not immediately. Perhaps too many years of living inside the box, as they say. But I wanted Andrew to understand that I did love him, that it was my hang-ups that prevented us from being together, and that there was nothing wrong with his desires or with him. So when his good-bye kiss touched my lips and lasted a bit longer than it should, I allowed it. In truth, partly because he enjoyed it so much and it was something I could give and, in part, because I enjoyed it -- It felt wonderful to have those tender young lips pressed against mine; their wonderful soft firmness radiating heat as he kissed me whispering, "Bye, I love you." The boy's touch made me feel young and alive again. Perhaps that was the slippery slope down which I plummeted, for I began to crave his kiss, and when he opened his mouth to me the first time, the wetness washed over me like liquid sunshine. By the time we broke from the kiss I would have given him anything he desired but he did not ask. He simply smiled, knowing the affect he had on me. In the end I believe his patience with me was what increased my desire for him. I longed for another kiss. I ached to hold him in my embrace. The kisses no longer waited for a `Good-bye,' they demanded to become our `Hello.' I thirsted for them as if they were the sustaining liquid of a man too long in the desert, I could not get enough of them. I could not wait for them. Watching our comedy show we would suddenly find ourselves bathing each other's tongues. "We have to stop," I panted. "I know. I'm sorry John. I just get carried away some times." "Me too." We would stop. Both dreading and eagerly awaiting the moment when we would have to say goodnight, the moment of your last evening kiss. I would immediately shut the lights and retire to my bedroom, slow stroking myself to orgasms that I had not experienced since youth. Was I sexually frustrated? No. To the contrary I was more sexually alive than I had been in years, and more sexually active. I learned more about the pleasures of my body than I could have imagined were possible. At my age, I was learning of sex anew, as in the light of gay adolescence. I was enjoying my body in new and unexpected ways, always with the smell and taste of Andrew fresh on my mind. "I came last night!" Andrew told me excitedly. "What?" "I mean really. Sperm!" "Andrew." "Come on John, I'm not asking you to do anything. I just want to tell you about it." He told me. Like me, when we left each other, he couldn't wait to stroke himself, to relieve the warm tensions that grew with our time together. He had until that time produced only clear liquid orgasms. He shared with me his first adult orgasm. I was transfixed by his excitement and pleasure. "I really wish you were there," he smiled. I found myself wishing the same. I imagined it time and again in the weeks that followed. As I masturbated after his departure, I would hear his breathing next to me, hear him groan as I groaned, feel him erupt as I enjoyed my own orgasm. I knew I was taking steps closer to giving myself to him. I could not stop, did not want to stop, eclipsing toward making full and complete love to Andrew. ***** "What's wrong John?" I took him by the hand and led him to the couch avoiding the usual ritual of a greeting kiss. I didn't know how else to state the urgency of the conversation to follow. But it was again time to talk about our growing sexual conduct. I was trembling at the thought of telling him I was ready to become his lover; I was ready to abandon my inhibitions. I really didn't know what that meant, where my confession would lead. But I knew we would be gentle with one another, we would take things slowly. "What should we do?" Andrew asked. "I don't know. But I can't pretend I don't want to anymore. I mean I am scared and excited all at the same time." "Me too," Andrew laughed. He wrapped himself around me and the kiss we exchanged was that of two passionate lovers. His mouth was sweet and warm. I allowed my hands to roam his body. His firm, soft curves ignited my senses. He moaned, taking my hand to the place I had so consciously avoided. I had never felt such overwhelming pleasure as at the moment when my hand touched the stiffness of his arousal. He spread his legs encouraging me to explore him fully. I did not object; I did not hesitate. I ran my hand over the boy's loins encouraging his pleasure, and mine. We became giddy in our freedom with each other. "I love you so much," Andrew whispered. "I love you too. You know that." "Yes, I do. Thank you John." "For what?" "For making it OK." I laughed. My hand left the warmth of his groin and stroked the smooth cheeks of his face. We stared into each other's eyes. Our mouths joined again. Andrew released the clasp of his jeans and moved my hand into them. Oh! The warmth of him! The smoothness of his taut skin! The silkiness of his pubic mound, so delicately splattered with youthful down! And the tender hardness of his erection! I stroked him as we kissed. He moaned, breathing his hot delight as he grew close to fulfillment. "Oh God John," He breathed as he lay back in my arms moving his hips to the rhythm of my massage, "It's so good. So good." He closed his eyes and allowed the pleasure to build, releasing it to me with breathless pants. I had no need to stroke myself or even to remove my organ from my trousers. The joy of the boy's orgasm surged through me and made my own complete. ************************************************************************ News: Updated at the Tom Cup Library: Terms of Living Chapter 9 Added 03/18 Stephen Miller's Journal Chapter 10 Added 03/18 Calvin Book 2 Chapter 6 Added 03/09 The Innocents Part 3 Chapter 5 Added 03/07 Kevin Part 3 - Donna Chapter 6 Added 03/01 Tommy-The Return Chapter 6 Added 02/26 Private Lessons Chapter 2 Added 02/20 Of Our Teenage Years Chapter 2 Added 02/09 David's Christmas Present - Ch. 18 Added 01/31 In Memory of Steve Chapter 6 Added 01/29 Age Before Beauty Chapter 1 Added 01/26 Name Change: Beginning March 1, 2002 access to the Tom Cup Library can be gained by going to http://www.tomcup.com. Access to the site will also remain available through http://tomcup.iscool.net. Calvin in Paperback We are pleased to announce the pre-ordering sale of Tom Cup's Calvin. This is one of the fans of Tom Cup's writing favorite stories. Being released in paperback, this story has been newly edited with new additions to the story. For more details visit http://tomcup.iscool.net or http://www.tomcup.com New sites, New Stories, Old Favorites added to the Tom Cup Library: If you haven't visited the Tom Cup Library in a while, you're in for a treat. Calvin - Book 2 is in production, Kevin is back (as well as Antonio) in Kevin Part 3 - Donna, along with other new stories and sites. Check it out! All my best, Tom Cup "Why is it that the words we write for ourselves are so much better than the words we write for others?" Sean Connery as William Forrester in the film "Finding Forrester."