Date: Tue, 08 Aug 2006 18:49:29 -0700
From: Joseph Farrin <bigblaise@hotmail.com>
Subject: THE SEMINARIAN

I live in Harlan, Iowa, around 60 miles northeast of
Omaha, Nebraska.  Like most small towns everywhere,
everyone knows everyone and also their business and
what they don't know for a fact they fabricate -- women for
the most part -- the men aren't quite as bad.  I'm twelve
years old and live in a big, pine-paneled room in the
basement.  It's neat -- cool in the summer and warm in the
winter. I have my own bath, TV, video player and my
dad's old computer with a broadband connection.  There
isn't much more a boy twelve years old really needs --
except his own cell phone, to which my dad said,
emphatically, NO!

Again, like most small towns, the people who live here grew up
here and so did a lot of their parents.  They own their own
homes and there isn't a lot of buying, selling and moving going
on.  The population hadn't changed for decades and everything
is quiet, stable maybe even static (if you read static as dull
you're right on target).

To our right live the Bailey's -- a family of three girls, now all
married and living across town.  To the left live the Courtney's.
They have one son, Dylan.  My name, by the way, is Joey
Fairchild.

I always stared, as discretely as possible, at Dylan, but other
than that never paid any attention to him because he never paid
any to me.  It was four years ago that he enrolled in the
University of Nebraska and was only home on the holidays and
for two weeks during the summer.  He had a summer job in
Omaha and lived with his roommate at school, so his mom
explained to my mom.

This summer he was home for the whole summer, waiting for
classes to start at a seminary in Dubuque.

Dylan was the first young person in our church to seek a
religious vocation.

Reverend Monahan, from the Catholic Church was the only
previous resident of Harlan to be ordained. This summer I paid
a lot of attention to Dylan.   When he'd left for college, he was a
plain, ordinary, small town boy.  In four years he blossomed into
a real stud, long, light brown hair, streaked blonde around his
face, brown eyes, wide mouth, nice smile and a low, soft voice
that glued your attention to him whenever he was speaking.
Holy shit!  He even had pierced ears and small, round, gold
earrings. I wondered about that.

Last Sunday he delivered the sermon at our church.  He'd
taken out his earrings and was dressed in a clerical grey suit;
white shirt and a maroon tie with a small, geometric print and
his long hair pulled back into a pigtail. He almost looked like a
minister.   I don't know what the congregation expected but he
talked about prejudices -- children weren't born with them - how
and where we acquire them  -- from our parents, school
classmates, the church and even from the government.  The
rumor was that it was a little radical for Harlan but our minister,
when asked, said Dylan would calm down as he went along. I
liked his sermon and thought it was better than the minister
usually came up with.

I still stared at Dylan, but it was a one-way street. He still
looked right through me.  That is, until my parents had to go to
Oklahoma for the funeral of a cousin my mom had grown up
with.

On the morning they were to leave, mom rang Mrs. Courtney to
confirm that I could go over there but Dylan answered the
phone and said she must have forgotten as she and his dad left
early this morning for a two week's vacation but he'd be glad to
watch out for me and said he'd be right over as soon as he
packed a gym bag.

My folks backed off the driveway about ten o'clock and Dylan
said he'd been up way late last night at a friend's house and
would I mind if he took a nap. (I think he had a hangover). I
ushered him downstairs, he dropped his pants and konked out,
naked, on my bed.  I spent hours looking at him satisfying all of
my heretofore-unsatisfied curiosities about him -- especially as
to what he had between his legs.

When I was certain he was asleep, I sat on the floor beside the
bed and looked at his dick.  It was an ever-changing sight --
better than TV. He was big and had a foreskin.  I'd never seen
one before but I knew what it was.  He was soft, semi erect
then totally erect and then the cycle repeated itself. He'd
sometimes reach down to adjust it.  I got especially interested
when he got so hard his cock head slowly crawled out of his
foreskin.  Shit he had a big one when it was fully erect.  It was
on the thin side and I'd guess seven- inches long. Seeing the
head of his cock exposed that way made me so hard I about
went crazy and there was no way I could resist jacking off.

Finally I thought I'd better quit before Dylan caught me looking,
went out and turned on the lawn sprinklers. When I came back
he was awake but still naked.  He sure wasn't modest. I told
him my mom had left me some money to eat out and asked if
he was ready for lunch.

He replied he hadn't eaten breakfast yet and asked if I could
make coffee, toast and orange juice and bring it down to him.  I
made two hot dogs for myself and after he finished what he'd
asked for he said, "Those hot dogs look good, would you mind
making a couple for me?"

He was still naked, so I looked at his dick while he ate the hot
dogs.  I told him my mom had left a stack of towels and
washcloths on the dresser and he could use my shampoo if he
wanted to.

"In a minute."  He walked across to the area where the TV, sofa
and a couple of lounge chairs were and lit a cigarette.  When he
did shower, he came out of the bathroom with a towel around
his neck, dried in front of me and brushed his hair.  Whether
he'd been playing with it or just scrubbing it, he had another
erection and his dick head had popped out of his foreskin
again.  Jesus, I'd never expected all of this and didn't know if I
was up to it or not, I'd probably be jacking off every half hour.

Finally he put his denim shorts back on and pulled a colored T-
shirt over his head, smoked another cigarette and asked if I'd
go with him while he did a couple of errands. He had some
letters in his gym bag to be mailed, some dry-cleaning in his car
to take to the cleaners, said he had to stop by the bank and
then asked if there was ice cream in our fridge. I said I wasn't
sure so he asked me what flavor I liked best.  I told him mint
with chocolate chips so that is what he bought.

We did go out to eat dinner, and on arriving home, he ran over
to his house to get a six-pack of beer, which he asked me to put
in the fridge.  It wasn't dark but it had cooled off and a breeze
had come up which made it nice to sit on the back patio
because the breeze kept the mosquitoes away. We had a dish
of ice cream for desert and sat on the patio and for the first time
since he'd come over, we started conversing.  Suddenly he
asked me: "Does it bother you my running around naked?"
Well, I wasn't about so say yes or he might stop.  Then he
volunteered, "The dorms at the university are so overly hot in
the winter, half the guys run around naked.  I just got used to it
and, to tell you the truth, I think it's comfortable.  Then,
summers I've been living with my roommate in Omaha and we
did the same thing there.

Every now and then I went to the kitchen for another beer for
Dylan and a Coke for myself.  Twice before I went to bed, he
walked over to the edge of the patio and pissed on the lawn -
another boner each time he pissed.

I hadn't slept well for two nights -- anxiety over my folks leaving,
or something. I mentioned it to Dylan when I excused myself to
turn in.  He walked downstairs with me, went through his gym
bag and came up with a packet of small pills called Dramamine,
explained they were really for motion sickness but he found
they relaxed him and allowed him to go to sleep without
knocking him all the way out like sleeping pills did.  He broke off
a small piece of one and told me to try it.

I did go to sleep and was able to wake up enough to go to the
toilet when the need arose.

The bathroom was under one of the upstairs bathrooms,
because of plumbing considerations, and to get there I had to
pass the bottom of the stairs and half a flight up was the back
door, which opened onto the patio. I heard voices but was too
tired to do anything but go back to bed.  About two hours later,
the voices were still outside, mixed with laughter.

I don't know what time it was but at some wee hour of the
morning, I woke for the third time.  Dylan was in bed and he
was pushing his cock in and out between my legs where they
met my body.  I had no idea why he was doing it, so turned my
head around and said, "Dylan!"  He said, in a nonchalant voice,
"Hi Joey, did I wake you up?"  He knew he had.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm a little drunk and I'm dry fucking you between your legs.  I
thought you might enjoy it.  I saw you sitting on the floor by the
bed this morning, checking out my cock and jacking off."

Well, he knew. There was nothing I could say.  But he let me off
the hook right away by saying, "I was seducing you all morning
going naked in front of you. So, I thought I'd bring things to a
head by waking you up now."

"You aren't angry, then."

"No way! I want you to take care of me."

"How do I do that?"

"Suck me off.  If you don't know how, turn around and scoot
down in the bed and I'll fuck your boy mouth.  It might take me
a while to climax after drinking."

"It did take him a while but I really enjoyed it. He was gentle and
when he began hollering "I'm going to cum!" I loved the fact
he'd been brought to climax having sex with me.  I loved it
when he shot off in my mouth and I could feel his cum pouring
out of his piss slit.

He cuddled me in his arms and we both went to sleep.  In fact it
was almost noon again when he woke.  I had awakened an
hour earlier and was, this time, playing with his dick instead of
just looking at it.

It was flaccid when I first started but I held it in my hand,
skinned back his foreskin and sucked his big, hairy balls.  It was
now hard as a rock but, at the same time, so warm and soft.  I'd
never experienced anything like it felt before.  I loved it.  I
closed my lips around the rim of his head and moved my hand
slowly up and down his shaft, hoping that he'd climax again in
my mouth. I really loved the stuff that came out the end of his
cock when he fucked me in the mouth last night.

He woke up while I was jacking him but this time I knew he
wouldn't be angry.  He said, "God, Joey, you can get me so
excited.  I've never known anyone that can play with a cock the
way you can.  I've got to piss.  I don't think I can cum right now.
Will you give me a minute to go to the bathroom?"

When he came back he was soft but his dick was swinging from
side to side as he walked.  "You love my big cock, don't you,
Joey?"

Shit! I didn't mean to but his question made me tear up and I
started crying.  He got back in bed and pulled my head over to
his chest.  Finally I managed to say, "Yes.  And, I love you, too."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes!"

"I'm glad, because I love you, too.  I was always afraid to tell
you because you are so young and so cute.  I didn't know if you
were gay.  I didn't want to risk scaring you.  I'm so happy we've
got a few days to ourselves.  I seduced you yesterday to see
how you'd react.  Then I knew you liked cocks.  Now I know you
love me."  That made me cry harder.

Finally he reached over to the bedside table, handed me a
Kleenex and said, "Here, blow your nose and try to stop crying.
Then we'll shower together and you can suck my dick in the
shower.   You'll love it.  It will be all wet and slippery with the
warm water running over it."

It was and it was so good. On my knees I sucked him off and
he gave me what I not only wanted but needed -- his love juice.
He reached down, put his hands under my arms, raised me up
and locked me into an open mouthed kiss that seemed to last
forever.  I watched him shave, still naked, and he was truly
beautiful.

"Joey, we have two months and one week of summer left
before I have to leave for the Seminary.  We'll find a lot of ways
to be together, believe me."

When both his parents and mine were gone, he'd come over to
my house or I'd go over to his.  I liked doing it in his bed.  It
made it seem even more intimate than doing it in mine.  A
couple of times he called to see if I could go to the movie with
him or come over to watch a video-tape he'd rented. I liked
doing both.

Going to a movie always meant we'd go somewhere afterwards
and get something to eat.  Guy's he knew that were his age
would ask him if he wanted to go grab a beer.  He'd say no
thanks, maybe some other time.

Girls of all ages would leer at us and it was so easy to read
their minds.  They wondered why the two of us were together.
What we were doing together.  They wished I'd just get up and
leave so maybe Dylan would give them the eye, give them a
ride home, stop on some dark road on the way, kiss them,
unbutton their blouse and play with their tits, then put his hand
inside their panties and play with their pussy, put on a condom
and fuck them hard and deep as they pleaded with him to stop
because it hurt (hurt so good is what they'd mean). Then, going
home, I'd unzip his pants, open his fly and lift up his shirt, run
my hand up and play with his nipples and then pull the foreskin
back on his erecting dick, lean down and suck it.  He'd always
find a long way home to give me time to get him off. Then,
parked on his driveway or mine, he'd masturbate me while we
sucked face.  I was always the one that ended up getting his
big dick on the nights we went to the movies.

Like mine, Dylan's room was in the basement. The videos, too,
were just another excuse to get together.  He never rented one;
he'd just play a porno film he already had. They were so to the
point and so hot, they really got to me, especially when Dylan
would mimic what was going on in the film, like the time he had
me straddle him and stick my butt in his face while he licked my
ass -- stuff I'd never even dreamed of doing.  Sometimes,
between the videos and Dylan, I'd get so hot my whole body
would start to quiver.  I couldn't control it.  Dylan loved it.  He
said he'd never seen anything like it in his life and it really
excited him.

One night I got the quivers really bad and Dylan got so excited
and, in turn, got me so excited that he got up off the sofa went
to his dresser and returned with a bottle of oil, rubbed it all over
his hard cock, leaned me back on the sofa, put a pillow under
my ass, pushed one leg over the edge onto the floor and lifted
the other one over the back of the sofa.  Not one word was
spoken but he touched my hole with the head of his erection
and slowly pushed it inside me.  Like the time I'd locked my lips
around the rim of his cock head, my ass voluntarily did the
same. He didn't even take one stroke but whispered out three
times in rapid succession, "I'm ejaculating, I'm shooting again"
and then "Oh my God, I'm doing it again.  He collapsed atop me
and kissed me.

It was good for me. I knew now Dylan really did love me and it
stopped my quivering.

I guess you could call it the big event of the summer was one
afternoon around three o'clock, Dylan came over and told my
mom that his roommate at the University was spending three
days at his parents cottage in Spirit Lake (Spirit Lake is just this
side of the Iowa-Minnesota state line and is called Iowa's great
lakes area.) It is one of Iowa's most beautiful areas and Lake
Okoboji is often compared to Canada's Lake Louise and
Switzerland's Lake Geneva because of its deep, crystal clear,
blue water. My mom knew the area and said I could go, wishing
she could go, too.  It would probably be my summer vacation.

It wasn't too far, but we didn't get to leave until 3:30 after we
were both packed.  On the way, he told me our minister had
scheduled him for one more sermon and he was thinking about
what he would say.  He wanted to say something that I would
recognize as being addressed to me personally because it
would make me understand how he, as a seminary student
could be in love with me, a twelve year old boy.  He added, "I
will make occasional eye contact with you, and I want you to
make eye contact with me.  Are you agreeable."  I said, "Sure."
I was flattered.  I'd never had a sermon directed to me before
and I was curious from that day to the Sunday he delivered his
sermon.  He never mentioned it again.

>From there, the conversation switched to his University of
Nebraska roommate.  His name was Bernard "Bernie"
Janowski; his grandfather was from Poland.  Dylan said I'd love
him after I got over the initial shock.  I asked what he meant by
that.  Dylan said he was a flaming queer.  I asked what that
meant.  He said it meant that he was as queer as anyone could
get.

Dylan unzipped his pants and fished it out, reached over,
grabbed my hand and put it on his erecting cock.  Jesus, I loved
that guy -- seminarian or not he just had to be the horniest,
hottest dude alive.  Or at least I thought so until I met Bernie
Janowski.

Bernie's cottage backed up to the lake and had a sailing boat
docked at a pier in back.  He and Dylan had been in contact by
cell phone within the past ten minutes.  He had a cocktail
shaker of Martinis on the table by the chaise lounge which he
was sitting on naked.

The minute we opened the gate to his back yard and walked
around the corner of the house, he called out "Darlings, come
give Mother a big hug and kiss.

"Dylan dutifully complied and I followed suit.  Mother turned to
Dylan and said, "You naughty boy, why have you kept this
beautiful angel from me for so long?" Turning to me he said,
"Come here my child and give me another big kiss."  Despite
the fact Dylan had told me that Bernie was only twenty-two,
despite his age he reminded me of Dame Edna that I'd seen
once on TV.

Dylan was right, he was a flaming queer, but I already loved
him.  Who wouldn't?

Dylan asked him if he had some soft drinks in the fridge he
could get for me.  Bernie replied, "Our little angel survived me,
give him a Martini. He's earned one." I didn't like it at first,
sipped it now and then and despite tasting strange I began to
like it.  Maybe it was Dylan sticking the toothpick with the olive
in his mouth, licking the olive and then putting it in my mouth.  It
was the start of something, he began feeding me some of
whatever he was drinking or eating the rest of the evening.  It
was a little thing but sexy as hell -- and not unnoticed by Bernie.
(Few things were for that matter.)

As far as noticing things, I was getting an eye full, too. Bernie
was, believe it or not, a skinhead, still boyish looking and at the
same time very masculine if you didn't include his current
behavior, which I knew he was faking because once he lapsed
into his normal personality and he was just like every other
young man.  He became for a few minutes Bernie instead of
Mother.  I loved both of them.  His body was hairless except
below his knees and at one point he developed an erection and
he was the same length but a tad fatter than Dylan.  It was
beautiful -- it was man sized yet looked like an oversized boy's
dick in the crotch of a prepubescent boy -- hairless.

Dylan cooked the steaks on the outdoor barbeque while I set
the table with the napkins, china, silverware and wine glasses
that Mother gave me, while she brought out French bread,
butter and red potato salad with dill.  She also placed a metal
stand by the table with a bucket of ice containing two wine
bottles.

The table had a glass top.  I looked at their dicks as much as I
ate. Dylan kept cutting a piece of steak from his plate, leaning
over and feeding it to me, as well as a piece of bread and his
wine glass to drink from.  As I said, it was sexy. If I needed any
reassurance all I had to do was look at the reaction of his big
dick -- it found it sexy, too.

When we'd finished, Mother had me help her bring out desert,
which was a birthday cake with twenty-two candles and a bottle
of Champagne.  I carried the cake and Mother carried the
Champagne and the flute glasses on a tray.  We both sang
"Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday to You, Happy
Birthday dear Dylan, Happy Birthday to You."  Dylan hadn't
remembered. It was a complete surprise. He kissed Mother first
and then me, slipping his tongue into my mouth when he did.

With our flute glasses and a new bottle of Champagne in tow
we went down to the sailboat because a nice breeze had
developed.  Despite the breeze Bernie started the outboard
engine, saying it was too troublesome to unwrap and hoist the
sails. For the first time ever, I was pretty well skunked but I
don't think the other two were half as drunk as they seemed to
me. Out in the middle of the lake, which, being a weekday, we
had to ourselves, Dylan took the tiller and Mother motioned me
to stand up in front of him.  She went down on me and flogged
her meat unmercifully until she came a few minutes after I shot
off down her throat.  The two of them switched places and with
Bernie watching, Dylan squatted behind me, spread my cheeks
and ate out my ass until Bernie tossed him a can of lube.  He
lubed me up and as the sun was giving it's last golden rays of
the day to us, he stuck his big cock, my favorite thing on this
planet earth, all the way into my boy twat and literally, as they
say, fucked the hell out of me while Bernie jerked his big, boy
looking cock.

Whether it was because Dylan had been training me or
because of the Martinis and the Champagne it was the first time
it didn't hurt having him inside me. Suddenly he put his hands
on my hips and pulled me up tight against him.  I knew he was
going to shoot.  He did and for the first time I felt him ejaculating
inside me.  I turned, the sky was now pink in the east and he
wrapped his arms around my waist and again pulled me up
tight to his front. He kissed me again and again until, finally he
said, "Joey I really can't think of another way that would say
more strongly, I love you."

"I was so touched that all I could respond with was to put my
arms around his neck and say, Thanks, I love you too. It was a
beautiful experience -- one I'll never forget."

When I turned and looked back at Mother, despite the
approaching darkness, I could see that she was very emotional,
she turned her head to avoid eye contact, so I just kissed her
cheek and said, "I love you, too, Bernie, thanks for a lovely
evening.

Once back at the dock, Dylan and I helped Bernie take the
dishes into the kitchen and load the dishwasher.  We talked a
while.  Bernie and Dylan had a nightcap, not that they needed it
and Dylan asked Bernie if we could sleep in the cabin on the
sailboat. We did.  The forward bunk, right under the deck, slept
two.  We cuddled, kissed and told each other how much we
loved each other. Dylan went to sleep first.  I followed soon
thereafter with my hand wrapped around his flaccid dick.  It had
turned out to be a long, eventful day.

After breakfast, Dylan put on some shorts and went on a
bicycle ride.  Bernie told me he had talked to him about me
many times, ever since they first became roommates their
freshman year.  How he loved me but I was too young to fool
around with and then told me Dylan was a good man, as
beautiful inside as he was outside, how lucky we were to have
each other. He hoped he would be as lucky someday.

I told him he would be he was truly a handsome young man
and he had the most beautiful dick I'd ever seen.  He asked
how I knew.  I told him about a free web site on the Internet
where men sent in pictures from all over the world and how all
Polish men seemed to have the biggest, most beautiful of all.

He said he was familiar with the site.  He erected and I got onto
my knees between his legs and took it in my mouth.  He didn't
last long and said that was the first time he'd ever been sucked
off by a boy.  That afternoon I went for a bicycle ride as I figured
he and Dylan would like some time by themselves.  Bernie
seemed more at ease when I returned.  I guessed Dylan had
fucked him.

The next Sunday our pastor announced that he'd asked Dylan
to be guest speaker again, before he left for the seminary in
Dubuque.

Dylan first reminded the congregation that he'd talked about
how we acquire prejudices last time he spoke and that we had
not been born with them. He started with when he enrolled at
the University of Nebraska and had majored in Education.  He
said the thing that surprised him most about the University was
the international diversity of its student body, young men and
women from Europe, Asia, Africa, South America, Australia and
the Pacific Islands and he wanted, this time, to tell us how he
conquered his prejudices.

"It started with just saying hello to people and telling them his
name.  It was amazing because they all seemed to be looking
for friendships in this new country.  At first he'd imagined
ridding himself of prejudices would be difficult, but it was as if
the Lord had just been waiting for him to take the first step.
>From there on it was so easy he couldn't believe it.  What
everyone referred to as foreign students became good friends,
enjoyable beyond belief.  It opened new doors for him that he'd
never imagined; there was so much to be learned though just
talking to them that he knew his university education would
have been incomplete if he hadn't taken that first step. It was
these students that made him realize that no matter how much
he knew he'd enjoy teaching young people, he wanted to
become a minister.  He also realized that God's kingdom and
God's will would not be done on earth unless we first learned to
love our neighbors as we love ourselves, because we cannot
love God, who we cannot see until we learn to love our
neighbors that we can see and who are created in God's
image.  Although we are as diverse as can be in sex, color and
religion I truly believe that.  For that matter, we might never look
upon the face of God.  He might be so beautiful, so perfect in
every way, so full of love that to look at him might blind us.  We
might have to content ourselves looking at his face as it is
reflected in the faces of his children here on earth, all created in
his image."

He closed by asking all those in each pew to stand and hold
hands.  It had been in the bulletin that when he said, "Lord hear
our Prayer" we were to join in with him.

"Lord we are assembled here in your holy house to worship
you.  We have some things to ask of you, "Lord hear our
prayer."

"Help us cleanse our minds and souls by ridding them of
prejudice.   Lord hear our prayer."

"Lord, help us to become better Christians by teaching us love
so we can more freely give of ourselves to those in need.  Lord
hear our prayer."

"Lord help us to better understand the needs and complexities
of our fellow men towards the end of erasing hate, crime and
war.  Lord hear our payer."

"Lord help us, after all these centuries, to become deserving of
the powerful promise in the Lord's Prayer -- we long for the day
when thy kingdom will come and thy will be done on earth as it
is in Heaven.  Lord hear our prayer."

This time he did not return to his pew because the minister
motioned him to sit beside him until the service ended when he
joined the minister and the choir in the recessional.  This time,
in the foyer, people shook his hand, told him he's delivered a
powerful sermon and wished him luck at the seminary.

Day by day it came closer to the time that he was to leave for
Dubuque.  It was sooner than he'd expected.  He received a
letter from the seminary to report September 1st for freshman
orientation, dormitory selection and class acquaintance socials.
By the time the date rolled around he'd helped me acquire a
name for e-mail, gave me his and Bernie's, which I told him I
already had.  He said he'd keep in daily contact by e-mail and
then surprised me by saying he had a friend he had arranged
for me to meet -- the one he'd been talking to on the patio the
night he'd fucked my mouth.  It was Blake Anderson, Loan
Officer at the bank and the only son of the bank's president.  He
told me he lived in the unit on the alley in the four plex at Fourth
and Center.  I could just open the door to the screened in porch
and wheel my bike inside.  Blake would be expecting me
around 4:15 in the afternoon on the first Friday after he left for
Dubuque.

I knew Blake, he was probably in his mid thirties, had been
married and had one child but his wife left one day, with the
child, and went home to Philadelphia.  Dylan told me Blake had
met her in College.  I was reluctant to go but the Thursday
before I was supposed to, Dylan called and made me promise
to go.  He told me he didn't want me getting into trouble with
someone I didn't know and a big cock to suck off once or twice
a week would help my self-control.  He wouldn't love me any
the less for it and knew I'd still love him just as much because
we had a strong love bond between us.

I put my bike in the enclosed back porch. The door to the
kitchen was open, Blake was standing, in his jockeys, leaning
against a counter, and drinking a beer.  He asked me if I
wanted a coke.  I told him no.

"Are you nervous, Joey?"

"Yes."

"So am I.  I've never done anything with a boy as young as you.
I sure hope you'll like me.  Dylan laid down some ground rules
for me -- sucking you, getting sucked, jacking off together, but
no fucking you -- ever.  That domain belonged to him and only
him."

"I'm sure we'll do just fine."  I stuck my fingers in the band of his
jockeys and pulled them down. He was ready to go and his big
cock reacted to release by sticking straight out.  It was even a
little bigger than Bernie's and like his, circumcised but not
shaved.

He took my hand, guided me into his bedroom, sat on the edge
of the bed and undressed me and said over and over, God but
you're beautiful.  I can see why Dylan is so worked up over
you."  Of course I liked hearing that. When he had me naked he
laid down on the bed, spread his legs wide and I brought him to
climax.  He reward me with a big load that he told me he'd been
saving up for a week; he hadn't jacked off since last Friday.

Dylan e-mailed me that he didn't think Thanksgiving Vacation
was long enough to drive clear across the state and back again
and have any worthwhile time at home, but he had a long
Christmas Vacation and we'd really celebrate then.  As it turned
out we really did. The first day he was home I asked my mom if
he could spend the night with me.  She said sure.  Neither
Dylan's parents nor mine suspected anything about us except
that we we'd been close friends ever since he'd stayed with me
while my parents had gone to Oklahoma.  We went to several
movies, watched one of Dylan's porno films on my TV, made
love, fucked and sucked and spent all the time we could
together.  My mom thought he was a good influence on me;
maybe she even fantasized that I'd end up going to a seminary
school.  Little did I realize that was the last time I'd ever see
him.

Once back in school he was busy, having a big exam, all the
usual things but now he used them as excuses for not writing
very often.  Then he sent me what was to be my last e-mail -.
"He was sorry but he couldn't write anymore."  I felt as though
I'd been stabbed in the stomach.  I faked being ill.  My mom
called the school office and told them I'd be absent a few days.
I told her I had a stomachache and spent three days in bed, the
covers over my head and cried almost every hour on the hour.
Finally, I pulled myself together and went back to school.

Next Saturday, my mom called down that I had a visitor.  I
asked her who it was. She answered, "Bernie that Dylan and
you visited in Spirit Lake last summer."  He came down, hugged
me and said he'd gotten the same e-mail from Dylan and knew
what I'd be going through.  He'd told my mom he was on his
way to Carroll, Iowa to see an Aunt and had stopped by to see
if I wanted to go with him.  My mom said it was OK, so I threw
some stuff together in a bag and we left. The first thing he
asked was if there was a park in Harlan and I told him where it
was.  He parked and we sat and talked for two hours.  He was
as angry with Dylan and I was hurt by him.

"Joey, let me just talk to you awhile."  He reached over, took my
hand, and began.  "I've so much to say, I don't know where to
begin.  First, I want to say that I don't doubt that Dylan did really
love you, but he should have had better sense than to ever get
involved with you.  I don't know what promises he made you,
but I could never figure out, after he became a minister, how he
thought he could continue a meaningful relationship with a boy
as young as you.  He will graduate and be ordained in four
years and you'll still have two years left to finish high school.  I
don't know what he was thinking about but it wasn't your future
together with him. Now, let me ask you a question and I want
you to think about it seriously before you answer.  "Do you think
you are gay or was this just an early boy thing and you let a
man lead you into thinking you were?"

"I don't need to think about it.  It was actually me that started
the relationship.  I'm gay."

"OK, if you're certain, lets go on from there.  I want to tell you
some of the facts of life -- more specifically gay life. Dylan was
full of this 'Rid yourself of prejudice, learn to love your fellow
man, as we're all children of God, created in his image.'  That's
all well and good and as it should be, but straights will never
know the depth of love gays can feel toward another man.  It's
totally beyond their comprehension. In many instances it works
out well for gays and they live their whole lives together in true
love for one another.  But in far too many cases it leads to
heartbreak.  Joey, if it's any small satisfaction, Dylan will love
you all his life and I hope to hell it haunts him.  You, in turn will
love him all your life, along with many others with which you
might even have the shortest of relationships."

He opened the window part way lit a cigarette, offered me one
and I smoked the first cigarette of my life.  Then he sat
sideways in the drivers' seat, facing me, and continued.  "Joey,
I hope you are one of the lucky ones that find a life time lover.  I
still hope the same for myself at twenty-three years of age.  But,
if you don't, like me, you'll never stop hoping and looking.  And
along the way you'll have many false starts, some of them
even, as we call them, one-night-stands, and you'll remember
each and every one of them.  If you never find what you're
looking for, as you'll get older you'll learn another fact of life.  I
think it applies even to some men and woman marriages -- it is
that one of the great consolations of life is that loving someone
is the next best thing to both of you loving each other -- if the
other person lets you love them even though they're just
deluding you in letting you think they love you.  Maybe in their
own way they do. They like you; they love your loving them and
love the sex that takes place between the two of you.  I'm not
going to ask you if you understand all this.  All I'm going to ask
is that you remember it.  It might save some tears along the
way.

We left, stopped at a quick food place and had a hamburger.
His Aunt, Sarah, turned out to be his mother's older sister and
walked with a cane.  Her house was a massive, frame house,
painted all white, like so many houses in Iowa small towns. We
had cocktails, before dinner, Bernie mixed them, Martini's, and
his aunt questioned his bringing back three on a tray and giving
one to me.  Bernie explained it was all right. She smoked and
Bernie offered me another one, my third or fourth by now.  We
went to eat at the local golf club, came home and she explained
she'd had the woman that came in to clean put clean bedding
on two of the beds upstairs.  We stayed up until around nine,
Sarah excused herself and went into a first-floor bedroom.

Bernie and I went upstairs, he kissed me and we went to
separate rooms, Bernie said if I wanted anything during the
night call him, as he didn't want to wake his Aunt. I could not
get to sleep and in about an hour went into Bernie's room,
shook him and said, "Bernie, I need anything."  He knew what I
meant, threw back the bedding and told me to take off my
jockeys and T-shirt and get in.

"Is this your first time since Dylan's e-mail.  I said, "Yes."  It was.
I'd stopped going over to Blake's after Dylan gave me the kiss
off.  We founded each other and soon erected.  He went down
on me and sucked me off then he whispered, "Do you want me
up your boy twat?"  I turned over on my back; he held my legs
up and entered me.  It was the first time I'd been fucked since
Christmas. The next morning, in the bathroom, I asked him
about his lack of pubic hair.  He said he shaved it.  It was sort of
a fad among some gays; shaved cocks attracted a lot of guys.
It made them think they were doing it with a big dicked boy.

"Would you show me how to do it?"

"Better yet, sit on the edge of the tub, brace yourself, open your
legs wide and stick them out straight and I'll shave you.  We
were both hard as stone during the event, but I went down to
breakfast with smooth balls and a smooth cock.   I kept it that
way until high school when I had to go to gym classes and then
started shaving it again.  By the time we got back to Harlan, it
had started to snow.  My mom asked Bernie if he wanted to
stay the night.  He said he'd been listening to Omaha's WOW
on the radio and he thought he'd be OK.

Bernie was a savior.  We stayed in close touch until I graduated
from high school especially when we'd both received invitations
to Dylan's wedding.  Obviously, neither of us attended, but
Bernie had a lot of fun with the offer, e-mailing me that we
should show up together in drag -- wigs, short, tight skirts, hairy
legs and cheap, high heeled, red shoes that didn't go with
anything else and at the reception call him "darling".  It was
good for a laugh anyway.

My dad bought me a three-year-old car with low mileage that
the dealer said had been traded in by a local guy that had cared
for it as if it was a baby.  After a week I disappointed them by
saying I wasn't going to college but instead to Kansas City. I
didn't tell them I was gay, that Bernie worked in a gay nightclub
in Kansas City -- just that KC was where I was going.  My dad
gave me some money and I had saved up quite a bit myself
working at bagging groceries at a local supermarket.

Bernie had given me detailed instructions as where to find his
house (he lived with a young, black man) as well as the bar.
It was in the evening when I arrived, so I went to the bar, which
wasn't in the best of neighborhoods.  Bernie explained it was an
old place, had been in a good neighborhood at first, and at first
was just a bar.  Eventually the neighborhood deteriorated and
over the years it had turned into a very popular gay bar.  Bernie
had started out as a stripper but had worked his way up to
Master of Ceremonies, or should I say Mother of Ceremonies,
which every one called him.  All the entertainers were in drag.  I
stayed with him and his friend for a few weeks until Bernie took
me to the bar an hour before opening and entered with a key to
the rear door, introduced me to the manager (not gay) and
asked if he could use me.  He told me to go tomorrow to a
photographer in the next block and get a photo taken.  I did and
after an hour's wait came out with a fake, Missouri driver's
license, stating I was twenty-one years of age and the
photographer said if I ever needed a fake passport I knew
where to get one.  I went to work immediately as a janitor
during the day and a waiter at nights.  A furnished, one room
apartment, accessible from the alley went with the job. The
manager, Bill, told me to park my car in front of the apartment
window that looked out on the bar's parking lot.  The police
checked the lot pretty often for drunks sleeping in their cars or
guys having sex in one.  After a while they'd learn that my car
was OK and they'd just look it over for broken glass, stolen
wheels, that sort of stuff.  In fact the police came into the bar
once every night to look around and down a free shot or two.

I got a $100 a week, which took care of groceries and I was
amazed at the tips, especially on Friday and Saturday nights.
Sundays the bar was closed.  It was a fun job, especially
watching the show, which varied from night to night.

Because he liked doing it and because I liked having it done,
Bernie started shaving my genitals again. He also liked sucking
me off after he'd finished.

Saturdays there were a lot of straight couples and they were
always seated at the tables right in front of the stage, so the
entertainers could take jabs at them.  One stripper especially
liked to give them a rough time, He'd get down to a bra and
panties and spot some guy that wasn't looking at him and he'd
say, "You, yes I mean you, the cute guy with the Blonde with
the big tits, look at me."  The couple would laugh but the guy
still wouldn't look and the stripper would say, "Come on, look at
me, I'm about to take it all off.  Are you afraid I'll have bigger tits
than your girl friend or maybe you don't want her seeing that I
have a bigger dick than you?"  That generally made the guy
look and the entertainer would move over right above their table
and take it all off.  I never knew how big the "cute" guy's was
but he would have needed to be bigger than eight inches to be
bigger than the guy's on stage -- he was hung like a pony.
Everyone would hoot and holler.  The guy would hop off the
stage and kiss the "blonde" on the back of her neck and
occasionally she'd wrap a hand around his eight inches.  One
night a girl even kissed it.

The entertainers had two one-half hour breaks every night and
they'd all mingle with the audience.  Everyone would buy them
drinks.  Bernie was always popular with the crowd and he was
always looking for one or two tricks to take home for his
roommate and himself and always checked out the men's
room.  I did that, too, if I happened to see some good looking
stud going it.  It had a trough urinal so the checking out game
was always good for a hard-on even if nothing further
developed.

About six weeks later, during a break, Bernie flagged me to
come over to a table where he was sitting.  It was a weeknight
and not wall-to-wall people.  He introduced me to a guy named
Richard White and told me to come back and visit with him after
the break when I was less busy.

Richard had a very interesting story to relate.  He began by
explaining Bernie and he had got started by talking about
hometowns and the colleges they had gone to.  Richard was
from Independence, a KC suburb and Harry Truman's
hometown.  At the mention of the Dubuque University, Bernie
asked him if he knew a Dylan Courtney.  The guy said he was
not in the seminary like Dylan but the University had other
colleges, too, and as it turned out he'd been Dylan's roommate
as well at the Best Man at his wedding. That part was a
coincidence; the next part was the unbelievable part.  By the
time Dylan was married his drinking had gotten the best of him
and the girl he married was in the same condition.  Dylan
couldn't drive to Madison Wisconsin for their honeymoon.  He
continued in detail, but to summarize, he not only chauffeured
them to Madison, he ended up in the same motel room and
also in their marriage bed, drinking some more, fucking first the
bride and then the groom.  That started the both of them kissing
him and playing with his cock and fighting over which one he'd
fuck again.  He said every time he got it up he fucked one or
the other.  The next morning, the girl called her parents to come
get her.  Dylan managed to graduate but was never ordained
and never became a minister.  In fact, he was living across the
river in Kansas City, Kansas and he still saw him occasionally.

When the bar closed, Bernie came back to my apartment and
we spent an hour rehashing Richard's story, before he went
home.  Bernie said it served Dylan right. I felt sorry for him.
Bernie said I still loved him, just like he'd told me I would.

About a month later, on a Monday, the quietest of the week (as
Bernie said, Monday all the gays were fucked out and sucked
out and stayed home to rest and the bar reverted almost to a
straight bar.)  A couple of guy's walked in and sat at a table in
the front corner, as far from the stage as possible.  One of them
was Richard White.  The other guy was seated facing the wall.
I went over to take their order, turned and the guy facing the
wall was Dylan.  God, I almost froze.  He was the last person
on earth I ever thought I'd meet again.  He was thin as a rail
and his face was gaunt. I had a difficult time not gasping at the
site of him.  Richard said, "He just wants to talk to you for a few
minutes", left and sat down on a bar stool and ordered a drink.

Dylan held out his hand across the table and I said, "I'm sorry."
Dylan, I work here and employees cannot hold hands with a
customer.

It was so awkward.  I was a few months shy of being thirteen
years old since I'd last seen him.

The very first thing he said, was, "I love you Joey."

I replied, "I believe you Dylan, I still love you, too."

"Do you really."

"I think of you every day."

"You don't know what that means to me Joey."

There were a thousand snotty answers I could have given him
but, instead, I said, "I think I do."

He began to cry.  I handed him some cocktail napkins off my
tray and said, "Dylan, please, get control of yourself or I'll have
to leave."

He blew his nose, apologized and pleaded with me not to leave.

"Joey, would you take me back, I'll stop drinking, I'll do
whatever you ask but please give me another chance!"

I felt like the biggest, fucking bastard in the world but I said,
"Dylan, I would love to erase the last six years, get into bed with
you, both naked and make passionate love, but I can't.  I still
hurt from the first time and I cant face a second go around. But,
I want you to know, I have loved you since the day you came
over to stay with me while my parents were in Oklahoma and I'll
love you until the day I die, and please take care of youself."

I got up, serving tray in hand, kissed him on the forehead and
went to the rear of the bar, lit a cigarette and waited for the next
customer to walk in the door. I had a hell of a time not crying.  I
felt my eyes filled to the brim of overflowing.  Richard saw me,
came back and said, "Thanks for seeing him, I appreciate your
kindness", turned walked across the room to get Dylan and they
left.

Two days later, in the "Kansas City Star", I saw in the lower,
right hand corner of the front page an article reading: " A thirty
year old man identified as Dylan Courtney, was found by
Kansas City, Kansas Police in his car in the garage of his
apartment building dead from self inflicted bullet wounds."

Suddenly I remembered Richard saying, "Thank you for your
kindness" and thought, kindness hell, I've killed him.  At the
same instant the phone rang and Bernie said, "I'm on my way
to the bar."  His first words were, "Don't you think for one instant
you were the cause of this; you gave Dylan all of your self and
the only happiness he ever experienced. I cried and he held me
close until I was able to stop.

We went to a flower shop and paying cash, so things would be
untraceable, had flowers wired to Harlan.

It was a dreadful time for me, like when he'd told me he couldn't
e-mail me anymore.  I was in a funk mode for weeks. All I could
think of was Dylan, how we first met, how he paraded around
naked in front of me and how much I loved him.

One night about a year later and on a slow night, a guy, in his
thirties started frequenting the bar and always sat at a table.
Like I'd done for some others that looked a little on the down
and out side, I started giving him drinks and paying for them out
of my tip money. He liked Tequila with a beer chaser.  He could
really put them away and they weren't cheap but I fancied him,
as I'd always done older men. He knew and always said
thanks.  One thing at a time he began to reveal himself to me.
His name was Larry, he didn't look gay, but Bernie and some of
the other entertainers had already tagged him with the
nickname "Tinker Bell" because of his small stature. He lived
close by and that explained his coming into the bar so often.
He worked as a clerk in a Goodwill Store and that explained his
being short on funds.

Things progressed slowly, and without his telling me I decided
that, like Dylan he hit the bottle pretty heavy.  Then, one
evening he seemed to have enough money to pay his own way.
Maybe it was payday. Anyway, when it came closing time, Bill
said we had only one alternative -- call the cops and have them
throw him in the tank until he sobered up.  I told Bill there was
one other alternative.  Bernie and each put one of his arms over
our shoulder, took him to my apartment, took off his shoes,
socks, pants and shirt and put him to bed.  Bernie kissed me
and said, "Have fun."  I said, "I'll try."

I blamed it on the fact that I was, all my life, attracted to older
men but deep down I knew that somewhere, along the line, I'd
become a size queen (not too unusual among gays).  I'd
checked Tinker Bell out in the men's restroom and, despite his
small stature, I knew that, like the hung entertainer that liked to
tease the straight couples, that he, too, had a cock on him like a
pony. I found out, later, that he was well aware of that fact.

He was out like a light when Bernie and I undressed him, so I
didn't wait long to start feeling him up.  Luckily he was wearing
boxers. I felt around, dug into his fly, pulled out - first his balls
and then his God given, eight-inch endowment. Even soft, I
almost creamed at the size of it as I felt it. As you may have
guessed, I went down on it. I couldn't even bring it to an erect
state but I could have cared less.  His fucker was bigger soft
than a lot of fuckers were hard.  I didn't know how often it had
been in a girl's pussy and didn't give a shit -- at this moment it
was as deep down my throat as I could get it.  I loved it, I really
did and time ceased to exist there in the darkness of my
crummy little, alley apartment, as I satisfied my homosexual
desires and pleasured myself sucking on the biggest dick I'd
ever had in my mouth. Tinker Bell never moved. I sucked and I
sucked and I sucked.  Once I went out into the alley and
smoked a cigarette. Once the police checked the parking lot
and the light from their flashlight swept around my car and
sometimes into the open window and right on God's gift to
cocksuckrs. Finally I went so far as to rub my erection across
his lips, tried to stick it between his lips, took his hand and tried
to close it around my cock and fuck his fist; nothing worked but
sucking his cock.  The light of dawn entered the window when I
gave up and went to sleep.

On the afternoon of the same day, I took him to his digs; he
threw some stuff into a couple of black, plastic bags and moved
in with me even though I was fully aware that the move was for
entirely different reasons.  At first it was awkward as I realized
the previous night had passed without a single memory on his
part.  Then he asked me if I'd drive him to a liquor store, next
he asked me if he could borrow some money.  We went home
and I fixed hamburgers.  I had a beer out of the refrigerator, he
did, too and then on the second one he had a Tequila before
the beer.  After three or four of them and to my complete
surprise, I looked around from the sink where I'd been washing
dishes and he was sitting on the couch, dick out of his pants,
semi-hard, and said, "Service me."  I did, his hot load flooded
into my mouth and our relationship was defined to our mutual
satisfaction and unspoken agreement.

I knew at that moment that our relationship would never
develop into anything deeper but, as Bernie had told me, so
long ago, in his car, parked in Harlan's city park, it would
always be "one of life's compensations" - Tinker Bell would
never love me as I loved him but he'd always let me love him
and he'd always enjoy my sucking his eight inches as if it was a
nipple on a baby bottle -- a source of life itself.

Well, it's been such a long story and maybe I should stop here
but, before I do, I want to tell you I stopped at Harlan in the
summer on the way to Spirit Lake to stay a week at Bernie's
cottage.  My mom and dad greeted me with mixed emotions --
glad to see me, not as glad to meet Tinker Bell.  I didn't tell
them I was gay but I did go out to the new section of the
cemetery, found Dylan's grave, knelt, said a prayer for him, and
told him I still loved him.  All the time Tinker Bell stood beside
me and held my hand.

When we drove away, he said, "Joey, I love you."  I replied,
Tinker Bell, "Don't say that unless you really mean it. I'm cock
shy.  As I've told you, I've been screwed once."

"I really do, and speaking of screwing, will we be getting to that
Lake OK Joe Boy before dark?"

We did and after steaks, Martinis for me and Tequila with beer
chasers for Tinker Bell, I took the sailing boat keys off the hook
in the kitchen, picked up a flashlight, turned off the patio and
kitchen lights and towing Tinker Bell in hand unlocked the cabin
to the sailboat. In the same forward bunk, right under the deck,
where I'd slept with Dylan, we crawled into bed and for the first
time he kissed me.  Then, again for the first time he pinched my
nipples, fondled my cock, licked my love hole and aimed his big
fucker for my twat. It was a long time since I'd taken a cock
inside me and the first time ever for one that huge. Tinker Bell,
who has always been so passive, announced that Pony Boy
had never fucked anybody before and he was certainly not
gentle. He entered me in one stroke.  I yelled out and bumped
my head on the overhead.  He paused, apologized and said, "I
told you I love you.  Do you love me?

"Yes."

"You aren't just saying that, are you?"

	"No!"

"How much do you love me, more than that Dylan who hurt
you?"

"Yes!"

"OK, we're square.  I never told you but someone hurt me once,
too."

With that said, I wrapped my legs over his back and got the
longest, hardest screwing anyone could have ever wanted.  In
fact our motion literally rocked the boat and twice it bumped the
dock. When he emptied his balls inside me, I ejaculated all over
in what was left of any free space between our bodies.

We remained motionless until he said, "Is it all settled then?"

I didn't know what he was driving at and told him so.

"OK, I'll spell it out, no more your sucking me off after you think
I'm asleep or until I show you my pony boy.  From now on its
cock sucking at the minimum once every night and twice a
week I fuck you just like I did right now unless one or the other
needs it more often.  Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Again, for the first time in a long time, I fell asleep with a man's
arm wrapped around me.  I didn't try to play with Pony Boy
because I didn't wake up until morning.

Well, guys, I don't know how long this will last.  I hope for a long
time.  Tinker Bell has eased up some on the drinking so that will
help.  He seems to really like me and for my part I'm totally
happy living with him and Pony Boy. Please, wish me luck.

LIFE IS THE STRANGEST ADVENTURE YOU WILL EVER
HAVE.  YOU MIGHT AS WELL ENJOY IT ALONG THE WAY.

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS STORY.  IT IS NOT A
TRUE STORY, BUT AT THE SAME TIME IT IS BASED UPON
A COLLECTION OF THINGS THAT I EXPERIENCED IN MY
LIFE AND PEOPLE THAT I HAVE KNOWN AND LOVED.