Date: Sun, 16 Oct 2005 10:54:59 -0400
From: jamieanderson <JamieAnderson@compuserve.com>
Subject: Neighbour

                           The Disclaimer

Should you have arrived at this spot via a search engine, it is only
fair for me to warn you that the following story contains graphic
scenes of gay sex. If this offends you, this is the stop where you
should get off.

If you are not allowed by law to read this sort of story, well, I
won't tell, if you don't.

If you are underage, grow up.

For the rest, read on.

                            Neighbour

I was the first tenant to move into the new apartment block. I had
driven by the place several times while it was being built, and I
liked the location. I'm still surprised how quickly they build houses
over here. Back in England they take ages, but then they use brick,
here they use wood. Being the first to arrive gave me the choice of
all the apartments, and I picked one with a view of the pool area.
Oddly enough the one next to mine was the last to get rented.

You have probably noticed, as you drive along the highway, a big
truck pulled over with a little panel van in front of it. The big rig
has broken down and the guy from the panel van is fixing it. I'm one
of those guys. No, this story is not about truck drivers. To tell the
truth I've never picked up a truck driver--well, most of them are fat
and ugly. The few cute ones that I've run across have always been
straight. This tale is about my next-door neighbour.

The first I knew about the next-door apartment being rented was when
the manager, Maggie, came to ask a favour. She's a divorcee with a 6-
year-old son.

"Jim, could you help me out?" she asked.

"Sure, what's the problem?"

"The school has just called, Kevin has thrown up. They want me to
pick him up and bring him home. The problem is there's a couple
coming to view an apartment, and they are due any minute. So, if I
give you the keys, can you show them round and try to keep them
talking until I get back?"

"OK, I've got nothing on this morning," I replied.

They arrived just after Maggie left, and I took them to the
apartment. She, Beth, seemed to be slightly aloof, but the guy,
Terry, was really rather attractive, if you like them in the 'tall
dark stranger' category. Now he wasn't what you'd call 'cute;' he was
more craggily handsome. Sadly, it was still rather early in the year,
and they were both well wrapped up, so I had no idea of what his body
was like. Not that it really mattered, but they were newlyweds and
only had eyes for each other. I also noticed that he liked to touch
her, but she wasn't too keen on being fondled in public. Terry was a
fire fighter and had just got a job with the city fire department
while Beth was an office worker.

The apartment was the mirror image of mine, and I found it slightly
disconcerting to have everything the wrong way round, especially as
all the pieces of furniture in both apartments were identical.
However, I did notice that their bedroom backed up against mine, so
the headboards of our respective beds were quite close together. As
requested, I kept them talking until Maggie returned and took over
from me.

The whole incident didn't seem that important, and I sort of forgot
about them. After a few weeks they moved in, and happily they brought
the warm weather with them. That night they had sex, and I discovered
just how terrible the sound insulation was. Oh, I couldn't make out
the actual words, but they were most definitely on the job. I
resolved in future to take my tricks to the spare bedroom, as I'm a
bit noisy when I'm on the job.

Spring arrived in all its glory, and it was even warm enough to use
the pool. The first day Terry and Beth came down to the pool will be
ingrained in my mind until the day that I die. They both had
stunningly beautiful bodies. Beth was in a one-piece bathing suit,
and she came in and out in all the right places, if you go in for
that sort of thing. Oh, sure, I don't, but that doesn't mean that I
couldn't see just how attractive she was. Her suit was bright yellow
and I just knew that when she got a tan, she would look perfect in
it.

Terry was wearing Speedos, and they looked like they had been moulded
onto him. As for the rest of his body, well, let's put it this way -
I had trouble stopping myself from drooling: the broad chest, the
flat, muscular stomach, the fascinating bulge in the crotch of his
ice blue Speedos, the thighs that just begged to be round my ears...
God, he was wonderful.

As I was the only person by the pool, they came and took up the sun
beds next to mine. Terry lay on one almost directly in front of me
while Beth took one to my left. I silently thanked God that I was
wearing sunglasses; otherwise the fact that my eyes were out on
stalks would have been obvious to all.

After the preliminaries Beth set out on what I would discover was her
eternal bleat, 'Would I like to join their church?'

The answer was of course, NO! I had absolutely zero interest in
religion. But she went on and on about joining Terry and her and
worshipping at Holy Trinity. I bit clean through my bottom lip
resisting the urge to tell her that the only trinity that I was
interested in worshipping was the rather unholy trinity that hung
between her husband's legs.

Eventually Maggie came and saved the day by dragging Beth off to see
the latest clothes she had bought for her kid. There was a long
silence after Terry and I were left alone. Finally, it was he who
broke it.

"You're gay, aren't you?" he asked, casually.

My heart stopped but I managed to murmur, "What gave you that
impression."

He grinned and said, "Beth is a very beautiful woman, but you
couldn't keep your eyes off me."

I could feel my face going red so I just nodded.

"Oh, it's OK with me, I don't mind you looking, just don't touch.
Agreed?"

"OK!" I croaked.

Fairy Nuff! If he didn't mind being eye candy, I could live with
that.

"Good. I'd hate to spend all my time sliding my ass down the wall,"
he said, with a grin.

The look that I gave him stopped him dead on his tracks.

"Oops! Did I offend you?" he asked.

"Not exactly, but I going after your ass had never entered my mind.
You need to watch out for me tripping you up and getting underneath
you to cushion your fall," I replied.

This made him laugh out loud, then Beth came back and asked what was
so funny. Fortunately, he talked his way out of it saying that I had
just cracked a dirty joke. Beth gave me a most disapproving look and
dropped the subject. She was, I correctly surmised, a right royal
prude. Now there was a sort of tension between Terry and me. He was
posing for me, and I was having the most damned awful job controlling
my cock.

About four days later, in the evening I came back from a call-out to
see Terry, dressed in a racing jersey and Lycra shorts, wheel out a
ten-speed racing bike. If he looked cute in Speedos he looked limb-
licking good in Lycra. Grinning all the time, he posed to let me get
a good look; then he threw one leg over the machine and pedaled off,
ass high in the air until he got up to speed. For the first time in
my life I was jealous of a bicycle saddle.

As Terry and I were the only two shift workers in the block we tended
to run into each other round the pool during the day while everyone
else was out at work. He was the perfect cock tease - driving me mad.
When I commented on this he laughed.

"Yeah, it's deliberate. Do you know just how many girls have done the
same thing to me? It's nice to get a chance to try it from the other
side."

From there the conversation got more personal.

"Have you ever tried it with a girl?" he asked.

"Yup."

"Didn't you like it?"

"Yes, but I still prefer guys. Have you ever tried it with a guy?"

"No way!"

About here I shrugged. I was quite prepared to drop the matter, but
he went on.

"But wouldn't you like to have kids?"

"Been there. Done that. Got the T-shirt."

"Huh?"

Why the fuck do straights think that all gay guys are sterile?

"It was back home in England, before I emigrated. We were both 16 and
she was a Catholic, so her sex education was midway between zilch and
zero. Anyway, she didn't try to stop me, and I was stupid enough to
go all the way. As you Americans so delightfully put it, 'a home run'
on the first date. She liked it, so we did it again and again, until
she joined the pudding club."

"Shit! Didn't you go to prison?"

"Nope. It isn't illegal to screw 16-year-old girls back home. But
when her family found out, the shit hit the fan. She was 'sent away
to visit an aunt', for several months and came back a lot slimmer, if
you know what I mean. The kid was a boy, but he was taken away from
her and given to a Catholic orphanage. My name became mud and
eventually, when I finished my apprenticeship, I moved to the USA.
Hell, that kid must be going through puberty just about now. It's a
shame really; I'd like to have brought up a son."

The tale seemed to knock Terry back on his heels, and the line of
questioning was dropped.

A few days later I came back from a call-out, still covered in muck
and grease, to find Terry working on his bike in the passage that ran
from the outside of the block to the pool area.

"Problems?" I asked.

"There is a funny clicking noise when I ride it, but when I turn it
upside down and try to find it, the damn thing goes away," he said,
sounding puzzled.

"Sounds like you've got a bearing on the way out. When your weight is
on the bike, it will make a noise; but when there is no load on it,
then it'll run much quieter. Just a sec and I'll get my tool kit," I
said, turning back to my van.

A couple of minutes later I was back, and the first thing that I
fished out was my stethoscope. This looks like a doctor's stethoscope
until you get to where the bell/diaphragm bit is at the end. On mine
there is a rod which conducts the sound. I put it on and probed his
bike turning the pedals with my hand. It took only seconds to locate
the dodgy bearing, and I let him have a listen.

"Do you have a gear puller?" I asked.

He looked blankly at me, so I went and dug one out of my van. I
pulled out both of the bearings and advised him to replace them
together. Then while he drove off to buy new ones, I went and cleaned
up.

When he returned, I installed the new bearings for him and
reassembled his machine. He took it for a trial ride and returned
looking much happier.

"Gee, thanks for your help. What do I owe you?" he asked.

I gave him my best dirty grin, paused, then shook my head refusing
any reward. As I turned to go back into my apartment, I was grabbed
from the rear, and two strong arms came round my waist. Then I was
pulled backwards until my buns were forced hard into his crotch.
Shit, I could feel his manhood pressing against my ass! Two warm lips
kissed the back of my neck. This was all too much for me, and I
wriggled my ass. The reflexive twitch from his cock caught him off
guard, and he released me instantly. Then he tried to laugh the whole
incident off, and I let him think that he got away with it.

Once back inside my own apartment I managed to cool down and began to
think straight. There was something growing between us, and it wasn't
just his cock. I realised that I still had my stethoscope in my hand
and a very fiendish idea crossed my dirty little mind.

Thinking back to the days when the block was being built, I recalled
the structure of the walls. These were vertical beams to which the
inner and outer claddings were nailed. The void between was filled
with glass wool. Now the internal walls were of a similar nature, so
this meant that there was just a plasterboard panel, some insulation
and another panel between Terry's bed and mine.

I waited until they were both out; then I took my tool kit into my
bedroom. The stud finder soon located the nails, and that told me
where the beams were. Selecting a mid point between two beams I
drilled a small hole in the wall just above the headboard of my bed.
I pointed the drill down at an angle of about 45 degrees. Then I
carefully inserted the probe of my stethoscope into the hole. Slowly
I worked it through the insulation layers until it came in contact
with the other panel. The 45-degree downward angle would keep it
nicely in contact. The panel of the wall next door would now act as a
sounding board catching every little noise and passing it on to my
probe. I now waited for the sun to set.

Feeling very wicked I sat cross-legged at the head of my bed wearing
my stethoscope. Eventually, they entered the bedroom. My little
eavesdropping machine worked better than I could have hoped. True, it
was slightly muffled. but I could make out everything that was said.
What came next was quite a eye-opener to me!

Terry, the big butch fire fighter, who was all dominant outside,
suffered a total role reversal in his own bedroom. In there Beth
ruled the roost! Over the next few nights, as I listened to their
lovemaking. I discovered that she would not suck his cock, nor would
she let him go down on her. Doing it doggy style was also a no-no. In
fact any discussion of sex was completely taboo.

It appeared that her Christian upbringing restricted her to doing
'it' in the missionary position and nothing else. Shit, she wouldn't
even jack the poor man off! As far as Beth was concerned sex was
'dirty'. This she demonstrated by going and taking a shower
immediately after Terry finished fucking her. She also insisted that
he had one too, before he was allowed to return to the bed.

Still, when all was said and done, Terry was getting an adequate
amount of sex, even if it was all vanilla flavoured. But, being a
naturally evil bastard, I could see a possible weak spot in his
heterosexual armour, and I was just the sort of guy to take advantage
of it.

The lovemaking between Terry and Beth eventually bore fruit. One
night, just as Terry was about to fuck her, she announced that she
was 'late'. Then, there was the trip to the drug store to buy the
testing kit, and it proved positive. At first Terry was delighted;
then the bad news was given. Beth thought that sex, while she was
pregnant, was not a good idea. Despite the reassurances of her
doctor, Terry was left having sex with his trusty right hand. This
caused quite a lot of fights. Terry's suggestions of ways of having
sex that did not put the baby at risk were all rejected out of hand
as being uncivilised and/or pagan!

Of course, I now had all this intimate knowledge of their lives, but
due to the rather nefarious way I had collected it, I couldn't admit
to having it. But I did notice that the sexual tension between Terry
and me rose quite a bit. His posing in front of me got to be quite
blatant, not that she'd ever have noticed.

About this point Beth's continual attempts to get me to join their
church finally got me mad. Until then I had been gently brushing off
the suggestions. Now I actively rejected them. It all came to a head
one day as Beth and I were sunning ourselves by the pool.

"But if you came to our church, you might just find yourself a nice
girl," said Beth, trying a new tack.

"What makes you think that I'm looking for a nice girl?" I asked,
skating out onto the thin ice.

"Well, for a start, it is high time you were married. You have a
good, stable job. You need a wife."

"Beth, I'm just not the marrying kind," I said, trying to drop the
truth on her gently.

"Oh, all young men say that at first," she replied.

"But my dear, I can cook, do my own laundry, clean my own house. What
do I need a wife for?" I countered.

This I knew would be interesting as the poor woman was all but
incapable of using the word 'sex' in general conversation. I sat
looking at her and watched her face redden.

"Well... There is always... Companionship..." she stuttered.

"As far as companionship goes, I prefer males," I said, setting the
trap.

She reddened further and managed to say, "I was meaning a bit more
than just companionship."

"So was I."

Snap! The trap shut. There was the inevitable pause while her mind
took the gigantic step and put two and two together only to discover
that the answer was five.

"You don't mean that you're... Do you?" she said.

"Yes, Beth, I'm a fully paid up, card carrying fairy," I said, with
some satisfaction.

You could almost hear her scratch my name off her Christmas card
list. There was a very long pause during which Beth seemed to be
totally paralyzed. The spell was broken by the arrival of Terry. He
looked at both of us and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"I was just about to go in," said Beth.

Terry looked at me, and, just before he opened his mouth, I very
slightly shook my head. He got the message and followed his wife up
to their apartment.

That night my ears burned as I eavesdropped their bedroom
conversation. According to Beth I was at the very least the Devil
incarnate, bound to spend what was left of eternity burning in Hell
for my sins. The odd thing was, her hang-ups on discussing sex
prohibited her from actually using words like homosexual, faggot or
even fairy. So poor Terry was treated to a rant about my shortcomings
without it ever being mentioned what they were. I found it
hysterically funny.

Being pregnant Beth had given up work. Instead she had taken up
buying baby clothes and all the other clutter that a newborn needs.
This had made a big hole in their income and also added greatly to
their outgoings, so Beth's car was sold.

By now summer was nearly at an end, and the forest fire season
started. I was wakened in the middle of the night to drive Terry to
the Station House as his car had declined to start. He had an
overnight bag with him, He told me that he was being seconded to
fight a forest fire about three states away and would be gone for an
indefinite time. I got him to leave me his car keys, and I promised
to fix it for him.

The next morning I discovered he had a burnt out starter motor and a
few other minor problems. It was nice to work on an engine with no
pressure to get it fixed ASAP, so I took my time removing the old
motor and then went round to the wholesale supplier that I used and
got a spare at cost price. And so I worked my way leisurely until
noon when I took the car for a spin. Everything worked perfectly; I
went to return the keys to Beth. She barely thanked me!

Terry was gone for over a week, and when he came back, he slept for
two days. I was ironing my laundry when he came to thank me. He began
by apologising for Beth, but I waved it aside. Then he asked how much
I wanted for fixing his car.

"Forget it," I said. "I quite enjoyed working without a trucker
reminding me how much he was behind schedule."

"Aw, come on, you must want something."

I put down the iron and turned to face him. He was wearing only a T-
shirt and a pair of shorts. He looked good enough to eat. I gave him
a grin.

"There must be something I can give you," he said.

The urge to say, 'Well, you could try to give me a baby,' was very
great, but I toned it down to, "A kiss?"

There was that terrible heart-stopping moment when I did not know
what was coming next. Would he loosen a few of my teeth? Would he
just laugh it off? Or, would he be daft enough to kiss me? I could
feel the tingle of the adrenaline rushing through my body! Why the
fuck do I do these sort of things? Do I have a death wish?

Suddenly he moved and my head was grabbed in his big hands. Then he
pulled my face towards his. He had to bend down slightly as he
towered over me. His lips met mine, and, I can tell you, it was no
social kiss! His tongue was thrust straight into my mouth. Not that I
resisted it in any way. Then it began to work its way round my teeth.
His hands released my face and went under my armpits. He lifted me
right off my feet, and I wrapped my arms and legs round him.

After an eon he lowered me down, I let go of him and finally our lips
parted. I held on to him, as I was now very dizzy. Pushing my luck I
slid my hand down the outside of his shorts and wrapped it round the
shaft of his cock. I surmised that the 'look but don't touch'
restriction had been lifted. His cock moved in my hand, it felt nice.

I managed to keep it there for about a minute; then reality kicked in
and he stepped back from me. He was blushing bright red as he
muttered something and made a dive for the door. I didn't see him
again for the rest of the week.

The following Monday he had as a free day, and Beth had gone shopping
in the car. I was just sitting around on stand-by waiting for my
bleeper to go off when he drifted in wearing just a pair of shorts
with a couple of cans of beer in his hands. He looked troubled. and I
had a fair idea of what the problem was: he still wasn't getting any.
He sat on my sofa and I joined him. We drank in silence for a while,
and then he spoke.

"What do you do when you're as horny as Hell?"

"I go out to a bar or a club and pick a guy up."

"And if you can't do that?"

"I jack myself off."

"It's not the same."

"Well, if you have an imagination like mine, it can be pretty good."
I assured him, with a dirty grin.

"Can you really get off just using your imagination?" he asked,
sounding a bit surprised.

"Sure I can. It's called 'role playing'. Want me to show you?"

He nodded, slightly unsure of what was about to happen. However I
noticed that the bulge in his crotch had got perceptibly larger.

"OK, you are a teenager again. You have your first car and you
managed to get a girl in it. You've driven her out of town, and you
are now parked in a nice quiet clearing in the woods. You are both in
the backseat kissing and feeling each other's bodies. Now what do you
want to do?"

"I want to fuck her!"

"On your first date, gimme a break. Besides have you got a rubber?"

"No!"

"Maybe she is not in the fertile part of her cycle," I pointed out.

"When was your last period?" he asked.

"What a rude question. About two weeks ago," I replied, in a female
voice.

"Shit! Right in the fertile part," he said.

"Yup! But on the positive side, she'll be as horny as Hell," I said,
in my own voice.

At this point he took my hand and placed it on his crotch! His
manhood was rising. I could actually feel it growing in my hand.
Slowly it began to uncurl and stiffen. I leisurely pulled the front
of his shorts down and it jumped out. He was wearing nothing under
the shorts. He lifted himself up slightly and I slid the shorts down
to his ankles. I quietly wet my hand and began to give him a wet
wank. He groaned happily. With my free hand I played with his balls.
Then I moved my face closer to his cock. God! it looked lovely. Sure,
he was cut, but most American males are these days. But on the
positive side, he was quite adequately hung, and, boy! did he smell
hot.

"Do you think that she'll suck it for me?" he asked.

"Perhaps, with a little encouragement, she might."

His hand slipped up the back of my neck and ruffled my hair. He gave
the gentlest push in the direction of his cock, which I resisted.

"Nah!" he said.

"Girls often say 'no', but mean 'maybe.' Perhaps she just needs more
encouragement," I said, slyly.

He pressed harder on the back of my head and I gave in slightly. This
left my lips just inches away from the head of his cock. The entire
head was glistening with a mixture of my spit and his precum. God! I
wanted that cock in my mouth! He pushed again and this time he forced
my lips against the head. I kissed it and he moaned again then thrust
with his hips, driving his weapon most firmly into my mouth.

At last I had his cock in me. Without any commands from my brain my
tongue and lips went to work on it. Cocksucking is an art, and I
think that it should be at least an Olympic event. I might never win
the gold medal, but I'd at least be up on the podium in the first
three.

Now, having reached this happy state, I wanted it to last forever,
well, about two or three hundred years. But, I was beginning to
experience the same helpless feeling that King Canute must have felt
when he tried to hold back the tide, that of taking on an
irresistible force. His hand was still on my head, but it now held it
steady while his hips moved and he fucked my mouth.

Then he shot! God alone knows when he last came, but he filled my
mouth with his hot, thick load. Try as I might to keep it all, I
could feel it escaping and getting all over my face. Finally he
relaxed his grip enough for me to pull back slightly and swallow.
Then I could get on with the job of sucking his balls dry. His hand
fell away from my head, but I didn't let go of his manhood. Carefully
I milked every last drop of his seed out of his body, and it was a
very soft member that finally emerged from my mouth.

"Shit, Jim! Did you really swallow it?"

"Yup!"

"What the fuck did you do that for? You could have just spat it out."

"What is the point of going to all the trouble of getting a cock into
your mouth, working it over until it shoots, if your going to just
spit it out again. Terry, strange as it may seem to you, I like
sucking cock, making guys cum in my mouth and then getting it down my
throat. But enough of me, how was it for you?"

"It was fantastic, but I still can't believe that I let another guy
suck me off!"

About here, we heard his car drive into the parking lot. There was a
quick flurry of dressing and then he was off. The entire incident was
never mentioned again. In fact it was just as if it had never
happened. Life went on as before, until Beth went out one afternoon
to get her hair done. Then, Terry arrived at my place with that look
back on his face. Yup, he was horny again, and he was looking for
some sex. Again he was wearing only a pair of shorts. He brought up
the subject in an amusing way.

"Does that girl wanna go for another drive in the woods?" he asked.

"Hmm, let's try something else this time," I countered.

He looked a little disappointed but I got him to follow me into the
spare bedroom.

"Now you once told me that you played football at high school, is
that right?"

He nodded.

"Now was there one kid, slim, not well built, and shy who followed
you around all the time?"

"You mean Kenny the cock watcher? Who told you about him?"

"Oh he appears in various forms everywhere. Did you ever get it off
with him?" I asked.

"Nah. He was a bit of a sissy, and he sort of turned me off. Mind
you, I was getting plenty from girls at that time."

"So let's try it with Kenny this time. You are round his house, and
he's been helping you with your homework. His folks are out and there
is just the pair of you in the house. You are about to leave, but
Kenny seems to want you to stay. Remember,   Kenny is frightened of
you. You can talk dirty to him and compel him to do things. OK, let's
take it from there."

With that I gave Terry a look of lust, which would have lifted
wallpaper, and I stepped just a little too close to him.

"Shit! That is exactly the way he used to look at me!" said a very
startled Terry.

I just nodded, trying to keep in character.

"What are you after? As if I didn't know," said Terry.

I blushed and stuttered something unintelligible.

"You want to see my cock, don't you?"

I blushed bright red and looked at my feet but managed to mutter,
"Yes."

"You're always wanting to see my cock. You follow me into the john in
the hope of catching a glimpse of it, don't you?"

I sniffed and nodded, still not daring to look him in the face, but I
did manage to glance at his crotch, it was working!

"OK, you can have a look. In fact I'll let you have a nice close
look," said Terry as he forced me to my knees.

I looked up at him with fear in my eyes, "Please don't hurt me!"

He grinned down at me, but it wasn't a very cheerful grin. He pulled
his shorts down and his weapon sprung free. It was already getting
aroused, and filling the air with the scent of a sexually excited
male, it bounced right in front of my face, . My eyes went wide as
they followed its progress.

"Kiss it!" he hissed.

I looked up at him with apprehension writ large on my features.

"No, please, no," I whispered.

"Yes!" he growled.

I was surprised how well he had adapted to the game. This really had
possibilities of being fun. Reluctantly I gave the shaft of his
manhood a quick peck.

"Do it properly," he commanded, holding the shaft and pushing the
head towards my lips.

"Why are you doing this to me, Terry? I just want to be your friend"

"Kiss it!"

I closed my eyes and kissed the head of it. It was wet with his
precum, and I so much wanted to swallow the damn thing. But. we were
playing a game, and I must stick to the rules.

"Better!" said Terry. "Now how about we change 'Kenny the cock
watcher' into 'Kenny the cock sucker'?"

"No!" I yelped.

"Aw, come on, Kenny. You know that you're a faggot. You've never made
it with a girl. You can't keep your eyes off other guys' cocks. So
why not give in and suck mine?"

"Please, Terry. You can't do this to me. I thought you were my
friend," I said, the tears running down my face.

"Kenny, either you suck my cock or I tell everyone that you tried to
suck my cock," he said, with a nasty grin.

"But that's a lie," I protested.

"Yeah, but who is everyone going to believe, me or the cock watcher?"

He now wiped the wet head of his weapon across my face leaving a
trail of precum wherever it touched me. I sobbed quietly for a while.

"Come on, Kenny, open up like a good little faggot."

"Promise me that you won't come in my mouth," I pleaded.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, just get your mouth open."

As I opened my mouth he guided the head of it through my lips while
his other hand became a backstop limiting the rear movement of my
head. Once more I had his manhood in my mouth, and I was quietly in
ecstasy. I ran my tongue round the head of it, tracing out its
outline and massaging the hotspot just below the eye. He let me have
my way for a while before his hand began to move on the shaft. Yes,
he was jacking himself off in my mouth.

I tried to protest but he shoved more of it into my mouth, most
effectively gagging me. The hand behind me head become a grip of
steel locking my mouth on his meat. His fist moved faster on the
shaft and then his load poured into my helpless mouth. If the amount
of seed that he produced was anything to go on, he hadn't shot since
the last time I had blown him.

This time I fought back, refusing to swallow and trying desperately
to get his prick out of my mouth. His grip never faltered and when
his orgasm had passed he finally spoke.

"Right,  you little faggot. I want you to jack yourself off and all
the time that you are doing it I want you to think about the cock in
your mouth. Then when you shoot you had better swallow because it you
try to spit any out I'll wring your neck. Right? Start jacking!"

I had my own cock out in seconds and it didn't take me long before I
was swallowing and shooting at the same time.

"Good girl!" he said, "If you play your cards right, I might come
round next week and let you do it again."

I let his cock slip out of my mouth, and I looked up to him, tears in
my eyes.

"You lied to me," I whimpered. "You said you wouldn't do it in my
mouth!"

"Aw, come on. You know what it's like when you're just about to come.
I couldn't stop in time."

"You're a bastard and I hate you," I replied, with some venom.

He reached down and pulled me to my feet, leaving me standing in
front of him. He brushed away my tears with a surprisingly gentle
hand, and I put my head on his chest.

"What did you want to do with my cock?" he asked.

"I... I... I'm not sure. Look at it. Hold it maybe. Hold you. Tell you
that I love you, and maybe hear the same from you."

His big strong arms now tenderly wrapped themselves round me and held
me against his broad chest. I looked up into his face and his lips
met mine. It was a proper kiss and his tongue probed deep into my
mouth. I opened wide in surrender to its invasion.

"There, Kenny. Now do you feel better?" he asked, as his lips left
mine.

I now looked at him properly. My pupils dilated slightly and lust
poured out from my very soul. It hit him hard, just as if it was a
solid entity, and it rocked him to his core. Suddenly, he could no
longer stay in character and he became himself again.

"Shit, Jim. What the fuck happened there!" he asked, in a very
startled voice.

"Oh! Kenny was in love with you. Didn't you realize it?"

"OK, but what happened to me?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. Maybe you loved him a bit too? Don't you get
similar feelings about Beth?"

There was a very long pause before he said, "No!"

"Then, why did you marry her?"

"She looks great. She can cook and keep house. I thought that, after
we were married, all the prudishness would wear off and the church
wouldn't take up all of her life."

"Perhaps after the baby arrives...," I ventured.

"Babies," he corrected me. "They did a scan and she's having twins."

"Well, they might take her mind off the church for a few years."

"Yeah, and keep her mind off sex, too."

"Is she giving you a rough time?" I asked, innocently.

"Yeah. It is not just the 'no sex' bit. Currently, I'm responsible
for everything from morning sickness to her back hurting, and I'll
bet that I get the blame for the labour pains, too."

"You were the one who knocked her up," I pointed out.

"She was the one who wanted a family, God's will, and all that
stuff."

"Ah, but this is what did the dirty deed," I said, playfully giving
his cock a squeeze.

"You know, she never touches it. I get to fuck her, but that is all.
And then we both have to have a shower before we can go back to bed.
As far as she is concerned, sex is an unfortunate duty that wives
have to put up with. She never tries to get any fun out of it."

God alone knows what other revelations I would have got out of him
that afternoon if my pager hadn't gone off. Ten minutes later I was
belting down the freeway in my van to deal with a broken down truck.

Again, the incident was never discussed between us, and, as autumn
drew on, relations between Beth and me deteriorated even further. She
positively shunned me and seemed to be trying to encourage others to
do the same.

Here she was defeated on two counts. The first was the fact that I'm
a helpful sort of guy, and as I'm a 'fixer' by trade, nearly all of
our neighbours have at sometime or other had repair work done by me.
As I never charge for my services, I tend to be popular. The second
point on which her campaign failed was her reluctance to define that
of which she actually disapproved. As sex in general was a totally
forbidden subject, the topic of gay sex was even less likely to cross
her lips.

We were in the icy grip of winter when Terry next came a calling.
Beth was off visiting the ancient Aunt who had brought her up.
Apparently the old dear was quite poorly. In any event she was not
going to return that evening.

He arrived carrying a six-pack, and it looked like he was here for
the night. I opened two of the cans and put the rest in the fridge.
When I turned round, he was directly behind me and in a second I was
back in his arms. I looked for and received a kiss. Ye gods, that man
sure knew how to kiss! It was long and lingering, so I used the time
to run my hands over his butt. The expression 'buns of steel' had
been coined for his bum, but would I ever get my face between them?

"Do you think Kenny would ever let me fuck him?" he asked, when we
came up for air.

"Terry. Kenny is a faggot, while you are a real man. If you want to
fuck him, you fuck him. You don't ask him. You tell him that he's
going to be fucked. But, before you start, have you ever buttfucked
anyone before?"

He shook his head.

"Then, I suggest that we sit and drink our beers while I run through
the technique with you."

So, I educated Terry in the sensual and ancient art of buttfucking.
Telling him about using extreme care at the beginning and gradually
working up to a climax, I informed him about the prostate gland's
location and its  function in gay sex. Then, we went through the
positions. He was amazed that there were so many for two guys doing
it. It had never occurred to him that it was possible to do it face
to face. Then, when he was ready, I took him into the spare bedroom
where we undressed each other. Then without telling him I changed
into Kenny.

"Couldn't we just cuddle?" I whined.

"Nah, you're getting fucked. I've made my mind up," said Terry,
following me faultlessly.

"But you're so big! You'll split me in half."

"You'll survive, besides it's a while since I've had my cock in
something tight. Now get on that bed and lie on your belly! That's
right. Spread your legs, and I'll get some of this lubricant into
you."

He wasn't quite as gentle as I would have liked as he greased me up.
He got two fingers into me right at the beginning! As he proceeded, I
moaned, sniveled and whimpered, begging him not to fuck me.
Eventually he pulled his fingers out of me and slapped me hard across
the buttocks making me yelp.

"Shut up!" he growled. "I'm fed up hearing you whine. If you keep on,
I'll just stick it up your ass right now and give you something to
yelp about."

The slackening of my ass now proceeded in more or less in silence
punctuated by my occasional gasps. When he had got the palm of his
hand in me, with all four fingers tickling my guts he gave a grunt of
satisfaction. He gave me no warning; he just pulled his hand out
making me jump.

I could hear him greasing up his weapon, and then the bed moved as he
shifted his position. Ah, the first touch, as the slick head of his
organ nuzzled its way between my buns. It took him a moment to find
my ring, but when it did he pushed right through it. Unlike most gay
guys, he didn't pause there. He just slid it right home.

Fortunately, he was far from the first visitor back there, so I could
accommodate him without screaming and trying to climb the wall.
However, he did pause when he got it in to the hilt, thank God.

"Now, tell me what it feels like to have a man inside you?" he
whispered in my ear.

"I feel totally full. I desperately wanna take a crap, but I can't.
I've lost all control back there. You are inside me, and there is
nothing that I can do to get you out. I'm gonna be fucked, like I was
a girl. I feel totally humiliated, but..."

"But what?"

"But... But, I love it. Somehow it feels right. You on top of me,
making me take you, using me, fucking me."

"See, I told you that you were a faggot," he said, pulling back until
just the head stayed inside me.

I whimpered at the empty feeling he left behind, then gasped as he
shoved it back in stuffing me full again. He was a good learner, and
he remembered all that I had told him about my prostate. The head of
his meat rode roughshod over my internal hotspot until I was almost
shooting into the bed.

This all made me wriggle and writhe beneath him, which in turn gave
him greater pleasure, which made his thrusting more enthusiastic, and
soon we were getting down to the vinegar strokes. By now I was having
one hell of a job holding back my orgasm, so I was very glad to
detect him getting closer to his. Just about two strokes before he
was going to shoot, I let go and shot my lot.

My ass immediately went into a spasm, gripping his cock like a long
lost lover. It bucked and jerked in my grasp while it filled me with
his seed. During this period he threw all caution to the wind and
fucked my ass as hard as he could. When he finally shuddered to a
stop, my bum was really numb.

We lay there for ages, just getting our breath back. His cock was
still inside me, slowly going limp. His weight still pinned me to the
bed. I experimentally twitched my ass and his manhood moved inside
me. This made him groan.

"You're mine now, Kenny. I don't want anyone else using that tight
little ass of yours but me, got that?"

"Yes. My ass is yours. You can fuck me all you want. You were right.
I like being fucked."

"Kenny, baby, you were made to be fucked. Now I always have a shower
after sex; this time you can come and wash me."

And before I could do or say anything, he pulled out and got off me.
Now that did piss me off a bit. You see I like to linger after I've
been fucked. Just lie there with a slowly wilting cock inside me,
gradually coming down. But he was off to the bathroom and I just had
to follow.

American baths are absolutely useless, unless you are only having a
shower in them. They are really just rectangular shower basins. The
possibility of lying back in one and having a really good soak is
negligible, so it was a shower that we had. Like a good little
submissive I washed my man's body with care. I was as happy as a sand
boy getting to run my hands all over Terry. When I was finished, he
grabbed me and held me close to him. His hand slipped between my buns
and inquisitive fingers entered me.

It is an odd sensation when you have another man's fingers in you.
They move around in such a barbaric manner, caring nothing for your
feelings, just satisfying their owner's curiosity. They also induce
such a feeling of vulnerability, as if you are incapable of defending
your own body. You feel like you have surrendered your very soul for
inspection.

"You know that you're a faggot when you stand there with another
man's spent cum oozing out your ass," Terry observed, obviously
enjoying the experience.

"You did it," I pointed out.

"Yeah," he sighed. "And I loved every second of it."

Once more we kissed and it lasted forever. I was feeling quite
romantic when he broke the kiss, then he spoke.

"Kiss my ass."

"What?"

"You heard me. Do it!"

"Aw, Terry. You don't really..."

But he was already pushing me down on to my knees. Slowly I moved
behind him, the water from the shower now pouring off his body onto
mine. Reluctantly, I parted those beautiful and muscular buns with my
hands. Then I slowly pushed my face between them. With trembling lips
I kissed his ring.

"Yes!" he hissed.

Very gently I licked his ring, at first in a circular motion. He
moaned with satisfaction. Then I made the circles smaller, homing in
on his pucker. He seemed to appreciate this as his hands now took
over the job of holding his buns apart. I reached round and took hold
of his shaft; it was already half erect. I tenderly began to massage
it into a full erection while my eager tongue started to push its way
through his ring.

A few minutes later my tongue was as far up him as it could reach
while I was jacking off his raging erection. The change over from my
tongue to my middle finger took several minutes, but Terry was so
high that I doubt if he noticed. My finger could go a lot deeper than
my tongue could ever reach. While it was getting into his guts, I
slowly made my way round to the front of him. A few moments later I
had the head of his cock in my mouth and my finger was just a
fraction short of his prostate.

Like most straight guys he didn't even know that he had a hotspot
hidden away up there. So it came as a total surprise when my finger
got to work on it. He moaned very loudly and thrust his hips forward.
His entire body began to shake in what seemed to be an uncontrollable
way. There was no grabbing of my head this time, just a feral scream
and he was shooting. My goodness, if I hadn't known better, I would
have sworn that this was the first time he had had an orgasm in a
week. It just kept pumping out of his cock.

He slowly sank to the bottom of the bath, taking me with him. We
ended up in a heap, but I still had his cock in my mouth when we
finally came to rest. When I eventually released him and looked at
his face, he seemed to be so contented. He could have been asleep,
lying in a tangle of limbs, a strange smile of satisfaction on his
face. I sat under the warm shower and waited.

He opened his eyes and looked at me. He suddenly became all serious
and said, "I'm getting worried, Jim."

Obviously, the role-playing session was over.

"About what," I asked, innocently.

"To be honest, you're better sex than my wife," he said.

"Not a difficult task, if she's not giving you any."

"No! That's not what I mean. You are better sex than she has ever
been, and that includes our wedding night."

"Aw, shucks!" I said, blushing.

"You actually care about me having a good time. You go out of your
way to make me shoot. And, you do anything that I ask. It's a bit
like having my fantasies come true. Shit, if you were a girl, I'd
divorce Beth and marry you."

This shocked me slightly. I didn't want to break up a marriage, not
with two kids on the way.

"But she's carrying your kids."

"Yeah, and you're not a girl, but I can dream."

"Well I can always take care of you until she feels up to it again."

"Yeah. But it'll never be the same doing it with her."

With that he got up and helped me to my feet. I turned off the shower
and we dried each other. We then went back to bed stopping by the
fridge for a couple of beers. We watched the little TV in the bedroom
and drank the beer. Nothing was said about it, but we just switched
off the TV, put out the light and curled up in each other's arms.

That night was one of the happiest in my life, me lying with my head
on his chest and his arms around me. He dropped off almost
immediately, but I stayed awake for about an hour, too excited to
sleep. Why oh why, I asked, hadn't I met Terry before he ran into
Beth? He was everything that I was looking for in a partner, and he
was unhappily married.

The next morning I woke first and enjoyed a quiet five minutes gently
running my hands over his body. Of course, when I got round to his
wedding tackle, which was piss proud, I woke him. He just sighed
contentedly and cuddled me. As it was a free day for both of us, we
made a leisurely start. I cooked breakfast while Terry wandered
around wearing only a T-shirt.

After breakfast he caught me bending over to load the dishwasher. I
could feel his chunky cock being pressed into my buns. When I
straightened up he grabbed me round the waist and hugged me tightly
to his body. His manhood was now becoming very interested in the
proceedings and it was digging into my buns.

"The bedroom! Now!" he said, in my ear.

This was an interesting change, we were not playing the game anymore.
He wasn't wanting to fuck the mythical Kenny, he was after my ass
this time.

To my surprise I was placed face up on the bed. He then climbed on
between my legs and put my ankles on his shoulders. In this position
I was greased up ready to be fucked. He slapped a quick handful of
lubricant on his meat then leant forwards. This almost doubled me in
two and presented my butt nicely to him. He guided his cock to its
objective, and I felt the head of it push against my ring. I relaxed,
surrendering my ass to him as he once more slid into me.

This time I could watch his face as he drove the length of his shaft
up me. He really did enjoy shoving it home. Then we kissed as he
worked up a bit of steam. The only problem of this position is, if
you are on the bottom, you can't move. Thus escaping your fate is
delightfully impossible. Once you let yourself get put in this
situation, you cannot avoid being fucked.

When he began to speed up he broke the kiss and raised himself on his
arms. His face now took on a cruel and hard look. His hips were
moving very fast and his rod was going in and out of me like a steam
piston. A vacant look came into his eyes as he lost all control of
his body as it became a fucking machine. Again there was the roar of
a wild animal as he filled me with his seed. Deep in my ass I could
feel his manhood spurting hot man cum.

He slowly collapsed on to my chest and I got my legs off his
shoulders. This time I wrapped them round his body; he wasn't going
to pull out of me until I was ready! It feels nice to have an
exhausted man lying on top of you. His chest heaving, his heart
thumping, his sweat running down on to you, and his cock still in
your ass. We lay there for at least ten minutes before he tried to
move.

Again it was back to the shower and once more I got to wash his body.
This time he was looking at me rather strangely. When I had finished
cleaning him he pushed me down into a corner. I looked up at him
questioningly, but he gave no sign of what he wanted. Then his hand
went round the shaft of his cock, he spread his legs slightly and a
look of concentration came on his face.

It took a minute or so, but the stream of amber piss eventually hit
my body. This was a new one for me; I had never tried water sports
before. As it hit my body it felt quite warm and, to be honest,
rather nice. Then he raised his aim and got me in the face. It is
supremely humiliating to sit and let another man use you as a urinal.
I was having trouble stopping myself from shooting. It was still
splashing off my face when I lost all hold on my body and my load
went right up his leg even getting into his pubic hair.

The long silence that followed was only broken by the sound of the
shower running. I looked at him and his face was the picture of
remorse. He had obviously given in to a long desired fantasy and now
he was regretting it. For my part, I had never experienced anything
quite like it. True it was totally disgusting, but it was also wildly
exciting to be degraded in such a manner.

"Wow! Now that was something else!" I said, hoping to make him feel
more at ease.

"You enjoyed it?"

"Yup, I like being submissive, and you are damned good at being
dominant."

"You'd let me do it again?"

"Sure. Now let me wash it off before I begin to smell like a men's
room at a country filling station."

And so our new relationship began. When we were both free, and Beth
was not around, we got on with it. The rest of the time we were just
neighbours.

In the meantime Beth's pregnancy progressed by leaps and bounds as
her belly became extremely large. About a week before she was due.
there was a terrible fire. A tire dump was set alight, and Terry was
one of the many brave fire fighters who had to help extinguish it. It
had been burning for about two days, when late one evening my door
buzzer sounded.

To my total surprise it was Beth at the door. She never came near me
normally using Terry as the medium of communication. She looked very
desperate.

"I've started. Can you get me to the hospital?" she asked.

"Sure." I said, grabbing my coat and car keys.

Now, I have several younger siblings, the youngest of which is a
sister. When my mother was due, she left it a little late and my
sister entered this world in the back of the family car on the way to
hospital. I can well remember the smell hung around in the car for
months! So I was now desperate to get Beth to the hospital before she
did the same thing to my car.

I'll skip over the drive to the hospital as Beth badmouthed me most
of the way there, and it took all my concentration to control my
temper. Now, had it been my kids that she was carrying, I could have
understood, but as I was an innocent bystander in the matter of her
pregnancy, I felt rather hard done by.

Fortunately, we made it in time, and when they had got her onto a
trolley, somehow I got dragged along with her. It was straight into
the delivery room. There everyone was wearing hospital greens and
masks to avoid identification. I was hurriedly rushed into my greens
and handed my mask. I tried telling the nurse who was helping me that
I wasn't keen on staying. Alas, she assumed that I was the very
nervous husband and just shushed me. Finally, a doctor - well, he had
a stethoscope round his neck - spoke to me.

"First time?" he asked.

"Not exactly, a cat once had kittens on my lap."

"Much the same thing, but a bit more messy, and there is a lot more
noise. Now, if you'd just go and hold her hand."

"Er... The cat bit my hand," I pointed out.

"Yes. That can happen here, too. Best keep your hands clear of her
mouth when she's bearing down."

"Perhaps I should explain..." I started, but he was off ,and I was
pushed towards Beth.

"NOT YOU! YOU BASTARD!" yelled Beth, when she set eyes on me.

"Don't worry. They often say things that they don't really mean at
this point," whispered the nurse.

"Oh, she means it all right. You see I'm not..."

But the rest of my explanation was lost as Beth screamed. Screaming,
as it turned out was her forte, and I must admit, she was very good
at it. Squeezing my hand was something she could also have won medals
for. I felt that I had shaken hands with two rugby teams by the time
the first baby popped out. About here I was considering falling to my
knees and thanking the Lord for making me male.

The poor woman got little respite as his brother made his entrance
just minutes later. By this time things had slackened, as she
delivered him with a lot less fuss.

I was just about to be handed a newborn baby when someone said, "Her
BP is dropping. Ninety over...I can't get a diastolic!"

The one I had assumed to be the doctor yelled, "Get him out of here,
STAT."

I was shoved out into the corridor and left in the hands of a junior
nurse. The first thing that I noticed was that she had gone as white
as a sheet.

"Big problems?" I asked.

She only nodded, and to my surprise I could see she was holding back
tears. Some time passed - don't ask me how long, and then the doctor
came out. One look at his face was enough to tell me the story.

"She didn't make it?" I asked.

He nodded glumly.

"As far as we can tell she suffered what we call an 'amniotic fluid
embolism.' It is when some of the fluid that the baby floats in gets
into the mother's bloodstream. It very swiftly causes heart failure,
and, even if we get them through that phase, then they often bleed to
death, as it interferes with the coagulation of the blood. It's very
rare..." he explained.

I just stood there, stunned. Eventually I managed to get the word
'phone' out.

"Is there someone you'd like to call?" he asked.

I nodded, and they led me to a phone. The receptionist must have
though that I was crazy when I asked her to put me through to the
fire department, but she did it.

After a bit of talking I was finally put through to the site of the
fire that Terry was fighting. The officer there told me my next piece
of bad news. Terry didn't need to be released from the fire to come
to the hospital as he was already there - in the Emergency Room.

The young nurse took me to the E.R., but Terry was in the operating
room and unconscious. However, they did tell me that he was expected
to recover. I ended up in a side room somewhere, sitting on a sofa,
wondering what the Hell had happened to me. Some time later the door
opened and a middle-aged man entered.

"I was already in the hospital visiting someone, and they asked me if
I'd look in on you," he said, quietly.

"Huh?"

"I'm a priest," he explained.

"Ah," was all that I could manage.

"I hear that you have just lost your wife."

I shook my head.

"Oh, perhaps I'm in the wrong room," he said, turning to leave.

"No. You're in the right room. She is not my wife. She is, or was, my
next-door neighbour. Her husband was on duty fighting the fire at the
tire dump when her labour started, and I had to drive her here.
Unfortunately there wasn't time to explain who I was before things
began to happen..."

"And does her husband know?"

"No, he's unconscious somewhere in the hospital. He was hurt in the
fire, and I still have to tell him," I said.

"Ah, don't worry on that score. I'll make sure one of the medical
staff break the bad news to him. You seem to be taking it hard. Would
you like a drink?"

I looked up at him, rather startled. Yes, he was dressed as a priest,
a Roman Catholic priest. More interestingly he was holding quite a
reasonably sized hip flask. I nodded; he fetched a glass and poured
out an indecently large measure of what turned out to be brandy.

"I find that it often helps to talk things through when they are
worrying you," he said.

"Like confession?"

"Nope. I can listen, but I won't give you absolution, or a penance,
but I might have some advice."

"The truth might surprise you."

"I doubt it. These old ears of mine have heard a lot, much of which
might surprise you. Now, go on, get it off your chest," he said,
fetching a second glass and pouring himself a decent belt.

I took a gulp of the brandy, waited until the warm glow began to
suffuse through my body and then I spoke, "Where should I start? The
beginning I suppose is traditional. Beth and Terry moved in next-door
about a year ago. Beth is, well was, very Christian. Not your brand,
Father, one of the many Evangelicals that abound in this country."

Here he smiled.

"She wanted me to join her church, but I wouldn't and in the end she
hated me."

"For not joining her Church?"

"No, for the reason that I wouldn't, or to be more correct, couldn't
join. I'm gay."

"Ah. Doomed to eternal damnation and refusing to see the light?" he
said, smiling gently.

I sipped the brandy and nodded. "The lowest of the low, that's me.
But there is a little more to the tale: She is not only very
religious; she is also a total prude. Terry's sex life was never very
good at the best, but when she got pregnant, it dropped off
entirely."

I looked at his face and saw his question.

"Oh, Terry told me what was, or rather, was not happening," I said,
not exactly telling a lie but coming perilously close to it.

"And you took up the slack," said the priest, scaring the shit out of
me.

"No Father, it is worse than that. We became lovers. Now his wife is
dead and I was...," I dribbled out.

"Responsible? No, you were not in any way responsible. You did as any
good Christian would have done. You got her to the hospital. Then
there was a complication that no one, not even the doctors, could
have foreseen, and from that she died. So my friend, you are in no
way to blame for her death."

There was a long silence, broken only by both of us sipping our
drinks.

Then, I told him about my son and his going to an orphanage. I
explained how I felt that he had been stolen from both his parents
and how I now feared the same thing would happen to Terry.

"Some water has flowed under the bridge since you were a lad of
sixteen. Times have changed and it is now quite difficult to take
children away from their parents. I shall have a few words with those
who think they are in charge and make sure that the hospital doesn't
stick its oar in. But what happens then?"

"I have younger brothers and sisters; I'm the eldest. As a child I
learned how to feed, burp, change, bathe, and, well, do everything
with babies. In theory Terry and I could raise them."

"You would help raise another man's children?"

"Yes! It would make up for never getting the chance to raise my own."

"I can see your point. In the great scheme of things it would all
level out. Of course, the law and most churches might not take as
enlightened a view, but there again, I'm not allowed to tell anyone."

We sat and chatted for about another hour with me getting the lion's
share of the brandy. Then, he got me a bed for the night in the
hospital. Some kind medic gave me a sleeping pill. That, and the
brandy, ensured that the universe went away and left me alone for
several hours.

Alas, the next morning the universe was still there waiting for me.
Terry had recovered consciousness and been adjudged well enough to
receive the bad news. When I called in on him, he was lucid enough to
make me recall every detail.

I went home, and he returned after a week. By dint of effort, mainly
on my part, we convinced the hospital that we could be trusted with
two newborn boys. Terry named them John and Mike. Of course the
'looking after' was done mainly by me. Terry was still in shock and
about as much use as a chocolate teapot.

I had to arrange Beth's funeral, which I also had to attend. I found
it rather ironic that Beth finally did get me to go to her church. In
truth I hated every last second of it. The preacher was not like any
Church of England priest that I had ever seen. For starters he wore
no clerical gear and came across with all the sincerity of a used car
salesman. In fact, he did look a bit like Richard Nixon.

For convenience the twins were staying in my spare room. After a few
days Terry also moved in but to my room. No, there was no sex; he was
still too traumatised for that. Then the pressure started from the
county's children's welfare department, trying to take the kids off
Terry. The trouble was, he wouldn't fight back.

I was in his apartment collecting some things when his phone rang. It
was his mother, going mad because she hadn't been able to contact
him. She hadn't even heard the bad news. However, she seemed to be
quite cold about Beth's passing, but I when mentioned the kids and
their possible future, she just about crawled down the phone line.

The next day I collected her from the airport, and we went straight
to the children's welfare department. She was a small, slightly dumpy
woman, but she went through the department like a rampaging
bulldozer. Petty officials, who had been most condescending to me,
wilted before her onslaught. After about an hour they were glad to
get rid of us, and I think they would have shot anyone who suggested
putting the kids up for adoption.

Then, we drove back to the apartments and on the way I was quizzed
about who was looking after the babies, doing the cooking, washing
and housekeeping. When I said that Terry was still suffering from the
trauma, she looked very skeptical.

"He always was a bit of a malingerer," she said.

I didn't dare say another word, but when we got back, she had a quick
session with her grandsons, before she set about her son. I was
changing John, but I could hear her quite clearly in the bedroom. It
appears that she was quite disgusted with her son nearly losing her
grandchildren. Starting babies was, it seemed, the easy bit. Now he
had to face up to his responsibilities as a father and bring the kids
up. As far as she knew, he didn't have a clue even how to change a
baby, but he was going to learn. So, under his grandmother's
supervision, Mike got changed by his father for the first time.

She stayed for two weeks and during this time Terry got very little
rest and absolutely no sympathy. She goaded him into doing all the
backed up paperwork and taught him how to look after babies. To tell
the truth we were both rather relieved when she left.

Eventually, the insurance money came through, and it came to a
surprising amount. From it we were able to buy a house. At some time
in the past it had been a farm, but now it was just a house and a
barn but with a fair bit of ground. We got it cheap as the buildings
were in a sad state of repair. Fortunately, if you are good with your
hands, this is not an insurmountable problem. OK, I'll admit that for
a year Home Depot was the top button on my speed-dialer. But, after a
while the place became a home, fit to bring up two crazy young boys.

Then came the pets. It started with a cat, for we had mice. A dog
quickly followed; then the cat had kittens. Fortunately I was not
bitten this time! But, this caused both the cat and the dog to get a
quick trip to the vet to make sure that it didn't happen again. The
ponies were the last to arrive. Well, the boys had to grow up a bit
before they could ride them.

Terry and I? We quietly settled down as lovers. We share the same
bed. The boys don't see this as strange. I keep Terry satisfied, and
as a reward I get to sleep in his strong arms every night. And,
although the boys are not mine, at least I get the pleasure of
bringing them up...which is a gift not normally given to gay guys.

The End

My thanks to the mysterious "Verpa" for assisting with the editing.

Comments and criticism may be trained in my direction by Emailing
this address jamieanderson@compuserve.com