Date: Thu, 16 Apr 2009 21:11:39 -0500
From: Morris Henderson <bigmoh@post.com>
Subject: culture_clash_chapter_2

CULTURE CLASH

Jay arrived in mid-afternoon.  We studied for almost
an hour before getting to the last chemistry
assignment, which required accessing the internet.
Fortunately, dad had bought me a laptop computer and
paid for internet access.  I suggested to Jay that he
find the web site and take notes on the information we
needed.  "While you do that," I said, "I'll finish
fixing dinner."

He readily agreed and I busied myself in the
kitchenette.  About fifteen minutes later, dinner was
ready but Jay was still on the computer.  I walked
over to see what he had found and was stunned to see
what was on the screen.


CHAPTER TWO

Jay was clicking through a gallery of pictures on a
gay website.  He must have been riveted to what he was
seeing because he didn't notice me standing behind
him.  I was mortified as realized that I had
carelessly closed my browser in the middle of a
session and had used the Firefox option to reopen the
active tabs.  When Jay opened the browser, there were
the pornographic pictures I had been looking at.

My mind was racing, desperately trying to come up with
some excuse for what he found.  But, of course, there
is no excuse.  Then I noticed his left hand rubbing an
obvious swelling in his crotch while his right hand on
the mouse was clicking from one picture to the next.

Would a straight guy do that?  Would he continue to
look at picture after picture?  Would he get aroused
and fondle himself?  The answer seemed obvious: NO!
Jay must be gay like me!

The new insight into my friend's interests and
watching the pictures over his shoulder combined to
give me a raging hard-on.  I assumed that I would no
longer have to explain why those homoerotic pictures
came up on my computer.  Since he was most probably
gay, he would understand and not condemn me for it.
Now I had to make another decision: what to say to him
about our shared interests.

It wasn't the best of comments but I asked, "Like what
you see?"

He jumped as though he had heard an explosion.  He
snapped his head around and looked at me with an
expression of sheer panic.  He began to shake and
rattle off something in Thai.  I couldn't understand a
word of what he was saying but it was clear that his
stress level was off the chart.  I felt terrible for
causing him so much pain and put my hand on his
shoulder, hoping to settle him down.  It had the
opposite effect.  He recoiled as if my hand were a hot
poker.  He stood up on shaky legs and continued to
speak in Thai.

I had to settle him down!  I wrapped my arms around
him in a hug.  He tried to break free but I held him
tightly while saying, "It's all right, Jay.  Calm
down.  You have nothing to be ashamed of."

He stopped resisting my hug and fell silent although
he was still shaking.  He began to sob.

I led him to the sofa, sat him down, and sat next to
him with my arm around his shoulders.  "It's okay,
Jay.  There's no reason to be embarrassed or guilty."

After a while, he mumbled something in Thai and I
said, "I don't understand your language, Jay.  Can you
say it in English?"

He struggled to gain control of himself and get out
the English words.  "I am sorry.  I am gaaw.  Don't
hate me.  Please."

"Gaaw?" I asked.  "Does that mean gay?  Are you
homosexual?"

"Yes," he murmured as he dropped his head to his chest
as tears fell onto his shirt.  "Please don't hate me."

"I don't hate you, Jay.  And I'll tell you why."

I took his hand and placed it on my crotch where my
hard-on was creating a sizable bulge.  He tried to
pull his hand back but I held it there while saying,
"Those pictures excite me.  I'm also gay.  I'm just
like you."

He looked up at me.  I smiled down on him.  The pain I
saw in his expression slowly drained away as the
significance of what I said sank in.  But then it
returned when he said, "No one can know!  It would
shame my family!"

"Don't worry, Jay.  No one will know ... just as no
one knows about me.  Only my father knows but he won't
tell anyone."

"I must not shame my family!" he repeated
emphatically.

"You won't," I said.  "We both have a secret and your
secret is safe with me."

We sat together in silence for a while.  I had already
grown to like him as a close friend.  Knowing that he
was gay gave me ideas.  I wanted to live my fantasy,
to see him naked, and to press our bodies together.
But I restrained myself.  This was not the time.  He
was too upset at having his secret revealed.  Later,
perhaps, there would be an opportunity.

When he had settled down enough to talk, we shared our
secrets more fully.  I told him when I was first
attracted to men, how I fought the urges that were
building up in me, how I dated a girl primarily to
conceal my secret and avoid ridicule, and how I had
finally told my father who was surprised but accepted
it much better than I had hoped.  Jay's journey
through puberty was similar.  He had the same feelings
that grew stronger as he matured.  But his anguish was
far greater than my own because of his family's
culture.  He was aware of the tourists who came to
Thailand for sex.  He even knew two boys who earned a
lot of money "entertaining" men.  They tried to
persuade him to do the same but he feared that his
parents would learn of it and be shamed.

We also talked about whether homosexuality was normal
or abnormal.  He knew more than I did about the
prevalence of homosexuality in the population and the
theories about biological, genetic, and environmental
triggers of homosexuality.  In the end, we agreed that
we shared the same opinion: homosexuality is uncommon
but not abnormal any more than left-handedness or red
hair.  However, because of society's intolerance and
prejudice, especially in his culture, we must both
keep our yearnings secret.  That was paramount in
Jay's mind; he was virtually paranoid about his secret
shaming his family.

After more than an hour of discussion, Jay realized
that it was late and he had to return home.  He stood
and started to gather his things to leave.  Suddenly,
he said, "We did not finish the school assignment.  I
am sorry."

"Don't worry," I replied as I stood.  "The assignment
isn't due until Friday.  Do you think you can come
another night?  We can finish the assignment and maybe
talk some more."

He grinned.  "I would like that."  His shyness
returned.  It seemed he forced out his next words.  "I
like working with you.  You are good friend."

"I like you, too, Jay."  Then, impulsively, I hugged
him.  He didn't resist but, instead, returned the hug.

When he had gone, I found myself hoping that the
parting hug was the first step in a journey toward a
meaningful relationship.  However, I sensed that I
could not travel too fast on that journey.  I would
have to go at a pace that was comfortable to Jay.

**************

Jay arrived at my apartment at three on Wednesday
afternoon as we had agreed.  I answered the door and
ushered him inside.  I resisted the urge to take him
into my arms.

"How are you," I asked as we sat next to each other at
my desk.  "Are you all right?"

"Yes," he replied.  "I am now."

His response was ambiguous and I had to ask, "Now?"

"Yes.  I have thought about Monday night.  Looking at
the pictures on your computer was wrong.  I shouldn't
have done that.  It was ... what's the English word?
... impolite.  I apologize."

"I'm glad you did, Jay.  I know you were upset when I
saw you but it did allow us to find out about each
other.  I'm grateful for that."

"I am, too," he said.  "Now.  I worried about somebody
knowing my secret.  I must not shame my family.  But
you understand that.  You will keep my secret.  So I
am grateful to you."

"Okay," I said.  "Let's get the assignment done.
Then, if you like, we can look at some more pictures.
Together."

His spontaneous smile was a delight to see.  Letting
him visit my favorite web sites was a small repayment
for all the help he had generously given to me in the
chemistry class.  More importantly, it was evidence
that he might be willing, eventually, to do more than
look at pictures.

We finished the assignment quickly.  "The work is
done," I said.  "We can play now."

His infectious smile told me he was eager to visit the
gay web sites.  It wasn't long before we were both
hard.  I noticed that Jay was fondling himself through
his trousers again.  I debated with myself for as long
as I could stand it but then decided to take a risk.
I moved his hand away and cupped his crotch with my
own.  He let out a slight gasp but did not object.
Gradually, I began to fondle the prominent bulge in
his groin.  Still no resistance.  But he had made no
move to feel my throbbing cock.  I would have welcomed
that.

A few minutes later, I began to unzip his fly but only
about an inch.  "May I?" I asked.

He answered with only a grin, which I took as
permission.  As he continued to click through the
pictures, my hand found its way through his fly and
inside his trousers.  His boxers were wet with precum,
which only intensified my lust.  Without asking for
further permission, I unbuckled his belt and
unbuttoned his waistband to gain better access to his
manhood.

Before proceeding further, I asked, "Do you want me to
stop?"

"No," he said coarsely.

I slipped my hand under his boxers and made contact
with the first penis other than my own that I had ever
touched.  My heart was racing.  My body seemed to
tingle with excitement.  I had to restrain my urge to
strip this handsome young man naked and feast on his
entire body.

I fondled -- no, I caressed -- his rock-hard shaft
inside his boxers.  I wanted to slip his trousers and
boxers down to get a better view of his cock but I
thought that would be rushing things too much.  I
manipulated his foreskin up and down over the helmeted
head of his cock while relishing every minute.
Suddenly, his body stiffened, he bucked his hips up
and groaned loudly.  I felt the hot cream erupt out of
his cock in several volleys.  Then, he went limp,
breathing heavily with his eyes closed and a satisfied
grin on his angelic face.

When he had recovered, I asked, "Are you all right?"

"Wi set," he moaned.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Sorry.  It means wonderful."

I withdrew my hand from his under his boxers.  It was
covered with his thick cream.

He looked at it and exclaimed, "I am sorry, Brian.  I
made a mess.  I could not help it.  It felt good.  I
could not help it."

"Don't worry," I smiled.  "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Apparently, he suddenly realized that he had creamed
in his pants.  "Yee!" he yelped (which I later learned
translates to "Damn!").  "My underpants are wet!  My
mother will be angry with me."

If he were not so upset about creaming his pants, I
would have laughed.  Instead, I felt sorry for him ...
and sorry that I had not been able to swallow his
sperm.  "Don't worry, Jay.  There's a washing machine
and dryer in the basement.  We can wash and dry them
before it's time for you to go home."

Then, I had a brilliantly devious idea.  If my plan
worked, I would be able to admire him in the nude.
"Come with me," I said.

I led him into the bathroom.  "Take off your pants and
your wet boxers," I said, hoping it sounded more like
a suggestion than a command.

He looked at me suspiciously but, having no better
option, he turned to face away from me and removed his
trousers and cum-soaked boxers.  He had the cutest
little ass!  He turned around to hand me his boxers
with one hand while he shyly covered the most
interesting part of his body with his free hand,
denying me the chance to see his manhood.  I had just
jerked him off, for heaven's sake, and he was being
modest about showing his private parts!

"There are a couple of spots on your pants, too.  As
long as I'm washing your boxers, I'll wash your pants.
I picked them up off the floor and asked, "How about
your shirt?"

Fortunately (for me), his shirt also had cum spots and
I asked him to take it off.  He turned to face away
from me to remove his shirt.  I could tell he was
growing increasingly uncomfortable because he stood
there, now totally naked, with both hands covering his
groin.  Although I wanted to feast my eyes on his
lithe body, I said, "Here; wrap up in this towel while
I go downstairs and start the washing machine.  He
took the towel with one hand but left the other
covering his cock and balls.  I would have welcomed
the chance to wash the cum off his beautiful cock and
pubic bush but he was obviously not ready for that
kind of attention.

When I returned from the basement after starting the
washing machine, Jay was sitting on the sofa with the
towel wrapped around his waist and, it seemed to me,
looking a little troubled.

"Ten minutes and your clothes will be clean," I said.
Another ten minutes in the dryer and you'll be set."

"Brian," he said hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"What you did ... what WE did.  It felt very good.
Was it wrong what we did?"

"No!" I replied.  "We're good friends.  We like each
other.  We're both gay.  It made me happy to give you
pleasure.  Do you think it was wrong?"

"I don't know.  Everybody says it's wrong.  But I know
that men ... many men ... men like us ... do things
together.  And it feels good.  Why do people say it is
wrong, Brian?"

I knew my answer had to do two things.  It had to
relieve the guilt that he seemed to be experiencing
and, given his intellect, it had to be factual.  I
made up my answer as I spoke.  "I don't think it's
wrong as long as both men agree to do things together.
Nobody should be forced to do it.  I wanted to give
you pleasure and you allowed it without objection so I
continued.  How can it be wrong if we both enjoyed it?
So why do other people say it's wrong?  Well, that's
not easy to answer but I have some theories.  Many
religions say it is a sin.  Is there a rational basis
for condemning men who have sex?  I don't think so.  A
second reason might be that homosexuals are a
minority.  The majority want us to conform to their
values.  They use discrimination and prejudice as
weapons to force us to conform to their beliefs, to be
like them."

I paused, wondering if my spur-of-the-moment answer
made him feel better.  I couldn't tell from his
expression.  I needed to find out what he was thinking
and how he really felt.  "Are you sorry we did what we
did, Jay?"

"I don't know," he said after thinking a few moments.
"I enjoyed it.  I have often wished for ... ah ... for
a friend to do things with.  But I have shamed my
family."

So that was the problem!  He felt guilty for doing
something that violated his family's beliefs.  As much
as I wanted a relationship with Jay -- that would
include sex -- there was little I could do about the
conflict he faced.  But I could try so I said, "I
understand that honoring one's family and ancestors
are very important in Chinese culture."  (He was a
second-generation Thai but I knew his family
maintained their Chinese heritage.)  "I wish I could
help you balance your loyalty to family with the fact
that you are gay.  But I'm afraid that's something
you'll have to work out on your own.  All I can say is
that I like you very much, Jay.  I want to be your
friend.  If you decide to be what you are, a gay man,
then I would like to give you pleasure.  If, however,
you chose to be loyal to your family's tradition and
values, I will respect that and never do anything with
you that would make you uncomfortable.  Whatever you
choose, I want to be your friend."

He looked at me seriously.  His eyes were watering.
"Thank you, Brian.  For understanding.  And for ...
for what we did together.  I like you more than I can
say.  I want to be your friend.  You are my best
friend in this country."

I wanted to hug him to show him my affection but that
would violate my promise not to make him
uncomfortable.  All I could do was re-affirm my
friendship and hope that his decision would allow us
to share our affection in intimate ways.

I left to put his clothes in the dryer.  Upon my
return to the apartment I saw that Jay hadn't moved
and was still deep in thought.

"Ten minutes and your clothes will be ready," I said
cheerily, hoping to brighten his spirits.

"Then I must go," he replied.

"But you'll come back, won't you?  I really enjoy our
time together.  I want to be your friend.  And, don't
worry.  I promise I won't do anything that will make
you uncomfortable."

"Of course I will return," he said with the barest
hint of a smile.  "I like being here with you.  I like
you."

************

Three weeks passed.  Jay came to my apartment every
Monday night to work on our chemistry assignments.  He
even asked me questions that might be on the upcoming
test and then helped me understand the topics where I
didn't answer correctly.  In return, I agreed to help
him with his English pronunciation and grammar.  His
appetite for mastering the language was insatiable and
I was pleased to be able to partially return his favor
of helping me in chemistry.

Although our time together was limited strictly to
course work and casual conversation, I found that I
looked forward to being with him.  On a few occasions,
I wanted to ask him what he may have decided to solve
his dilemma -- whether he would permit sexual contact
with me or remain loyal to his family's beliefs.
However, I restrained myself.  My jerk-off sessions,
alone in bed or the bathroom, were inevitably enhanced
by visions of a very attractive young Asian man.

Then came a momentous Monday night.  We had finished
our homework and were chatting before it was time for
him to return home.

He looked up, without a hint of smiling, and said,
"Brian, two men can do sex and enjoy it.  Can two men
love each other?  Like a man loves a woman?"

I was not prepared for that question but I muddled
through an answer.  "I can't speak from experience,
Jay because I've never been in love.  Oh, I love my
dad.  I used to love my mom.  But that's a different
kind of love.  All I can say is that I think it's very
possible.  Tell me what you think."

"I want to believe it's possible," he said.  "But I
don't know what love is ... especially between two
men."

I had an idea.  "Excuse me a minute, Jay.  I want to
get something that seems appropriate."  He looked
puzzled as I retrieved a paper from my desk.

"This is something I read in a story by Tom Borden on
the internet.  Maybe it will help you understand.  In
the story, a gay man who is in love with another gay
man is giving advice to a young gay man.  Here's what
he says."  I began to read the passage.  `Love is
nearly impossible to describe.  It's like trying to
describe a cool, fragrant breeze suddenly blowing over
you on a hot, muggy day.  But you'll know it; you'll
know love when it hits you and sweeps over you.
You'll know it when a certain exhilaration comes over
you.  You'll feel enlivened and your heart will
quicken.  A feeling of warmth and tenderness and
endearment will take hold of you like a cramp in your
middle.  And with it will come passion, desire, and a
yearning like nothing you have ever felt before.'"

"That's beautiful," Jay said.  "Would you read it
again and let me stop you when I don't understand
something?"

I read it again.  He stopped me for several words he
didn't know and I tried to define them for him.  When
I finished, he was lost in thought.  I gave him time
to absorb the words and the meaning.

Finally, he spoke.  "Would you read it once more,
please?"

I didn't know why he wanted to hear it for a third
time.  His mind was so agile that he normally grasped
the meaning of everything instantly.  But I complied
with his request.  When I had finished, he sat
silently.  How I wanted to know what he was thinking!

He then looked at me.  His eyes sparkled.  Some of
that sparkle was due to a tiny amount of tears but the
sparkle seemed to be coming from his very soul.

"Brian," he began, "That has happened to me.  I have
this feeling when I am with you.  I did not know what
it was.  Now I know.  It is love, Brian.  I think I
love you."

To be continued.