Date: Mon, 3 Nov 2008 13:36:41 -0600
From: Cameron Maxx <cameron.maxx@gmail.com>
Subject: Growing Up Josh 7

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This story is a work of FICTION. While actual people and/or events may
inspire some characters and situations, no implications are intended or
should be drawn. Any similarities to actual events or persons are strictly
coincidental.

THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF CONSENSUAL SEXUAL ACTS BETWEEN
TWO ADULT MALES. IT IS INTENDED FOR A MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY! IF YOU FIND
THIS TYPE OF MATERIAL OFFENSIVE, IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, OR UNDER THE LEGAL
AGE TO VIEW SUCH MATERIAL THEN PLEASE READ NO FURTHER.

(c)2007-2008 All original material contained here within is copyrighted by
the author, Cameron Maxx, and may not be reproduced in any form without
express written consent. The Nifty Archive is granted a non-exclusive,
worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual, and non-cancelable license to display
this work.

PLEASE NOTE: Feedback, both positive and negative, is welcomed and greatly
appreciated. Abusive correspondence or flames of any kind will, of course,
be strictly ignored - cameron.maxx@gmail.com
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INTRODUCTION

Now, I know it took me a bit longer than I'd hoped, but I have a really
good excuse. After "peeling off" this part from Chapter 6 and deciding to
make it a new chapter, I read it again and realized it didn't really stand
on its own. It still felt like a part of Chapter 6 that had been chopped
off. I knew I needed to add more to it to make it whole. Plus, I ended up
rewriting almost the entire second half twice. I just couldn't get it quite
right. The dialogue never felt true to me. So, after a lot of tweaking,
here it is. I hope the wait was worth it!

Also, for all you horny types out there who've been impatiently waiting for
some "below the waist" action, here you go. I hope this wait was worth it
for you as well and that I delivered some "hotness."

Finally, thank you all for your comments on Chapter 6. The reaction was
just overwhelming and meant a lot to me. Happy reading!

-Cameron


CHAPTER 7

My father had been a corporate lawyer; his specialty was international law
and shortly after I was born he left his firm. He took quite a few clients
with him and caused an outcry from the other partners, but despite that
became a successful consultant for companies who wanted to open operations
outside the U.S. Need to build a chemical manufacturing plant in Shri Lanka
that might displace hundreds of poor villagers? My dad could make it
happen. Need to make sure that oil spill off the Alaskan coast wasn't your
fault? My dad was who you called. Need to get a coal-fired power plant up
and running in Nigeria to help power a new diamond mind? You guessed it, my
dad.

He had a brilliant business and legal mind and he saw international trade
and industrialization as the surest way to move mankind forward. He was a
true believer who slept comfortably at night and never doubted his actions
or motivations. I, of course, came to loath the companies that paid him and
what they stood for. He was a life-long Republican and Southern
Baptist. I'd known the Bush twins since we were all in diapers.

He was only one generation removed from the poor white trash of the South
Texas oil fields from which his own father had emerged. The great irony of
his life was though he made it possible for others to make obscene profits,
and while he too made a great deal of money, he never enjoyed it. He lived
a modest lifestyle, socking his savings away in one fund after
another. Anything my mom or I he considered an indulgent extravagance. He
lived his life ashamed of the money he'd made, hiding it from his own
abusive father who would have had nothing but unkind words to say to him
about how he'd become "one of them."

The great tragedy of his life was his own, stubborn refusal to see his
father for who he was: a mean, petty, jealous, bitter, little man who took
his own failings out on all those around him. Instead, he saw him as a
strong, decisive man who was all a father should be. He could no more make
his own father happy than I could him. And now, he was in the ground. It
was all over, simple as that.

I sat on the bed, staring at nothing, looking out the window and past the
balcony, thinking about the years of our shared history. I could hear the
waves coming in from the beach and looked at the clock. I'd been sitting
there, thinking about year after melancholy year, for over twenty
minutes. I should have joined my mom and Josh quite some time ago and
needed to get on the road soon, too.

Quickly I pulled off my funeral attire and got into some comfortable cargo
shorts, a loose fitting, button down shirt leaving the top two or three
open, and some well worn leather sandals. Down the stairs, out the front
door, across the yard, over the grassy embankment I walked and then I felt
my soles sinking into the sand on the beach. I stopped for a moment, taking
in the scene. A giant, red-orange sun was sinking into the horizon, meeting
the gulf. Josh stood in the fiery, glittering water with the low waves
reaching to just below his chest. My mom stood at the water's edge, the
surf lapping at her bare feet. They faced each; Josh was smiling and
talking and my mom threw her head back laughing. He started laughing,
too. From here they looked like old friends enjoying each other's company
after a long absence.

I had crossed just over half the distance to where they were before he
caught sight of me. "Alex!" he half yelled, hopping slightly up out of the
water and raising his hand above his head, waiving as though I might
otherwise miss the two of them and keep right on walking. I smiled and
waived back.

My mom turned towards me. "Hey, sweetie."

"Hey," I said. "Looks like you two are having fun."

"It is a beautiful day to be at the beach, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes, yes it is," I nodded my agreement.

She turned back towards Josh and said, "he was just trying to convince me I
should join him for a swim."

He looked at me with big, hopeful eyes and a grin I knew too well. "C'mon,
Alex. Tell her I'm right. It will be fun."

"Well, I agree with you but you don't know my mom. She doesn't get her hair
wet, come hell or high water."

"That's right," she agreed. "I was just trying to convince him of that."

"Don't be silly!" he begged, turning the charm up a notch. "You look
great. Besides, it's the beach. You're supposed to get wet! That's the
whole point."

She looked at him, then towards me, then back at him. I could tell she was
unconvinced but also surprisingly vulnerable to his powers of
persuasion. Having found myself giving into him on more than one occasion,
I wasn't so sure if my mother might not just go home with wet hair this
evening after all.

I decided to intervene on her behalf. "How's this sound?" I
suggested. "Josh, why don't you swim and splash around or whatever while my
mom and I sit and talk. Then, when I take off, you can try convincing her
again."

My mom and I both looked at him as he considered my offer. "Okay, deal!" he
said before twisting away from us and diving beneath the waves. He surfaced
a good ten feet from where he'd disappeared and set a lazy swimming pace
away from us.

I turned to my mom and smiled, "You owe me one."

"Yes, thank you," she said. "Quite frankly, I don't know how you live with
him. He's really quite insufferable, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is," I said flatly but then added, "and I'm pretty sure you adore
him."

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again and smiled. Finally she
nodded, "yes, I'm afraid I do."

I put my arm around her shoulder and led her back up the sand a few feet,
just out of reach of the water. I held her hand as she sat down then sat
down next to her. We watched Josh for a few minutes before either of us
spoke. He was a good ways out now and was no longer swimming but floated on
his back looking perfectly relaxed as his body bobbed gently up and down on
the waves.

"Are you sure you don't mind me going off to dinner tonight?" I asked.

"Not at all," she answered. "I'm glad you're getting to see your
friends. Don't you worry about me."

"Okay, then. I won't."

"Good. I don't want you to. Besides, I'll be fine here with him. I think
dinner out will be good for me. It will give me time to get to know him
better and not think about your father."

I considered what she had said for a second, then, "you should go swimming
with him."

She turned to me, a surprised look on her face. "What?"

"You heard me. Go swimming. Swim for your life. Swim for me, swim for
Josh. Swim for dad. Swim like the whole world is watching, mom. Just swim."

"Oh, Alex," in a dismissive tone.

"I'm serious."

She looked at be again, sober now. "It's been a long time. I don't even
know if I still ..."

"You can still swim," I cut her off. "And even if you can't, he's a great
swimmer. He'll take care of you."

She looked at me. "I don't know."

"Well, at least think about it, will you?"

She finally nodded. "I'll think about it. But no promises."

"Fair enough," I said and stood. I walked towards the water. "JOSHUA!" I
yelled. His head popped up and looked in my direction. I made a fist with
my right hand, bumped it against my chest twice, then extended my arm and
gave him the peace sign. I could see him laugh before shooting a peace sign
back at me. I smiled, then turned and walked back to where my mom still
sat.

I looked down at her. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

I reached down mussed her hair. "Stop that, dammit!" she said in an annoyed
tone and swatted my hand away. "I hate it when you do that."

"I know you do," I replied. "But now your hair is already messed up so you
might as well go for a swim."

"Go to dinner," she said.

"I love you."

"Yeah, yeah. Go to dinner." I laughed and started away back up towards the
embankment and to the car on the other side.

----

I'd met Amanda and Patrick during my first year in college. I'd been
accepted to the University of Texas in Austin, but ended up having to delay
my enrollment. Much to my surprise and dismay, just after I was accepted to
the University, my father announced he would not be paying for my
tuition. I was 18 now, a man, and I needed to live on my own and find a way
to support myself. He had paid his own way in college, so why shouldn't I?
It would build character. This news came as a total shock to both my mother
and me and I simply didn't have the time to get scholarships and financial
aid together before the fall semester. So, I spent my freshman year at
Villette College, the local two year school.

Meeting Amanda was one of the only blessings to come out of that year. She
was my age but had gone to a different high school. We met in theatre class
and got along from day one. She was short, only about 5'4" or so, and a
little on the chubby side. But you'd never think of her as fat, just a bit
curvier than some. She was actually very athletic and had been a state
champion tennis player. Our shared love of movies and a similar sense of
humor bonded us quickly. She was the first person I officially came out
to. We were sitting on a patio at a Mexican cafe in Houston; we'd driven up
for the afternoon to see a few films that weren't showing in Villette, and
suddenly I just said, "I'm gay." Of course, I'd known for some time and was
no virgin and many of my friends knew, too. But that was the first time I'd
ever spoken those words aloud to myself or to anyone else.

Patrick was a few years older than us and worked part-time at the college
in the theatre as a stagehand and house manager. At first, he treated us as
though we were just another pair of dumb kids. But eventually, we became
friends and before too long there was a budding romance between them. A
couple years later they were married and had since stayed in Villette,
becoming a leading force in both the community theatre and
all-things-performing-arts-related in a small town desperately in need of
anything artistic. I loved them dearly and missed them all too much.

It was almost dark as I pulled into the parking lot at Siesta. One of
Villette's oldest restaurants, it was the place for Tex-Mex food and one of
the few things from my past that I longed for from time to time. Pulling in
I saw them waiting for me near the front door and smiled.

"Alex!" she called as I stepped from the car. We met half way and she
wrapped me in a fierce hug, crushing me against her giant tits. I wasn't
surprised to see she still had some of the biggest bosoms I'd ever
witnessed. God, it was so good to see her.

"Manda, I can't breathe," I laughed and she finally let me go.

She smiled up at me. "Oh, my god. I can't believe you're here!"

"Yeah, me either," I said.

Patrick was standing behind her, patiently waiting his turn. We shook
hands, then he hugged me as well, patting me on the back as he did. "You
know," he said, "Manda hasn't stopped talking about you coming for the last
few days since you called."

I laughed again. "Well, you know she did love me first. You are, after all,
just her husband."

He rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Oh, trust me. I know my place in this
relationship very well."

We sat and talked for hours, laughing as we told story after story about
when we were all a bit younger and a little more care free. We also ate way
too much. Chips and queso, enchiladas, tacos, rice, beans, chalupas, and
more margaritas then I could count all came and went from the table as we
talked. Finally the conversation turned to my father, his death, and my
mom. Manda was very close to my mother and had spoken to her several times
this week before my arrival in Texas. And, at long last, I started to talk
about Josh. I decided not to go into all the details, but I was sure they
knew me well enough to read a great deal into what I chose to say. They
were supportive, of course, but as was their tendency also protective of me
and my feelings. He was an untested force in my life and they had both
lived through the Ryan years. They sensed the potential damage he could
inflict and, I think, felt the same rush of hopes and fears I did when I
allowed myself to consider the relationship.

It was almost midnight when we finally paid our bill and left. We were the
last customers to leave and I couldn't help but notice that some of the
staff was giving us a few less than friendly looks. In the parking lot,
before parting ways, we all hugged again.

"I miss you so much," Manda said, sounding emotional.

"I miss you, too." And I did. I really, really did. She'd been an
unflappable ally and loyal friend for years. She would go to the mat for me
no matter what and I knew it. "You guys have got to come visit me in
L.A. You'd love it and you're always more than welcome. Just say when."

She nodded. "I know, we really need to do that. We've talked about it so
many times and then just never follow through."

"If you're lucky, I might even introduce you to some of my cool,
Hollywood-type, movie friends," I offered.

"Oh, Jesus!" she rolled her eyes.

After a few more minutes and a promise from them both to come for a visit
in the near future, we hugged once more then parted ways. I headed back
towards Rockport with that warm feeling only old friends and shared laughs
can afford you. It was nice.

----

When I pulled the car to the curb in front of the beach house, I expected
to see dark windows and nothing more. It was about 12:30 in the morning and
I was sure that everyone inside had already gone to bed. Instead, I saw
light coming from the little window in the kitchen. I walked quietly
through the front door, holding it to make sure it didn't slam close. As I
entered, I saw Joshua sitting at the small, round table in the kitchen,
thumbing through a magazine.

He looked up and smiled, "Hey."

"Hey, buddy. What's going on?" I asked before sitting down in the chair
opposite him.

"Just waiting on you."

"You didn't need to do that."

"I know. But, I wanted to."

"Is my mom in bed?"

"Yeah, she turned in about an hour ago. How was dinner?"

"Good," I said, then thought a moment before adding, "really good,
actually. I just love Amanda, and Patrick, too. I hadn't realized how much
I miss them until I saw them standing there tonight."

"That's good, Alex. I think you needed that."

"I did. I can't wait for you to meet them. They swore they were going to
come for a visit before too long and I think they really mean it. I think
we all realized we'd let too much time pass."

"Well, I hope they do. They sound great."

"They are. What about you guys? How was the beach and dinner?"

"Let me just tell you, your mom may always have to love you more, but I did
get her in the water," he said in a triumphant tone with a smirk on his
face.

I smiled despite myself, almost unbelieving. "Really?"

"Yes, really. And she got her hair wet!"

Then, I actually laughed out loud. "REALLY?"

"Yup, sure did. And we had a blast!"

"Oh, my god. Tell me the whole story."

"Okay, so after you left I swam back over to where she was and got out and
sat down next to her. We just talked for awhile."

"About what?"

"All kinds of stuff. You. Your dad. Life in general. We laughed a lot and
sooner or later, she was bound to give in to my charm."

I chuckled and rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah ..."

"Don't be jealous," he said. "So, anyway after enough charm, charisma, and
some good old fashioned begging, I got her to wade in up to her waist. We
stood there just waiting. She held my hand so tight you would have thought
she was afraid she was going to be sucked out to sea at any moment."

"She probably was," I interjected.

He smiled again, the continued. "Finally, she let go of my hand and turned
to me and said, let's go! And then, she just went. Before I'd even moved
she was five feet ahead of me and walking right into a big wave. Right
before the wave got to her, she closed her eyes, bent her head forward, and
just ... pow! The whole wave just washed over her, hair and all. A second
later the wave hit me high on the chest and there she was, looking back at
me and smiling."

"Josh, that's incredible."

"I'm not going to lie to you; it was pretty great! We spent probably twenty
minutes floating and splashing around and just playing like a couple of
kids."

I was almost speechless and just shook my head in wowed disbelief. "That's
just, I mean ... wow!"

"I know, right?" he said, sounding almost as impressed by the whole thing
as I was. "Finally, the sun was almost all the way down and we came back to
the house and changed, then we walked down to that seafood place."

"The one in the little old house, right past the corner on the main road?"

"Yeah."

"How was it?"

"Awesome! The crab cakes are the best I've ever had."

"And the conversation?"

"Pretty much more of the same. We talked about her past, how she met your
dad, you as a kid ..."

"... oh, Christ!" I interrupted.

"No, no," he laughed. "Nothing embarrassing. Cute stories, actually. You
were an interesting kid."

"Yeah, I guess I was."

"And, we talked about you now. Your life in California, your teaching,
working on the movie scripts. All of that." He stopped for a moment before
adding, "you know she loves you very much, Alex.

"I know."

"She worries about you, too. She wants you to be happy, to be with
someone. She wants you to be in love."

"That's ironic," I said, a hint of bitterness slipping into my words. "Ten
years ago all she wanted was for me to meet a girl and have a wedding and
go to church more often. Now she wants me to find Mr. Right?"

"That's not fair."

I looked at him and felt a little guilty for what I'd just said. "You're
right. It can just be tough to let certain things go."

"True," he said and reached across the table to take my hand in his. "So,
what about you guys? What did you talk about?" I started telling him about
our conversation. I recounted the stories and the laughs and mentioned the
one-too-many margaritas as well. He laughed and smiled along with me and
held my hand as I spoke. When I got to the part where I'd told Manda and
Patrick about my one way dates with Scott Porter he perked up and
interrupted me. "Wait a minute. You did what?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, first of all, I guess you should explain exactly what a one way date
is," he said.

I grinned. "That's just some term I made up. It means, in my head, I
imagined I was on a date and in reality, Scotty was straight and had no
idea all the romantic ... and dirty ... things that went through my head
every time we were alone. So, it was a one way date. Get it?"

Josh laughed. "That's hilarious. A little sad, too. But mostly funny."

"Yeah, trust me, I know. It was a little sad. But that was the life of a
sexually frustrated gay teen in South Texas those days."

"So tell me the rest. I want all the details about these one way dates," he
said.

"Okay, well -- I guess you need a little history about Scotty first. The
thing you need to know about him is that he was beautiful, inside and
out. Just absolutely beautiful and I think I loved him from the moment we
met in sixth grade."

"Whoa! That's a long time to crush on someone."

"Tell me about it! Anyway, he was just physically so pretty it made my
heart race. But, to top that off, he was the sweetest person I think I've
ever known. He didn't have a mean bone in his body and even now, all this
time later, I couldn't tell you one, single time that he ever intentionally
hurt anyone. Ever. He was just so sweet you couldn't help but to love
him. We were both part of the 'in crowd,' you know, just sort of by default
because of our parents money and where we lived. But, as you already know,
I didn't really play sports like most of my friends and he really didn't
either. He was on the football team, but never really played. And he hated
it. I think it was more of something he did just to be with his friends and
because his father wanted him to. But, the only time he ever left the
sidelines was late in the fourth quarter and only then if we were well
ahead of the other team."

"So, not a great athlete?"

I laughed. "No. Scotty was never going to win the Heisman, that's for
sure. As we became better friends in middle and high school I started
spending time at his house. Mrs. Porter was the best. Like Scotty, she was
just so, so sweet. But, his dad ... that was another story. He was a
controlling, abusive, alcoholic asshole. I mean, he was a really mean son
of a bitch. And the more he drank, the meaner he got. Mrs. Porter would
often have bruises from running into doors and other clumsy accidents, if
you know what I mean. It was such bullshit and nobody ever did anything
about it. As Scotty got older, when we were in high school, he started
trying to defend his mom, to come between her and his dad, and so then he
was the one with the bruises. There were a couple of times I remember, he'd
call in the middle of the night. I'd go and pick him up at some isolated
place he had walked to and he'd just be beat to fuck. I mean, bloody. His
dad really beat the shit out of him sometimes."

"God," Josh said, clearly disgusted by the story. "I can't even
imagine. People like that. They just ... uh! I don't even know."

"Yeah, I know. The first time it happened, it was like 3:00 AM and I had no
idea where to take him. So, I just drove around until we passed the
football stadium. For some reason, that seemed like a safe place to me. So,
I pulled in and parked around back where no one would see my car from the
street. I helped him out of the car and into the stadium through one of the
gates that was always open. We walked right out onto the field and sat down
on the grass in the end zone. We sat there under the home team's goal post
like we owned the whole damn stadium. It just felt right. The stands on
either side of us blocked most of the noise and lights coming from town, so
it was quiet and we could see the stars. That first time, he was wearing
two shirts, so I helped him out of the top one which was already bloody and
used it to try and get him cleaned up. There wasn't much I could, plus I
was scared I'd hurt him if I pushed too hard, so I just did the best I
could and then he started crying. He just lost it and totally broke
down. He was crying so hard he was sobbing like a little kid when they're
really scared. Before I even knew what I was doing I just wrapped my arms
around him and pulled him into me. He held onto me like he was drowning,
laid his head on my shoulder, and just cried. We sat like that for almost
an hour, me holding him and him crying."

The look on Josh's face was one of shock. "God, I just can't imagine how
awful it must have been for him."

"I know. I was there and I still can't imagine. He deserved so much
better."

"And then you being there for him. I mean, you were what? Sixteen?
Seventeen at the most. You weren't equipped to deal with that either."

"I just did the best I could. I was the best friend I knew how to be,
that's all I could be, you know?"

"Yeah, of course."

"And that was the beginning of our middle-of-the-night stadium
dates. Whenever he called me and was all fucked up, that's where we went
and as soon as we were there, it was like everything just got better. At
some point, we started going there more often, too. Not just when something
was wrong. It became like our, happy little secret. Sometimes we'd listen
to music. Sometimes I'd sit with my arm over his shoulder and we'd just
talk for hours. It was a very comfortable feeling. Other times, we'd stop
at Whataburger or Taco Bell and bring the food there to eat. Of course,
there were times when it was beer, or wine, or vodka, or whatever other
illegal shit we could get our hands on. A little bit of weed from time to
time, too. It was fun. And, it was usually on those drunk or stoned nights
that my mind would turn dirty and it would become my one way date. I used
to imagine that he'd, I don't know, just wake up and see what he had right
in front of him and we'd passionately kiss and then, well ..." I trailed
off.

Josh smiled and rolled his eyes. "So, it never happened, huh?"

"No. Never."

"Not even a little kiss?"

"Nope. It sucked. But, I guess straight is straight."

There was a quite, easy silence between us for a moment, this his face lit
up and he sat bolt right up in his chair. "What?" I asked, a little
worried.

"Take me there."

"What?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Take me to the stadium right now. Show me where you guys would sit and
talk."

"Are you fucking with me?"

"No. I'm serious. C'mon, let's go."

"Josh, it's ..." I looked at the clock on the microwave to confirm the
time. "It's almost 1:15 in the morning."

"Perfect. You said it was always the middle of the night when you guys were
there, right?"

"Yeah, but ..."

"But what? And besides, maybe tonight it won't be a one way date." My mouth
opened to say something, then closed again. I was shocked by just how
brazen his implication was. "Maybe tonight you'll get lucky after all," he
finished, a grin playing at the corner of his pretty mouth. He raised one
eyebrow, waiting for my response.

I thought for a moment, then grabbed the car keys from where I'd thrown
them on the table. "Okay, let's go."

----

Half an hour later, I pulled the car into the expansive, empty parking lot
and killed the headlights. I drove slowly across the dark rows, towards the
stadium that loomed at the far end. I was surprised to discover my heart
was racing and my stomach was a little queasy. I pulled the car around to
the back, where it couldn't be seen by anyone passing on the street and put
it in park before turning off the motor. I sat there for a moment, unsure
of what to do next.

Josh had no such hesitations. "C'mon!" he said, sounding excited and almost
giddy. He opened his door and hopped out. I took a deep breath then got out
as well. He was standing in front of the car, watching me as I walked
towards him.

"Follow me," I said. "The gate that Scotty and I used to go through is over
this way. Hopefully they still leave it unlocked." I walked past him and
kept going, hoping he didn't see how nervous I was. I walked quickly,
trying to outrun the more logical part of my brain that was beginning to
furiously question this whole course of action.

He bounded up to me, almost skipping and grabbed my right hand in his
left. "Isn't this exciting?"

"No."

"Yes it is," he said in a teasing voice.

"You won't think it's so much fun when the alarm goes off."

"There's no alarm."

"You don't know that."

"You don't know that there is."

"I'm sure a lot has changed since I was in high school."

"It's small town South Texas," he reminded me as we stopped before the
tall, hurricane fence gate. "Things don't change that fast."

I looked at him. He gave me his best, sun's out, beaming smile and
nodded. "Alright, here goes," I said, trying to sound brave.

I reached out with my left hand and pushed on the frame. At first nothing
happened, then there was a groan and a rusty creak and the gate swung about
a half foot inward. "See, I told you!" he exclaimed in a hushed tone of
triumph. He let go of me and stepped up to the gate, pushing it with both
hands. It swung open another few feet and he stepped in. He turned to face
me and I could see he was biting at his lower lip and grinning. I rolled my
eyes, accepted defeat, and smiled. Then I stepped in myself and grabbed him
around the waist pulling him into me.

He laughed and pushed me away. "Get off me! It's not going to be that easy,
you know. You have to at least get me out onto the field before I'm even
going to consider that."

Giving into the moment and to his overwhelming joy of it all, I smiled and
just reveled in it. "Okay, follow me and you'll have bare feet on grass
before you know it," I said grabbing his hand and pulling him along behind
me. He laughed and I did, too. It was one of those times in life you wish
you could capture on video and just relive over and over because you know
it would always make you smile.

Minutes later we were both barefoot and sitting on the grass in the end
zone, the goal post behind us as we faced out towards the open field. It
was a prefect, early Autumn evening. The temperature hovered around 70 or
so, and a cool, dry breeze played over our skin. The sky was clear and
cloudless and a billion stars twinkled over our heads across oceans of time
and space. We sat side by side, our bare lower legs pressed together and
our hands were still clasped. He turned and looked at me.

"I ..." he started, then stopped.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I think ... I think I've been lonely my whole life until this very
moment. Thank you so much for bringing me here."

"Josh ..." I began.

"I think I'm lonely now," he said. "I think I'm lonely now but with you and
it's ..." he stopped, grasping for the words. "But it's beautiful and I
love it and I just want us to be lonely together here and for the whole
world to go away ... it's just ... I mean, look at the stars. Everything --
everything, is just too much." He stopped again, looking down then back up
at me before he snorted a quick, exasperated laugh. "I don't know what I'm
saying, I just ..."

I stopped him there by putting my mouth over his and kissing. I kissed him
with every ounce of every missed opportunity I'd ever pissed away in my
life. I kissed him like this kiss could make up for Scotty and his drunk,
abusive dad, and my mom's lost happiness, and every stupid, wasted
moment. My tongue licked at his soft, puffy lips and then probed into
him. He opened his mouth and I knew he'd given himself to me. He
surrendered all of himself to me, he gave it willingly, and I could feel
that change in his mouth, in his body against mine. I ached for him; we
were lonely together in that kiss and the world went away and it was
beautiful.

When it ended, I found myself looking into his wide, wonderful eyes. I
smiled at him and kissed him again, quickly though and just on the
cheek. He smiled back. "How was that?" I asked.

"That ...," he swallowed before finishing, "that was very good. That was
exactly what I was trying to say, I think." He laughed softly. "Hold me
now, will you?" he asked quietly. "Hold me now."

"Sure."

I laid back on the warm, sweet grass and put my arm out flat. He laid down
next to me and I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and pulled him against
me. He rested his head on my chest. We talked for a long while. We laughed,
too. It felt like we were utterly alone, the last two humans under the
stars. And he had been right; it did feel lonely, but in a warm, intimate
way that was beyond words. I remembered why Scotty and I had loved this
place so much. There really was something magical here and Josh and I had
found it again.

At some point the talking stopped and he started kissing me. He worked on
my lower neck, on that tender, sensitive skin right where throat becomes
chest. I felt shivers run up and down my spine and my dick began to
harden. He worked his way up my neck, his warm mouth leaving damp, tingling
skin behind. As his lips finally reached mine, I felt his hand slide down
my stomach and then grasp my erection. He massaged and worked it through
the material of my shorts. I moaned against his lips as I pushed up against
his hand, humping up into it. Knowing I was getting closer than I wanted, I
reached down and took his hand in mine, moving it up and away from my
hardness.

I rolled to my left, putting him on his back as I was on my side, elevated
over him. We continued to kiss as I ran one hand down his torso and then
pushed his shirt up, revealing his smooth, flat stomach. My fingers traced
light circles around his belly button that slowly worked out into wider
circles. He moaned and his skin broke out with goosebumps. I worked my way
up to his left nipple, which I begin to tweak and pinch lightly. He moaned
louder and I could feel his groin pressing against my thigh, involuntarily
rutting, needing release.

He was breathing hard as he moved back and used his hand to tear my fingers
away from his chest. "Okay, okay," he panted. "You've got to stop with the
nipple stuff or I'm going to lose it."

I grinned down at him. "Oh, so does somebody have sensitive nipples?" I
asked, teasing him.

"Yes," he said still breathing heavily. "Yes. Very, very sensitive."

I laid back down and we talked a bit longer. As we were talking he begin to
casually work his hand up under my shirt, running it in slow, elongated
ovals over my stomach before moving on up to my chest. There his fingers
played with my chest hair, just running them through it, toying with
it. His actions were less sexual than caring and didn't interrupt my train
of thought.

Finally, the conversation came to a natural stopping place and there was a
moment of comfortable silence between us as his hand continued to stroke my
chest and play with the hair there. "You're hairy," he suddenly stated.

I looked at him. "I'm not that hairy," I said defensively.

"Well, compared to me you're pretty hairy," he said.

"Compared to you, most newborns are hairy, Joshua."

"I don't think that's true."

I thought a moment. "Well, maybe just most Middle Eastern newborns."

He laughed. "Okay, maybe."

"And monkey newborns," I added.

"Other species do not count," he laughed again.

Another silence passed then I said, "besides, if you don't like my hairy
chest, you certainly don't have to touch it."

"I never said I didn't like it," he said quickly.

I yawned widely and stretched my hands above my head. "God, I'm tired."

"You ready to head back?" he asked.

"Yeah. I think I'm going to sleep like the dead tonight. How about you?"

"Between the early morning, the long day, the swimming, the big dinner
... yeah. Yeah, I think I could sleep pretty soundly, too."

I stood up and stretched again. Turning to look at him I saw he hadn't
moved, but was still laying flat on his back. "I thought you were ready to
go?" He didn't answer, but instead just extended his arm up towards me, him
palm out. "You want me to help you up?" He smiled and nodded. "You know I'm
the old one here, you should be helping me up."

"Please ..." he whined.

"Is this just about seeing if I'll do it?" He didn't answer, but kept his
hand outstretched towards me. "It is, isn't?" He nodded again and smiled a
somewhat devious grin. I sighed loudly. "Okay, then," I said and reached
out, taking his hand in mine. His face broke into a huge smile and then he
pulled against me and rose, stood, grabbed and hugged me. He pressed his
cheek against mine.

"Thank you," he whispered into my ear.

I smiled, once again feeling myself give into him. "C'mon, buddy. Let's go
home," I said and took his hand.

----

The drive back from Villette to Rockport was a comfortable, easy one. Josh
rested his head on my shoulder most of the way and we didn't talk much. The
radio played low in the car and I felt younger than I had in ages. It
really was almost like being in high school again. But this time, my date
had a happy ending. This time he wanted me, too and he was coming home with
me. I smiled despite myself.

Several times I thought he had dozed off, but then he'd turn his head into
my neck and nuzzle me with his lips or he'd run his hand up and down my leg
a couple of times. I wouldn't have minded had he fallen asleep, but was
glad he didn't and took the time to let me know he hadn't.

When I pulled to the curb and turned off the car, he raised his head and
kissed me quickly on the cheek before opening the door and getting out. I
fought the urge to pinch myself. I still couldn't quite believe the
direction this evening had taken. We let ourselves into the front door,
careful to not let it slam, and then headed up the stairs as quietly as we
could. Even though I was trying not to wake my mom out of courtesy, because
of the evening's other activities, I couldn't help but feel a little like a
teenager sneaking in after curfew.

Upstairs, I excused myself and stepped into the bathroom. I brushed my
teeth quickly and rinsed off my face. When I opened the door, the beam of
light from the bathroom fell on the bed and Josh was sitting there in his
briefs, waiting his turn.

"Hey," I whispered.

"Hey," he answered. He got up and crossed to me, kissing me on the
lips. "Be right back," he said then went into the bathroom and closed the
door.

I pulled my shirt off and dropped it on the floor, followed by my shorts. I
stood beside the bed in just my boxers, thinking for a moment. Finally, on
impulse, I pulled those off and slid, naked, into bed. I wasn't sure what I
was doing, but it felt right none the less. The bathroom door opened a few
minutes later and Josh clicked the light off, plunging the room into
darkness. I heard hit bare feet padding across the room and to the opposite
side of the bed. Then I felt the mattress give as he laid down and pulled
the covers up over him. I felt a moment of panic and regret, thinking I
should have left my boxers on, then I felt his warm skin snuggle up against
me and felt relief as I realize he was naked as well. He pushed his back
and butt tightly against me and immediately took my arm and tugged it over
his chest.

"No underwear, huh?" he whispered in my ear.

"You either ... or so it feels like."

"I was just following your lead."

"My lead? You were in the bathroom. You had no idea what I was or wasn't
wearing."

"I know you."

"You don't know me."

"I trusted you to do the right thing."

We both laughed at this little mind game we were playing. "And did I?"

"Did you what?"

"Do the right thing?"

"I think so." He paused, " but we'll see."

"Really?"

"Yeah, we'll see."

I moved my hand and found his nipple. It hardened instantly under my
fingertips. He gasped and grabbed at my hand. "Stop it!"

"I thought I was doing the right thing."

"I thought you were tired," he retorted.

"I am, but we could talk a little more."

"Yeah, well what you were just doing with your hand doesn't feel like
talking to me."

"Okay," I acquiesced. "Fair enough."

After a moment, "Alex?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Of course. What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you really okay with your dad dying? This whole day now has
come and gone and we've talked about almost everything except your dad. You
seemed pretty out of it yesterday."

"I was. That's true. But ..." I trailed off, not sure what I wanted to
say. "I don't know. It's just, there's this anger that I haven't felt in so
long, you know? Like I used to hate him. I used to be angry at him all the
time. But, I thought I was past that. I thought I was. I haven't felt anger
towards him in a long time. But, now ... now I'm angry again and I don't
want to be. It doesn't seem right to by angry at a dead guy."

"What are you angry about?"

"About everything. I'm angry about how he treated my mom and how much she
had to give up for him. I'm angry that I didn't get a father out of
him. I'm angry that I was cheated out of a father. But, mostly ... I'm
angry that I was never good enough for him. Never. I mean, fuck! I failed
on every level in his eyes and that makes me so angry." My voice cracked
and tears spilled suddenly down my cheeks. I was crying. "Never fucking
good enough for him. I'm still not. Nothing I could do was good enough,"
crying harder now, "I failed on every level, every goddamn level."

"Alex, Alex ..." he was over me, taking my face in his hands.

"No. You have no idea. You don't know. I mean, it's not like I didn't have
a father. It's not like he left or died before I could remember him. He was
here all along. I'm 35 fucking years old and he's been here since day one
and I never got a father. Never. Why wasn't I good enough for him, huh? Why
not? What could I have done that would have been good enough?"

"Alex, you are more than good enough. Listen to me, Alex. You are so much
more than enough." He begin to kiss me. My forehead, the corners of my
eyes. He kissed my tears, down my cheeks, taking them onto his lips,
kissing them away. "Alex, don't cry. Don't cry. I'm here and you're so much
more than enough."

I stopped talking and just stared at the ceiling. The tears still rolled
down my face. I heard his words, I heard what Josh was saying, but they
meant little. I felt every ounce of me screaming out, but I was silent.

"Alex, listen to me."

"I could be stuck here for a thousand years, Josh. A thousand years and it
would never be enough; never enough to make him think I wasn't a failure."

"Alex!" he put his palms on my cheeks and turned my face towards
him. "Alex, look at me." I did. "Alex, tell me about your work on the
scripts. Tell me how you started working in movies."

"What?" I was confused and distracted.

"Tell me."

The tears had begun to slow and I focused on his face, trying to figure out
what he was asking. "What?"

"Tell me."

"Why? You already know."

"Just tell me," he insisted gently but firmly.

I tried to think. I tried to begin at the beginning. "I was ..." I stopped,
then started again. "I wrote a letter. I wrote a letter to David Fincher
and his agent."

"Why, Alex? Why did you write the letter?"

"I, uhhmmm ... I wanted him to come speak to my class. I thought his
adaptation of Fight Club was one of the best book to movie transitions
ever. I wanted him to speak on bringing literature to the screen, and ... I
never ... I never thought he'd actually come. I never even thought I'd get
a reply."

"But he did?"

"Yes. A few weeks later I got an e-mail from him asking when I'd like him
to come down. He thought it was a great idea and he wanted to come talk to
the class."

"And then what?" Josh prodded.

"Well, he came down and spoke to the class and ... and, it went
great. Afterwards we stayed in touch, via e-mail, talking a few times a
month and we just -- we just hit it off, I guess. We had a lot in common
and enjoyed each other's company and ... that's that, I guess."

"When did he ask you to work on a film?"

"That was a few months later, maybe five or six. We was adapting another
script from a book and he wanted me to look over it, to see what I thought,
and maybe tweak it a bit."

"And you did?"

"Yeah."

"And he loved it?"

"I ... I don't know if he loved it. But, I guess he liked the changes I
suggested, because he ran with them and asked me to come down to the set
and work on a few live reads ... watch some dailies and see what I
thought. To see if I thought the dialogue was working."

"Alex?," he said softly.

I looked back into his eyes. "Yeah?" I wasn't crying anymore.

"Does any of that sound like a failure to you?"

"No," I admitted. "I guess not."

"Because it's not. You moved to California, you got a great job teaching,
you're a fantastic teacher, you have tons of people who respect and care
about you. You made friends with a huge Hollywood director and have since
worked on what -- ten or twelve films? People pay you money, lots of money,
to take a script and make it better. And you do. Your father failed you,
okay? You never failed him. Do you hear me?" I bit my lower lip nervously
and nodded. "Alex, you've got to hear me and know that. You are not the
failure."

He looked at me, never taking his eyes away from mine. It was like he was
waiting for what he'd said to sink in, to take root. And when he was
satisfied that it had he kissed me. His tongue pushed greedily into my
mouth, not willing to wait, and opened my lips wide. I felt his breath and
his saliva pour into me, become part of me. It was a deep, passionate kiss,
every part his answer to my kiss earlier in the evening under the goal
post.

I felt his fingers run down my stomach and then take my hardening dick in
hand. I moaned a little and he begin to stroke up and down with his warm
palm. I grew harder in his hand. Finally his lips left mine and travelled
down my neck and then onto my chest. He took first one nipple and then the
other in his mouth. His tongue ran over them, flicking them. His lips
kissed and sucked at them and still his hand slowly stroked my dick. Moving
further down, he licked at my belly button then kissed his way into my
pubic hair.

His hand left my dick and moved down, cupping my balls and hefting them
gently. I gasped as I felt the damp heat of his breath at the base of my
hardness. I moaned as he licked and sucked his way up the shaft, working
slowly towards the top. I gasped and twitched a little as he took swipes at
the sensitive ridges under the head with his tongue before taking it into
his warm, wet mouth and sucking on it like it was candy he'd been waiting
to taste for years.

I reached down and ran my fingers through that wonderful, soft, shaggy
hair. I rested my hands on the back of his head and he slowly began to take
more and more of me into his mouth. I felt myself reach the opening of his
throat then groaned as a wave of pleasure rolled across me. He opened his
throat for me and swallowed me to the base; his nose rested in my hair.

"Oh, God ..." I exhaled. "Oh, Joshua."

Then those soft, bee-stung, lips of his began to work their magic as he
bobbed up and down my entire shaft, making sure to work my head over with
his tongue every time he reached the top before swallowing the entire
length again, taking me all the way into his throat. I was moaning now
almost constantly, struggling to hold on, to not let it end too soon.

But he knew what he was doing and that mouth of his worked wonders I could
have never imagined. I was getting very close. "Josh," I said. He responded
by reaching his free hand up and running his fingers along my lips. "Josh
... Josh, I'm getting close. I'm going to come." He made no move to back
off, instead only increasing the speed of his assault on my dick. "Oh, God
... Josh, I can't hold off much longer ... Josh ..." he pushed two of his
fingers into my mouth, silencing my warnings.

I licked and sucked on his fingers without hesitation. And then, with his
fingers in my mouth and my dick on his tongue, my orgasm crashed over me. I
moaned and dug my fingers into his hair, making fists and pulling on his
head. My ass raised off the bed and pushed my dick deeper into his mouth as
one, then two, three, four, and five bursts of my seed flooded his
mouth. He swallowed and kept sucking, taking all I could give him down his
throat and then demanding more. As my pleasure began to recede I felt him
moan around the dick still in his mouth and then there was a splash of hot
liquid against my lower leg. He continued to moan, but kept me in his mouth
as I felt him rut against my leg as more cum spilled onto me.

Finally his body stopped shuddering and I took a deep breath as he
continued to nurse my sensitive, now deflating dick. I ran my palms over
his hair, smoothing it back from his slightly sweaty face. Then I just
cradled his head in my hands as he sucked me clean. After a few more
moments, I guess he decided there was no more he could get from me and he
took me out of his mouth and climbed slowly back up my body. He spread his
legs slightly so they rested on either side of mine, then he laid his full
weight on top of me. His spent cock on mine, his smooth chest on my hairy
one. He held his head up, looking down at me. I reached a hand around to
the back of his head and pulled him towards me and kissed him. It was
gentle and slow and I could still taste a little of myself on his lips.

He scooted down a few inches, and laid his head on my chest. The top of his
head and his soft hair nestled into my neck, just below my chin. I put both
arms over his back, holding him to me. "Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you come?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah ... I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I ... sometimes ... I know it happens too fast sometimes."

"Joshua," I moved one hand up to his head to run my fingers through his
hair and massage his neck. "You don't have anything to apologize
for. You're 20 years old. You're supposed to come fast."

"Really?"

"Yeah, sure. That's part of it. But, then you get to come again right after
that. And then again, and then again. That's the beauty of being 20. It
happens fast and then over and over again."

He laughed softly against me. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. Quite sure." I continued to stoke his hair for a moment, then
added. "Besides, you just got off because I got off. You never even touched
yourself. That's pretty hot if you ask me."

He laughed again. "You really think so?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay, then that's good. If you think it's hot then I'm okay with it."

"Totally hot," I reassured him.

I continued holding him, enjoying the feeling of his full weight on top of
me. I could feel him breathing against me and when I inhaled he rose
slightly, then sank back as I exhaled. I used the hand that wasn't rubbing
his hair to run up and down his back and then to the beautiful, smooth
globes of his ass. I caressed them and he cooed against my chest, spreading
his legs apart ever so slightly. I began to rub my fingers into his crack
while my hand gently squeezed his cheek.

"Oh," he sighed. "I really like it when you touch me there," he said in a
husky voice.

I chuckled. "I think I'm starting to figure that out," I said before
withdrawing my fingers and moving my hand back up his back. "But, I think
we should stop that for now."

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's been a long night and I think we both need some
sleep."

"Okay," he said, sounding a little disappointed.

"Good night, buddy."

"Night," he already sounded half asleep and it was only a moment later that
his breathing settled into the deep rhythm of sleep. I stopped moving my
hand over his hair and rested both hands on his back. I held onto this slow
breathing miracle drug that rested on top of me as my mind struggled to
digest all that had just happened.

"What have I done?" I whispered aloud to myself. This is Josh. This is your
little brother. He had just swallowed your cum for Christ's sake. "What the
hell?" I whispered.

I had no answers. All I knew was that it had happened and for better or
worse I couldn't take it back. Had it been the stress and emotions of the
day? Had I given in because of my father and the fact that I just so badly
wanted comfort? And yet, for all the guilt and doubt that was creeping into
me, I still held onto him, hugely grateful that he was there with me. Would
I change what had happened even if I could?