Date: Thu, 20 Dec 2007 15:51:35 -0700
From: Roy <roynm@mac.com>
Subject: Phalen - Finding Happiness - chapters 23 and 24

This story is entirely fictional, and any resemblances to actual persons
are completely coincidental.  Actual locations are mentioned, and are used
for 'background' only.


'Phalen - Finding Happiness'
Chapter twenty-three

by Roy Reinikainen


"Is Greg really going over to Dad's?"  Phalen sat down opposite Jeff and
Greg's parents, motioning for Jeff to move his chair closer.  When he was
seated, Phalen kicked off his sandals and laid his feet in Jeff's lap,
wiggling his toes in a silent request for attention.  Jeff grinned at the
sigh of contentment when he began massaging Phalen's feet and at his
parents' unspoken approval of the small intimacy.

"Not only can he . . . cook."  Phalen's eyes flicked in Jeff's direction.
His mouth paused, open, while he changed course in mid-sentence.  "He gives
wonderful foot massages."  As Margit lifted her cup of coffee to her mouth,
Phalen took the opportunity to rub the heel of one foot over Jeff's groin,
turning to grin at David who had been watching the two men across from him.
David winked in return.

"So, what'd you say to Greg," Phalen asked.  "When he came into the kitchen
he was smiling and humming to himself!  The man is normally so full of
silence it . . . it spills over."

"He was so immersed in thinking about Curt, and what *might* have been, he
was blind to what might *be.*" David seemed to think that answered the
question.

"Sorta vague, David," Phalen chided.

"We nudged him in your father's direction," Margit supplied.

"We did more than nudge, dear.  We practically shoved him in the direction
of Larry's house.  For a moment, I was afraid I was going to have to write
instructions for him.  You know?  Step one, ring Larry's doorbell; step
two, kiss him; step three . . ."  He paused.  "Well, you get the idea."

"Hey, I wanted to hear step three," Phalen murmured, returning David's
grin.  "But, why Dad?"

"He's the man who has the hots for my oldest son," David added, looking
extremely pleased with himself.

"He does?  I mean, I've been noticing how Dad is paying lots of attention
to him, but . . . the *hots*?"  Phalen turned to Jeff, who chose to remain
out of the discussion, concentrating on Phalen's feet.

David nodded.  "I know the signs."

"You do?"  Phalen glanced first at David, then once more toward Jeff, who
had stopped his foot massage and was studying his father.  David nodded.

"I doubt he needed your help as much as you think, dear."  Margit glanced
at her husband and then turned to Jeff, who had resumed his massage at
Phalen's insistence.  "Surely, he's had some experience?"

"Not much, I'd be willing to bet," David muttered.

The motion of Jeff's fingers on Phalen's feet slowed as he leaned back in
his chair and bit his lower lip in thought.  He nodded slowly, agreeing
with his father.

"That's okay."  Phalen motioned for Jeff to continue the massage.  "Dad
doesn't have much experience either.  They'll figure out *something* to do.
If all else fails, they can get drunk.  If *that* happens, David, *then*
you can tell 'em what step three is."

Phalen cast a mischievous glance in Jeff's direction.  "Getting drunk is
sorta what happened with Jeff and me."  Jeff sighed and tilted his head
back to look at the sky in a long-suffering pose.

Phalen continued, unabated.  "Neither of *us* had as much experience as
either Greg or Dad.  I had *one* beer, and . . . the rest his history."  He
nudged Jeff with a bare foot.  "Thought I was gonna tell 'em what an animal
you turned out to be, didn't ya?"

Margit laughed at Phalen's playfulness.

David watched his son's reaction to Phalen's words.  'After seeing him kiss
Phalen, a few minutes ago, I can believe it,' he thought, recalling the
sight of his son's tongue penetrating Phalen's open mouth.


----------


Greg walked past the window looking into the darkened living room of
Larry's house.  The nearby streetlight provided the only light, a soft
glowing yellow which cast streaks of illumination across the room.  'I hope
he hasn't already gone to bed.  Now that I've got the momentum, I'd hate to
have to go back and tell Mother and Dad Larry didn't answer the door.'  He
pressed the doorbell, hearing the resulting chime, echoing in the darkened
house.

He waved when he saw Larry look around the corner into the living room.
Greg held one of the cartons of beer up, so Larry could see he didn't come
empty-handed, and smiled to himself when Larry hurried to answer the door,
swinging it wide.

"Greg?"  He swallowed and nodded, answering Larry's question, suddenly
feeling naked, exposed, and vulnerable.  He never imagined his name could
hold so many nuances of meaning.

'Momentum,' was his first thought, bolstering his confidence.  He tried to
slip into his most disarming smile, a difficult thing to do for one with no
practice.  Still, his efforts must have succeeded.  Larry's smile lit more
than his eyes.

"Yep, it's me.  May I come in?  I thought you might want some company, as
much as I do.  I even brought some refreshment."  Larry stepped aside.
Once inside, Greg turned to him, his dark polo shirt setting off his pale
skin as well as the slight darkening of his cheeks, a ghost of a beard,
common to all the men in his family.  Larry's mouth curved into an amused
smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

'I've never seen this man before,' he thought.  'It's as if someone has
switched on a light, suffusing him in a happy glow.'

"I'd like both the company, and the beer."  He closed the door, and turned
to Greg.  "Even though I'm glad it happened, that little meeting with Brad
and Curt took a lot out of me."

"Well, neither of *them* are here now, so let's not talk about them, deal?"

Larry smiled and nodded.  "Deal."  He reached out to turn on a light, but
was prevented by a touch on his arm.  Greg shook his head.

"May we just have the streetlight?"  He made a vague motion.  "This is all
. . . easier for me, that way."  Larry nodded and dropped his arm, his eyes
showing his understanding as Greg turned to set the cartons of beer on a
nearby table.

"Oh, yeah, there's something I was told to do the moment I got over here."
Larry raised his eyebrows first in query, and then in surprise, as Greg
stepped close, wrapping him in an unexpectedly aggressive embrace.

His first thought, 'we're almost the same height.'  A moment later, Greg's
soft lips found his, the initial touch of his tongue, hesitant.  When Larry
returned the kiss, Greg tried to suppress a whimper, surrendering himself
to the touch of Larry's tongue against his.  The whimper was an unexpected
sound coming from the strong, silent man Larry had become accustomed to.

"Whew," he said in breathless reaction to both the kiss and Greg's
strength.  "You should come over more often if that's the type of greeting
I'll get."

Greg seemed . . . stunned.  His mouth remained open, whether in surprise,
or delayed reaction to what had just happened, Larry couldn't tell.  He
blinked a couple times and closed his mouth, slowly returning to the
present.  "I enjoyed it, as well."  A slight smile tugged at the corners of
his lips, causing him to seem more relaxed than Larry could ever remember.
"Dad told me to do that, first thing."

"David?"  Greg nodded, a grin lighting his face like the sun.

Larry's eyes twinkled and his dimples flashed.  "The evening is getting
better by the moment.  What else did your father suggest you do?"

"He urged me to leave my pajamas at home."

"Pajamas?"

Greg nodded, his eyes twinkling in the dim light of the living room.  "I
told him I don't wear pajamas."

"Are you planning on spending the night?"  Larry looked intrigued, his
dimples threatening to make a permanent appearance.

"I was thinking I might . . . that is, if I was issued an invitation."  He
gestured toward Jeff's house.  "It's a long walk back to Jeff's," he
explained.  "Especially, once we've had a few beers.  Besides," he
continued, stepping closer to Larry and gently taking him in his arms,
running his hands up and down Larry's back.  "I was hoping we might have an
opportunity to do a little more kissing."

Larry reluctantly ended one of the most satisfying kisses he had ever
received and looked closely at the man who continued to hold him in his
arms.

"Whoa . . . Greg?"  He held his hand to Greg's forehead, as if he were
testing for a fever.  "Are you feeling well?  It's almost as if you're
throwing yourself at me.  I love it."

Greg pulled Larry close once more, and nuzzled his neck.  "Are you a good
catcher," he murmured, close to Larry's ear.

"I played that position in baseball when I was in college."  Greg moved
back a step, his dark eyelashes framing his equally dark blue eyes. He held
Larry at arms' length, unsure whether he was being teased.

"Baseball?  What's that got to do with me throwing myself at you?"  Larry
shook his head and pulled Greg back into an embrace.

"I'll explain it later.  Right now, I'd like another kiss."  Greg shook his
head and stepped away, holding up a hand.

"I've got some momentum going, Larry.  I've got to keep moving forward, at
least for a few more minutes, or . . .  I don't know what will happen.  I
expect I'll feel better if we get comfortable and have a couple beers.  The
beers will help calm me down."  He looked up and grinned.  "Whether you can
tell or not, I'm trembling.  I tend to talk a lot when I'm anxious.  When
we were kids, Jeff'd always laugh at me when I was trying to explain
something I'd done, to Mother and Dad.  His snickering would make me more
anxious.  Sometimes, I'd babble so much, the folks would throw their hands
up in surrender, begging me to be quiet."  He took a deep shuddering
breath.  "That brother of mine is so damned controlled."  He shook his
head, casting off the thought of his brother.

"So, let's get comfortable.  What d'ya say?"  With that he pulled his shirt
over his head and tossed it onto the nearest chair.  He ran his fingers
through the hair on his chest and shivered slightly.

"Sensitive nipples," he explained, as he toed off his sandals and worked at
the belt and zipper on his shorts with fumbling fingers.

Larry grinned, entranced by the scene before him, and by the transformation
of the man he thought he knew.  There was a kind of manic intensity about
Greg he'd never seen.  Greg looked up, with serious eyes, took a deep
breath, and then stepped out of his shorts.  He was wearing a yellow
jockstrap, its pouch straining to contain its contents.  Dark black hair
escaped from the sides of the mesh fabric, hinting at a very thick pubic
bush.  Greg unconsciously adjusted himself within the pouch.

"Well?"  He made a motion for Larry to undress.

"Oh . . . yeah . . . sorry."  Larry skinned out of his shirt and tossed
first it, and then his shorts on top of Greg's, leaving him in a pair of
skimpy white briefs.  The sight of Larry's long, lean legs, slender hips
and nearly hairless chest caused Greg to have to readjust his thickening
penis once again.  The swell of Larry's buttocks pulled the fabric tightly
over the mound of his penis and scrotum.  His smooth chest, continued down
to an equally smooth belly, the deeply tanned skin contrasting brilliantly
with the white fabric of his underwear.

Greg nodded to Larry's groin.  "Did you steal those from Phalen?  I'm
surprised they're able to hold . . . everything."  He made a cupping motion
with his long fingers, comically leering in Larry's direction before
. . . making a sound suspiciously close to a giggle.

"Greg, how much of your momentum has been generated by alcohol?"

"Only a little, actually.  I'm mostly running on adrenalin, right now.
When the adrenalin rush runs out, I'll be a mess."  He turned and bent over
to pick up one of the cartons of beer.

Larry inhaled sharply at the sight of the flawless white skin of Greg's
broad back and buttocks, as well as the dark, hair-lined crevice between
the two cheeks.  Greg glanced over his shoulder at the sound.

"You realize, of course, that now that I've seen your . . . perfect
. . . butt, this thing I'm wearing isn't going to be worth a damn to me."
Larry vaguely gestured toward the growing mound.

"A butt man, are ya?"  Greg opened a bottle of beer and handed it to Larry.

"Noooo," he said slowly.  "I'm thinking I may be a Greg man," Larry
responded, draping an arm over Greg's shoulders, and then moving it down
Greg's back to finally caress the cheeks of his butt, lingering a moment as
his forefinger encountered the hairy cleft separating the otherwise
baby-smooth cheeks.  Greg shuddered in excitement at the touch.

"Easy, Larry."  His words didn't match his actions, as he pushed against
Larry's hand.  "Let's have a couple beers as we figure out how we're going
to spend the . . . night."  He nodded toward the backyard with its lighted
trunks of palm trees, visible through the dining room windows.  "Do you
have something soft we can stretch out on?  I think I'd like to be outside
and see the stars, or something."

"It's a little chilly to be lying outside in the nude."

"We can keep each other warm."

Larry studied him for a long moment.  "Greg, I've got to tell you, you're
not your usual self."  He held up a hand.  "I'm not complaining, mind you.
I love this . . . aggressiveness."

"Me too."  Greg grinned.  "Like I said a few minutes ago, I'm running on
pure adrenaline.  I'm not sure how long I can keep up this up."

He glanced up and a rueful smile lit his eyes.  "You know, a few minutes
ago, Dad told me I'd been blind.  That you were interested in me."  The
corners of Larry's lips turned up, and he nodded slowly.

"Perceptive of David.  I was, in fact, wondering how far I should go in
order to attract your attention."  He grinned.  "I was prepared to go very
far, believe me.  I just wasn't sure how far I should go in front of your
parents.  I mean, we only just met one another.  Besides, Jeff and Phalen
were present.  I didn't want to do something and have Phalen start
commenting on my every action."

Greg sobered and stepped away from Larry's one-arm embrace.  "Speaking of
Phalen and Jeff.  Forgive me, but I have to ask this . . . before the
alcohol kicks in.  Please be honest with me."  Larry slowly nodded.

"Are you interested in me because of my brother?"  Larry reached out to
grasp Greg's shoulder, holding him in a firm grip.

"I'm . . . interested in *you*, because, my handsome doctor, I am
interested in the man, Greg.  No one else figures into the equation."  He
looked Greg directly in the eye.  "Absolutely no one.  I want to get to
know Greg, intimately, precisely because he *is* Greg."

"When we first met, I was so caught up in Brad, I failed to see past your
resemblance to your brother.  As I came to know you better, I quickly
realized that even though there are superficial similarities with your
brother, the two of you are very different people.  I've enjoyed getting to
know Greg, the man, very much."  He grinned at how Greg was drinking in
what he said.  It was almost as if he had never been complimented.

"I especially like his assertiveness . . . his strength."  Greg playfully
flexed a bicep and winked.  "And, his sense of humor," Larry concluded,
gently tracing a finger over Greg's jaw, feeling the slight hint of a beard
beneath his fingers.  "I'd like nothing better than for the two of to give
one another a chance to find the love we've both been searching for."  He
raised his eyebrows, hoping for a reaction.  Greg nodded slightly and
licked the tip of Larry's finger, which had paused at his lower lip.

They stood facing one another in silence as Greg sucked on the tip of
Larry's finger, an act of extreme sensuality which caused the tingling
Larry felt in his groin to become more pronounced.  Finally, Larry moved
his finger away from Greg's mouth, leaving a shining trail behind as he
moved over Greg's chin.

"So," Greg teased, grinning at Larry's attempt to readjust his penis which
was now stretching the fabric of his briefs away from his lower belly,
exposing the dense hair surrounding his cock.  "You like my butt, my
strength, and sense of humor."  He looked a Larry with a twinkle in his
eyes.  "I can cook too, ya know."

"The perfect man," Larry laughed.

"I've always thought so," Greg responded, reaching for Larry's hand and
leading him to the doors opening out onto the patio and the large grassy
backyard.  Larry grabbed a carton of beer in passing as he and Greg walked
barefoot across the patio and onto the dew-damp lawn.

They could hear the muffled sounds of conversation from Jeff's house,
punctuated by laughter.  Greg smiled when he heard Phalen and his father
teasing one another, and then dropped his just-finished beer bottle on the
grass and bent to pick up another, looking over his shoulder and wiggling
his butt from side-to-side and smiling at Larry's rapt attention, before
standing once more and toasting Larry before taking his first swallow.

"Wait here."  Larry turned and scampered back into the house, emerging a
few moments later with a bulky blanket draped over his shoulder and two
overstuffed pillows, one beneath each arm.  Greg's back was to him as he
looked around the yard, his jock framing the pale cheeks.  Larry watched as
he flexed his shoulders and then stretched his arms to their fullest
extent, reaching into space and tilting his head back in a jaw-splitting
yawn before turning to Larry with a bright smile.

The moment the blanket was spread flat, he plopped down and opened another
beer, his third.  He handed Larry another bottle and then reclined,
propping himself up on an elbow.

"Gotta have a couple beers to keep my assertiveness up," he stage
whispered, afraid his voice might carry over the wall and into Jeff's
backyard.  He finished his beer in only a few swallows and flopped onto his
back, extending his arms to his sides, and bent is legs slightly at the
knee, resting his bare feet flat on the blanket.  The hair of his chest
circled his firm nipples and then tapered to a narrow line as it crossed
his flat stomach, only to disappear beneath the waistband of his jock.

"Course, beer doesn't help to keep anything else up."  He rolled onto his
side to face Larry.  "I'm a doctor.  I should know."  He chuckled and once
again rolled onto his back.

"Greg, are you getting drunk?"

He nodded.  "Yep, I'm well on my way.  I guess I'm like Phalen.  It doesn't
take much to get me . . . is buzzed the correct word?"  He didn't wait for
an answer but scooted closer to Larry so they were touching one another.
"I thought it never got cold in Arizona," he said in an aggrieved tone.  "I
figured I would be able to lay outside at night, naked, at any time of the
year, and be toasty.  I don't much like the cold."  He shivered, trying to
snuggle closer.  He glanced in appreciation as Larry began running an open
hand over his shoulder.  "If I were back home and dressed like this, I most
likely would have frozen my butt to the ground by now."  He shivered
dramatically.

"Damn cold place, Helsinki . . . in the winter."  He hiccoughed.  "And, so
dark!  Course it's dark here too, like right now . . . but only for a few
hours."  He absently began running the open palm of a hand over one of
Larry's legs.  "Nasty business, being frozen to the ground."

"I should imagine."

"Yep."  Greg nodded, sagely.  "Difficult to explain being outside in the
winter wearing nothing but a jockstrap too, and no one to keep one warm."
He shivered.  "It's the stuff of nightmares."

"You're a nice guy, Larry."  He abruptly changed the subject.  "Has anyone
ever told you that?"  He didn't wait for an answer.  "I think you look
pretty sexy in those briefs you're wearing, too."  He rolled his head to
the side and gave Larry a serious look.  "They're so small."  Once again,
he hiccoughed and tried to laugh at the same time.  "Sorta nice though, to
see the head of your dick sticking out the top like it is."

Larry immediately looked down at the briefs, causing Greg to laugh.  It was
a wonderfully carefree sound, produced by a man who, until tonight,
continually seemed to be burdened by . . . everything.  He crowed, raising
his voice louder than he realized.  "I *knew* I could get you to see if
what I was saying was true!"  He laughed and then leaned forward and kissed
Larry's thigh, the closest bit of Larry he could reach.

Greg rolled onto his back.  "Of course, you've probably heard by now, that
I'm a virgin."

"What?"

"A virgin.  That means . . ."

"I know what it means."

"Oh."  He seemed to have difficult focusing on Larry's face.  "Well, I'm
one of 'em.  I tried women . . . a woman, actually . . . once.  Just one of
'em."  He held up a hand before his face, extending one finger, upon which
he tried to focus.  He dramatically shivered, heaved a gusty sigh, and
dropped his arm limply to the blanket.  "Still being a virgin after being
in bed with a beautiful, naked, and willing woman, tells you how successful
I was."  He shuddered.  "Women . . . a disaster . . . of epic proportions
. . . at least for me.  She intimidated me so much, that afterward, every
time I got naked with anyone, I went soft, fearful of what they'd say, or
do."  Once again, he tried to focus on Larry.  Finally, I just gave up.
"It was performance 'nxiety, or somethin'."

He seemed to lose his train of thought, tilting his head back and squinting
at the night sky.  "Not very many stars visible from Phoenix, are there?  I
wonder why."

"Huh?  I thought we were talking about you being a virgin?"

Greg rolled his head to the side to look at Larry.  "Who told you that?"

"You did, a few minutes ago."

"Oh.  Well, it's sad but true.  He slowly rolled his head from side to side
on the blanket.  "I tried a couple guys."  He lowered his voice in
remembered embarrassment.  "They laughed at me.  So," he said, regaining
some of his earlier good mood.  "Never fucked.  Never been fucked.  No
wonder I'm moroose."  He made a face looking like a little boy rather than
a sexy man in a jockstrap, lying on a blanket.  "I mean, morose, I think."
He glanced at Larry to see if he understood.  "You know what I mean?"
Larry nodded, trying to suppress a smile.  "Bitchy," Greg continued.  "A
guy can only be horny for so many years before turning bitchy, ya know."

"I imagine."

Greg once again rolled his head from side to side.  "Nope," he answered an
unasked question.  "Not even Curt."

"Really?"

"Yep.  I mean nope."  He made a vague gesture, raising his hand before
dropping it and then returning it to caress Larry's leg.  "Whatever."  He
nodded and then gave Larry a puzzled look.  "What was the question?"

"What about Curt?"

Greg frowned.  "What about him?"  He shifted position, squirming a bit as
he tried to find a comfortable position as he rested his head on Larry's
lap.

"Damn, you're lumpy."

"I'm hard."

"I just said that."  Larry looked down at Greg, who had stopped moving and
was now watching him, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Lean forward," Greg urged, pushing himself up with one hand on the blanket
as he spoke.  They were close to one another, almost nose to nose.  "You
are so sexy, mister attorney-guy," he murmured, a moment before their lips
touched.

It was a gentle kiss, tender, despite their wide open mouths and wrestling
tongues.  Greg inhaled deeply in a moment of spontaneous sensuality.  The
scent of Larry, a spicy citrus scent, suffused the air between them like a
caress.  His tongue tasted of beer; his smile hinted at his sense of humor,
and his increasingly insistent caresses spoke of a pent-up desire, similar
to Greg's, though of a different origin.

"Damn," Greg exhaled a long slow breath as he eased himself back onto the
blanket, motioning for Larry to lay beside him, speaking in a low
passionate voice.  "I've never had a kiss like that."  He rolled his head
to the side and smiled.  "I thought the kiss back in the living room was
outstanding.  *This one* surpassed it."

Larry propped himself up on an elbow and half-laid across Greg's chest.
"Let's do it again."  He leaned closer, mesmerized by Greg's dark eyes.
This time the kiss moved beyond tender to passionate.  Greg wrapped his
arms around Larry's shoulders in an attempt to draw him closer.

They would part for a moment, look into one another's eyes, and resume the
kiss, two men who had never found love, had found one another.

The feel of Greg's whiskers against his cheek, the strength of his arms
pulling him closer, were intoxicating to Larry.  Andrew, the man who had
introduced him to gay sex had been fun.  Brad had been tender.  Greg was in
another category, altogether.  Unlike either Andrew or Brad, Greg was
strong and passionate, unafraid to be demanding.  His naivete was
heartwarming, the brief story of his past, disturbing.

Larry skinned himself out of his briefs and straddled Greg on his hands and
knees, his erection grazing the trail of hair extending from Greg's navel
to the waistband of his jock.

"I want to taste you so bad," he murmured, leaning close for another deep
kiss.  "I want to taste your cock, your sperm, your butt . . . *you.*"

Greg chuckled, a sound deep in his throat.  "You'd better be careful what
you ask for.  Right now, I'm feeling like I might drown you."

"Well, if I'm going to drown, I think I'd like to do it in the comfort of
my own bed."  Larry climbed to his feet and extended a hand to help Greg
stand.

"Ooff."  Greg stood on unsteady legs and absently brushed at himself,
holding onto Larry for support when his legs threatened not to support him.
He blearily grinned.

"That last beer 'bout did me in, I'm thinking."  He glanced to his left,
where Larry continued to lend him support.  "Don't normally drink
. . . hardly at all . . . that much.  Tonight was 'n exception."  He
stepped away from Larry's hand and swayed slightly.  "I don't think I'm
going to do much more drinking, from now on.  That damn beer's got a kick."

He nudged one of the empty bottles with his foot and then arched his back
and twisted from side to side while Larry stood close-by both amused and
excited by Greg's behavior, ready to reach out a steadying hand in case of
need.

"Ooookay, I think I'm ready to go to bed now," Greg said, looking around,
trying to find Larry.  Phalen's voice drifted over the neighboring wall.

"Have fun!"

Greg scowled in the general direction of Jeff's backyard, his prickly
exterior barely covering a quivering vulnerability.  "Now, I *know* I want
to go inside.  We don't need a frigging audience."

"It's friggin,' Greg," Phalen quipped before Jeff told him to be quiet and
mind his own business.  Greg frowned in Phalen's direction.  A muscle
jumped in his jaw, and he was about to say something when Larry gently
touched his arm.

"Shhh, lover.  He can't help himself, so don't let it bother you.  Besides,
let's plan on dissecting *his* love life soon, shall we?"  Greg thought a
moment and then nodded.

"It's okay.  I'm not upset, really.  It's just that this . . ."  He made a
vague gesture with his hand, "is not a laughing matter for me.  I may be
acting silly, Larry, but I'm earnestly serious."  He appeared about to say
more, but stopped when Larry drew him close enough to rest his head on
Larry's shoulder.

"I know."  He kissed the top of Greg's head, losing himself in the scent of
the man he held.  'I don't want to let him go,' Larry thought to himself,
feeling each breath Greg took.  'He's . . . perfect.'

He murmured close to Greg's ear.  "Your adrenaline high giving out?"  He
felt Greg nod.

"Yeah, and like I warned you earlier, I'm gonna be a mess.  The rest of the
evening looks as if it's going to be in your hands, since I expect I'll be
something like that woman in the fairy-tale, and revert back to a pumpkin,
or something."  He barked a soft laugh.  "Actually, I'll probably revert to
the old Greg."  He grimaced.  "Maybe a pumpkin would be preferable."

"Listen to me, lover."  Larry moved back slightly and tilted Greg's head up
so they were looking one another in the eye.

"I think, much of the old Greg, as you call him, was nothing more than a
protection mechanism you came up with to keep people at a distance."  He
leaned forward and gently kissed Greg's lips.  Once again, Greg whimpered
in response.

Larry continued.  "There is no reason to keep people at a distance any
longer.  You are a new man.  You're surrounded by people who love you and
who want to be close to you."  Greg rested his head on Larry's shoulder
once again.  The simple act was an admission of vulnerability, Larry could
not have imaged only hours earlier.  A gentle breeze ruffled Greg's hair,
causing both men to shiver.

"C'mon, handsome.  Let's go inside and keep one another warm.


----------


Phalen glanced across the car toward Jeff.  "What are you so quiet about?
I thought the evening went very well."  The two men had driven Jeff's
parents back to their hotel and were heading home.

Jeff looked to his left and smiled, taking Phalen's hand.  "I agree.  I was
just thinking about Dad, and how he behaved tonight."  Jeff's voice
changed.  "He's had gay experiences, Phalen.  I know it."  Jeff ignored
Phalen's shrug.  "Did you see how he looked at us when he came into the
kitchen and caught us kissing?  He wanted to join us."

Phalen stopped at the traffic light, in what would normally be a very busy
intersection.  At this time of the night, few cars were out.  "So, what if
he has had sex with a guy?  In case you haven't noticed, Jeff, he's sexy as
hell.  He's probably had to fight men off all his life."  Phalen chuckled
as he accelerated through the intersection.  "I certainly would enjoy
seeing him in action."

Jeff turned to Phalen, mild surprise written on his face.

"Oh, come on, Jeff.  You've seen him naked lots a times.  Next to you and
Greg, he's the hottest man I've ever seen . . . even better than Dad, and
I've always thought *he* is sexy.  Well," Phalen grinned to himself.  "He
*is* sexy, just not like your Dad.  I swear, it's all I can do not to get
hard when I think about seeing him naked.  To think of watching as some guy
swallows that dick of his . . ."  Phalen groped himself, glancing aside at
Jeff as he did so.  "Geez, I get hard, just thinking about it."

Jeff gave Phalen a rueful smile.  "That's some of what's bothering me.  I'm
thinking that I'd like to see him with someone too.  In fact, I was
thinking about it all evening.  Then, I'd feel guilty because of Mother."
Jeff turned toward Phalen.  "I'd swear, he's even *looking* at us
differently."

"Do you think he wants to fool around?  If he does, what will you say?"

Jeff shrugged in response.  "I'm not going to have sex with him, if that's
what you mean, and I wouldn't even consider watching or being watched
unless you were with me.  We're partners, lover.  When it comes to sex,
we're inseparable."  Phalen smiled and reached across the car and ran his
hand over Jeff's bare leg.

"I wonder how things are going over at your dad's place.  They're probably
in bed by now."  Jeff's melancholy mood seemed to deepen.

"They're probably having a hell'a good time, but I doubt Greg's ready to
get fucked."

"Both brothers are very much alike, I guess."

"Oh come on, Jeff.  Let's not rehash that again, okay.  What do I have to
do or say, to convince you that I don't need to fuck you to be perfectly
happy.  If it *never* happens, I will be totally, one hundred percent,
content.  If, at some point, it *does*, that's cool.

"But, you have to promise me that you're not going to try and do something
that's gonna traumatize you.  If you want me to fuck you, you're going to
have to be absolutely, positively sure that that's what you want to
happen."  He paused a moment.  "Are we in agreement?"  When Jeff didn't
respond, Phalen asked once more.  "Are we in agreement, Jeff?  Yes, or no.
I won't accept one of your silences as a response.  Not on this.  It's too
serious."

"What'd I ever do to deserve you, Phalen?"  When Phalen turned to him with
a determined look, Jeff relented.  "Yes, we're in agreement.  I won't do
anything unless I'm sure I'm ready."

"Good, now to answer your question.  "I'm nothing special.  We just
stumbled across one another.  'Course, I'm glad you liked me, ' cause
otherwise I was gonna have to knock some sense into you."  He smiled one of
his brightest smiles.

"I remember walking into your new house that day, and I knew the moment I
saw you.  'Phalen,' I said to myself, in just that tone of voice."  He
chuckled.  "When I'm imagining things, my voice is always a little lower
than it really is."  He lowered his voice in imitation of what he sounds
like to himself.

"Phalen,' I said in my sexy deep voice.  'Phalen, *he's* the one!  Now,
let's hope he turns out to be gay."  Phalen laughed one of his care-free
laughs, his voice returning to normal.  "Lucky me, huh?  Not only were you
gay, but your body is so, damn exciting.  And the way you use it too," he
hastened to add, "and the way you taste, and your tongue . . ."  He
squirmed and groped himself once again.

"You know, all this talk about your dad and how hot you are has got me all
sexed up."  Phalen moved his hand to cup Jeff's groin.  "I hope you're not
planning on going directly to bed, 'cause I want to suck you dry."


----------


Margit walked out of the hotel room's bathroom, yawning.  "I am so tired, I
think I could sleep for a week, or at least until ten in the morning."  She
walked to the large window overlooking the city, where her husband was
standing and kissed him good night.  A moment later she had slipped between
the sheets and snuggled the pillow beneath her head.

"I'll be with you shortly, sweetheart," David said.  "I'm going to take a
shower."

"Have fun," she said, around a yawn.

David silently stepped out of is clothes, draping them over the back of a
chair, and then walked to the window.  The lights of downtown Phoenix rose
in the distance, to form a distant wall of illumination.  He ran his
fingers through is thick black hair and puffed out his cheeks, letting out
a slow stream of air.  He could see his reflection in the window from the
sliver of light coming from the partially open bathroom door.

Feelings were surfacing which had lain dormant for the past few years.  He
thought he had everything pretty much under control until he stepped into
the kitchen, earlier in the evening, and saw Jeff aggressively kissing
Phalen.

It was a side of Jeff he had never seen, and one which was both
exceptionally exciting, and totally unexpected.  Jeff had always presented
the quiet self-effacing side of his personality to the public.  Tonight,
David saw his son in an entirely new light, and he found that the new
knowledge could only have been described as opening the floodgates, letting
his pent-up feelings out.

Then, to top things off, there was Larry, most likely having sex with his
son Greg.  At this very moment, they were probably in each other's arms,
locked in a naked, sweaty embrace.

'Ahhh,' he thought to himself, as he forced a hand beneath the waistband of
his underwear to cup his stiffening erection.

'Larry.  What an incredibly sexy man,' he thought, turning away from the
window and quietly walking to the bathroom.  He closed and locked the door,
turning off all the lights, except for the dim night light.

He glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror as the shower water warmed.
He could see himself in both of his sons.  While both had his wife's pale
Scandinavian skin, they had inherited everything else from him, from their
black hair, to their perpetual shadow of a beard, the fine spread of hair
across their chests . . . and, from seeing them in their shorts, their cock
and balls.

He felt his cock beginning to thicken.  'Damn, I'm horny, tonight,' he
thought to himself, as he recalled the way both boys' shorts hugged their
rounded butts as they moved.  He hefted his heavy scrotum, feeling the
testicles shift beneath his fingers.  His cock was now rock-hard and
pulsing, a race horse, anxious for release.

He continued to think of his sons.  Not only had they inherited their looks
from him, they inherited his love of men . . . though it appeared neither
had found their life complicated by falling in love with a woman.  'Still,'
he thought, 'if I had not fallen in love and married Margit, Greg and Jeff
would not exist.'

His crooked smile faded as he tried to contemplate a life in which he did
not have two wonderful sons . . . and couldn't.  They were too important to
him.  After all, that's why he and Margit had traveled half way around the
world.  They wanted to see, touch, and hold their sons.  They wanted to
know both boys were happy, and, he admitted, he and his wife were both
secretly hoping for some way to overcome the guilt they had felt since
learning of Jeff's childhood abuse.

He ran his hands over the swell of his buttocks, and then down to the cleft
between his cheeks.  His anus tightened in recollection of the men who had
used his hole, giving both him and themselves, pleasure.

He stepped into the steaming shower and let the water sluice over him as he
closed his eyes and fondled his erection, thinking of Greg in Larry's arms.
He'd practically thrown Greg at Larry, when in reality, *he* wanted to be
the one to have sex with Phalen's father.

'Ah, Greg,' you lucky man,' he thought, imagining Greg kissing Larry's
sensuous lips, feeling Larry's tongue explore his mouth, his cock, his
butt.  He imagined what it would be like to feel Larry slide into him, to
feel his weight with each repeated thrust, and then to feel Larry's cock
pulse as it pumped his hole full.

David's slick hand slowly milked his erection, just as Larry's hole would.
He opened his mouth wide and took a deep breath.

'What would it be like to watch Greg having sex with Larry?  Somehow
though, his imagination kept returning to Jeff, and the sight of his tongue
madly penetrating Phalen's open mouth.  Jeff had been grinding his, clearly
erect cock against Phalen's at the same time he had kneaded Phalen's full
butt.

'What would it be like to watch Phalen lying on his back with his legs bent
back?'  He felt the familiar tingling sensation beginning at his prostate
and expanding to encompass his groin.  'Ah, Jeff,' he thought, as he
gripped his erection harder.  'I can imagine watching as you aim your cock
at Phalen's hole and then slowly penetrate him.'

David held one hand in front of his cock, ready to catch his load.  It
wouldn't be long now.

He imagined how, with each outward stroke, Jeff's butt cheeks would part,
and he could see his son's hole.  He imagined what it would be like to have
Jeff sit on his face and beg to be rimmed, or better yet, to slide, what
had to be a large erection, into his father's hole.

David squeezed his eyes tightly closed and groaned.  The first pulse of
sperm hit his hand, followed by a second . . . and third.

It was almost too much.  First, thoughts of Larry and Greg, then Jeff and
Phalen, and finally, thoughts of Jeff.  What would it be like to feel
Jeff's weight on top of him, or have his hole stretched wide by the cock of
his own son, or taste his boy's sperm?  He shivered at the thought and
brought his hand to his face.  He looked at the thick milky fluid, puddled
there, and imagined it was Larry's, or Greg's, or Phalen's . . . or Jeff's.

His cock pulsed once more, forcing out a last dribble.  He wiped his thumb
across the end and then licked it clean.  A moment later, he licked across
the palm of his other hand, slurping it clean, relishing the taste and feel
of his own cum on his tongue.  He'd always enjoyed tasting himself,
swirling the thick liquid around in his mouth before finally swallowing,
totally spent.

He sank to the granite shower bench, spreading his legs before him, and
sighed.  'Oooooh, Jeff,' he thought.  'My sexy son.  How I wish . . .'

Thank you for taking the time to read my work.  I *always* welcome your
email and enjoy hearing your thoughts.  If you would like me to send a pic
of the character(s), please ask.

In addition to the first 'Phalen' story, I have three other stories you may
want to read.  'Leith,' and 'Chris' are located in the Nifty College
Section.  The third story is called 'Wesley', and is located in the Adult
Relationships section.  I hope you enjoy them all.

A new story, 'Owen', will begin appearing shortly, in the College Section
of Nifty.


Best wishes.  May you be surrounded by laughter, friends, and family
through the holidays and the upcoming year.

Roy Reinikainen
roynm@mac.com
suomalainen_abq@mac.com