Date: Fri, 9 Jul 2010 01:28:41 -0400
From: ephraim.johnson@gmail.com
Subject: Gay in the South

Disclaimer: This story contains depictions of sex between teenage
males. If such material offends you, or if it is illegal to read in
your area, or if you are underage (16, 18, 21, or whatever it is in
your jurisdiction), please stop reading now and navigate away from
this webpage. Also, this story is a work of fiction - the characters,
the setting, the events are totally of my imagination's creation. No
resemblance to any person, living or dead, is intended.

This is a fantasy, where anything can happen. In real life, PLEASE
boys, play safe and use protection! We've lost too many of our
brethren to HIV/AIDS, we need to stay strong and stay alive. Remember,
nothing pisses off the homophobes more than you putting on a condom.
They want us dead. Let's fight back by being sane!

Please send praise, comments, etc. to ephraim.johnson@gmail.com - If
you got off on my story, I'd really like to know!

Enjoy, fellas!

-----------------------------------------
AUTHOR'S NOTE: While it does contain sex, this is not a straight-up
sex story. This is more of a romance story, and has a bit of a sad
tinge to it, as well as some politics and religion, and slurs (both
racial and sexual) that some may find offensive. It is my intent to
give the uninitiated a very small, but realistic, window into what it
means to be gay in the rural South. If you don't want that, please
don't read any further.

While the actual characters and events are fictional, the plot is one
which plays itself out somewhere in a Southern state every day. If
you're not interested in the sad parts and the politics, etc., and
just want an exciting sex-&-romance story, please see my previous
work: "Kyle and Skylar", in Nifty's /gay/highschool/kyle-and-skylar/
section.

For those who desire such, a glossary of the Southern terms used in
this story appears at the end (perhaps particularly helpful for the
non-American readers).

Our story today in five acts:


# # #
PROLOGUE

The corn tassels swayed as 17-year-old Justin Gupton's faded red 1948
Corbitt pickup truck barreled down the light-grey tarmac road. The
rural two-lane country highway wound through the tobacco fields of
Henryville, past the hay pastures, and through the loblolly-pine
stands.

As he sped along with the windows down, the scent of air perfumed by
honeysuckle and magnolias filled the truck's cab. Justin inhaled
deeply and sighed.

The Southern sun usually shone down brightly on the antique wooden
farmhouses scattered amongst the green tar-paper tobacco barns which
dotted the landscape. Today, however, ominous black thunderheads
obscured the sky, and mist had descended on the wisteria which wound
its way around the telephone poles. Horses roamed nervously through
wide-open pastures behind creosote fences.

The appearance of the crossbuck fences echoed the Confederate flags
which swung gently in the breeze from the broad front porches of many
of the far-flung houses.

"Beyond the golden sunset sky, beyond the old rolling wave..." cooed
the voice on the truck's AM radio.

"Beyond each earthly tear and sigh, we'll meet just beyond the grave."

As Justin's shoulder-length straight blonde hair swayed in the breeze,
he tapped his hand absentmindedly on the steering wheel in time to the
music.

"We'll meet, yes, we'll meet on that shining shore, we'll meet in that
home of love,"

Justin was deep in thought, having just come from the funeral of his
lover. 16-year-old Clecy Breedlove had been killed in a four-wheeler
accident the week before, and had just been laid to rest.

"We'll meet, yes, meet to part no more, we shall meet in Heaven above."

As if on cue, the Heavens opened up and fat raindrops like saucers
cascaded down all around, renewing life in the forests and the fields.

Justin put his blinker on, and turned into his driveway. The red dirt
of the path - which was common in Zebulon County - was so intense in
color it looked as though it might glow in the dark. He pulled up
beside the pleached crape myrtles, which were showered in pink blooms,
and closed his eyes. He hung his head, and a tear escaped the corner
of his eye. He could still hear the preacher's voice bouncing around
inside his head.

"Y'all might haved loved Clecy Breedlove," the man had told the
assembled crowd. "But y'all need to be mindful of the fact that he was
a queer. He split hell wide open when he died, and he's burning in the
lake of fire for all eternity."

Justin's tears were flooding back now, as he thought about all the
terrible things which had been said about his lover. The scent of the
gardenia bushes which he and Clecy had planted several summers before,
wafted in the window, and the scent-memory caused Justin to sob even
harder.

He'd held back the tears at the funeral. He didn't want to cry in
front of his friends. As he had sat there, surrounded on either side
by his classmates Ricky Burnette and Junior Currin, he'd fought back
the emotions and kept a stiff upper lip. But now, as he sat alone, he
couldn't contain it any more. Clecy was the boy he had lost his
virginity to...the boy he'd intended to spend the rest of his life
with, waiting patiently until hearts in East Carolina changed and
they'd be able to get married.

As he sat there weeping, he took a stroll down memory lane...


# # #
ACT 1

THUNK! THUNK! The metal blade of the shovel parted the red dirt.

"How deep do you reckon we ought to dig these holes?" asked
14-year-old Clecy Breedlove.

THUNK!

"Foot and a half," answered Justin.

Clecy stopped digging and rested his left hand on the top of the
shovel. With the back of his right, he wiped the sweat off his
forehead, and brushed his bangs to the sides. He looked Justin in the
eyes and smiled.

"Well are you just gonna stand there and watch me do it, you big
pussy?" he asked teasingly.

"Screw you!" replied Justin, laughing.

Both boys resumed shoveling, talking as they did so.

"So what do you want for your fifteenth birthday?" inquired Clecy.

Justin bowed his head and stared at the ground in silence. He knew
what he wanted, but he was ashamed of it, and didn't dare ask.

Clecy noticed his silence and cast a worried glance at his buddy.
"What's wrong, Jus?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Let's just get through with this, all
right?" Justin replied.

"Okay," Clecy said quietly.

The red clay soil, being dry, was more akin to red cement than
anything else. Even though both boys were clad only in faded
blue-jeans and white wifebeaters, they were dripping sweat from the
effort. Finally, the four holes were dug, and Justin set his shovel
down, walking towards the burlap-wrapped gardenia bushes that were
sitting up in the bed of his truck.

"Where'd you get those?" asked Clecy.

"Baird County. Momma sent me over there yesterday."

"They look nice."

"Thanks. I hope they turn out all-right."

Clecy walked over and helped Justin lift the shrub into the hole. The
two then knelt down and, using their hands, started pushing the dirt
back into the hole to cover the roots.

Accidentally, Justin's left hand brushed against Clecy's right. It
sent a shiver down his spine, and caused him to take a sharp
inhalation of breath. Lately, he'd been having dreams about Clecy.
Dreams where they touched a lot more than hands. Dreams he'd dare
share with no one, because - as he constantly reminded himself - they
were sinful.

"You all-right, man?" asked Clecy.

"Yeah. Come on, let's just get this done."

The shortness of Justin's response stung the other boy. They'd known
each other all their lives, having grown up on adjoining farms. They'd
been inseparable during their childhood, climbing trees together, and
going down to the swimming hole in the woods on the hot summer days.
It wasn't like Justin to be sore at Clecy, and the boy intended to get
to the bottom of it.

"What've you got a hair across your butt about?" he asked.

"Nunya," he replied, trying to shrug it off.

The two finished planting the bushes in silence. As they were loading
their shovels in the back of the old pickup, Justin spoke first.

"Come on, Clee, come have a shower and stay for supper."

Clecy smiled.

"Thanks, man."


# # #
ACT 2

The two boys walked side-by-side up the steps that lead onto the front
porch of the Gupton family's 1880 farmhouse. Justin pulled the rickety
old wooden screened door open, and they walked inside. The house was
empty, since Justin's parents were both in town for the next few
hours.

The lath-&-plaster walls helped keep the house relatively cool,
compared to the sweltering July heat outside.

"Gosh, it feels good in here. It's like Judgment Day out there," Clecy remarked.

The two boys walked through to the back of the house, where Justin's
bedroom was. It was a small room, and had a low ceiling, a relic from
an earlier time when so many people lived in the house, that the
children had to sleep in the attic and thus needed headroom up there.
The room was typical of the houses in the area: peeling paint on the
walls, a bare pine floor with a linoleum rug, and antique shellacked
furniture sparsely adorning the space.

Justin rummaged through the chest of drawers for a clean towel for his
friend, as well as a change of clothes. Both being 5'8" and 140 lbs.,
with slim athletic builds, the two never had a problem sharing
clothing.

Like all the rural families in Zebulon County, the Guptons and the
Breedloves were poor. "So poor, we have to spell it with three o's,"
Justin's father had once remarked. As was part of the culture they
grew up in, they "did for each other". When one family had something
that their neighbor didn't and needed, they shared with smiles and
warm hearts. A cup of sugar, a pair of overalls, a tractor part -
whatever was needed. Folks stuck together and took care of each other.

Justin pulled a change of clothes - a white T-shirt and a pair of blue
denim overalls - out of the back of one of the drawers, and handed
them to his friend.

"Thanks, buddy," said Clecy.

"You go first. I need to do something for a minute," replied Justin.

With that, Clecy walked out the bedroom's other door onto the house's
wrap-around side porch, which lead to the bathroom that had been added
to the house in the late 1950s, about a decade and a half after
electricity first came to the area and made such luxuries possible.

Justin sat down on the edge of his bed and hung his head in his hands.

"Why this trial, Lord? Why me?" he prayed. He didn't expect a vocal
response to come out of the sky and through the beadboard ceiling, so
he continued without pausing. "I love Clee, as a friend. I wish that's
all it was. I wish I could just make the last few months to not have
happened. These feelings - these sick, sinful feelings I've been
having - I wish they'd just go away. Father, please, help me."

Justin sat up, then lay back flat on his bed, his hands behind his
head, his sizable farm-worked biceps bulging out on either side.

He ran through it again in his mind. He would ask Clecy to sit down,
then explain that he thought he was gay. He saw Clecy's face fall. He
told Clecy "I love you", and a look of fury swept across the boy's
features. "You're fucking sick, man! Don't ever fucking come near me
again, or I'll kill you!" he'd shout, before spitting on Justin and
storming out the door.

Sure they were friends, but Clecy was normal. Straight. He'd had
girlfriends before. He wouldn't stand for this. The thought of losing
him had driven Justin to silence, and also to some very dark places
over the past few months. He'd thought more than once about hanging
himself from the same old oak tree in the backyard that his
great-grandfather had once hung a black man from. But suicide, too,
was a sin.

He stood up, and walked over to the window, which was open due to the
summer heat and the house's lack of air-conditioning. He looked out
over the grass, and the fields of tobacco beyond it. The bright sun
beat down like a blowtorch from a beautiful blue sky dotted with a few
puffy white clouds. His eyes wandered over all the things which seemed
to be pointing upward starkly toward the Heavens - the tops of the
loblolly pine trees, the steeply-pitched wood-shingle roofs of the
neighboring farmhouses, the lightning rods on those roofs. There was a
symbolic quality about it, and Justin was reminded of the pitchfork
wielded by the stern-faced man in the classic painting "American
Gothic". He knew - knew because he'd been taught so - that there was a
God above that sky, who flamed with righteousness. He feared that God.
He feared the damnation that he'd been taught homosexuals receive. He
couldn't be gay, he just couldn't. His family, his friends, his
neighbors, the whole community, and even the Lord God Almighty would
shun him and turn their backs on him. Sure, he'd be allowed to buy
things at the local country-store, but he knew that the room would
fall silent when he walked in, and angry eyes would bore into him like
termites. As soon as he'd leave, whispered voices would gossip about
him and condemn him, as they did the northerners and the interracial
couples who passed through on their way to and from the big cities.
He'd be hated by everyone he knew. Henryville had a population of
ninety-nine people, and it was the only town for miles around in any
direction. If word got out that he was gay, everyone would know within
a matter of hours. No, he couldn't tell Clecy about this. He resolved
to push it as far as he could from his mind, and to play like
everything was all-right.

He was jarred out of his thoughts by the sound of the door opening as
Clecy walked in.

"Thanks, man, I really appreciate it," Clecy said as he set the damp
towel down on the edge of Justin's bed, and brushed his long brown
hair behind his ears.

"No problem," replied Justin. "I'll be back in a minute," he said,
grabbing his own towel and clothes and rushing out the door. He'd held
the articles in front of him, hoping that Clecy wouldn't notice the
hard-on he was getting from watching the boy's muscles flex as he'd
brushed the hair out of his eyes.

He shut the bathroom door behind him, feeling guilty and angry. He
stripped off his clothes and threw them down in the corner. He jumped
into the clawfoot bathtub, which his grandfather had gotten
second-hand when the bathroom was constructed, and turned the cold
water on full-force. As it rained down on him from the
sunflower-shaped showerhead, he started crying. He was being battered
with so many emotions, and he just couldn't process it all. All he
wanted was to go back to the carefree life he'd had as a little boy.
He thought back to how he'd run around and play with Clecy and the
other neighbors' children, then come home at the end of the day and
listen as his kinfolk - parents, grandparents, great-grandparents,
aunts, uncles, and cousins - sat out on the front porch and talked and
laughed and sang songs. He wished he could just be a kid again. "If
only these sickening feelings would simply go away," he thought to
himself.

He washed himself, then rinsed off and stepped out onto the painted
pine floor. As he toweled dry and got dressed, he once again resolved
to put a smile on his face and act as though nothing was wrong.

Walking back along the porch, he stepped into his bedroom. Clecy was
sitting there on the end of his bed, looking intently at the
photograph he was holding in his hands.

"Remember this?" he asked, smiling and turning the picture around for
Justin to see. It was a picture of the two boys sitting side-by-side,
asleep under a big mimosa tree as their wooden fishing rods - which
were nothing more than a stick of cane with some twine on the end -
stood planted in the soil of the riverbank.

"Yeah," replied Justin quietly.

"Okay, man, what's wrong? You've been acting strange for weeks," said
Clecy, with worry furrowing his brow.

"It's nothing, dude."

"Goddamnit, I'm sick of this bullshit! You brush me off every time I
ask about it. You're going to tell me, boy, elseways I'm gonna give
you a whooping!"

"FUCK YOU, MAN!" screamed Justin. "MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS, FOR
ONCE IN YOUR LIFE!" He stormed out the door, slamming it behind him.

"Justin! Justin!!" he heard Clecy calling. He ignored his friend, and
ran through the house and out the front door. He had no clue where he
was going, but he knew he had to go somewhere.


# # #
ACT 3

In the front yard, he turned around and ran alongside the house,
through the cotton field behind it, and into the woods. He decided to
head for the one place that he felt he could clear his mind - the
place he felt most secure of anywhere on earth...the old swimming
hole.

He raced amongst the trees and vines, dodging branches and fallen
logs. At long last, he emerged through the canebrake into a small
clearing, surrounded by towering pine trees, which again reminded him
of the God he knew was frowning down angrily upon him.

He flopped down on the sandy bank of the Tar River, and leaned back
against the trunk of a large tree. His chest heaved as he sobbed, head
in hands.

Five minutes passed, then he heard a rustling in the cane. He turned
his red face to see a very worried-looking Clecy step out of the
brush.

Justin turned back to stare at the slow-moving water of the river.
Without a word, Clecy sat down beside him and waited for his friend to
speak first.

A few more minutes passed before that happened.

"Clee, I'm sorry," Justin said resolutely, not taking his eyes off the
rolling waters.

"Justin, buddy, we've known each other all our lives. Since when do
you keep secrets from me?" Clecy asked.

"I can't tell you about this, I'm sorry," replied Justin.

"You can tell me anything, Jus. You know that."

"Not this, I can't."

Silence fell again, as the boys stared out over the water. Justin felt
like he was on a precipice. He was on the end of the diving board. To
one side was the safe, easy life he'd always known. On the other, was
truth. Should he acknowledge his feelings, and admit that he was what
the Lord God in Heaven had made him to be? Or should he keep his mouth
shut and preserve his friendship with Clee? Clecy broke the silence.

"Come on, buddy, I want to know what's bother-"

Justin cut him off.

"I love you!" he blurted out, staring even more intently at the river.

The pine needles above rustled in the warm breeze as Justin waited for
the hammer to fall. He knew that any second, Clecy would stand up,
holler at him, and stalk off, never to speak to him again, just as it
had played out in his mind.

Instead, Clecy did something very different. He slid across the dirt
so that he was side-by-side with Justin, their shoulders and knees
touching, and put his arm around his friend's shoulders.

"Is that all?" he asked softly, looking at the side of Justin's very
red face and smiling.

"Uh...yeah...huh?" replied the boy, turning his head to meet Clecy's
gaze, with a look of utter confusion on his face.

"Oh come ON, there's got to be something better than that!" said
Clecy, laughing warmly.

"Hey, screw you, asshole!" replied Justin, trying to feign
indignation, but secretly overjoyed that his friend was reacting so
positively. In response to Clecy's touch, his dick started to harden
in his pants.

Then, without warning, Clecy leaned in and kissed him gently on the
lips, before pulling back and staring deep into his eyes, a smile on
his face.

"I love you too."

"Wait...what?"

"I said, I love you too."

"You do? Wait...you mean, you're not sore at me?"

"No! Why I earth would I be?"

"Because I'm..."

"Gay? Yeah, so what? So am I."

"Wait...you are? But you had girlfriends!"

Clecy leaned in and kissed Justin again.

"I said it, didn't I?" he replied, smiling.

"Well, I reckon you did," said Justin, smiling sheepishly.

Both boys turned to look out over the water again, and they sat in
silence for a few moments before Clecy continued.

"Jus, I don't really know how to say this. But I love you. Yes, I love
you as a friend, just as I have my whole life. But for the past year
or so, I've loved you as more than that. I've loved you as Justin
Gupton, the man I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Being only fifteen years old, Justin hadn't been called a "man"
before, so it threw him for a loop, as did the rest of what Clecy had
said.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked.

"I'll bet you've loved me for more than the last ten minutes, but you
didn't tell me either, did you?"

"I see your point."

"I had no clue how you'd react, but my imagination came up with the
worst-case scenario."

"Same here."

Justin broke down in tears again. He spoke through them, saying,

"I-I'm sorry I misjudged you. And I'm sorry I went off on you earlier.
A-and I'm sorry I waited so long to yell you. And I'm so g-g-glad you
feel the same way. And-"

"Hush," replied Clecy reassuringly, putting his index finger gently on
Justin's lips to quiet him, before wiping the tears off his friend's
face. "It's okay."

Clecy pulled Justin towards him, laying the boy's head on his chest
and wrapping his arm around his lover's head and holding him tight.
Justin's tears slowly abated as he relaxed into the warmth of Clecy's
body, listening to his heartbeat and feeling at peace for the first
time in months.

After a few minutes passed, Justin murmered into his friend's chest,

"Hey Clee?"

"Yeah, what?"

"Let's go back to the house and set in my room a while."

"I'd like that."

The two stood up, and Justin took Clecy by the hand.

"I love you so much, you'll never know," he said.

"I love you more."

"No, I do!"

"No, *I* do!"

The two laughed and smiled, and Clecy pulled his lover into a tight
embrace. Their eyes were closed. Feeling as though he were almost in
suspended animation, Justin tilted his head and leaned in. His lips
met Clecy's, which opened, and his tongue started tenderly exploring
the foreign mouth. The birds chirped merrily above, and time in the
Southern forest stood still as the two young lovers made out.

Eventually, Justin pulled back, and they both opened their eyes,
smiling sweetly at each other.

"Let's just agree we both love each other very, very much," said Clecy.

"Okay," replied Justin.


# # #
ACT 4

The two walked slowly, hand-in-hand until they reached the edge of the
field where the trees stopped. Simultaneously, the let go of each
other's hand, both knowing without a word said that it was the only
thing to do. The worst possible thing would be for someone to catch
them doing together what boys are only supposed to do with girls.

"Race you to the house!" Justin yelled, slapping Clecy on the ass
before taking off.

"I'll get you for that, you son-of-a-bitch!" hollered Clee, grinning
and running behind his boyfriend across the fields toward the
building.

Justin burst through the door of his bedroom and flopped down on his
bed, followed a second later by Clecy.

The two were laying side-by-side, like sleeping couples do, and they
turned inward to face each other, both supporting their head on their
arm.

"So," said Justin, a devilish grin on his face, "you asked me what I
wanted for my fifteen birthday?"

"Yeah," replied Clecy, smiling just as wide.

"I want to give you my virginity."

"Not half as bad as I want to give you mine. Well...my gay virginity.
I lost the other one two years ago."

Justin was all too aware of Clecy's stud exploits with his series of
girlfriends...Elvira Adcock, Alma Pulley, Vestal Roberson, Ellarine
Champion, Fannie Strickland, and Effie Hicks, among others.

"I...uh...well, this is going to sound silly, but I've been having
some dreams about you lately," said Justin.

"Oh yeah? What happens in these dreams?"

"Well," replied Justin, blushing and staring down at the bedsheets,
"we're lying here naked on my bed, and I...uh...I feel your muscles,
and suck you off, and then we get to frigging. Can we do that?"

"Well, I reckon I might could arrange that for the Birthday Boy"
replied Clecy with a cheeky grin, before sitting up and slipping the
straps of his overalls off.

"Hot damn!" exclaimed Justin, his breath catching in his throat, as
Clecy pulled his shirt off and dropped the overalls to his ankles,
before kicking them aside. He was standing there in nothing more than
a pair of black briefs, which looked like they had a summer sausage
stuffed in the front.

The boy's skin clung to his well-developed muscles like white on rice
- he didn't have an ounce of fat on him anywhere. All the years of
working in the fields of the Breedlove family farm had done
wonders...everything bulged out in just the right places.

Clecy was the picture of a beautiful young man. His straight brown
hair, which hung halfway down his biceps, was swept back in a
ponytail, revealing his smooth face, gentle features, and high
cheekbones. His olive skin, which looked naturally tan year-round, was
clear as the night sky.

Justin slid off the end of the bed and stood up, stripping off his
clothes, then standing directly in front of his lover. He gently
placed his hands on Clecy's ripped shoulders, and drew him into a kiss
smoldering with long-oppressed passion, running his hands up and down
the boy's back, feeling the powerful muscles. His
seven-and-a-half-inch cock ballooned in his pants, and he longed for
release.

As their two tongues fought for supremacy, Justin dropped his hands
down, feeling up Clee's hard pecs and then his ripped eight-pack abs.
He ran the tips of his fingers along the boy's adonis belt, coming to
rest them in the front hem of the underpants.

"Happy birthday," murmured Clecy, as Justin pulled his briefs out and
down. His eight-inch cock sprang up, red and angry, waiting to ravage
his boyfriend.

Justin dropped to his knees, and Clecy flexed his cock muscles,
causing his engorged meat to slap Jus on the cheek. Clecy was
mesmerized by the intoxicating scent of teenage manhood emanating from
his boyfriend's crotch, and he leaned in, mouth open, and took his
prize.

Clecy's eyes shut and he threw his head back.

"Oh fuck, yes!" he moaned softly.

Though Clecy had never given head before, he knew what he thought
would feel good on his own dick, and did exactly that to the package
he was servicing. He swirled his tongue over the bulging head, and
then ran it up and down the shaft, before pausing to suck each nut. He
wanted to suck both nuts together, but the lemon-sized eggs were too
big.

For the next few minutes, he continued sucking Clecy's dick. When he
heard his lover's breathing speed up and muscles tense, he knew the
boy was close, and backed off, letting the dick slide out of his mouth
with an audible "pop!". It hung there, veins bulging, throbbing up and
down in time to Clecy's heartbeat.

"Dude, why'd you stop?!" moaned the boy.

"Because I want you to fuck me. Fuck me raw," Justin replied. He
turned around and leaned over front-first onto the end of the bed,
offering his virgin ass up to his boyfriend.

"Okay. I'll go right slow, 'cuz this is gonna hurt a little, but I
promise it'll feel great after a while," Clecy said.

"I don't care how much it hurts. I want you in me!" replied Justin resolutely.

Clecy lubed up his cock by running the pre-cum dripping from his slit,
on it. He stepped forward, and positioned his crown at the entrance to
Justin's pleasure-chute, before gently pushing forward. The head
popped in, and Justin cried out in pain.

"Jesus H. Christ!"

"You okay, honey?"

"Yeah. Just give me a minute to adjust. You're huge!"

A few moments passed, before Justin spoke again.

"Okay, killer. Get-'er-done!"

Clecy slowly slid the whole length of his cock into his boyfriend,
relishing in the tightness of the virgin hole.

"Hot DAMN!" exclaimed Justin, as Clecy hit his prostate. "Lord a'mighty!"

Clecy started a steady rhythm of pumping in and out of his lover's
ass, like a steam-driven piston. With every inward thrust, his balls
slapped against Justin's ass, driving him wild.

After a few minutes, Clecy's lust took over, and he jammed his cock
deep up his lover's ass like a battering ram, holding it there as he
sprayed his load like a firehose deep up inside Justin's body.
Justin's dick simultaneously exploded, unleashing blast after fiery
blast of cum onto his bed and his chest.

After the waves of his orgasm subsided, Clecy slid his cock out of his
lover's ass, and the two met in a warm embrace. They kissed deeply.

"I love you so much. That was the best thing I've ever felt," said
Justin, beaming from ear to ear.

"Happy birthday, lover," replied Clecy.


# # #
ACT 5

The gentle winter rains of East Carolina were falling softly on the
tin roof of the Gupton family homeplace. It was early December, 57
degrees outside, and Justin was standing in his bedroom, folding
laundry that he'd just taken down off the line strung up in front of
the living room fireplace. The grey skies outside made the green grass
of the lawn look more iridescent than emeralds, and it shone in
through the window as though emitting its own enchanted light.

The front door opened, and in walked his grandmother, Dessie Gupton,
and her best friend Ila Morgan. From where he was standing, Justin
could hear their conversation clearly without being seen.

"I don't know what we're gonna do about them niggers," said his
grandmother. "They're like to worry me to death."

"I surely can't say. There's just no accounting for folks any more.
You know that Beulah Tharrington married herself a nigger boy last
week? I do declare! He was right light-skinned, though. Cleon
Johnston, I think his name was," replied Mrs. Morgan.

"Those nigger-lovers drive me to distraction. It's not right for their
youngn's."

"Well, there ain't none kin to us, thank the Lord."

"Everwho looks would see we built all this. White people. Them
jigaboos get uppity, and the yankees and the courts make it so that
our men can't do nothing no more. I just don't know what this world's
coming to. It's changed so much since we were little girls."

As Justin continued folding his shirts, he started boiling inside at
hearing such intolerance spewed. Sure, he'd heard it his whole life,
and it had never bothered him before, but now that he had come to
realize what similar intolerance had done to him - forcing him into a
dark and lonely closet, and thoughts of suicide - he felt differently.
He just wanted everyone to love each other and get along.

Just then, he heard a quiet knock at the door, and looked up to see
Clecy standing on the side porch outside his bedroom. Justin walked
over and stepped outside, shutting the door silently behind him.

"I was just fixing to go to that church over yonder in Shiloh and drop
off something for the pot-lock supper. Wanna come with me?" asked
Clecy.

"How can you do that?!" hissed Justin through clenched teeth.

"What do you mean?" asked Clecy inquisitively.

"Those people are such bigots! They hate us! How can you participate
in that?" demanded Justin.

"Wanna go for a walk and talk about it?" asked Clecy, extending his hand.

"I guess," Justin replied, taking his boyfriend's hand, knowing that
the fog and mist would obscure them from prying eyes as they walked
through the hayfields surrounding his house.

"Jus," began Clecy, "they're not all bad. I've known these folks since
I was knee-high to a grasshopper, and they're good people who were
taught bad things. You can't fault them for believing racism or
homophobia over tolerance and acceptance, any more than you can fault
them for knowing English over Chinese. All they can know is what they
were taught growing up, by their parents, their teachers, their
neighbors, and the society around them. You know just as well as I do
that these people are basically decent folks, who would give you the
shirt off their back if they thought you needed it, who would come
over and cook for your family if your momma got sick, who mean well
but are simply a product of different times. And while they might be
very narrow-minded in some ways, in other ways they've got a lot more
wholesomeness and kindness in their little finger that all the
gay-accepting folks in the big cities up north have got in their whole
bodies."

"I just think it's scary," replied Justin, "that they can be all
laughing and smiling one second, and then have faces of pure rage the
next, if you mention 'gay marriage' or something like that."

"Sure. It is. But there's no changing it - it's part of them, and it's
part of our culture here. If you don't like it, you're free to move to
the city, or out to California or something, and be with like-minded
people. That's part of the beauty of America - everyone has the right
to live in a community of like-minded people...but you've got to
remember that 'everyone' means everyone. Homophobes and racists have
no less of a right to that than do you or I. What a man believes has
got sweet-fuck-all to do with his allotment of rights. This isn't some
left-wing state like Nazi Germany."

"You really do try to accept ALL people, don't you?" asked Justin,
stopping and turning to look his lover in the eyes.

"Christ bled on Calvary for all our sins," replied Clecy. He paused
for a moment before continuing. "Loving everyone is the only thing to
do. We're all human, so if I'm gonna say that flawed and imperfect
people can't be my friends, I'm gonna end up pretty damn lonely.
Oh...hold still right quick."

Clecy leaned in and kissed away a raindrop that had fallen on Justin's nose.

"You've got the biggest heart of anyone I know," said Justin.

"So, you wanna come with me?" asked Clecy.

"Where's it at?"

"Down the old mill road a fair piece, past Johnson's Bridge."

"Okay. Oh, and one more thing, Clee."

"What's that?"

"I love you."

"I love you too. Now come on, I want to get this sweet potato pie over
there directly before it gets cold."

"Mmm, that sounds right good! I could eat that breakfast, dinner, and supper."


# # #
EPILOGUE

The waves of Justin's tears slowly began to subside. With a heavy
heart, he looked up through the glass windshield of the truck, and
noticed that the rain had cleared right over the front yard of his
house. The sun was shining, despite the fact that it was still raining
off to the east.

Just then, something caught his eye. The sun had struck the rain at
just the right angle, and a beautiful rainbow was being projected
against the clouds hovering over his back-yard.

A small smile crept across his face, as he realized what the sign
meant: the love of his life, Clecy Breedlove, was in Heaven. Clee was
smiling down from the streets of gold, letting Justin know that he was
okay, and that they'd be together again one day, safe inside the
jasper walls of Heaven's city, forever in the presence of a loving and
merciful God.

Almost under his breath, Justin sung the second verse of the song
which had played earlier on the radio - which had perhaps been another
sign:

"Beyond these pangs that parting brings,
beyond all this earthly vale,
we'll meet where joys eternal spring,
and love there shall never fail.

We'll meet, yes, we'll meet on that shining shore;
We'll meet in that home of love;
We'll meet, yes, meet to part no more;
We'll shall meet in Heaven above."

- - - - - - - -
* GLOSSARY OF SOUTHERN TERMS (IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE): *

PINE STAND - a small forest composed entirely of pine trees clustered together

Y'ALL - contraction for "you all"; used only when speaking to two or
more people; thus making the conjugation positions: Singular: I, You,
He/She/It - Plural: We, Y'all, They (or 'They-All')

RECKON - to believe, as in to hold an opinion; i.e. "I reckon we'd
better turn this lost wallet in" means "I think we'd better turn this
lost wallet in"; similar Americanisms from outside the South include
"I think", "I guess", "I suppose", "I believe", etc.

GONNA - going to

GET THROUGH WITH - to finish (i.e. "Are you through with the soap?"
means "Are you finished using the soap?")

SORE AT - angry with

HAIR ACROSS ONE'S BUTT - to be angry/upset, either in general (i.e.
"I've got a hair across my butt today" means "I'm in a bad mood
today") or in particular (i.e. "to have a hair across one's butt about
XYZ" means "to be angry because of XYZ")

NUNYA - none of your business

KINFOLK - blood relatives

CANE - a type of bamboo native to the lowlands of the American South

ELSEWAYS - otherwise

WHOOPING - a physical beating, such as a spanking, whipping,
switching, or just general ass-kicking

CANEBRAKE - a thicket of the aforementioned cane

HOLLER - yell or scream

SET - sit (i.e. "let's set a while" means "let's sit down for a while")

FRIGGING - having sex

MIGHT COULD - might be able to (i.e. "The doctor might could do
something for you" means "The doctor might be able to do something for
you")

HOT DAMN! - general exclamation used for excited approval

LIKE WHITE ON RICE - used to describe something that sticks or clings
to another thing extremely tightly or closely, meaning that the two
are inseparable

RIGHT - very (i.e. "This pie is right good" means "This pie is very good")

HOMEPLACE - depending on context, either (A) a house in which several
generations of a family have resided over the years, typically the
earliest several generations of that family to inhabit the area, or
(B) the house in which one grew up

LIKE TO - almost, or nearly (i.e. "I saw a snake and like to had a
heart attack" means "I saw a snake and nearly had a heart attack")

WORRY ME - pester me, nag me, etc. (i.e. "Here comes my wife to worry
me about patching the roof" means "Here comes my wife to nag me about
patching the roof")

NO ACCOUNTING FOR - unreliable, untrustworthy, or unpredictable (i.e.
"There's no accounting for him" means "He can't be relied upon to act
in a normal, responsible manner"), with undertones of deviance from
expected social norms

I DO DECLARE! - general exclamation used for certainty, surprise, or
general emphasis; used almost exclusively by females; very dated

DRIVE ME TO DISTRACTION - to annoy me rather greatly; similar
Americanisms from outside the South include "drive me up a wall",
"make me want to tear my hair out", etc.

YOUNG'N - child (contraction of 'young one')

AIN'T NONE - aren't any, or isn't any

KIN TO - related to (in a familial way) (i.e. "Are you kin to him?"
means "Are you related to him?")

EVERWHO - whoever

JIGABOO - a black person with stereotypically black facial features
(big lips, broad flat nose, etc.)

YANKEE - an American not from the South, particularly one from a state
which existed during the Civil War, but did not secede (i.e. a person
from New Hampshire is more of a yankee than a person from Utah)

FIXING TO - getting ready to (i.e. "I'm fixing to go into town" means
"I'm getting ready to go into town" or "I'm just about to go into
town")

OVER YONDER - "over there", with 'there' very loosely defined as being
a place farther away than the ground on which the speaker is
standing...could be as close as ten feet, or as far as several miles
or more

KNEE-HIGH TO A GRASSHOPPER - the state of being a young child; very dated

SWEET-FUCK-ALL - absolutely nothing

RIGHT QUICK - depending on context, either: (A) to do something less
significant quickly before doing something more significant (i.e. "Let
me wash these dishes right quick before we go to the movies"), or (B)
very quickly (i.e. "When Sarah's father got the call that she'd been
in a car crash, he got down to the hospital right quick.")

WHERE'S IT AT? - "where is it located?"

FAIR PIECE - a somewhat-long distance; "just a piece" = a relatively
short distance, "a fair piece" = a somewhat-long distance, "a long
ways" = a long distance

DIRECTLY - right away without stopping (i.e. "I'll be there directly"
means "I'm coming over right now, without making any stops on the
way")

BREAKFAST, DINNER, & SUPPER - the three meals of the day, as
contrasted with the north's terminology of "breakfast, lunch, and
dinner"


- - -

Again, please send comments to ephraim.johnson@gmail.com - Thanks!