Date: Fri, 25 Apr 2003 17:42:02 EDT
From: KissAndCuddleGem@aol.com
Subject: Dad's Just Desserts (Installment 4)

This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons
living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely
coincidental.

Moreover, none of the actions of the characters in this story is presented
with the intent to condone, approve, or sanction their behavior.

The above-expressed disclaimer also does apply to any and all installments
of this story, including those preceding and following this installment.

All questions and/or comments are welcome; and, if you wish to contact me,
please feel free to email me at: KissAndCuddleGem@AOL.COM; and I will most
definitely respond to email, as appropriate.


Casey was now a quite handsome young man attending college.  He thought he
wanted to have more of his own personal identity, so he had dyed his
natural red hair blonde recently so that he would look at least a little
different than his father.  He had good grades, loved athletics, actually
anything to do with sports whatsoever, and a nice sense of humor: He found
that the latter helped get him through rough times.

Yet Casey felt unfulfilled, empty, and a failure deep inside.  He became
moody, depressed, and unpredictable with regard to interaction with family,
while still living at home with parents Ronnie and Gracie who did little
else than coddle him and praise him.

Casey was one day brooding in his room with the stereo blasting rock music
and a few of his favorite pop tunes.  He recalled then while lying in his
room and listening to some Elvis Presley oldie that while in his mid-teens
he used to ask questions, lots of questions, of his parents about personal
things: mostly a great deal of questions with regard to the family history.
Well, Casey asked these questions all right but received in return very
little in terms of answers; and whatever minimal answers were received were
such that their substance was so vague, they lacked any credibility as to
their validity.

Casey reflected on his searching for "answers" to things like: Why did his
dad hardly ever want to talk about the grandfather he never knew but heard
was once a powerful highly respected man?; and like: Who is this Doctor
Chambers?; and why was his dad seeing him during a large part of Casey's
childhood?  Casey had been pleased from his toddler years onward with a
natural curiosity about life: While this curiosity proved to be a bonus
with regard to his academic performance throughout the majority of his
schooling, he would soon learn that it was not equally a blessing with
regard to his personal life.

Casey turned off the music in his wall-to-wall-postered room and did
something he did not do very often: He opened the inner window and the
outer screen all the way up, stuck out his head till it was fully outside,
and took the deepest of breaths: a breath of fresh air he felt he needed
badly and hope would help clear his jumbled thoughts.

With a look of determination in his eyes, he grabbed a granola bar from the
refrigerator, kissed his mom, who was busy watching in the living room
"Doctor Phil, Junior" goodbye, and virtually skipped out the door.  Casey
drove his Honda Civic to the main branch of the local public library: It
was Saturday; and the librarian stared at him as if she were looking at a
sadly reading-addicted bookworm; and this stare was most pronounced each
time Casey gave her further and further requests for help locating boxes
and boxes of microfilm and microfiche on a variety of esoteric subjects.

Casey felt like he was in a maze and did not know the exact way out but
knew that there was a way out.  Basically, he went with his instincts as
for a starting point; and decided that the key to all of this was to locate
this mysterious Doctor Chambers.  He was looking via a special machine he
inserted dusty microfiche in at a very old local phone directory listing
for the area his father had lived in most of his life: There were three
Doctor Chambers listed; and, as luck would have it, the first two were
veterinarians; and so he was left with the one remaining: a Richard
Chambers, Sr., Ph.D., as per the print below the iniitial listing of the
name.  Casey recalled from a brief summer internship at a local clinic for
emotionally troubled youth that the credential meant that the practitioner
was a psychologist.

"Bingo!.  Now, we're cooking", Casey thought to himself.

Casey eventually learned that the practitioner he was seeking had retired
and relocated to northern Maine about twelve years ago, taking his family
with him.  He recalled that his favorite cousin from his mother's side of
the family and his closest playmate in his early childhood, Ryan, was now
going to a private culinary arts school in that part of the country.  Well,
he came up with this plan, though the details were not quite entirely
worked out in his mind: He would take a leave of absence from school,
telling his parents very little other than him needing a break to re-focus
as to his career goals; redeem a few of his matured U.S. savings bonds kept
for safety in a deposit in the bank now under his name; and, sort of as a
spur of the moment thing, let his folks know that he was worried about how
his "cuz" was doing up there all alone and thought that a reunion visit was
in order for him and his boyhood chum.

Actually, very much to his surprise, Casey's mom and dad thought that the
trip was an excellent idea and would do all of them a world of good.
Ronnie commented: I always liked that boy, quite a mannerly young man and
always meticulously dressed.  Gracie mostly hugged and kissed Casey, not
saying much of anything to him but helping him to more neatly pack than he
usually would.  Ronnie commented as Casey boarded the plane, in a
half-joking way: "I love you son, just remember that.  You are an angel to
me, a blessing.  But tell that cousin when you see him that I hope he will
put an end to this earring nonsense of yours!"

Casey just laughed at this and winked at his dad just a moment before he
turned his face away.  Ronnie, now very much a sentimental goof, cried,
thinking to himself: "You will always be my precious cherub, I don't care
how old you are."

To Casey this was all very much an adventure, an exciting opportunity to
get away from familiar and at times stressful surroundings.  As he sat on
the plane, he momentarily looked downward and noticed that he now had a big
hard-on that was tenting the crotch area of his hugging denim jeans.  This
confused Casey, not to mention took him very much by surprise.

@As James Earl Carter-Brookhaven International Airport and the usual chaos
and frenzy therein was becoming very much a distant memory for him, he
chose to use the four-hour plane ride to attempt to sort out and hopefully
understand better his sexuality.

Casey began to think about his looks.  He never thought that he was
particularly good-looking, at least not in the classical sense.  But he
always believed that he knew how to present his most favorable features in
the best light; and he worked hard to stay fit and trim, though eating
healthy was always a struggle for him.  His weakness had always been
cravings for fast food.  Well, regardless of what he thought, the reality
is that he looked quite good: With freckles, and a bright, engaging smile
corrected in his teenage years with braces and noticeably sparkling blue
eyes believed to be inherited from his father, he had the height of his
maternal grandfather: he was 5'9" and about 150 pounds with medium-sized
pecs and a lightly-hairy chest with a trail of hair leading down from the
center of his upper chest to a 32-inch waist.

Casey had had many girlfriends throughout high school and was a popular
jock at that time.  In college, he had a six-month relationship with a
young lady originally from Canada: This relationship was very intense and
sexually-charged.  Casey thought it was love; but they broke off the
relationship by mutual agreement, as they thought it would be too painful
to continue it when a pregnancy by another young man came to the surface.
Casey thought, intellectually, he could forgive her for the infidelity,
but, emotionally, he knew that he really never would.

Casey had not had any same-sex sexual experiences.  But, as he sat where he
was dwelling in his mind on his hard-on, he was thinking about this: that,
while in middle school, he did go through this period where he had these
on-and-off sexual fantasies involving locker room and common
open-entranceway shower room "play" with some of the other male students in
his seventh- and eighth-grade physical education classes.  He licked his
lips as he thought about these fantasies and the "wet dreams" he sometimes
had that largely in his mind were the result of related dreams.

"Am I gay?", Casey wondered.  As the plane prepared for landing, the
nineteen-year-old youth decided that he did not have to have the ultimate
answer all figured out as to this; and that he preferred to think of
himself simply as closest to bi-curious and leave things at that.

Further, Casey mused to himself: "They won't exactly be waiting for me in
the gay world, anyway, as I am by no means "big" in that 'departm

Well, this was certainly true: Although he could never really understand
why this was, his member was only two and one-half inches long soft.  When
fully aroused, his cock could be at times as much as five inches.

Casey, in reality, did not obsess over this size thing: He thought of it
more this way: Everyone has their pluses and minuses, he would just have to
focus more on his overall strengths and make the best of things.  He did
not feel inadequate as a man.  He simply hoped to become as great a man as
his dad, whom he basically idolized.  Yet sometimes he felt like he really
did not know his dad at all.  He wondered if his father really was enjoying
life as much as he appeared to want to make it seem he was; and what his
father was thinking about when he had that far-away look in his eyes.

A few of the flight attendants came by to Casey, gently reminding him that
his seatbelt must be securely fastened and smiling at him as they did so.

Casey resolved that this trip was a mission about finding answers, this was
not about him learning more about his sexuality.  So he vowed to himself
that he would very much try to remain "focused".  In the next few moments,
Casey was bracing himself for the plane's touching down: He looked down at
his hands and saw that he was digging his nails into the armrests for his
seat.  He closed his eyes, then he prayed, temporarily forgetting
completely about the business at hand.