Date: Fri, 18 Oct 2013 13:23:41 -0500
From: Harrison Westbourne <harrisonwestbourne@yahoo.com>
Subject: Daryl's Enlightenment 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a fantasy involving consensual gay sex between
young and older men, as well as love among men.  The people in the story do
not use protection because diseases do not exist here.  In real life,
PLEASE USE PROTECTIONN WHEN ENGAGING IN SEXUA ACTIVITY.  Also, if this sort
of material offends you, is illegal where you live, or you are under 18
years of age, PLEASE LEAVE THIS SITE NOW!

This story is copyrighted by Robert VanWerven.  It can ONLY be downloaded
for personal enjoyment, NOT for republication or sale and distribution.  If
you wish to provide feedback, comments, or suggestions, please feel free to
contact me, using the story title as the subject line, at
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DARYL'S ENLIGHTENMENT 1


1967 in Chicago was an eventful year all around.  In January, one of the
city's famous blizzards swept through paralyzing everything for several
days.  That April, a tornado tore up the southwest suburbs, leaving a path
of destruction and mayhem behind it.  Most importantly, June began with my
birth on the city`s south side.  I know that may not be an event to
everyone, but it means something special to me.

My parents were typical, middle class, financially stable, and loving.  Mom
stayed home to raise me and my two sisters, Louise and Rose.  Dad worked
for a large technology business downtown since he was 18.  When I was born,
we lived in a mobile home, but moved to our suburban home, which was my
Dad's late Grandma Lillian's, after a year.  My sister Louise came in `69
and Rose followed in `71.  Although my mom did try for another, the
long-awaited brother didn't survive.  His name was Harrison and I still
feel him with me today.  After that, my parents decided our family was big
enough.

I grew up an attractive child; chestnut hair with flakes of auburn and
gold, fair complexion, impish smile, lean swimmer's build, and emerald
green eyes that sparkle in certain light.  Now this description comes from
a biased source, but most people agree that my looks are above average.
While I was active in school, I did not particularly enjoy athletics.  I
stayed in shape by swimming and cycling.  Sports bored me so I concentrated
on my studies.  Art and nature appealed to me, which is probably the cause
of my career today.  Since I was a quiet and pretty solitary child, my
father gave me a black leather-bound diary for my 10th birthday.  He said
every boy should have secrets only they know.

Life seemed perfect until the summer of 1980.  I was at my favorite
lakeside park, drawing, when a police car came up to get me.  Confused,
scared, and somewhat irritated, I entered my home to find that my life had
changed forever.  Mom had been driving out to visit her mother when a semi
truck flipped over in front of her car.  She lingered for a week until Dad
gave her permission to move on.  The following wake, funeral and grieving
was a blur to me then; I remember every detail now.

Two of my best friends, Deena and Kirk, were there through everything.  We
knew each other since kindergarten and never let one another wallow in
self-pity or loneliness.  Kirk was about 5 ft 11in., with a muscular frame
from wrestling.  He has deep black hair with stunning bluish highlights, a
full, kissable mouth, and the deepest, clearest, bluest eyes I have ever
seen.  Deena was our best girl.  She had flaming auburn hair with hazel
eyes, a pouty face, and statuesque figure.  As the year dragged on, our
friendship helped me cope.  Around Christmas, I made two discoveries that
changed my entire existence.

The first revelation occurred while cleaning out my bedroom closet one
Saturday, I discovered a hidden niche under the stairs leading to the
attic.  Inside was a small, well-worn leather diary, a small
paisley-covered photo album, and a stack of old letters wrapped with a
royal blue satin ribbon.  I assumed these belonged to my Mom so I put the
aside to read later. Boy was I wrong!

The second revelation concerned my friend Kirk.  Although I had begun to
suspect that I was homosexual, I was unsure of anyone else in my life.
Heck, my earliest memory was watching Barbra Streisand wins the Oscar for
"FUNNY GIRL."  Kirk was staying over while his Mom went into the hospital
for back surgery.  He and I were watching a cheesy, old movie when he
leaned over and kissed me.  I was stunned but thrilled.  From the look on
his face, Kirk thought he had made a HUGE mistake.  I smiled and kissed him
back while rolling on top of his trim, muscular frame.  When we broke
apart, he just smiled and I knew things would never be the same.

No words were spoken as I began to kiss Kirk's neck, as he moaned
erotically.  Moving down, I removed his shirt so I could caress his
sculpted chest and abs with my hands and tongue.  Reaching his left nipple,
I began to tease it and slid my hand down to undo his pants.  Kirk's
breathing was becoming ragged and I could feel his heartbeat quicken.
Slowly, I unzipped his pants and reached my hand into his briefs.  There
waited the first cock I ever held, other than my own.  It was about 7
inches, thick and veiny, dripping with precum and throbbing with
anticipation.

As I began to inch my face towards his waiting pole, Kirk stopped and said
he want to do that together.  I rolled onto my back as Kirk tormented me
until we were both naked and lying in a 69 position.  Soon, we both were
sucking each other with wild abandon.  Although it seemed like hours, my 7
inches reached its boiling point as did Kirk's.  Both of us increased our
action until we emptied into each other's eager throats.  In the afterglow,
I confessed that he was my first and found out I was his.  This is how my
sexual life began.

Christmas arrived but I didn't feel like celebrating.  My sisters seemed to
be coping better than I was.  Dad looked tired and stressed.  His mom, Nana
Josephine, moved in to help take care of us while my Dad worked.  Nana Jo
and I got along like two old friends and she even taught me to knit and
crochet.  It was kind of fun having her around all the time and I hoped
that she would accept me for the man I was.  To this very day, I miss our
chats and sitting around working on our handcrafts together.

Dad had a little too much to drink and was soon snoring on the couch.  Nana
Jo asked Kirk and I to help put him to bed while she tackled the girls.  I
stood on Dad's right; Kirk on his left.  We managed to get him upstairs to
his bed. I was embarrassed but Kirk said he understood, hugged me, and
helped me to undress my father for bed..  As Dad lay there, we took off his
shoes, belt and tie, removed his shirt and slacks.  As his pants slid down
his muscular thighs, we realized that my father had gone commando that day.
His thick, sleeping cock appeared surrounded by a thick patch of hair.  He
was HUGE.  It had to be 7 inches soft and very thick.  Absent-mindedly, I
licked my lips.  Kirk blushed a deep crimson, stuttered something about how
handsome and sexy Dad was, and quickly kissed me and ran home.  When I went
to put his tie tack back in his jewelry box, I accidentally opened a drawer
I had never seen.  Inside, there was an envelope marked Michael. Intrigued,
I wanted to look at it but my Dad moved so I closed the drawer and left.
As I was leaving, I thought, "Gee, my Dad is really gorgeous!"

That night I had the weirdest dream ever.  I was at my favorite drawing
vista when I saw my Dad approaching.  He was dressed in skin-tight jeans,
white sneakers, and a flaming red short-sleeved shirt, looking more
handsome than usual.  Standing 6 feet 2 inches, he was trim and defined,
with long muscular legs.  His chocolate brown hair glowed around his
slightly tanned face, while his amber eyes sparkled with an erotic energy.
At one point, he stopped and turned his broad back to me, revealing his
perfect symmetry flowing down to the finest ass I could ever imagine.  I
woke up in a cold sweat, hard as a rock, not understanding what I was
feeling.
	
Looking at my clock, it was just after 3 am and I knew I wouldn't get a
good night's sleep.  I decided to get up and look through the treasures I
found in my closet.  After a quick bathroom visit and a run for some soda,
I turned on my radio to the local oldies station, like my Mom did whenever
she would comfort me after a bad dream.  Putting my small reading lamp on
the headboard, I piled up my pillows, covered myself with a blanket, and
prepared to read.  What I soon discovered was shocking.

I chose the diary first.  The brass lock was tarnished and easily opened
with a paper clip.  My first surprise was to find that it belonged to my
Dad.  He started this journal when he was only 10 years old.  Most of the
time he wrote about school, his friends, troubles he was having; all
typical kid stuff.  He spent a great deal of time with his Uncle Jeremy,
who taught his photography as a hobby.  Dad loved taking and developing his
own pictures.  For the next couple of hours, I plodded through stories of
summer vacations, holidays, and school dramas.  All of a sudden, I came
across an item that took an unexpected direction.  This particular entry
was dated June 10, 1953 and read as follows:

"Dear Diary,

My name is Randolph Matthews and I am now 14 years old.  You are my safety
box for my deepest secrets.  Today something happened that changed me from
a boy to a man but has also confused me thoroughly.  I had my birthday
party this afternoon and it was really fun.  All my friends and family were
there; I got some wonderful presents.  One gift threw me and I don't know
what to do about it.

My favorite uncle, Jeremy, came up to me before he left and pulled me into
the coat closet.  He told me he had a secret present and then he pulled me
close and passionately kissed me.  I was stunned!  My body began reacting
in a way I didn't understand but didn't want to end.  After what seemed
like forever, he let go and said he would see me tomorrow when he babysat
me for my parents.  I couldn't even speak so I nodded and went upstairs to
my room.

Well I guess I'll have to wait and see what that meant.  For now, I have to
get some sleep as I am bushed.  Talk to you later."

Taped just below the passage was Uncle Jeremy's picture.  He looked very
dashing in his tight slacks, long-sleeved dress shirt and tie, and
wing-tipped shoes.  It was black-and-white so couldn't describe the colors.
I just know he looked hot.  His dark, shoulder-length hair curled sexily
behind his ears. He sported a trim VanDyke style beard that accented his
accented his strong chin.  Both the shirt and slacks were stretched tautly
over what appeared to be a lean, muscular frame.  His package was slightly
obvious due to the pose he had struck.  It looked rather large and possibly
hard.  My mouth began to water as my mind imagined what was behind the
zipper.

Now my thoughts were reeling.  What did this all mean?  I knew Uncle Jeremy
was gay but my Dad? No, it couldn't be.  Yawning, I decided to read more
tomorrow after Dad went to work.  Secretly, I plotted to get another chance
at the jewelry box too.  I feel asleep wondering who the Michael from the
jewelry box was.  His name hadn't been mentioned in the diary as yet.
Tomorrow, I would discover the answers for myself.

To be continued...