Date: Thu, 6 Jun 2002 12:58:02 -0700 (PDT)
From: Tom Borden <tombor99@yahoo.com>
Subject: "My Father, My Son"  51st Installment

This is Chapter 51, a continuation of "My Father, My Son."  All of the
conditions, warnings, and disclaimers listed at the beginning of the early
chapters of this series apply.  All comments are welcome, constructive or
destructive, and will be responded to.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is dedicated with love and great affection to
my good friends (in alphabetical order) Fred and Harvey.  In spite of their
blindness, they have given so much to so many people, as well as to me
personally, with their music.  Their kindnesses and gentle spirit will
always be an uplifting inspiration to me and to all who know them.


Send to:   Tom Borden,   tombor99@yahoo.com


My Father, My Son
Chapter 51

The ride back to the ranch was subdued.  Michael, Jeff, and Paul said
little, each sitting silently with his own thoughts.  Michael felt relieved
that he now had five more years without worry before Jared would once again
come up for parole.  Then he said, "I'm glad all this happened after my mom
and dad were gone.  I always thought mom favored Jared over me just a
little.  I guess the first-born is always looked upon as being just a
little more special.  You know, Jared and I always got along when we were
kids.  He was a typical big brother, and he looked after me.  He really
started going wrong when Ol' Ben died and cut him out of his will."

Then after remaining quiet for awhile, Michael said, "I've never stopped
missing that big brother.  But I don't have a big brother anymore.  I
haven't had one for a long time.  I always wished the clock could have been
turned back and he and I could once again be what we were to each other.

Paul said, "Michael, you know what the prison Chaplain said when he called
you.  Maybe he has really changed.  You know, stranger things have
happened."

"Yeah," said Michael with a sigh.

When they arrived home, Tony came out to meet them and said, "Well?"

Michael said, "Parole was denied.  Where's Clayton?"

"He's over there in the horse barn."

Michael found Clayton spreading hay in the stalls.  "Clayton, it's done.
Jared was denied parole."

Clayton stopped and put down his pitch fork and said nothing.  He just
looked out of the open half-door at the end of the stall he was working in.

"Clayton, did you hear me?" said Michael.  "Jared was denied parole."
Walking closer, Micahel put his hand on Clayton's arm.  "What's the matter,
Clayton?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Clayton, looking down at the ground.  Then looking
at Michael, he said, "I guess that's good news."

Michael said softly, "Come on over here and let's sit down.  What is it,
Clayton?  I thought you'd be relieved."

Clayton reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and pulled out the
folded up letter that Jared had sent him.  "It's this letter, Michael.
I've been reading it a lot.  I just don't know.  I just don't know."

Michael sat quietly.  He didn't know what to say.

Finally, Michael said, "Clayton, come on in the house.  It's dinnertime
now.  I know something's bothering you, and we can talk more about it after
dinner.  Okay?"


"Shit!  Why do them sons-a-bitches always do that?" snarled the night
prison guard as he peered into Jared's cell where Jared was hanging by his
neck.  Getting on his cell phone, he shouted, "Git up here to Cell 44B!
Another fuck-head has hung hisself!"

Two men from the infirmary arrived quickly.  Untying the sheet, they
lowered Jared's body onto a gurney and wheeled him away.  He was brought
into an examining room, where the prison doctor examined the body.  After
checking all of the vital signs, he said, "This man still has some life in
him, but barely.  Get him into the infirmary and get him on oxygen
immediately.  Maybe we can save the old devil."  Then, as he removed his
gloves and threw them into the waste can, he said, "Why the fuck do these
characters try to kill themselves like that?  It's pretty sad."

Jared was completely unconscious, but he had a faint pulse.  The prison
chaplain, Father Taft, was summoned, as he always was in cases like
this. When he entered the room, he said, "Oh, my God.  It's Jared Walker.
He had no reason to do this."  Then looking at one of the orderlies, he
said, "He's not a Catholic, but he freely gave me his confession one day.
He received the forgiveness of the Lord Jesus Christ.  He had no reason to
do this."

Because of the seriousness of Jared's condition, Father Taft administered
the last rites and left to call his brother, Michael.

Michael had just finished supper and when he answered the phone, Father
Taft said, "Mr. Walker, I have some bad news to impart to you.  After the
parole hearing today, your brother, Jared, tried to take his own life."

"Oh, my God!" gasped Michael.

"He had tried to hang himself in his cell, and when he was found, he was
still barely alive.  It is entirely uncertain whether or not he will pull
through.  I thought I would call you in case you would like to come and see
him."

"I don't know, Father," said Michael.  "Would he recognize me?"

"Well, he's still unconscious, of course.  The doctors said they didn't
know just how long he had been without oxygen.  There may be extensive
brain damage because of that."

Michael was shocked.  The thought actually occurred to him that this was
yet another scheme that Jared was using to gain attention.  But he knew
better.

"Thank you for calling, Father.  I'm not sure what I'll do," said Michael.

"It's entirely up to you to do what you wish, Mr. Walker.  But under the
circumstances of your brother's confession, and his expressions of
contrition, I thought you might be interested.  That is why I called.
Goodbye."

Michael hung up the phone and, while Tony was cleaning up the kitchen, he
walked into Clayton's room.  He found Clayton lying on his bed, staring at
the ceiling.  Michael sat down on the edge of the bed and, leaning over,
kissed Clayton on the forehead.  Clayton turned his head and smiled at
Michael.  Then he reached up with both arms and pulled Michael down close
to him.

Kissing Michael on the lips, Clayton said, "I love you, Michael.  You're my
dad.  And no one can replace you."

Michael said softly, "But you're thinking about Jared, aren't you?"

"Kind of," replied Clayton.

"What is it, Clayton?  Would you like to see him again?"

"I don't know."

"I'm afraid I have some news.  The prison chaplain just called me and told
me that Jared had tried to take his own life after the parole hearing.
They rescued him, but he's just barely alive.  They're doing what they can
to save him."

Clayton stared at Michael in disbelief.  Then he pulled Jared's letter from
his pocket again and looked at it.  His eyes were brimming with tears.
"This letter.  Maybe he really did mean what he wrote me," said Clayton,
choking on his tears.

Michael held Clayton tightly in his arms and whispered, "The Chaplain asked
if I wanted to come to see him.  Would you like to see him, Clayton?"

Clayton, unable to speak, nodded his head.


Adriano and his father, Mario, set out for the courthouse to start Mario's
application for Resident Alien status in the United States.  On the evening
before, however, Mario had an unpleasant encounter with Adriano's neighbor
who lived in the apartment just across the hall.  The man's name was Elmer
Flatt.  They had met in the elevator.  Mario had said good evening and,
with his Italian accent, introduced himself.  Elmer Flatt glanced at Mario
with a look of disdain, but said nothing.

When they arrived on their floor, Mario stood at his door searching for his
key.  As he did so, however, he heard Elmer Flatt's voice coming from
inside his apartment as he yelled, "Well, Mildred, we've got another
God-damned Dago moved into this building.  Ain't there no place in town we
can git away from these God-damned Wapps?"

As Adriano and Mario sat in the waiting room, waiting to see an immigration
officer, Mario said, "I hate to go back to the apartment in a way in case I
run into Flatt again."

"Don't worry about it, dad." Whispered Adriano.  "Just ignore him."

After returning home, Adriano went on into the apartment, while Mario
stepped across the hall to look at the Flatt's apartment number.  As he
did, Elmer Flatt opened the door and said, "Git away from here.  What're ya
tryin' to do?  Come in and rob us?  All you fuckin' Dagos are alike.  I
don't trust any of ya!"

Mario could feel the steam rising around his collar.  "Listen, Flatt!  I
don't like being called a Dago.  I have as much right in this building as
you do!"

"Oh yeah?" countered Flatt.

"Yeah, and as far as I'm concerned, I don't like low-life, loud-mouthed
Americans like you!"

"Then why don't ya haul yer little Dago ass back to the place where ya came
from!" shouted Flatt.

"I'll see you dead before I leave here," shouted Mario.  "This is my son's
apartment, and I'm a guest here.  I have every right to be here!"

As Mario turned to his own door, he saw the neighbors from two other
apartments in the hall peering out of their doors to see what the
disturbance was all about.

Adriano fixed his father a very strong whiskey sour, and they both sat
quietly watching the evening news.  Adriano had seen his father's temper
when he was a young boy still living in Florence.  But this had been the
first time in many years that he saw it erupt again.

"Dad," said Adriano finally, "I don't want to have you sitting here
steaming all evening.  I won't fix any supper tonight.  Why don't we go on
out to eat somewhere and then go over to the Nest for a couple of hours?  I
hate to see you so upset, dad.  You need to get out and get your mind off
of Flatt."


The night had finally come for Caleb's housewarming party . . . with
Michael as the only guest.  Michael had been thinking about what to buy as
a housewarming gift for Caleb.  But when he and Enrique were looking
through Ol' Ben's things in storage, he saw a large mantle clock that had
been in the Walker home for several generations.  It was an antique
eight-day wind-up clock with a carved walnut case and a beautiful brass
pendulum that could be seen through a glass door that had once been
back-painted with a scene of cows grazing in a field.  Most of the painting
had been worn off, but was still visible.  Michael remembered that, when
they were boys, he and Caleb used to wind it up and listen to its mellow
chimes as it struck each hour.  Caleb had always been fascinated with that
clock, and Michael felt it would be a perfect gift for Caleb's new home.
It bore a connection between he and Caleb that went back to their
childhood.

When Caleb heard the doorbell, he greeted Michael with a fresh triple
Scotch.  Handing it to Michael, he invited him in.  With the clock wrapped
up and held under one arm, Michael threw his other arm around Caleb's neck
and they kissed deeply and long.

Michael took a quick look around and said, "Caleb, you done good!  This is
really a beautiful apartment!  I won't ask you what you paid for it.  It
looks so comfortable, not exactly like a typical austere bachelor pad.
Such beautiful furnishings!"  Michael glanced around to see if there was a
suitable place for the clock.  There was no mantle since there was no
fireplace.

"Caleb, this is for you and your new home," said Michael, handing him the
package.

Caleb took the package and said, "I didn't mean for you bring anything,
Michael."  As he unwrapped the package and saw what it was, his mouth
dropped open.  "Michael!  This is that beautiful clock that belonged to
your family.  It always sat on the mantle in you living room!  You're not
giving it to me, are you?"

"Of course, Caleb.  It's yours now.  It has a lot of memories for both of
us, doesn't it?"

"You're going to make me cry, Michael.  If you really mean it . . . if
you're really letting me have it, I'll treasure it more than just about
anything I have."  Caleb carried the clock over to a chest on the other
side of the living room and carefully placed it there.  "This is where I'll
put it so I can see it wherever I am."

Caleb wound the clock as well as the chimes, and set the time, which was
about three minutes to eight.  After setting the pendulum to swinging, he
came back and sat on the sofa with Michael.  As they both looked at the
clock, it began chiming the hour of eight.  It was a sound that Michael had
heard all his life as a boy.  Caleb turned and took Michael in his arms,
and they kissed passionately.

"I'll never know how to thank you, Michael," said Caleb, kissing Michael
lightly on the lips between almost every word.  "I don't want to get up,
but I want to go in and get my own drink, and I've got a tray of goodies
for us to nibble on."

When Caleb went into the kitchen, Michael leaned his head on the sofa back
and listened to the soft music that Caleb had put on.  He recognized it as
a Beethoven's piano concerto No. 5, the Emperor Concerto.  When Caleb
returned, they drank and nibbled on the goodies. They talked about the
schedule for Caleb's wife's trial and also about the turn of events
concerning Jared.

Soon, Caleb said, "I'm expecting you to stay the night here, Michael.  Now
that we have had the housewarming, we still need to have a bed warming!
It's a brand new one!"

"When did you learn to be so subtle, Caleb?" said Michael with a quizzical
look on his face.  "I don't know what you're suggesting.  Of course, if you
use force on me, you're bigger than I am, and I might not be able to fight
you off."

Caleb said, "Do you want me to be clearer as to what I'm suggesting?"

"Yeah, tell me what you're really asking."

"Okay, Michael.  I want to fuck the shit out of you tonight.  Okay?  Is
that clear enough?"

"Oh, yeah!  I like a guy who says what he's really thinking!" said Michael
with a big smile.  "And maybe you'll let me fuck the shit our of you, too!"

"Well, it is my bed, and I'll have to think about that, Michael."

After their third triple Scotch, Caleb took Michael by the hand and led him
into the bedroom, already lit with very soft lights, turned down as low as
they would go.  "My God!" said Michael, "This looks like you're expecting
someone!"

"Stop the cute stuff, Michael, and get out of those clothes!"

As Caleb threw back the bed covers, Michael stripped down to his boots.  "I
love the boots, Michael," said Caleb.  Is there anything else you have to
offer?"

"Quit it, Caleb!" said Michael as he threw himself on the bed.  "Now you're
trying to be cute.  Let me watch you do a slow strip."

As Michael began to slowly stroke his enlarging penis, he watched as Caleb
removed each piece of clothing in an agonizingly slow way and threw it on
the floor in a heap.  As he watched this, Michael's penis grew to its full
rigid size.  Caleb leaped onto the bed and spread Michael's legs so that he
could get his head between his thighs and suck in each of Michael's balls.

As Michael continued stroking, Caleb said, "Don't cum now in my hair!  I
just shampooed it!"

Lifting Michael's legs, Caleb brought his tongue down to that warm, moist
region protected from invaders by Michael's firm round ass cheeks.  With
his hands, Caleb took hold of those luscious orbs and opened the door to a
dark cavern at the end of which was that beautiful red jewel of a hole.  He
could see that the hole was snapping and clenching as an invitation to
enter Michael's body.  Sinking his face deep into the trench, Caleb
searched with his tongue through the thicket of soft hair until it reached
its prize.  As he sunk his tongue through the welcoming hole into Michael's
rectum, Michael moaned with exquisite pleasure.

Michael muttered, "I need your cock in there, Caleb.  Fill me up with it.
Please."

Caleb quickly got up on his haunches and mounted Michael and, without
warning, thrust his hard penis into Michael's saliva filled ass crack and
then in through the waiting hole.  "Oh, fuck me hard, Caleb.  I need it so
badly!" cried Michael.

As Caleb pushed in and out, Michael watched Caleb's chest muscles ripple.
The soft light cast a pinkish glow on Caleb's skin, bringing Michael to a
frenzy of passion for Caleb's body.

"I'm close, Michael," growled Caleb.  "I'm gonna cum!"

Michael said, pull out, Caleb.  I want to see every stream of your hot
thick cum shooting out onto me!"

Michael could feel Caleb's penis enlarging in his rectum and said, "Pull
out and shoot it on me!  Please!"

Caleb pulled out just as he started hurling volley after volley of thick
white cream onto Michael's stomach and chest, with a large glob landing on
Michael's lips.  Sweat was pouring off of Caleb's chest, and his chest hair
glistened with tiny droplets.  As Caleb began to milk out the last drops of
sperm from his penis, he said, "I tried my best, my sweet man, to shoot it
all up as far as your mouth, but it just shot where it wanted to."

As Michael straightened out his legs, Caleb scooted down and took Michael's
gorged stiff penis in his mouth.  Michael said, "I don't know if I'm going
to cum very well, Caleb.  Just before I came over, I peeked into Jeff's and
Paul's room since the door was ajar, and there they were, both naked, and
Jeff was on his knees fucking Paul doggy fashion with that big delicious
cock of his.  I love watching Jeff's ass cheeks when he fucking.  They are
so round and luscious as they bounce up and down.  They didn't see me, but
when I went back to my room, I was so hot watching them that I jacked off
in the shower.  I just couldn't help it."

Caleb said, I saw your son, Jeff, once walking down the hall naked.  What a
body he's got.  He obviously took after his old man.  And I agree about
those ass cheeks.  I've fantasized more than once about having my face in
between them while I jerk off.

"Well, Caleb, who knows?  You might have a chance sometime.  But if you do,
you'll have to have Paul at the same time.  That's the rule they follow.

"Anyway, Michael," Said Caleb, "getting back to you and your ability to cum
on demand, I've never had to worry about you.  I used to see you cum three
or four times in one night.  I'll bet I can make you cum now in no more
than three minutes!"

Caleb took the full length of Michael's penis into his mouth and vigorously
stroked it from hilt to tip with his lips.  He could feel the veins around
the penis begin to bulge and feel hard.  After only about a minute, Michael
reached down and pushed Caleb's head off.

"Okay, Caleb, you win.  I was just about shoot.  But I'd rather shoot up
your hole.  That's what I've been looking forward to.  Remember, I said
earlier I hoped you'd let me fuck the shit out of you."

"Fair enough, Michael.  I really want your cock up inside of me.  But I
also was looking forward to drinking a nice big load."

"Maybe later, if you're so sure I can cum another time," said Michael as he
mounted Caleb, who had pulled his thighs up tight against his chest.  Caleb
looked hard at Michael as he started to hump harder and harder.  He thought
back when they were teenagers, he would look at Michael's body as Michael
fucked him.  His chest was smooth then, and he had no pectoral bulges at
all with just the tiniest little nipples.  Now he looked at Michael's
chest, which showed strong pectoral muscles bulging and rippling beneath a
soft layer of light hair.  Michael's nipples were now large and brown and
sticking out from his chest like small hard rocks.  He thought to himself
that he surely could have had Michael as his lifetime partner if he had
only not been so stupid when he was young.

Caleb watched Michael's sweat covered face as it began to distort into an
agonizing orgasmic grimace.  Throughout all his pumping, Michael was
concentrating so much on the enjoyment he was feeling that he literally
forgot to swallow as saliva filled his mouth.  As his penis began to throb
and shoot his sperm into Caleb's ass, saliva began to dribble out of his
mouth and off of his chin.  The sight of this was so erotic to Caleb, that
he felt his own orgasm building as he could feel Michael's penis throbbing
against the rim of his asshole with each surge of cum.  Before Michael had
thrown his last volley of sperm into Caleb, Caleb's hard penis erupted with
his second load of sperm, shooting it all the way up to his chin.

Soon, Michael pulled out and straightened Caleb's legs, massaging them
lovingly as he did so.  Then leaning over and licking Caleb's chest and
chin clean, Caleb said, "Is this as good as it was with Karl?"

Michael raised up and said, "Caleb, that's not a fair question."

Caleb pulled Michael's head down and kissed his lips, tasting the remains
of his own cum.  "I know it wasn't.  It was not in good form for me to ask
such a thing.  I already know how you felt about Karl.  You and I have
something different from what you and Karl had.  Please forgive me,
Michael."

Michael stretched out alongside of Caleb and, as he threw his legs over
Caleb's said, "There's nothing to forgive, Caleb.  You're right.  Our
relationship is different from that of Karl and me."  Then propping up on
one elbow, Michael ran his fingers over the fine features of Caleb's face.
"Are you going to be alright living here alone like this?"

"Michael, I am so happy to be rid of that nasty shrew of a wife of mine.
Compared to that, living alone is heaven."

"Well," said Michael, "I know that sometime you'll find someone who you'll
fall for, and there's no way in this world that any guy wouldn't fall for
you."

"Speaking of that," said Caleb, "do you remember this guy who lived at your
place for awhile?  I think his name was Steve.  Didn't he go back to New
England?"

"He sure did.  I was sorry to see him leave.  He was married and went back
to see if he could save his marriage.  There aren't too many guys as good
looking as he was, and still be as gentlemanly as he was.  He brought some
eastern class down to the ranch."

Caleb said, "You knew about the time just before he left when Clayton and
Tony and Steve got it on together, don't you?"

"Yes, I heard about it.  It was a nice send-off just before he left."

"Well, Michael, I don't know if you knew this, but not long after Clayton
and Tony left his room, I went in there that night asking for some soap
since Noah and I were out of it.  I knew that the two boys had been in
there, but I found Steve idly lying there fucking himself with a dildo and
a dreamy look on his face.  I was suddenly really attracted to him,
Michael, and somehow we ended up fucking each other.  He's about twelve or
thirteen years older than me, but I thought of him as being about my age
when I was with him."

"Really?" said Michael.

Laughing, Caleb said, "We both had our asses full of cum.  I had Noah's cum
up there, and Steve had, I think it was Tony's cum up his ass.  So when we
fucked, we had a lot of good lubrication."  Then turning to Michael, he
said, "Do you think Steve will ever come back here?  I've thought of him so
much since that night."

"I don't know, Caleb.  He seemed determined to leave and work on his
marriage.  I have a feeling he might have stayed, though, if it had worked
out between him and Dan.  But it didn't, and now Dan's gone."

"Did Steve leave a forwarding address or a phone number?"

"I don't think so, but I'll ask Tony.  He would know one way or the other.
You really liked him, didn't you?"

"Yeah.  If I can't have you, Michael, Steve's the kind of man I could make
a life with."

Soon, Michael and Caleb were feeling horny again and began playing with
each other penises and balls.  This led to them getting into a sixty-nine
position.  "Now, Caleb," said Michael, "you have your chance at a good
drink of my cum, just like you were hoping.  Do you think you can cum a
third time, Mr. Sixty-Minute man?

"Just watch me!" said Caleb.

The alarm rang at 6:00 a.m. just as the first rays of sunlight poured into
the window.  From the living room, Michael and Caleb could hear the old
clock striking six.  Caleb was due at the office at eight.

As Michael stretched and yawned, he reached over and tweeked Caleb's
nipples.  "Well, Caleb, I guess your new place has been warmed, and even
your great new bed has been properly warmed."  Then putting his hands
behind his head, he said, "It was a great housewarming party, my love."

Caleb sat up and said, "Are you going to have to leave right away, Michael.
I can fix some breakfast for us."

"No, thanks, Caleb," said Michael, throwing his legs over the side of the
bed.  "I have an appointment at the ranch with a guy about some bull
sperm."

"Bull sperm?"

"Yeah.  We used to borrow a bull from a little ranch just west of us to
come in for a few days and fuck all the cows he could.  But that guy
started charging for it, and we found that it was a lot cheaper to buy
frozen bull sperm."

"I never heard of that," said Caleb.

"Oh, that's been around for a long time.  We buy it packed in steel
containers that are kept frozen.  The only trouble this time is that
refrigeration broke down in the warehouse that stored it in San Antonio.
Now all they've got is a warehouse full of thawed sperm.  And that's no
good.  I'm going to talk to my supplier and see if we can purchase some
from a place in Kansas City."

"Tell me, Michael," queried Caleb, "How do they collect that stuff.  How do
they make a bull shoot his cum without it being in a cow's cunt?"

"You know, Caleb, I never did know how they got it.  One thing I know is
that they don't jack off the bull.  You've seen the size of a hard bull
cock, haven't you?  It's like a baseball bat, only thicker.  Do you
remember when we were kids, and we still had a bull, when we would come up
behind him and look at those huge balls hanging down.  They were like two
black grapefruits hanging a big long sack.  And we used to take a willow
switch and reach over and tickle those balls?  That bull used to get so
fucking mad, we were lucky we weren't killed before we were able to jump
over the fence."

"How much sperm does a bull shoot when he cums, Michael?"

"I've heard it's about a whole pint or so.  I used to watch our bull mount
and fuck those cows.  And then when he pulled off, that big huge cock of
his would still be pumping out great long squirts of his sperm all over the
ground.  Do you remember little Bobby Sutton, who lived over on a ranch on
the other side of Goliad?  Well, he told me he used to catch all those
drippings in a cup and taste it."

"It must have tasted terrible," said Caleb.

"No, he said it tasted just like his own cum."

Michael got dressed in a hurry and rushed back to the ranch.


Mark and Corky were feeling in a rather festive mood.  It was the second
anniversary of their meeting on that fateful night that Mark had rescued
Corky after his car accident.

"Let's go to a really nice place tonight," said Mark.  "I don't really feel
like going to some sleazy bar filled with smoke and crazy music and a lot
of screaming little queens running around trying to make out."

"Me neither!" said Corky.  "You know, I've really lost my taste for those
trashy bars.  Especially since you and I have been together.  It's just one
big frantic mating dance they do in those places, and I don't need it."

Mark said, "I remember there used to be a real terrific piano player in the
Lobby Bar at the St. Anthony Hotel.  I saw in the paper the other day that
he's now playing at the lounge in the Hotel Palacio del Rio down by the
river.  Why don't we go there.  He's a blind pianist, and he plays nothing
but the 'favorite oldies,' smooth and mellow.  Okay?"

"Yeah, let's go!"

The large poster in the hotel lobby, just outside of the lounge read,
"Pierre Henri Bourget at the piano, playing golden oldies, back by popular
demand."

Mark and Corky, dressed in their best pointed toe boots and wide-brim hats,
were shown by the maitre d' to a table close to the large grand piano
mounted on a low platform at the far end of the lounge.  A large bowl of
mixed nuts was on the table, and a round of Pearl Beer was soon delivered.
After listening quietly to a rendition of "Deep Purple" and "Paper Doll,"
Mark got up and slipped several dollar bills into the large empty brandy
snifter which sat next to the music rack.

"Merci, Monsieur!" chirped Pierre.

Mark looked startled.  "You're welcome, Pierre.  But how did you know I put
money in the glass?  It was just paper money."

Pierre laughed, as he continued playing.  "I have very good ears.  I can
always hear the sound of money, no matter what it is!"

"Your English is very good, Pierre.  How long have you been in this
country?" asked Corky.

"I've been here for over fifteen years.  I came over with my mother as my
companion after my father died.  She managed my career here and got me a
lot of gigs here in Texas."

"Have you played anywhere else in America?" asked Mark.  Then looking
around, he asked, "Is your mother here tonight?"

"I've played a few other places, but I love Texas more than anywhere else.
My mother died almost two years ago.  She used to sit right here on a chair
next to me every night.  Now I limit my appearances to places here in San
Antonio.  There's an agency here that arranges the engagements for me.  My
landlady has been good enough to drop me off where I'm playing and then
pick me up at the end of the evening."

"When do you get off, Pierre?" asked Corky.

"I normally play until 3:00 a.m. when the place closes.  But for the past
few nights, the manager here has let me get off early so I can catch the
last bus home.  My landlady had a heart attack and is in the hospital now."

The evening wore on and Pierre continued to play the old favorites.  His
brandy snifter was now almost filled to the brim with bills and coins.  It
was now midnight, and Mark and Corky had downed almost fifteen bottles of
beer between them and found themselves merrily singing "Ninety-nine Bottles
of Beer on the Wall" along with a number of other well-soaked patrons.
Soon, Pierre reached for the brandy snifter and emptied into a cloth
satchel, which he tied around his waist under his shirt.

"I enjoyed talking to you fellas tonight," said Pierre, standing up.  "But
it's time for me to leave and catch my bus.  And thank you very much for
your generosity.  I hope you enjoyed my music."

Mark said, "There's no point in you taking the bus, Pierre.  We'll drive
you home."

"I couldn't impose on you," said Pierre, waving his hand in front of him.

"It's no imposition, Pierre.  You gave us a great time tonight, and we want
to do this for you."

After Pierre protested several more times, he finally agreed to go with
them.  As he got into the car, he said, "My mother always warned me not to
go anywhere with people I don't know, especially since I can't see you."

"You don't have to worry about us, Pierre," said Corky.

When they arrived at Pierre's rooming house, they walked up to the door
with him.  Pierre searched through his pockets for his keys and began to
panic when he couldn't find them.  "I think I've lost my key.  It's not in
any of my pockets."

Mark tried the door to see if he could jimmy it open, but discovered that
it was locked with a deadbolt.  He turned to Pierre and said, "Pierre, I
want you to come home with us just for tonight.  And then in the morning
we'll come back, and perhaps one of the other roomers will be up and will
let you in."

Pierre was hesitant, but realized there was no other way, unless he stayed
there and slept on the front step.  When they arrived at Mark's and Corky's
apartment, Corky led Pierre to a chair.  He said, "Now you just sit down
and relax.  We have a sofa here that's a hide-a-bed, and you can sleep
there.  How about something to drink, Pierre.  We have all kinds of soda."

"Just a glass of ice water, if I may.  Thank you so much."

While Corky was in the kitchen fetching Pierre's water, Mark said, "How old
are you, Pierre?"

"I just turned 33 this month."

"Well, you were only a teenager when you came over.  You know, you are a
very handsome man," observed Mark.

"Thank you.  You and Corky have been so nice to me all evening, and so nice
to take me in like this.  I would like to see what you look like, too,"
said Pierre as he was handed his glass of water.

"Well . . ."  Mark was not sure what to say.

"May I see you?" said Pierre.

"Well . . . I . . . ."

Pierre laughed and said, "I haven't been blind all my life.  I do know what
the world looks like and what people look like.  My blindness didn't come
on until I was about ten or eleven.  But I now have eyes in my mind.  And
those eyes can see through my fingers and my hands."

Mark and Corky looked at each other, not fully understanding.

"I can touch you and feel you, and in that way, I can see you."

"But you still can't see us," said Corky.

"Yes I can.  In many ways I can see you better that way than you can see me
right now.  I can feel your bodies with my fingers and my hands, I can feel
the texture of your skin that you can't see with your eyes.  I can feel the
thickness and texture of the hair on your bodies, I can feel the firmness
of your muscles, the shape and movement of your chest as you breathe.  I
can feel the smile on your face.  In this way, I can see you perfectly in
my mind's eye through my fingers.  Believe me, I can."

Mark and Corky sat silently, not knowing what to say.

Pierre, with a quick laugh, said, "Do I shock you?  Would it embarrass you
for me to see what you look like in that way?"

"No, it wouldn't, Pierre.  Do you want to . . . see . . . us now?," said
Mark.

"Yes, please.  Would you mind taking off your clothes?  You shouldn't be
embarrassed.  It's the only way I can do it."

Both Mark and Corky stripped down to their boots.  Pierre could tell where
Mark was standing from his voice.  He stood up and walked over to him.  He
placed his hands on the top of Mark's head, gently running his fingers
through his hair.  Then with his fingers, he carefully felt all of the
features of Mark's face, his eyes, ears, nose, lips, cheeks, chin.  He ran
his hands over Mark's broad shoulders and down and around both arms,
carefully feeling his wrists and hands and fingers.  Then running his
fingers in a circular motion lightly over Mark's chest, he could feel
Mark's nipples harden, and could hear Mark suck in his breath suddenly from
the feeling of Pierre's fingers on them.

Corky sat nearby, hardly able to contain himself watching this handsome
young Frenchman run his hands lightly over Mark's prominent abs and into
his pubic hair.  Now kneeling on the floor, Pierre took Mark's throbbing
penis in both hands, gently feeling the protruding veins and large firm
head.  Pierre smiled as he rubbed Mark's long string of sticky pre-cum
between his fingers.  As he carefully held and fondled Mark's balls and its
large ball sack, Mark could not stifle a moan of pleasure.  Pierre brought
his hands down over Mark's muscular thighs and calves, pulling gently on
the soft hair that covered them.  Then, moving around behind Mark, Pierre
ran his hands over Mark's large, firm ass cheeks.  Pulling one cheek aside,
he ran the fingers of his other hand over Mark's asshole, and at the same
time, leaning in and taking in the strong masculine odor of Mark's crotch.

Finally, sitting on the floor, Pierre said, "Mark, I now see you in my
mind's eye as clearly as any sighted person can . . . maybe better."

Pre-cum was still running heavily out of Mark's penis, and Corky came over
to capture it with his tongue.

"Now, Corky, I want to see what you look like, too," said Pierre, standing
up.  Corky walked over and stood before Pierre.  As Mark watched, Pierre
gave Corky the same total body treatment that he had just had.  When it was
over, Pierre found his way back to his chair.  He said, "I hope you didn't
mind what I did.  It's the only way I could really see you."

Mark said, "Pierre, we didn't mind at all.  But I have to tell you that you
must surely know that what you did was very erotic for Corky and me.  I
don't know what is was for you, but it was a very unusual sexual experience
for us."

Pierre smiled and said, "I'm glad, because as I was looking at your
beautiful bodies, it became a very sexual experience for me, too."

"It did?" said Corky eagerly.  "Pierre, would you let us see if we could
have the same experience by 'looking' at your body in the same way?"

Pierre laughed, and said, "I know what you're saying Corky.  You don't have
to make out that you just want to see if you can duplicate in your own mind
what I just experienced.  Let's not kid ourselves.  I am extremely sexually
aroused by both of you, and I know that you are, too."  And then with a wry
smile, Pierre said, "Do you really want me to sleep alone on the
hide-a-bed?"

All three laughed.  Pierre stood up and said, "In all seriousness, though,
I want you to understand that I was telling you the truth that the only way
I can really see you is to do it through my fingers.  No matter what
happens next, I want you to know that I was not playing games.  It truly is
the only way I can see you."

Mark walked over to Pierre and lifted him out of the chair and kissed him
on the lips.  Then he said, "And we're not playing games, either, Pierre.
We didn't know this would happen, but it has, and we're not going to make
you sleep alone in here on that old sofa."

Taking Pierre gently by the arm and leading him into the bedroom, Mark
said, "Would you mind if we got you ready for bed, Pierre?  We'd like to
undress you ourselves, and I promise we'll hang up these nice clothes of
yours so they won't get wrinkled."

Pierre smiled and nodded.  Both Mark and Corky slowly and carefully removed
each piece of Pierre's clothing, revealing a beautifully proportioned body
and a very erotic looking bikini tan line, punctuated by a very hard,
uncircumcised penis that stood up at a forty-five degree angle.  "Oh,
you're a swimmer!" said Corky.

"Yes, in a way.  I mostly lie on the beach and take the sun.  I go over to
Galveston Beach on the Gulf as often as I can.  Do you like my tan line?"

"Pierre, we're going to show you how much we like it very quickly," said
Mark.

Mark, Corky, and Pierre got into bed and lay with their naked bodies
pressed closely together, as Mark reached over and turned down the bed
table lamp to a very low, soft glow.


It had been a hot, muggy day at the ranch . . . a terrible day for the
central air-conditioning to break down in the house.  That night, Michael
lay naked on his bed with the sheet thrown back.  He had slept only
fitfully and, looking at the bedside clock, he saw it was already 2:00 a.m.
The house was quiet.  Everyone had gone to bed long ago.  Staring out of
the open window, Michael could see that there was no breeze at all, and
there was an eerie silence in the air.  All he could hear were a few
Coyotes howling in the distance and an occasional squawk from the Peacocks
he was raising.  He knew that the others in the house were closed away in
their rooms.  Jeff and Paul, Tony and Clayton, and Enrique and Noah.  He
suddenly felt very lonely.  Sleep evaded him.  He lay thinking about
Clayton.  He knew that he should be guiding the boy, but yet, it would have
to be Clayton's decision in the end concerning Jared.  Damn Jared!  And
poor Enrique.  The thoughts of what those two young men must be going
through gnawed at him.

Michael thought about his reunion with Caleb.  He wanted so much to have
Caleb with him, but he knew their lives had grown apart for too long.
Michael would never leave the ranch, and Caleb had a thriving law practice
in Goliad.  It seemed a strange kind of love they had for each other, but
that is how it would have to remain.

The heat in Michael's room became so oppressive that he got up and walked
down the hall to the kitchen for a glass of something.  Looking out of the
window toward the bunkhouse, he could see in the yard lights someone
leaving Luke's room, barefoot and wearing only his briefs.  He had his
clothes draped over his arm as he ran toward his own room.  Michael
couldn't make out who it was.  He fixed himself only a glass of ice water
and walked through the house and out onto the front veranda.  Sitting in
one of the old wicker chairs, he stared out over the endless range, lit
only by a hazy moon.

Since Karl had left the ranch, he had never been far from Michael's mind.
As he stared at the moon, Michael spoke softly aloud.  "Why, Karl?  Why
don't you write me or call me?  I need to tell you that I never wanted you
to leave.  I did something very foolish, and you thought I wanted you out
of my life.  Never, Karl, never.  Please let me know you forgive me."

With the vision of Karl's face and body before his eyes, Michael could feel
his penis getting hard.  Still looking off into the night, he held his
penis and started stroking it.  It felt good and, closing his eyes, he
imagined that it was Karl who was sending that tingling, pre-orgasmic
feeling through his body.  Suddenly, a slight breeze blew over Michael's
moist and sweaty naked body, and it made him shiver.  As he continued to
stroke, he thought he heard a noise at the window behind him.  It was
Clayton's and Tony's room.  He didn't look around, but he knew that the two
boys were at the window watching him.  He didn't mind.  He stroked harder
and harder and faster and faster.  A short yell issued from his mouth,
signaling that he was now giving his body over to a powerful orgasm.  As he
jerked his hips upward, long thick ropes of cum, glistening in the
moonlight, shot upward and down onto his thighs.

As Michael sat still clutching his wilting penis and breathing heavily, he
turned his head and saw Clayton and Tony in the window, smiling broadly and
giving the thumbs up.  Michael began feeling better.  Perhaps it was just
having gone through a great orgasm.  But he thought it was more likely the
sight of those dear, young faces smiling at him.


Corky and Mark are not yet through with Pierre.  There is more to come.
But I need your feedback.  Write me at:

Tom Borden
Tombor99@yahoo.com