Date: Fri, 4 Nov 2016 14:27:42 +0000 (UTC)
From: hankbrookscc@comcast.net
Subject: My Mother is Coming...short story

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			    My Mother is Coming

				 Prologue

My name is Christopher Gundersen.  I grew up on a farm in Minnesota that
had been in my family since the early days of the nineteenth century.  My
ancestors came from Sweden, and the Minnesota climate reminded them of
home.  I have no idea if they just started to till Native American land, or
if they purchased their acreage.  At this point I really don't care.  The
county records indicate that we own the land.

From a very early age, I worked in the fields side by side with my father,
planting and harvesting wheat.  By the time I was sixteen, I had the body
of an ancient Greek statue.  I was already six feet, two inches tall.  My
baby blond hair had been replaced by a slightly darker hue.  My clear blue
eyes remained the same color as they were in my childhood.  My chin was
square and had a cleft in it.  My nose was small and pugged, giving me the
look of a baby, even in my maturity.

My best feature was one nobody ever saw.  My cock was five inches flaccid.
It was very fat around.  When I jacked off I could not put my whole hand
around it, and, believe me, my hands are very big.  It was uncut and grew
to a little over eight inches when I was aroused.  Unfortunately I was the
only one who ever touched that cock, so I could not know if it might grow
larger yet, if I was having sex with someone.  Before my eighteenth
birthday, I grew a little more in height, width, and cock.

I knew everyone in my rural high school.  All the girls came on to me.  I
just couldn't get interested in any one of them, but in the shower, after a
phys. ed. class, I got plenty aroused by all the cocks I saw.  It didn't
matter if they were big or small, fat or skinny; I wanted to play with
them.  Not one of my friends was circumcised so I didn't see one of those
babies, until I got to college.

After a few fights with myself in the locker room, struggling to remain
soft, I finally realized that I was gay.  As big and strong as I was the
idea of being gay scared the shit out of me.  For sure, I knew that I could
not spend my life in rural Minnesota.

On my seventeenth birthday, seven weeks before my high school graduation, I
asked my parents to sit with me, as I had something very important to
discuss with them.  After dinner we all got comfortable in the living room.
My folks looked at me with expectation, so I figured I might as well drop
the bomb.

"Mom, Dad," I whispered, "I've been applying to colleges back east.  I got
a partial football scholarship to Syracuse University, and I'd really like
to go.  I realize I won't be around to help you on the farm, but the long
and the short of it is I don't want the farm, Dad.  I want to study law.  I
want to be a lawyer."

The room was deadly silent.  My mother feared what was going to happen.
She jumped up and said she was going to make coffee.  She ran to the
kitchen leaving me alone with my father.  What happened next completely
bowled me over.  He wrapped me in his big arms and started rocking me back
and forth.  I realized he was crying.

"Are you very disappointed in me?" I asked.  My father changed from crying
to laughing so hard, I thought he might choke.

"Disappointed in you? Never," he said.  "You're doing exactly what I didn't
have the guts to do twenty-five years ago.  I hate this fucking farm.  Now
that I know you don't want it, the minute my social security and medicare
kick in, I'm going to sell the fucking place with great pleasure, and
retire to a warm climate."

I didn't quite get what my dad was saying.  I had never heard him curse in
my lifetime, and he had said "fucking" twice now. I had to force myself to
understand what he was telling me.

"Then you approve?" I asked stupidly.

"Of course I do.  Go, Son, live your life."

                                                                   -1-

I lost my cherry, the first week I attended Syracuse.  My roommate came on
to me, and I gladly gave in.  Marty wasn't anything special.  He was five
feet, ten inches, lean and muscular, but rather plain, I thought.  His cock
was half the size of mine, and it was uncut.  It would be a while before I
had the pleasure of playing with a cut baby.  None of this mattered to me.
I yearned for man sex, and I was about to get it.

That night all we did was suck each other to conclusion.  Marty had some
experience, and his instructions were good enough that we both enjoyed
ourselves immensely.  A couple of nights later, we fucked each other.  We
prepared ourselves well, and I did not have too much trouble entering
Marty.  We used plenty of lube, and he instructed me how to ream his ass
hole, and stretch it out.

Entering me was a piece of cake.  I am big all over and that includes my
ass hole.  Marty wasn't very big and he slipped right in.  We both had a
very enjoyable experience.

We slept together very often that freshman year, but I began to make other
"friends."  Both of us branched out, and we had a slew of fuck buddies.  I
was a very happy and contented student.  I even had sex with cut cocks at
last.

During that first year, we were both inducted into different fraternities,
and after that, we lived in separate houses.  We managed to get together at
odd times.

It was very expensive to fly to Minnesota from Syracuse, NY, so I only went
home twice a year at winter and summer breaks.  I didn't bother going home
for spring break.  Instead, I went down to Daytona Beach twice during my
under graduate years.  One of my frat brothers had a car, and we drove
down.  All I had to do was chip in for the gas.  I didn't have a great
time.  I had to pretend to be chasing pussy.  It was a draining process.

My folks came to my graduation, and they really dropped a bomb on me.  My
dad was all smiles and beaming with happiness. He had been offered an
astronomical sum of money for his land by one of the big Japanese
automobile companies.  They intended on building a state of the art
manufacturing plant in Minnesota.

"We'll have enough money to retire long before social security kicks in,"
he crowed.  Dad was only forty-eight, and years away from official
retirement.  "In fact," he continued, "after graduation we're flying down
to Hilton Head to look for a home.  I intend on taking up golf and playing
every single day."  My mother smiled at him, but I could tell she was not
happy with his plans.

I was accepted to Harvard Law on yet another partial scholarship.  Every
little bit helps.  Graduate students generally live off campus.  I found a
small efficiency almost immediately, and moved right in.  As soon as I was
settled, I consulted the gay yellow pages on line, and found a gay bar
within walking distance from my apartment. I decided to restrict my play
time to weekends.  I was not about to blow my partial scholarship and a
promising future.

                                                                 -2-

The first Friday I was in Boston, it was a stifling hot early September
evening.  It helped me decide what to wear to the bar.  I ended up with
tight short shorts, a muscle shirt and sandals.  I did not wear underwear
and my assets were well displayed.  I had no idea what was awaiting me that
evening, but for the first time in my life, I came to believe in love at
first sight.

Greg was seated at the bar, and I could only see his back.  It was quite
early in the evening, and there weren't too many patrons yet.  As a result,
the seat on each side of him was vacant.  He was talking to the bartender,
and I sat down on his right.  As I was seating myself, he turned to look at
me, and I hate to be trite, but I almost fainted.

Staring into my eyes was the most handsome hunk of man I had ever seen, and
I had seen plenty of hunks in my rural home town.  He smiled at me, and I
had to clutch the bar to keep from falling off the seat I had just
occupied.  The first things I noticed were his teeth.  They were so white
they were blinding.  Then I noticed that with both of us seated, his eyes
were above mine.  I had to assume that he was even taller than I am.
Finally my field of vision spread out, and I saw the most sensual deep
brown eyes I had ever seen, surrounded by a pale face of exceptional
beauty.  We were staring at each other, and I could only dream about what
he might be thinking of me.

He took my hand.  He didn't try to shake it.  He just held it, and said
very quietly and very simply, "My name is Greg Reres."

It took me a while to regain my power of speech. Finally, I mumbled, "Chris
Gundersen."

"I'm Law 1," he said, sounding exceptionally proud.

"Me too," I smiled.  "I'm the first of my family to leave the farm in
Minnesota and seek a career."

Greg laughed.  "I'm first generation American," he said.  "My folks came
from Cuba.  I'm not only the first of my family to graduate college, but to
go on for an advanced degree.  I'm really happy to know you, Chris."

After that, we just smiled at each other.  We seemed to be out of words.  I
looked around me, and spotted an empty table at the rear of the bar.  I
nodded at the table, and asked Greg to join me there so we could get to
know each other.

Get to know each other.  What an understatement.  After just a few more
words of inane conversation, we were rushing off to my little efficiency
apartment.  We made love all night.  Much to my delight, Greg was cut.  He
was indeed taller than I am by about one inch, and his wonderful, cut cock
was about the same size as mine.  The next day was Saturday, and we spent
the entire day in bed.  I have never had so sore an ass, nor loved it more.

Just before graduation, Greg and I were both fortunate to receive offers
from prestigious Boston law firms.  We went to work for different firms,
but we were wage earners now, and we rented a beautiful duplex in Beacon
Hill.  It was our first home together, and we furnished it as lavishly as
we could.

Early on in our relationship I met Greg's family.  They came for a visit
from South Florida.  They weren't thrilled with our life style, but
accepted it, and accepted me, for which we were both grateful.
Unfortunately, where my family was concerned, I was totally in the closet.
I came from generations of farmers, macho men, and I was scared stiff for
them to find out about me, about Greg and me.  I was able to introduce Greg
to my parents on graduation day.  I simply introduced him as "my best
buddy."

Things went along just fine in our first shared home for about two years.
Then my mother called me, and told me that she was coming for a visit.  She
said she was fed up being a golf widow.  Needless to say I panicked.  We
only had two bedrooms, and this could be very awkward.

I asked Greg if he would mind staying with a friend, during her stay, and
he just about bit my head off.  He insisted that my mother could have the
spare bedroom, and that I should come out of the closet at long last.  I
knew he was right, and I reluctantly acquiesced, come what may.

                                                             -3-

My mother arrived at Logan Airport on a crisp fall Saturday afternoon.
Greg and I were there to meet her.  She was aware that we were "roommates"
so it seemed appropriate that he might be with me.

I was greeted with hugs and slobbery kisses.  When I could separate us, I
asked if she remembered my roommate, Greg.

"Of course I do," she cooed, and Greg presented her with a small bouquet of
roses.  She was overwhelmed by that gesture, and she kissed Greg on the
cheek.

In the car driving home, I casually remarked that we only had two bedrooms,
so we were giving her the guest bedroom and I would bunk in with Greg.  I
avoided saying, "my bedroom," and left it at that.  She thought nothing of
my announcement, but she did say that she was sorry to inconvenience us.
We assured her that it was not an inconvenience.

It finally struck me like a bolt of lightning.  My naïve mother had
never known or met a homosexual.  I was certain that she didn't even know
what a homosexual was.  I suggested to Greg that I didn't have to come out
at all, because she thought nothing of our sleeping together.

Greg grew angry.  "We are going to tell her together, who and what we are
to each other.  I refuse to live partially in the closet."  Again I
conceded to him that he was right.

We let her settle in that first day, and decided to make "our move" on
Sunday.  Saturday evening, before going off to bed, Mom asked if I would
take her to church in the morning.  Of course I agreed, but I pointed out
that Greg went to a different church, and we could meet up for lunch after
services.  We had decided on coming out at lunch.  If Mom wanted to go home
after that, I would gladly accompany her to the airport.  I had no idea
then just how naïve my mother was.

We had coffee and a bagel before going to church, and she repeated over and
over again how much she hated inconveniencing us.  The poor woman had no
clue.  We met up at a nice little restaurant for lunch.  I waited until the
three of us had ordered, and then I began.

I took hold of Greg's hand.  At long last my mother looked the least little
bit surprised.  I smiled at Greg, and he clutched my hand reassuringly.

"Mom," I started, "Greg is more to me than my roommate.  We're partners,
life partners.  We love each other, like you love Dad and he loves you.  In
fact we are so much in love, we want to be together all the time, so we are
striking out on our own and starting our own law firm.  Then, as soon as
our firm is on solid ground, we plan on getting married."

The poor woman looked too perplexed to comment, and I glanced at Greg, who
smiled at me with great pride in what I had just accomplished.

"Aren't you going to say anything, Mom?"  I asked.

"I don't understand," she stated simply.

"We're homosexuals," Greg piped in.

"I don't know what that means," she said, almost whimpering now in her
perplexity.  "You're Christian, Greg?  Aren't you?"

"Yes, Mom, we both are," I said.  "Being homosexual means that instead of
loving and desiring to be with women, we prefer to love men; members of our
own sex."

My mother actually sighed with relief.  "Thank God," she said.  "I thought
that both of you had some terrible disease."

Greg and I were now fully convinced that my mother had never heard of
homosexuality, and therefore, she didn't see it as a terrible sin or an
awful crime.  We were both beyond amazed.  Suddenly she started to cry.  Of
course we both believed that reality had struck her regarding our
relationship.  Once again, we were wrong.

"What's the matter, Mom?  Why are you crying?" I asked, fearing the answer.

She got herself together.  "I've got a confession to make," she muttered.
You say you love Greg as much as Dad and I love each other.  I hope you're
wrong, because we don't love each other anymore."  Once again she started
to cry.

"What do you mean?" I asked, starting to panic.

Once again she took a deep breath and continued.  "As soon as we got
settled in our home in Hilton Head, your dad joined a country club.  He
enrolled in a beginning course in golf.  He loved it, and became very adept
in a relatively short time.  He began to play golf three or four times a
week.  He made a friend at the club, a young widower named Ted. They played
together all the time.

"They never rushed home.  After the game they had a few drinks at the
nineteenth hole, and then after a while, they stayed at the club a couple
of times a week, and had dinner together.  I was completely ignored.

"Last week your father told me that he was moving in with Ted, but I
shouldn't worry.  He said that he would take good care of me.  Well, I
don't want to stay in Hilton Head.  I hate it there.  I decided that I
wanted to be near you, Son.  Help me find a nice apartment, and I'll be out
of your hair as quickly as possible."

The restaurant was noisy with laughter and conversation, but it was so
quiet at our table, we could have been sitting in a vacuum. A million dark
thoughts about my father were going through my head.  I'm sure Greg was
thinking the same thoughts.  It was Greg, who finally took my mother's
hand, and said, "Mrs. Gundersen, you can stay with us for as long as you
find necessary."

                                                              -4-

At 8AM the next morning I took my cell phone, and went out to my car.  I
called my father from there.  He answered immediately.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked without preamble.  "Mom wants me to
help her find an apartment."

"I wish there was a simple explanation," Dad said.  "Let me try."

"I'm sitting in my car, out of earshot of Mom, so start talking.  I'm all
ears."

"You know what rural Minnesota is like.  There were only a handful of girls
in my high school that I was mildly interested in.  I started to date your
mom.  We went together all through high school.  She was my prom date and
all that jazz.  I never formally asked her to marry me, and she never
formally accepted.  Our folks just started to plan a wedding, and I guess
we just rode the crest of the wave.  I'm fond of your mother, Son, but I
can't say that either of us ever loved each other.  Find her a nice
apartment and don't worry about the cost."

"You're skirting the issue," I said.  "What about you and this Ted?"

"That's a lot harder to explain.  We just became very good friends.  He's
single and we started hanging out together.  I'm sorry to say, I never even
thought of how much I was ignoring your mother.  Anyway, Ted and I did
everything together.  We played golf, used the gym, and drank at the bar.
After a round of golf, we usually had a little too much to drink at the
nineteenth hole.  After a while, we realized that it wasn't safe for either
of us to drive home, so one day we agreed to shower at the club, bring a
change of clothing, have dinner at the club, and then drive home, somewhat
sobered up.

"It was bound to happen.  One day, neither of us wanted the evening to end,
so I went back to Ted's house for a night cap.  I can't explain what
happened next.  It's too bizarre.  I never went home that night.  I spent
the night in Ted's bed.  I'd like to say that we had sex, but that would be
a lie.  In all truth, we made love.  After all these years, I finally know
what true love is, and I don't intend to waste another minute of my life.
Don't even try to think about dissuading me, Chris.  You'll fail."

"I'm not doing that.  I'm happy for you, Dad.  I'm happy that you are so
happy.  Does Mom understand your relationship with Ted?"  I really needed
to know the answer to that question."

"I honestly don't think she does.  She believes that we're just good
buddies."

I started to laugh so hard, I couldn't answer my father.  After a while, he
finally asked, "What's so funny?"

As best I could I told him how I had actually come out to Mom, but she had
no idea what I was telling her.

"You mean you and Greg?" he asked.  "I knew it.  I've been suspicious for a
long time."

"Dad," I asked.  "Once we have Mom settled in her own place, and we have
our spare bedroom back, would you and Ted come for a visit, so we can get
to know him, and you guys can get to know Greg?"

"I'll count the days, Son.  Find her something quickly.  Did I ever tell
you how much I love you?"

"No, you never did, but it's nice to know; better late than never."