It was a little colder when we woke up on Tuesday morning, but the chill was invigorating. The sun was out, and the sky was the deepest, darkest blue I had ever seen. The lack of humidity made that possible, and I knew that from hearing Kyle or somebody talk about it. We were both sound asleep Monday night long before the movie was over, so we woke up fairly early that morning. Rick and I were in the restaurant in the hotel by 6:30. They had a free continental breakfast for hotel guests, which is something we also do at ours, but we ordered a more substantial meal of bacon, eggs, potatoes, and toast from the menu. "Do you want to hit the slopes again or do something else?" Rick asked during breakfast. "I'm a little sore from yesterday, but I hate not to take advantage of the nice weather. We could have rain or snow tomorrow," I said. "That's true. Let's ski for a little while and then try snowboarding. How about it?" Rick asked. "That's great," I said. "Same place as yesterday?" "I've always wanted to ski Vail. Let's go there," he said. "Yeah, that's kind of one of those legendary places, isn't it? How far is it?" I asked. He always knew stuff like that. "It'll take us about two hours to get there. It's a little closer than Breckenridge," he said. The drive to Vail was, just as the drive to Breckenridge had been, spectacular. Since these were major ski resorts, the highways, while not necessarily Interstates, were Interstate quality. "Did you see that?" Rick asked, all excited. "What?" I had some brochures of things to do in Vail, and I was looking at those while Rick was driving. "Two big-horn sheep going up the side of the mountain," he said. "Damn. No, I didn't see 'em," I said. "Let me know in advance if you see anything else like that." "I'll try to, but I didn't notice them until we were passing them," he said. "Is there other stuff to do in Vail besides ski and snowboard?" "Yeah, there's a lot, in fact. Snowmobiling sounds like fun. Listen to this." I read him the description. "It's $75 for one hour for two riders, and $128 for two hours." "And this trip is costing us . . . " "Well, nothing, really, except for the fun stuff," I said. "Exactly. The kids will still be able to get shoes and get their teeth fixed if we go on the damn snowmobile," he said. "I know it, but that just seems like a lot of money for a ride," I said. "Don't think of it as a ride. Think of it as an experience. An adventure," he said. "I'd really like to do that. And you know what? For two full hours, Kevin. And I might even want to get my own and race your ass. How much does that cost?" "That would be $93 each, so $186 for both of us," I said. "Let's do that. You and I can have a 'chicken' race on the snowmobiles," he said. "Very funny," I said. "I'll ride with you, but I'm not riding by myself." "Okay. What else is there to do?" he asked. "There's a dogsled tour, but it's a half-day long. It costs $210 for two adults, and you have to drive the damn thing yourself," I said. "What time is it?" Rick asked. He has a watch that he always wears, and there was a clock on the dashboard, too. Why was he asking me the time? "It's a little after eight, and we're about halfway there," I said. "Perfect. Let's snowmobile this morning and do the dogsled tour this afternoon. Are you up for that?" he asked. "But it's expensive," I said. "So is skiing. Look, Babe. How much do you make a year?" "Rick, you don't have to do that. I know we make a lot of money. I know we don't have a mortgage or car payments. I know we have a very good investment program. I know that most of the kids are contributing, in one way or another," I said. "All of the kids except Sean are contributing," Rick said. He handles all of the household finances, so I don't know much about the money. "Kyle and Tim are contributing, too?" I asked. I was surprised. "Oh, yes. In addition to what Kyle charges to Goodson, and only God knows how much that is, we get a thousand dollars a month from both Gene and George. And we don't have to give those two an allowance," he said. "Really? That's news to me," I said. "Oh, yeah? I'm sorry you didn't know that. It must have slipped my mind or something," he said. "Or, you could have told me that five times, and I just forgot. Sean's parents don't send us any money?" I was sort of appalled that they would have that little regard for him, especially since I knew they could afford it. "No. Are you surprised? I'm not. He has an American Express and a Visa, so he has money. I guess he gets cash advances or something. Or maybe he borrows from the other kids and pays them back by charging stuff for them. But his parents don't have any contact with us in any way." "That makes me sick enough to want to throw up," I said. "I know. Me, too. And Sean knows it, too. Every month he asks me if the check has come yet, and every month I tell him 'no.' A couple of times I've been tempted to lie and say something like, 'Oh, yeah, Bubba. I just got a check for $10,000,' but I haven't done that. I don't think there's any point in making him believe a lie," he said. "No, you're right. One day he'll discover the truth, and we'll come across as being untrustworthy. What about Todd's parents?" "It's only been a month, but they're giving us $1,100, and they pay his allowance, too. I think that will continue. The mother seems to be the bookkeeper in that family, and she won't forget," Rick said. "Does Justin give us anything?" I asked. "The month after Justin went off official foster care, he gave me a check for $500, which is what we get from the state for the others. I called him in and sat him down. I said, 'Look. You can't afford this every month. Besides, we've never given you an allowance because you've always worked since you've been with us. If anything, we owe you money.'" "Was he cool with that?" I asked. "No, not a bit. He pointed out that we had given him all of the money we had gotten from the state for him, 'And I, by God, want to carry my weight,' he said." "You sounded just like him just then. I could hear him say that," I said. "What did y'all work out?" "What we worked out is, he handles his own personal spending money, his 'allowance,' as it were, and he gives us $180 a month. That's the difference between the $500 we get from the state and the $80 a week the rest get as an allowance. He thought that was fair. So, on the first of every month, I get a check from him. He's more regular than a thirteen-year-old boy's wet dreams," Rick said. "What about Denny? We spend more on him than on the others because of debate, don't we?" "Oh, yeah. Denny's way over the top. He's definitely red ink. But, we're getting a lot of money from Kyle, Tim, and now Todd, so they subsidize him. Murray, too. Would you want them not to do what they're doing because the state won't pay for it?" he asked. "Of course not. I've never really been interested in any of this, but I knew you had it figured out," I said. "I knew we were in good shape, so I never worried." "I can't believe you passed up an opportunity to worry," he said. He was grinning and laughing at me. "Shut up," I said. "I can't help worrying." "I know you can't, but that's why you've got me. Together we make close to a half-million dollars a year, plus bonuses, gifts, trips to Denver, and shit like that. You know the Goodson Family Foundation?" he asked. "Yeah. What about it?" "If we went belly-up financially tomorrow because of those boys, or for any reason, we'd have a grant from them the next day that would so totally bail us out that we could probably retire," he said. "And Gene is so diversified, we'd have to have fucking Black Tuesday, Pearl Harbor, and September 11th all on the same day for him to feel so much as a ripple in the stream. And that's all it would be, too. A ripple." "Gene told me we needed to get away from the boys, but I'm thinking now we needed to get away because of the boys. He's a wise man," I said. "Did you ever doubt that?" he asked. "No, not really. And I think you're a pretty wise man, too," I said. "Well, be that as it may. Here's something that's been on my mind that we haven't had time to talk about. Rental property. I figured Kyle had about $100,000 to invest, and he was able to buy five rentals. We could get twice that many tomorrow, if you're interested," he said. "How did Kyle get that much money?" I asked. I was shocked. "He started getting a small percentage of the revenue of his trust fund when he turned eighteen. He hasn't spent any of it because he hasn't had to. He spends what he made during the summer. And so do Tim, Brian, and Justin. I don't know for sure that that was the amount, but I think it was. Anyway, I think we need to get some rentals," he said. "Will you take care of it for us? You know I hate doing stuff like that," I said. "Yeah, I know you do, and of course I will. Look at that. You see 'em?" he said, pointing right. I did see them. Four big-horn sheep scampering up the mountain. "God, they're awesome," I said. "I know. Baby, look at me, okay? I can't look at you because I'm driving, but I want you to look at me. I feel so much closer to you right now than I did when we left home on Sunday, Kevin, I can't even express it," he said. I didn't say anything for a few minutes. "We really are a team, aren't we?" I said. "Yeah, we've always been. But we're more a team now than we were when we left Emerald Beach," he said. "Absolutely," I said, and it was true. * * * We walked around Vail for an hour or so when we first got there, and it was pretty cool. The altitude was high, and we gasped for breath a few times on some of the steeper streets. Vehicular traffic was at a minimum, but there were lots of pedestrians out. The temperature was in the teens, but we didn't really feel cold. "Have you noticed there's no wind here, and no humidity, either?" Rick asked me. "I know. It's pretty pleasant, isn't it? And it's in the teens, too," I said. "I know. We probably need to head over toward the snowmobile place," I said. We caught a shuttle bus, for a mere $6.50 each for ten blocks, and met up with the snowmobile guys. It was a "guided" tour, which actually meant that somebody who had been on the trail at least once before headed us out. That was fun, though, and Rick and I alternated driving the thing. He was more adventurous than I was, but I had full confidence in him and enjoyed it when he drove fast. The dogsled tour that afternoon was the best outdoor activity I had ever done. At least in the snow. It was totally quiet, unlike the snowmobiles, which had engines, and the scenery was magnificent. I had this image from movies and TV of a dog team barking its way down the trail, but the dogs were running too hard to bark. The only sound we heard was that of the runners sliding across the snow. It was blissful, hypnotic, and so beautiful. We got back to our room around eight, and the message light was blinking on the phone. I accessed the message, and it was Kyle. "Hey. It's me. We all hope y'all are having fun and doing good, but why the fuck haven't you called? What is this? Some kind of honeymoon or something? Bye. I love you. Call soon." "Listen to this message," I said to Rick. He listened and grinned. "We ought to call them, don't you think?" I asked, after he had heard the message. "Yeah, but let's get a bath first, and order room service. We can call Kyle on his cell, if we have to. You know he's got it on his nightstand, if not on the pillow between him and Tim," he said. That night the bath was no less relaxing than it had been the night before, only that time we made love in the tub. Like the night before, we each had a drink, and that helped relax tight muscles, too. The bell service brought our food, and we settled into it. When we were through eating, Rick said, "Hand me that phone." It had a speakerphone function, so we both talked to them. We told them everything we had done that day and the day before. "That sounds awesome," Justin said. "It was, Jus, and we're all coming here next year, one way or another," Rick said. "I can go," Kyle said. "I can be on a plane tomorrow morning, in fact." "Don't even think about it, Kyle. You asked in your message if this was some kind of honeymoon, and, yes, it is. And we don't want you all here," Rick said. "This is our time, not yours." "We know it is, Rick, and we respect that," Kyle said. "We miss you because we love you. Both of you." "Night, guys," Rick said. "We miss you because we love you, too." * * * The snow stuff was fun, but my God! We aren't Olympic athletes. Rick is in excellent shape because of all the running he does every day, but I'm not in nearly as good shape as he is. By Wednesday morning, I hurt everywhere. "Have you had enough snow? Because I damn sure have," he said, as we were waking up. It was around nine o'clock, and we had really tucked it away. "I'm so glad to hear you say that. Besides, look at the weather. I think this is an indoor day." It was pouring rain outside. I had no idea how widespread in the area the rain was, but I was ready for museums and that sort of thing, anyway. On Wednesday and Thursday, the weather was rainy in Denver, and we went to museums: Art, Science, Colorado History, the Denver Mint. We went to the Unsinkable Molly Brown House, as well as several other houses of Victorian vintage. Wednesday night we went to a Denver Avalanche hockey game that was pretty cool, and that team actually has some standing in the NHL. Thursday night we went to a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, and it was fabulous. If anybody writes better music for the stage than Lord Andrew Lloyd Webber, I don't know who it is. Tim Rice's lyrics in that play are pretty amazing, too. On Thursday we braved the rain and went to Golden to visit the Coors brewery. It was awesome, and the town of Golden was pretty good, too. That same day we went to Boulder. That's where the University of Colorado is. It's a beautiful town, but it seemed totally artificial to me. I mean, they have ordinances banning smoking in certain parts of town. Outside. Huh? I mean, I can see people not wanting you to smoke in their house, or even in a restaurant, but outside? Florida has the same fucking thing. You can't smoke in a stadium seat because of the Florida "indoor clean air act," but you can smoke in the passageways under the various levels of the stadium. Hello! Stadium seats? Indoors? Stadium passageways? Outdoors? Okay. Whatever. Friday was gorgeous, and that's the day we drove down to Colorado Springs. We had lunch at the Broadmore, for which we had made reservations, and that place is incredible. First of all, the place itself is unbelievably beautiful. Second, I finally saw what a five-star restaurant is like. A lot of it has to do with the sophistication of the diners. For example, there was a table near us that must have had fifteen people at it, half of whom were thirteen and under. The youngest one was maybe eight. Those kids were so incredibly well behaved that nobody noticed there were kids in the room. In even our best restaurants in the hotels back home, people bring in their kids, and they scream and cry and carry on. I love to death kids the age of our boys, but I hate those little ones in restaurants. People want "no smoking" areas in restaurants? I want "no toddler" areas, and so does Rick. Before we went to the Broadmore, though, we went to the Cliff Dwellers' Pueblo in Manitou Springs. The thing about that was it had authentic Native American dancers, and those guys were excellent. "This is something the Scout guys would love," Rick said. "I'm sure," I said. "I like it pretty well myself." Then we went to the Cave of the Winds. Whoa! That is the biggest cave I have ever been in, in my life. It was fascinating, too. "This was a pretty good vacation, wasn't it?" Rick asked me when we were flying home on Saturday. "Yeah, it was pretty damn good," I said. "I'm ready to get home, though." "You miss those boys, don't you?" "Yeah, and you do, too. Don't tell me you don't," I said. "Yeah, I've missed 'em bad. I'll admit it. But I want us to go away for at least a week, at least once a year in the future, okay? I feel much closer to you than I ever did before, Kevin," he said. "I think we should do it twice a year. Let's go to Vancouver next fall. Okay?" "Okay. I just want to have you totally to myself for at least a week. It doesn't matter where it is. No kids, though, okay?" he said. "No kids. Just you and me," I said. "And I mean that."
I went through some real bad days at the start of second semester. Trey Hudson came to our house to die of AIDS. I knew what that was, of course, but seeing him laying up in that bed just a vegetable really brought it home to me. That depressed the hell out of me. Then I found out Justin and I can both graduate from Emerald Coast this May. Shit, I never for a minute thought either one of us was that far along in college. I don't know how people keep up with stuff like that, but when that lady told me I only need fifteen hours to graduate, you could have knocked me over with a feather. Justin, too. "You can easily take fifteen hours, Kyle," she said. "Or, you can take twelve and then the other three during summer school." No two words are worse to me than "summer school," so I went ahead and signed up for the fifteen hours. Justin did, too. The final blow, though, was when Tim and Brian found out about their scholarships to Tulane. I was as happy as I could be for them because I knew how much they wanted them, but that meant there was absolutely no turning back. I would be hauling ass to New Orleans in August, and there were no two ways about it. I was really confused. I wanted to go, but I didn't want to go, all at the same time. I love my life the way it is, and all I could see in the future were big question marks. That depressed the shit out of me. Then Tim and I had the one and only fight we've ever had. It was over a damn misunderstanding on my part. We made up right away, but I felt like total dog shit when it happened. Then I made a fool of myself with Kevin and Rick. They were so cool and so nice to me, but, when that was going on, I hated myself. The good thing, though, was they helped me to see what was happening to me because the same thing had happened to them, more or less. I felt a whole lot better after that. Andy Callaway lived with us for a few weeks after Trey died. He is a nice guy, but he didn't really participate in family life all that much. He wasn't dating or anything, but I guess he just didn't feel comfortable around a bunch of teenagers. The one good thing that happened to him while he was with us was he got an insurance payout for Trey. Andy works for Goodson Enterprises in a gift shop. I don't exactly know what he does, but he's some kind of assistant manager or something. Anyway, GE has this benefits package for management-level employees that includes health insurance and life insurance for the employee and for his or her "significant other." The rule is the couple has to be together in a committed relationship for at least three years, which Andy and Trey definitely met. They can be straight or gay. That doesn't matter. The health insurance is okay, but it doesn't pay for everything. That's why Andy didn't have any money. The life insurance, though, gives the survivor $50,000 when the other one dies. Andy got his insurance money from Trey right at the end of January. It was enough to put him back on his feet, and he moved out. One good thing is he rented one of my houses. In fact it was the one that had just been painted. I wasn't all that sad to see him go, though. I mean, I like him and all, but I just don't feel like I know him all that good. Anyway, he rents the house for ten dollars a month more than the payment, so that's good. Like all vacation rentals, the house is furnished, even though the furniture is pretty shitty. At least I have a tenant I know, so that's good. There was all kind of drama with Sean. He had been dating Scott pretty much since he got here, but Scott finally got tired of Sean's bullshit and kicked him to the curb. Sean deserved what he got. Don't get me wrong about that. For a while Sean had been pretty good about being faithful to Scott, but that only lasted a couple of months. Before long Sean was back to having sex with anybody who was willing, and Scott just finally said, "fuck it." One night I was in our room by myself. I didn't know where Tim was, but I had been working hard. I finally had all the damn Spanish I could stand, and I was reading some email from Chris Uhle out in Montana. That boy is doing so good, and he is fixing to graduate this very semester. I was debating about whether to write email or call him when Todd knocked on the door. The door was open when he came in, but he closed it. "Have you got a few minutes to talk to me?" he asked. "Sure. Come on in. I was just trying to decide if I should answer this email or call the guy who sent it to me," I said. "If you're busy, I'll come back," he said. "No. Have a seat. What's on your mind?" I said. "Well, to be blunt. Sex," he said. "Oh, no!" I said. "That's on my mind about 95% of the time, too," I said kind of joking. "Really?!" he said, like he thought he was the only one who ever thought about it. "Well, that might be an exaggeration, but I do think about it a good bit. Everybody does," I said. "Everybody does? Really?" "Of course they do. Why? You thought you were the only one?" I asked. The thing about Todd is he looks a good bit older than he really is. He's only fourteen, and it is easy to forget he isn't nineteen or twenty because of how he looks. My experience is limited, of course, but I think thirteen and fourteen are about the hardest ages for a young boy. It seemed like I stayed hard the whole time I was those ages. Twelve, too. "I mean, I know people think about sex, but, Kyle, it's really bothering me. I mean, that's all I think about," he said. "I bet you stay hard a lot, too, don't you?" I said. "I haven't worn a dry pair of underwear in over two years," he said. He's a cutie, for sure, and I laughed when he said that. "Just know this, Bubba. That part is going to get better as you get older. I was the same way when I was fourteen. Thirteen and twelve, too. Maybe even eleven. I don't really remember," I said. "So you don't think it's abnormal?" he asked. "Hell, no, it ain't abnormal. It would be abnormal if you didn't," I said. "Whoa! That makes me feel a lot better," he said, and I could see him kind of relax a little bit. "Nobody's ever talked to you about this before?" I asked. "Not your dad or anybody?" "My dad never did, that's for sure," he said. "He stays real busy all the time." Yeah, I thought. Mine does, too, but he still talks to me, and he talked to me about sex when I was younger. "Have you got some questions or something?" I asked. I could tell he was troubled. "I don't understand why I feel the way I do." "Like what?" I asked. "Well, why I'm always so horny. And why I like boys and not girls," he said. "The horny part I know. It's called puberty, and there's nothing you can do about it," I said. "It happens to everybody." "I know, but I already did that," he said. "You might have started it a while ago, but it doesn't all happen overnight. It's like a process of transforming your body, and it takes a few years. I guess you have hair and all that down there, huh?" I said. I had never seen him naked so I didn't really know. "Yeah. Isn't that puberty?" "That's part of it, yeah, but that ain't the most important part." I thought for a second. "Okay, let me see if I can explain this right. Everybody's totally sexual, okay?" "What do you mean?" "Everything I do, I do as a male. The way I sit, the way I walk, the way I talk, the way I gesture. When you see or hear me, you can tell it's a male doing it, right?" "I can sure tell you're a male," he said. "Okay. I've been a male all my life, but when I was a little kid, there wasn't nearly as much difference in how I acted or talked than a little girl. I mean, I always liked to do 'boy' things, whatever the hell that means, like sports and shit, but I wasn't as male then as I am now. Does that . . . " "Yeah, I think I see what you mean. I used to watch my little sister play with the little boy next door, and there really wasn't much difference between them. Now there's a lot of difference," he said. "Okay. That's the basic concept. Puberty is sort of the dividing line, though. It's when you physically become a man. You're capable of reproducing. You might not want to, but physically you can. Your body starts making sperm. I guess yours does, right?" I asked. He sort of laughed a little bit. "Yeah, it does," he said. "Have you ever poured dye or ink into clear water?" I asked. "Yeah," he said. I could tell he had no clue where I was going with this. "What happened?" "It colored the water," he said. "All at once, or what?" I asked. "Not all at once. At first the dye was dark, and then it gradually turned all of the water a color as it spread out," he said. "And the color was more intense when you first poured it in, wasn't it?" I said. "Yeah, and then gradually the whole thing got an even shade, but it was lighter than the pure dye," he said. "Okay. Think about puberty that way. When it first starts, you got all these hormones in your body all of a sudden, like when you first pour in the dye. Gradually, though, just like the dye, the hormones even out in your body. When it first happens, the hormones are real intense, just like the dye. So you get these real intense sexual feelings at first. Gradually, though, the hormones spread out, and they affect different parts of your body. You start growing pubic hair first, and your dick and balls get bigger. Then your voice changes, and you start sounding like a man. Then you get hair on your legs and ass. Then under your arms. Are you with me so far?" I asked. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, and he kind of jerked a little bit, like when you get a chill or something. "I see what you're saying. Then I guess you get a beard, right?" he said. "Yeah, that, and if you're part ape, like me, you get hair on your chest, too," I said. "I like the hair on your chest," he said, like he was in heat or something. "You've seen my chest?" I asked. Has he been sneaking peeks at me, somehow? "Yeah, when you, Philip, Ryan and I played strip pool the first or second night I was here," he said. Then I got to thinking about it. We hadn't been swimming since he had been here, and it was too chilly not to wear a shirt around the house. I guess he hadn't had any chance to see anybody else's chest. "Brian has chest hair, too. It ain't that big a deal, believe me. Unless somebody like Justin tries to pull it out. Then it hurts like hell," I said. For some reason, that made him laugh. "Okay, back to the dye. Gradually, the dye mixes evenly in the water, but it takes a while to do it. You can stir the water to make it happen faster, but there's nothing you can do to the hormones in your body to make them mix faster. Just like the dye's real intense at first and gradually gets less intense, so do the hormones and the feelings they cause," I said. "Do you like sex less now than you used to?" he asked. "That's a very good question, and the answer is 'no.' I like it more because now I can control it better. When I first started jerking off, for instance, I could last maybe a minute, at the most. I don't really jerk off anymore, but if I did, I could last a pretty good while, like fifteen or twenty minutes, or longer, if I wanted to. Or, I could come in just a few seconds, if I wanted to," I said. "You don't jerk off?" I knew he couldn't believe that. "Every once in a great while I might, but I'm having sex on a regular basis with Tim, you know? That's all I really need or want. I know it's hard to believe, and I didn't believe it when my daddy told me the same thing a few years ago. But it's true," I said. "A lot of guys jerk off when they have regular sex, too, though. You'll work it out for yourself, when the time comes." "Wow!" "Another thing. I can control when I get aroused now, and I know you can't. I used to get 'em all the time, and I used to shoot in my pants sometimes without really doing anything to make it happen," I said. "That sounds familiar," he said. "Well, it ain't at all unusual, that's for sure. It's embarrassing as hell, but it happens to a lot of guys," I said. "That's so good to hear. I thought I was a freak because of that," he said. "You ain't a freak at all. That's just part of being a guy," I said. He got pretty quiet, and I could tell he was thinking. "Kyle?" he said in a low voice. "I did it." "You did what?" "I shot in my pants. About ten minutes ago while we were talking." I grinned at him. He was so damn cute! "Ain't no shame in that, Bubba. We've been having a pretty intense talk about sex, you know? There's nothing to be ashamed of," I said. "Can I ask you a personal question?" he said. Sure, why not? I thought. "Yeah," I said. "Do you have an erection right now?" "I have, umm . . . kind of a partial erection right now," I said. "And, no, you can't see it." He laughed. "I wasn't going to ask you to see it," he said. "I know. I was just teasing you." Yeah, but you wouldn't shut your eyes if I took it out, I thought. Tim opened the door to the room. "Oh, sorry," he said. "No. Come on in. Are you ready for bed?" I asked. "Well, it's 10:45," he said. "Yeah. Bedtime. Todd, we're going to talk about your other question another time, okay? Are you feeling all right, Bubba?" I asked. "I feel so much better than I did. Thank you," he said. "Thank you." "You're welcome. Goodnight, Bubba. See you in the morning," I said. "Goodnight, Kyle. Tim," he said, and he left. "What were you doing? Working miracles again?" Tim asked after Todd was gone. "No. Come here, you little monkey. I'm going to work a miracle on your ass," I said. I felt real playful because I was pretty damn horny after that talk. "I was hoping you'd say that," he said, grinning. "Get those clothes off and get in that bed right now," I said. "Wow! I don't know what you guys talked about, but I sure like the effect," he said. That wasn't all he liked that night, either. * * * A couple of days after our first talk, Todd wanted to talk to me again. "What's on your mind? Sex?" I asked. He laughed. "Of course," he said. "Now I don't feel like a pervert about it, though." "Good, 'cause you're not. You're just a normal, healthy boy is all," I said. All of a sudden, he got this real dark look on his face. "What's the matter?" I asked him. "See, that's just it. I'm not normal," he said. "What do you mean by 'normal?'" "Well, you know. Like everybody else. For sex," he said. "I thought you're gay," I said. "I am. That's my point," he said. "Well, you're just like everybody else in this house, so you must be normal, right?" I said. "But they're not normal, either," he said. "Now wait a minute. Let's don't play little word games here, okay?" "Okay," he said, "you don't think being gay makes you not normal, do you?" "It makes me different from some other people, but it's normal for me. Don't you get it? I didn't do anything to make myself gay. Hell, for years I prayed to God every day not to be gay," I said. "Really? Me, too," he said. "He didn't answer my prayers, though." "Yes, He did, Todd. The answer was, 'No. I want you to be gay, and that's the way I made you.'" He got quiet, and I knew he was thinking. "I never thought about it like that before," he said. "There's no other way to think about it," I said. "But why does He want me to be gay?" he asked. "Now that I can't answer. I don't know why He wants me to be gay, either. I just know He does," I said. "Do scientists know why some people are gay?" he asked. "Well, there are different theories, but nobody knows for sure," I said. "Do you like to use the Internet?" "Yeah, why?" "Do some reading on the Internet about being gay. There's a lot out there, and you can learn a hell of a lot from it," I said. "Do you like the Internet?" he asked. "Yeah. It's all right," I said. I like it for certain things, especially for trips, but I can't spend hours at a time on it, like some people. "Do you ever look at the dirty pictures? Of guys?" This poor kid has had no guidance whatso-fucking-ever, I thought. He needs to be right where he is, right now. "I used to do that a good bit, and download movies, too. And I'd get my keyboard all sticky, too," I said. He giggled. "You been there and done that, ain't you?" I said. He giggled some more. "There ain't no shame in that, Bubba, and I know straight guys who do the same thing. With pictures of guys, too," I said. "Really? How can they be straight if they do that?" he asked. "Looking at those pictures ain't what made you gay. Those boys are just curious; that's all they are. That's just natural. You check out the boys in the locker room and the shower, don't you?" I asked. "Yeah, but I'm . . . " "Stop. You were fixing to say, 'Yeah, but I'm gay,' weren't you?" I said. He nodded. "Well, I've got a surprise for you. Everybody does it. Gay. Straight. It don't matter. We're all curious, and we all want to see what the other guy looks like," I said. "It's a competition thing. The straight boy knows that he's in competition with all the other straight boys to see who gets the girl. He wants to know what the competition looks like." "I never thought about it that way before," he said. "I know you haven't. That's why you got big brothers. To help you along," I said. "Do you think gay guys can change and become straight?" I asked. "Not if they're really, truly gay, I don't," I said. "You know there's a scale, don't you?" "A scale?" he asked. He didn't know what I was talking about. "Yeah, like the number line or something. Let's say one to ten. One is totally gay and ten is totally straight. There are people on every one of those numbers in between," I said. "The sixes and the sevens might be able to 'turn straight,' but not the ones and the twos. The ones and the twos might fuck a girl now and then, but that don't make 'em straight. I mean, a ten might take it up the ass and enjoy himself, but that don't make him gay," I said. He jerked on the bed, just like he had the last time. "You just came again, didn't you?" I asked. "Yes," he whimpered. "Did it feel good?" I asked. "Yes," he whimpered again. "That's all that matters, then. That and the mess you're going to have to deal with later on," I said. "Why do you always make me come?" he asked. "Me? I didn't make you come. Don't be telling people I make you come, because I don't. We were sitting here having a serious conversation about an important matter, and you had a spontaneous orgasm. That's all it was. When I make somebody come, he knows it, and I do, too," I said. I was talking loud. "Please don't be mad at me." He started tearing up. Oh, shit, I thought. But I was mad. I knew I had to calm down quick so I took a few deep breaths. "Okay, Bubba. Don't cry. I'm not mad at you, but I will be very mad at you if you tell anybody I made you come. Because I didn't, okay? We talked about this last time, remember? Tell me you won't tell anybody I made you come. Say it," I said. "I won't say you made me come," he said. "Eagle honor?" "Eagle honor," he said. "Okay, now. Where were we? Oh, the gayness scale and can gays turn straight. Do you understand what I was saying?" I asked. "Yes," he whimpered again. He needed more time before he could discuss this. "I don't feel good about this at all, Todd. You think I'm mad at you, don't you?" He didn't answer. Instead he looked down at his lap. "Bubba, I'm just getting to know you, and the more I get to know you, the more I like you. You're big, you're handsome, you act cute as hell. Think about what I said, and let's get together to talk another time, okay? But just know this. I am not mad at you," I said. He stood up to leave, and there was a big ole wet spot on the front of his jeans. He was still stiff as a board in there, too. "Can I have a hug?" he asked, just like a little kid would, after his daddy got through with him for being bad. That put me over a barrel. I didn't think I could deny the boy a hug under the circumstances, but I didn't want his cum all over me, either. I figured he was probably ready to shoot another load, too. "A quick one," I said, and I wrapped my arm around just his shoulders from the side. "Thank you, Kyle. I love you," he said. Oh, shit, I thought. Not another one. "We're brothers, and I love you, too," I said. "That's not what I mean," he said. "I know it's not, but that's the way it's going to be," I said. "I'm in love with Tim, and I will always be in love with Tim." "That's what Denny said you'd say." I didn't want to go there. That is another can of worms. Denny. Murray, too. Possibly Sean, as well. Shit. At least Sean knows how to get laid. "Goodnight, Todd. See you in the morning," I said. |