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George's marriage day was getting closer. I could feel Dad watching me as I felt more forlorn each day. Having told me about Uncle Dan, I suspected he was watching for the same signs in me.

When he couldn't take my moping anymore, he sat me down and told me firmly that I had to let George go, let him settle into married life. He assured me that George loved me, that what he was doing was as much for my future as his own, and that he would be back. He forced me to admit that I knew he was right, and reminded me that I'd not too long ago told him that one day I, too, would be getting married.

So, I stopped moping, changed my daily routine, spent more time at the university, and involved myself in many of the activities one finds in college life. I became a bit of a party animal, partying, dating and doing anything I could to not think about George.

At the same time, I knew that George's life had changed drastically, too. Acquiring an instant family by marrying a woman with a sixteen year old daughter had its responsibilities. He'd also recently been selected by his partners to fill the shoes of the retiring senior partner in the law firm; that added even more responsibilities. I knew all that; but it did nothing to dull the pain.

I managed to see very little of George for the next year even though he lived across the street, and even though he and Dad continued their friendship. I graduated, started working on my masters, and started working part time in the bank. It was during that time that I met the young lady that was to eventually become my wife.

After dating Sarah several times, she started getting serious and wanted to get more intimate. We'd become good friends in the time we'd known each other, so not wanting to hurt her by simply dropping her like I had all the other girls before her, I explained that I really liked her, but I had no desire to go to bed with her or any other girl. I'd assumed that she'd walk away and have nothing more to do with me, but we stayed close friends, and occasionally she'd ask me to be her date for a party.

At one wild beach party I escorted her to, there was lots of weed, beer, and some hard liquor, and I really got snockered. I'm usually quite reserved and in control, but the morning before the party I'd run into George who had acted like we were just casual acquaintances - solicitous, inquiring about how I was getting on, was I dating, etc. It left me in an emotional upheaval, and I didn't hesitate to get stoned and a little drunk.

I woke up in the early morning wrapped in a blanket back in the dunes, naked - with Sarah. My head was as foggy as the morning, but as my wits slowly gathered, I distinctly recalled making love to Sarah not once, but several times and I couldn't remember using a condom.

We were both hung over and subdued as we dressed and I took her back to her dorm. As the day passed and I got back to feeling normal, I went through a series of emotions from elation that I'd really made it with a woman, to anger that I'd been so irresponsible, to apprehension about my future, and finally into depression. Feeling guilty as hell, I stayed away from Sarah until she called a couple of weeks later and asked that we talk. I knew immediately what she wanted to talk about.

After talking with Sarah, promising her I'd do whatever she wanted. I went home completely at sixes and sevens about what to do. Dad was home working in his study, so, as I had with all my problems, I told him what I'd done, and ended up admitting that it had been my first and only time with a woman.

"I remember. You told me back before your twenty-first birthday that you were a virgin."

Embarrassed, I replied, "Yeah, I was."

"So…" He sat back in his chair with his hands behind his head as he grinned at me. "At the ripe old age of twenty-four you really have lost your last cherry." He chuckled and shook his head in wonder. Recalling the comment I'd made that had embarrassed George and Dad, I turned bright red and Dad right out laughed.

After that, we got down to seriously discussing my situation. Dad pointed out that Sarah would probably be the perfect wife for me since she already knew that I was gay, and was fully accepting of me. "It helps, too, John, that you two are good friends." He advised me to tell her about George, without identifying him by name, and about my intentions of continuing a clandestine relationship with him.

I did, and when I suggested that we marry, she said she would think about it. I felt that thinking was the proper thing to do. After all, it would be for a lifelong commitment.

Two weeks later, she called me and asked if my proposition was still on the table. When I answered 'yes,' she suggested we find a lawyer to set down the parameters of this 'marriage of convenience'. It delighted me that she was the one to suggest this, since that was exactly what I had intended to do. I told her I knew a lawyer that was 'understanding' and would be perfect for drawing up the contract.

After days of discussing parameters, I introduced her to George. I didn't say a word to George about what I was doing when I made an appointment with his secretary. I'm certain that I took him totally by surprise - entering his office with Sarah on my arm. She took an immediate liking to him and agreed that he would be fine as our mutual lawyer.

George was the consummate professional and listened to both sides privately, then drew up a contract that we both felt was fair. We signed it and a couple of months after that wild beach party we had a civil ceremony. I was a married man. A married man ready to resume a relationship with the man I loved. That was if he still loved me like Dad assured me he did.

We'd brought up the subject of finding a small house to rent until I finished my masters and went to work full time, but Dad insisted that I move my new bride into the big Victorian mansion that I'd grown up in. Sarah loved the house and having her own suite of rooms. Dad insisted that I take the matching suite, and he moved to the other side of the house so we all could have more privacy. I suspect he thought I was still diddling Sarah.

When the semester ended Sarah, who was five months along, decided to end her education and prepare for motherhood. Wanda immediately adopted her, and Sarah took to being the lady of the house like a bee to a field of clover.

* * *

I had very little contact with John after I married Margaret. I'd assumed that once I was married we could resume our affair, but John made it obvious he wanted nothing to do with me by avoiding me even more than I had done him. Although I yearned to be close to John, I realized it was my own doings that had alienated him, so I didn't attempt to keep our relationship alive.

Karl and I continued our friendship with occasional weekend morning coffees and I'd stop in his office for an occasional drink. I saw very little of John even though he was now working part time in the bank. Sure we lived across the street from each another, but our paths seldom crossed.

Therefore after a year and a half, I was totally surprised to see him walk into my office with a young lady on his arm and say, "Mr. Robles, thank you for seeing us. This is my fiancée, Sarah. We would like for you to draw up a marriage contract for us."

I covered my shock by being the consummate professional. We shook hands and our eyes met. Still he gave me no clue as to how he felt. Deciding to let him take the lead, I remained detached, pleasant and… professional. He made it clear that they each wanted a private interview to express the points they wanted in their marriage contract.

They'd laid out the parameters of their union and exactly what was expected from each other. It looked like they'd been more honest and upfront with each other than Margaret and I had. Sarah was obviously pregnant and I wondered if the child was really his.

During the one on one interview with him, I had to force myself to keep my mind on my job. I had a most difficult time controlling my desire to touch him - to tell him how I felt. I kept wondering what he might feel for me, and analyzing what I still felt for him. I continually searched his face for a hint. His return gaze was challenging, as if he was daring me to make an advance on him with his fiancée in the next room. On their second visit to my office, while his fiancée studied the agreement I'd drawn up; I sat back and really studied him. He sat next to her with an arm around her waist ignoring me for the most part, but then he glanced up at me with the same yearning in his eyes that was consuming me. It sent my heart soaring. I smiled at him and he almost grinned. Yes! He was setting up a blind, just as I had done. Nothing was said, but I felt the time would soon come when he and I would again resume our former relationship.

~ ~ ~

Margaret had gotten what she wanted by marrying me - a prominent name in Central California society that her family could accept. She could now thumb her nose at her parents who had castigated her for her previous marriage. And I got 'the mask' that I'd been after when I married her.

I had told Margaret before we drew up our marriage contract that I had no interest in women. She had been friendly and accepting from the beginning - although not quite honest with me. I discovered after we were married that she thought she could change me, and that she expected me to really become a 'husband' to her - in deed as well as in name.

It wasn't until she realized that her previously unexpressed expectations weren't going to be met that I discovered just how homophobic she really was. However, since an annulment would cause a scandal that could further alienate Margaret from her family, besides reducing her to near poverty… and most likely ruin my reputation; we agreed to continue living in an uncomfortable cohabitation.

I considered that I should probably feel guilty for using Margaret, but then… wasn't she using me, too? I believe that part of Margaret's decision to stay was her love of my wealth. If she'd decided on an annulment, she'd have been left with a meager fifty thousand dollars and nothing else from me. So, as far as the outside world was concerned, we continued to appear to be a perfect couple. Margaret loved to entertain and she did an exquisite job of publicly being my loving wife.

My life had settled into an uncomfortable rut, but I decided that I would just have to live with it. Our private lives were simply two people sharing a house. We were polite; we shared our meals, but little else.

Marcia, Margaret's daughter who was thirteen when I adopted her, seemed in the beginning to like having me as her father. It was a new experience for me, and I spoiled the kid. I don't know whether it was Margaret's doing or if it was just a teenager thing, but by the time she was sixteen, Marcia would have nothing to do with me, even though I gave her every little thing she wanted. She grew to be a very selfish, self-centered young woman.

~ ~ ~

In the flurry of my father's funeral and preparations for my upcoming wedding, I'd forgotten all about my father's last words to me until the evening after John and his fiancée came into my office to sign their marriage agreement. I sat in my library/office; a room as large as the manse's formal dining room, dreaming of a time that I prayed would soon come. I leaned back in my old oak desk chair and slowly rotated, studying the rows and rows of books in the floor to ceiling shelves that covered all four walls of the room. This room had been my father's exclusive domain, and had been mine only since his death nearly five years ago. I'd made it very clear to Margaret when she moved in that my bedroom suite and this room were off limits to her and her child. A maid was allowed in to clean, but no one else.

I'd never taken the time to thoroughly explore the shelves' contents. My forefathers had been avid book collectors - as I am. When my eyes alighted on the bundle of rolls neatly tucked away on the top shelf in a far corner, I knew I'd found what I wanted.

I rolled the wheeled ladder on its track around to the corner and quickly brought the bundle down to my desk where I searched the titles on each roll until I found the one I wanted. Yes! It not only showed the addition on the back of the house that connected to the cave; it also showed the excavation done at the far end of the cave to connect to the basement of the house across the street. I sat back a moment and imagined my dignified ancestor stealing through the darkness of the tunnel to be wrapped in the loving arms of his mistress. I had to chuckle, imagining myself following his footstep through the tunnel to John.

Later, locked in my bedroom suite, I stared at my image in the big ornately framed mirror that I now knew to be the hidden door to what I hoped would be my future happiness. Up to that moment, I hadn't considered that John might not be receptive to taking up with me again. I decided to take the problem to Karl. Through all these years, he was still my mentor - my best friend and confidant.

I must say, Karl is the most understanding, accepting man I've ever known. I have been most fortunate to have him in my life, guiding me as I grew up. I'll always fondly remember seducing him when I was a senior in college.

I was still playing football and was in perfect physical condition. Karl invited me on one of his early Saturday morning runs. Dressed in small running shorts with the overlapping split on the sides, running shoes and a chopped off sleeveless oversized t-shirt, I joined him.

In all the time we've known each other, which was really all of my life, I don't think Karl had ever seen me so scantily dressed. It was difficult not to notice his nearly constant glances at me as we jogged down the hill and through the neighborhood streets to Main where we ran through downtown and then back towards the hill and home.

It had to have been impossible for Karl not to notice the bulge in the front of my running shorts. As we ran, we kept jostling each other - rubbing sweaty arms and shoulders. When we reached the top of the hill, Karl led me into his back yard where we stretched in the privacy of the hedges surrounding the yard. There were no fences or walls to give complete privacy, but we were on top of the hill with our nearest neighbor a couple hundred feet below us, so pulling my shirt off wasn't at all risky. As I started doing my stretches, Karl stopped his and just stood there watching me. There was a hunger in his eyes I'd not seen before, and it urged me on - to really give him a show. Lying on my back in the middle of his lawn, I drew my knees to my chest, stretching my glutes. I was well aware that this exposed my bare ass cheeks to him and that only the narrow strip of nylon hid my butt hole.

I wasn't expecting the stitching to come undone, and the little strip of cloth to separate, exposing everything to Karl's gaze. His sharp intake of breath egged me on. I ignored the fact that I was now naked except for my jock strap. I rolled onto my stomach and arched my back tightening my butt muscles. Rising up on my hands and knees, I stretched one leg out and lifted it, then did the other. I glanced at Karl, who was in total thrall watching me.

Then lying on my stomach, I spread my feet as far apart as possible, raised up on my toes and fingertips, and crab walked backwards raising my now naked ass high into the air. I held the stretch for several seconds before drawing my legs in and hopping to my feet. By then I was so excited that the head of my cock was peeking out of my jock strap waist band.

Grinning at Karl, I expressed my need for a drink of water. His cock gave a hard lurch and he unconsciously rubbed a hand over it, staring at the head of my pecker. In a hoarse voice, he said, "Come on inside."

When he paused to open the door, I accidentally on purpose bumped into him and said, "Oops," as I rubbed my throbbing rod against his hand.

For a moment he froze, then opened the door and stepped inside with me right behind him. He went directly to the dish cabinet and took out two glasses. Having grown up in Karl's house, I opened the fridge, bent over and stuck my head in as if searching for the water bottle.

I heard his suck air through his teeth. With a knowing grin, I asked, "Want some?" as I straightened up with the bottle in my hand and offered him the water.

The stupefied expression on his face as he raised his eyes to mine made me wonder if I'd gone too far. I knew there was no turning back when he took the bottle, set it on the counter and turned back to me, took my face between his hands and planted his hungry lips on mine. His hands slid down my neck and on down to massage my pecs, before sliding on down and around to cup my ass cheeks, pulling my groin snuggly against his own.

He pulled away from my lips and growled, "You're going to get fucked, Buster."

Rubbing my hard cock against his, I answered, "Please." I'd spent many hours privately perving on Karl while I beat off as a teen, and here my dream of making it with him was coming true.

He smiled, stepped back and picked up the water bottle, filled both glasses and handed one to me. "Drink up!" he commanded.

When I'd emptied my glass, he offered me more, but I shook my head and said, "Later."

"Then get your ass upstairs and on my bed!"

Even though we're the same height, as a football player I was more muscular than Karl, who is slender and wiry, yet, when he used that authoritative voice, I obeyed.

I'd never been on the second floor of his house, so I paused at the top of the stairs, letting Karl run his hands over my butt before he led me into his bedroom.

"Strip and get on the bed - on your hands and knees."

I toed my shoes off, ripped my shirt over my head and shimmied out of my severed shorts and jock. He slapped my butt as I headed for his big bed. I watched over my shoulder as he took his time disrobing while ravishing my body with his hungry eyes. His rampant cock was oozing.

As gruff as he'd been, I expected him to be rough and unheeding of me. I was surprised when he tenderly caressed my rear and lightly ran his fingers through my crack and over my wrinkled bud. "God, I've never realized how beautiful your body is, George. Will you let me fuck you?"

I smirked at him. "After the show I've just put on for you, do you need to ask?"

"Just want to be sure we're on the same page, Buddy," he said, smirking back at me.

"Let me put it this way, Karl. If you don't fuck me, I may have to tie you down and sit on you."

"Kinky." He grinned as he crawled onto the bed and spread my cheeks. Next thing I knew, he was licking the back of my balls. "God, I love the scent of a sweaty man," he mumbled as he tickled my perineum with his tongue. Then he circled my clinching rectum before raking his tongue across it.

I was sure he was going to sink his tongue in me, but it was a well wetted finger that probed into my hole, searching for my nut. Soon he had me moaning and begging for more while he stretched me with more fingers.

Then he sank his long, fat rod into my eager rear. Although Karl was gentle, there was no tenderness to the way he took my ass. And by the time he'd made me cum a second time, I was very well fucked. He ejaculated the same time I did the second time, then he collapsed on my back until he got his second wind. I knew that despite the pain involved I wanted more of this, and as often as I could get it.

"Come on, let's shower and get downstairs before John wakes up," Karl said, crawling off me. We shared the shower, but there was no intimacy. Actually, Karl withdrew into a reflective mood, and was quiet the rest of the time it took to dry off, don a pair of his cut off sweats and my own sweaty t-shirt.

When we got downstairs, he offered me coffee, but I made excuses and headed home. I spent the rest of the day wondering if I'd fucked up our wonderful friendship.

The next day he was remorseful about it, certain that it had changed our relationship. Seeing him that way convinced me that I had to convince him that since we'd both totally enjoyed it, and that I wanted to do it again - and often - that there was no reason to regret it. It took a good bit of talking, but he eventually realized that it only broadened the connection we had.

As I thought about those days back when John was still a young pre-teenager, and I had free access to Karl's home and bed, it amazed me how simple life was then. What's that old saying about the complicated webs we weave? We sure do.

After the weekend in Santa Barbara with John for his twenty-first birthday, Karl and I still ran each morning, still got together for an occasional drink in his office and once in a while I'd still wander back across the street for a morning cup of coffee with him, but our sexual playing around stopped.

One morning while having coffee with Karl, I told him about the cave connecting the two houses. He told me he'd been aware it since he'd originally purchased the house, but he admitted to never having explored it. When I asked if John knew about it, he said that he was quite certain his son knew nothing about it.

As our conversation continued, I wondered aloud how John felt about me, now that he was getting married. Karl assured me that John was still very much in love with me. The conversation continued with Karl giving his viewpoint of John's and my relationship. One thing about Karl is that he doesn't mince words when he feels strongly about something.

"George," he said, "I don't comprehend you two. I personally think that you've been very selfish where my son is concerned. I know it has been easier on you not having to deal with John while you've settled into married life. I could only stand aside and watch my son flounder. It really worried me until he met Sarah. Now he's settling in and I'd bet he's ready to start pushing you to get back together. But that is between the two of you. He has set up his side, and I think he's just waiting for the day you're ready to continue."

So, it came down to having to confront John with my plan after we'd nearly become strangers. Even though I'd drawn up the marriage contract for him and his wife, I still felt some trepidation in approaching him. I should have known that dragging my feet would only result in Karl saying something to him.

John had been married about six months. His wife had born him a little girl. My wife had taken her spoiled daughter Marcia off to Europe for a two month tour. It was a pleasure to have the house to myself for a while. It was Saturday morning. I'd been up and puttering around in the kitchen making myself some breakfast when there was a strong knocking on my front door. Wrapping my dressing robe tightly about me, I opened the door to be confronted by no other than John. He hadn't been in my home since I'd married. I didn't know quite what to expect.

He smiled at me, and casually said, "Good morning, George. Have you got a spare cup of coffee?"

It took me a moment to gather my wits and say, "John, what a delight… come in."

The awkwardness I felt at that moment left me feeling a bit inept. John didn't seem to have that problem; as soon as the door was closed, he turned and wrapped his arms around my neck and murmured against my ear, "How're you holding up, Babe?"

My arms instinctively wrapped around him and my lips sought his. After depleting the oxygen in our lungs, I pulled back and looked at him. Just as I started to profess my love for him, he said, "What's this I hear from Dad about you becoming a spelunker?"

I grinned, slightly embarrassed and said, "Yeah, I seem to have a thing for a cave."

He laughed and headed for my kitchen as he asked, "Have you explored it, yet?"

"No, I wasn't sure of the reception at the other end."

He ignored the barb and asked, "So, would you like to explore this mysterious cave with me?"

I advanced on him, and pulled him snuggly against my chest. "You know I would, John."

He hugged me, then pulled away and walked across the room to stare out the window in the kitchen door with a frown on his brow. I wondered about the sudden mood change, and wanted to ask, but I waited. He eventually turned and said, "I just found out why Sarah so readily agreed to the restrictions I put in our marriage agreement."

He paused and turned back to the window. I waited for him to continue.

"My wife is a lesbian. Our daughter's nanny is her lover. They were a couple before I even got her pregnant." He turned and grinned at me. "It's silly I know, but I feel like I've been cuckolded." He turned back to stare out the window as he chuckled to himself.

The only reply I could think of was to ask was, "What does your father think about that?"

John let out a little sharp bark of laughter. "I haven't told him." He then shrugged. "He knows my marriage is just a sham, so he'll probably just find it amusing - poetic justice."

He walked over to the percolator and checked to see if I had coffee. He sniffed at it, then poured it down the sink. For a moment I was taken aback by his presumptuous actions. Then I realized he was telling me something by making the coffee himself. While he filled the pot with fresh water, I emptied the used grounds and handed him the strainer to rinse out while I opened the cabinet and got the Folger's can, then rested my butt against the counter and watched him measure out the fresh grounds. He glanced at me and I couldn't help but smirk, having a strong feeling where we were going with this new familiarity.

He became a bit pensive as he waited for the pot to finish perking. "I don't know why I feel betrayed. It really has nothing to do with me, but she could have revealed this before we got married. I do think it's a bit strange though that I'm expected to pay my wife's lover a salary."

I chuckled at the irony. "Look at it this way, John, the woman is providing a service, actually, two services when you stop to think about it."

He thought for a minute before chuckling, "There is that."

"Actually, you're in a better position than I was. Even after all the legalities she agreed to and signed, Margaret actually thought that I would eventually fall in love with her. I think the woman is slowly beginning to hate me. She's already alienated the child's affections. I just wonder if it's eventually going to become a problem."

John just grimaced and watched the coffee hitting the inside of the little glass dome in the lid.

"How do you feel about being a father," I asked, as I sat down at the table.

He didn't move his eyes from the little glass dome, and I began to wonder if he'd heard me. But then he raised his head to look at me. There were tears streaking down his cheeks. "They were twins, you know. The little boy died just hours after he was born." He sobbed and took a moment to regroup. "I have a difficult time even looking at his little sister. Sarah resents that. I don't know what to do about it. There's just no connection with the child."

I rose from my chair and massaged his slumped shoulders as he continued to mourn.

"I only got to hold him for a few moments. I loved him, George. And he died."

I turned him around, wrapped him in my arms and let him cry out his grief. Karl had told me of the baby's death and I'd held him while he'd mourned his grandson's death as I now held his son. They'd had a quiet burial service inviting only the immediate family. I'd sent my condolences with a wreath of white carnations.

Once John had pulled himself together, I let him go and filled two mugs with coffee. We sat at the kitchen table looking out on Margaret's kitchen garden, lost in our private thoughts as we watched the hired gardener weeding the neat rows of vegetables and herbs.

John asked, "When is Margaret returning from Europe?

"She's only been gone a week."

John nodded, but didn't say anything.

"She's booked for two months."

"So, show me this infamous cave."

I smiled at John and led him out of the kitchen. As we ascended the grand staircase, I put my arm around his shoulders and he wrapped an arm around my waist.

Moments later, we were standing in front of the huge ornately framed mirror on my bedroom wall staring at the door that led to our future, not knowing, as we looked into that mirror, the emotional havoc my spoiled, adopted daughter would wreak on our lives.

End of Part One