Discovering Love

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 52

Mountain Song

Doug was gone up the rope before I had time to regroup or get dressed. We could have done anything there in the shadow of that cliff but we didn't. There is a fog that comes into your brain once your dick gets hard. If it gets hard around someone like Doug, your brain can rationalize anything to make up for all those times you were alone and wished you weren't.

What my brain did was picture Greg. Not while Doug was there but right after he left me. I needed to get back to Greg just then. I couldn't breathe and there was a panic that had drawn up in my chest. What the fuck was I doing going down there with Doug, knowing how we might end up? I knew better and I knew the danger and what it could cost me, and I still went. I felt stupid and manipulated because Doug knew how I felt. Love had nothing to do with the reality of it and he knew that too, but he didn't have to drag me down that rope.

They were at the table when I finally got collected and went into the house. They'd moved the kitchen table into the living room and pulled up a lounge chair that usually sat down on the patio for Greg. He was bundled up in a coat and was gazing at the fire. The plate on his lap hadn't been touched. He didn't looked at me when I showed up.

"Martin, the barbecue is on the stove and the buns are next to it. There's fresh potato salad and Cole slaw on the table. Help yourself," Greg's mom said.

"Hey," I said, sitting on the floor beside Greg and resting my back on the wall and my plate in my lap.

"Hey yourself. Where you been?"

"I was in the river," I said, thinking of Doug and feeling even more stupid.

"That's funny. Doug was down there too. You should have gone together," Greg said, glancing at me.

"We did silly," I said, and he smiled at the fire.

"I know. I'd have gone but it's not easy getting all of me down that rope."

"You get enough rest?" I asked, wanting to hug him and tell him I was sorry.

"No. I'm tired, really tired. Lugging this thing around is no fun any more. I'd just as soon be back there strung up in the bed as being down here stuck back in the bedroom until someone decides to come and rescue me. At least I can do what I want there."

"You can do what you want here, Gregie," his mom said.

"Yeah, right! I can't go out. I feel like I'm a prisoner in here. All you guys have things to keep you busy. It's not so bad there once you get use to it. Where is there to go? Up here there's placing to go but I can't leave the house."

"I'll rig you up a place next to the window. It'll be like being outside," his father said.

"We'll build you a platform."

"Yeah, cool," Greg said without enthusiasm.

"Martin and I will take you down on the patio tomorrow, big brother," Doug said. "You can get some sun and fresh air. Right Martin?"

I glared but I did speak, both his mother and father looked at Doug with suspicion as Doug gobbled his third sandwich.

"What did I do?" He asked, licking his fingers and reaching for another bun.

Greg didn't say anything and stabbed some stuff with his fork and then leaned back in the chair looking exhausted, failing to eat any of it. He finally set his plate on the television tray that had been placed beside the lounge chair.

The barbecue was excellent and I was starved. The fresh mountain air had me ravenous but that passed once I watched Greg sit haplessly next to me. His mom and dad joked with Doug and me and then it was time to clean up. There wasn't a lot of room in the kitchen once the table was back in place. It was a weekend house, albeit quite beautiful even with the bare sheet rock walls and the unpolished wood floors. Once it was done it would be picturesque in that setting.

"Help me into the bedroom," Greg said. "I'm tired."

Everyone ignored what he said but they all watched with concern as I helped him down the hall. I was tired by the time I got him on the bed.

"Are you all right, stud?" I asked foolishly.

"What does it look like? Help me get my coat off," he ordered. "I'm hot."

"Me too, big boy," I said, knowing that always worked.

"I was thirsty before and you were no where around. My mother had to get me out of the bed and she doesn't know how."

"Yeah, well, she only weighs like a hundred pounds. That's probably why."

"Are you all right?" He asked sarcastically, after pulling the quilt up over him.

I looked down at him as he looked up at me and he looked quite helpless. It's funny because I hadn't ever seen him as helpless. Oh, in the beginning there was the reality of the restrictive nature of his situation, but he never let it keep him down for long, not in front of me anyway. He was remarkably high-spirited under the circumstances. He had a strong will and wouldn't let anything get him down for long.

Now he was finally coming back to his life and he seemed very helpless, and he was because things weren't just about him. He didn't simply just ring when the mood struck him. He was back in the family unit and there were other considerations besides him. He wasn't the center of anything only a small piece of a whole thing. He didn't like that much and his disability kept him from doing anything he'd like to do, so he was helpless.

There was a difficulty being there alone with him. He watched me without speaking and there was nothing in the room to distract us from one another. I would love to have made love to him. Lord knows I was horny enough to go all night but there was nothing sexual about his look and his words. That was probably more unusual than anything. By this time he'd usually had a couple of orgasms and was talking about more or what we'd do tomorrow, but none of that here, not that I wanted to get caught in the middle of anything.

"Doug kissed me," I blurted out. "We went to the river and he kissed me. I kissed him back I guess. I was stupid. I'm sorry."

"Oh, that's what the long face is about. My brother is hopeless. You've got to be careful around him. He always wants what I have, Martin. Haven't you figured that out yet. Doug's more competitive than I am. He just doesn't let anyone know."

"That doesn't matter, Greg. He kissed me and I kissed him back and I wish I hadn't and I feel absolutely rotten about it."

"What, you're like superman now? I'd kiss him back if he kissed me. Shit, I know he's a looker. A guy could do a lot worse than Doug. He's my brother though. No great pleasure in fucking your brother, if you have other options anyway."

"I figured you'd be pissed. I feel like crap."

"Kiss me and I'll make it better," he said, giving me one of his coy smiles an the opening I didn't think was going to come. I knew a kiss would lead to bigger and better things.

I kissed him gently and felt better for it. I was sure he would take my head off when I told him. It wasn't like Greg to take such things so casually. I know if he did something like that it would be no big deal to him but if someone did it to him, he'd be enraged. The kiss was fine but there was no invitation to go beyond it to reach for something more passionate, which is what I needed from him right then. In fact he broke it off the kiss rather shyly, turning his head.

"I'm tired. They'll probably be doing something. Why don't you join them and let me catch up on my rest. Keep your place and we'll pick up where we left off in the morning."

I suppose I missed being next to him constantly. Knowing he was in the next room was no help and being dismissed wasn't something I liked. Things were changing but I didn't think any of it was for the better. Greg and I had only each other for months on end and now we were mixing everything back up and starting over. There was too much going on and it was all new to me.

They were all sitting around the living room drinking tea when I came out.

"Sleeping again?" His mother asked.

"Yeah, says he's tired. He seems awful tired. It's not like him," I said, biting my lip to shut myself up before they figured it all out.

"He's got new medication. Says it makes you drowsy right on the label and not to operate heavy machinery," Greg's mom said as Doug looked at his father pensively.

"I don't think there is any chance of that," she said in her little girl voice.

"I don't know," Doug said, "That boys got more heavy dirty machinery than most."

He couldn't help but laugh at his own joke but no one else saw the humor in it.

I sat in the lounge chair and drank Greg's tea. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. I felt somewhat odd, out of place, out of time.

"Want to go to the clubhouse?" Doug asked. "We can shoot pool. Roam around."

"No, I'm a little tired too," I said. "Where's Cheryl anyway, Dougie?"

The look he gave me showed extreme displeasure with my comment. I felt a chill come over the room and I was next to the fireplace. Doug sank back deeper into his chair and sipped tea.

"She's such a nice girl. Said she couldn't come this weekend. Something with her parents, isn't that what you said, honey? We told him you'd be with Greg and he should ask her again but he said she couldn't."

"Yeah, something with her parents," Doug said, not looking at me but seeming unhappy about something.

"She's pretty," Greg's father said. "Smart too. I don't know what she sees in Dougie. He's just a pup and she's a full grown woman. She's what twenty?"

"Dad! She's nineteen," Doug protested.

"Just seeing if I could get a rise out of you, son," he answered. "He said she was coming until we told him you and Greg would be down. I think Doug wants you to himself, Martin. He's always asking if you've come around the house or called."

"Dad! Once I asked that. Once!"

"Yeah, once or ten times," Greg's mother said.

"Martins a nice boy. It's okay to like him. Boys today don't have enough boyfriends. There's a bond that boys need with one another. Without that they lose a piece of themselves," Greg's father said.

"Dad!"

"In my day boys hung together even after they were married. I had no interest in girls when I was your age, son. Lord, last thing on my mind was a family. We hunted, fished, got drunk together, but we won't get into that. No, boys and girls get together way too quick now, seems to me. No time to build friendships that last. Women always stick together but men have work and nothing else to hold them up but their families, and heaven help them if that fails. One minute they're little kids and the next minute their dating and getting serious. No childhood any more."

"Well, it's different now," Doug said.

"We're going hunting tonight. Want to go?" Greg's father asked.

"Dad! You know I don't like hunting."

"Yes, but a man should know how to get game. When I was a boy...."

"You're not a boy and times have changed, Pop. I get game at the Safeway. You know I don't like killing animals."

"Those steaks don't get there by wishing, son. They kill animals to provide that meat for you at that Safeway."

"Yeah, cool, but I don't have to kill them, jeez. I need to go for a walk. Come on Martin. My brother isn't going anywhere."

"We're going at nine if you change your mind," Greg's father said. "Go ahead, Martin, we'll keep an eye on Greg for you. Enjoy yourself while you're up here."

I followed Doug out the back door and it was surprising how cool it got so fast. He stormed up to the road like a man on a mission. I walked up to see what was going on. We needed to have a talk and putting it off was only going to make the weekend more difficult.

"Why'd you bring up Cheryl anyway? They're both on me about that and now you."

"Cheryl's your girlfriend?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"So what!"

"So what about down there? Doug, Greg and I... I'm not... what about Cheryl?"

"What about her? What's she got to do with us? I'm not proposing marriage to you, Martin. I just want you to... it's not like she's here. She wouldn't care anyway. You didn't mind so much when you were the one that was horny."

"It has everything to do with her. It's always had to do with her. That's what you want your life to be about. Greg and I have something...."

"Right! How long do you think it will last once he can get his dick back in circulation? He'll be fucking everything that walks and you know it. Don't put a guilt trip on me. You've never been one to turn it down and unless my lips are broken, you were kissing me right back, buddy."

"I'll take that chance and what I've done isn't what I always have to do. It's possible to learn as you go. Just because I like you doesn't mean I've got to get it on with you every time you have the urge."

"You're a fool. Look you're the only one I got left. I just need to do that with you this one weekend. Cheryl can't do it to me and you can't tell me Greg lets you fuck him. I know better. I've thought about stopping but I'm not ready yet. I know it's what you like. Come on, Martin. You know you want to. Just this weekend."

"I don't want to have sex with you."

"You kissed me. You said you love me. I know you want it as much as I do. Don't forget I've been with you. Just for the weekend and I'll leave you alone after that. I've been thinking about it for a couple of weeks and then they said you were coming down here. I made excuses why Cheryl couldn't come so I could be with you. So don't say no after I've gone through all this trouble to get us together."

"No. I might need it every bit as much as you do but I'm not going to be part of your secret life. You aren't interested in anything that lasts between us. You just want a fix now and then to tide you over. I've had my fill of quickies. I don't need anything that doesn't have some staying power. You've told me about your future and there isn't any room for me in it."

Doug looked at the house to make sure no one was watching and then he tried to kiss me again, but I turned my head. His hand went straight to the truth of the matter and he found what he suspected would be there.

"Come on. You're already hard. You know you want it. Why are you being like this?"

I moved his hand and thought I wanted to feel him to see if he was hard too, but I didn't, and he was not happy.

"You mean I came up here to be with you. I fixed it so we could be alone, and you don't care?"

"I care more than you'll ever know, Doug, but I care about other things too."

"About Greg? He can take care of himself."

"You've got to stop, Doug. If you want what you say you want, you've got to stop having sex with guys. You're just going to get hurt."

"I can't. I still need it. Not all the time any more but sometimes, you know. I can't get it out of my head. Like now. I need to do something, Martin. I know that I'll outgrow it one day, but not yet, okay. Just this weekend and I won't ask you again. I promise."

"You'd be just what I wanted if there was a future in being with you, but there isn't. Just the weekend, just right now, just for a few minutes, and then you're ready to go back to your girlfriend. Think about it. You need to stop if you're going to stop, Doug. Sex is about more than feeling good. There comes a time when it is about loving someone and only one someone."

"I can stop any time I want. Not yet though. Please, Martin. We should have done it down there. I shouldn't have given you time to think about it. What a fool I was for thinking I'd make you wait for it. This is bogus Martin, come on!"

"Would I have. Yeah, you can still sweep me off my feet when you catch me off guard, but then I come back to earth, Doug. I've got to live with what I've done. You say there is probably no future with Greg, but there is a possibility with him. There is definitely no possibility with you. You've made that clear and I accept that. Hell you fixed me up with Kent when I told you how I felt about you just to get rid of me."

"Yeah, I had Herbie then. I miss him. Even had Timmy back then. Never had to think about where I'd get it. I got mad some times because they were always on me. Now I'm the one. I'm sorry, Martin. I am. I had my chance," Doug said, touching my arm in a most gentle way. "I guess I should have known since you never come to see me any more. Some nights I lay awake thinking you'll come up late one night and you'll.... I just thought... well, you know what I thought... and I'm sorry. You're right. I need to stop. Guess there's no time like the present."

"What's up," a familiar voice said, and the tip of the cigarette furnished a distorted red light as someone strutted up like he owned the mountain.

"Augie Moon," I said, trying hard to see his lovely face.

"In the flesh. Martin right? Long time no see. Where you been hangin'? They said Greg was coming down. How's he doing?"

"He's fine," I said.

"Hi Doug," Augie said, turning his attention to my companion. "What's up?"

"You don't want to know," I blurted out.

"Martin, hush up," Doug ordered.

"Augie knows, Doug. He only watched us... well, he knows what you like," I said, kicking Doug's foot.

"Your old man invited me to go hunting with him. He said you'd be here this weekend. You coming?"

"No, that's his problem," I said as Doug kicked my foot.

"Martin!"

"You should come with us. I'd like that. Your old man gets away from me. Youngest old dude I ever seen."

"He's not old," Doug said.

"You know what I mean," Augie said.

"Where's your buddy, Van?" I asked.

"His weekend with his girlfriend. I get left down here for a few days. I still camp up on the heights when I'm not with Van. I mostly stay down his place. He's cool."

"Hunting, huh," Doug said, becoming more hospitable.

"Yeah, your old man is something. Him and Ike always get game."

"Hunting?" Doug said again. "Maybe I'll go with you. A man should know how to get game."

"That would be cool. I can only keep up with your old man for about an hour, then he gets away from me. Goes up over that hill like it's a meadow. He's part mountain goat and part puma. You'd never know he had kids your age by the way he moves."

"Yeah, I could go and keep you company."

"All right," Augie said, heading toward the house with Doug right behind him.

Okay, I thought, I'm no longer the only one Doug has to tickle his fancy when it itches. I found it amusing the way they were jawboning each other as they went into the kitchen. They definitely had a meeting of the minds that seemed to make both of them seriously happy. Maybe Augie needed a fix too?

When I went into the kitchen they were seated at the table staring at each other as I passed. I could feel the heat and wanted to see their first born. It would have been a beaut for sure.

At nine Greg's father was ready to go and he was still laughing as Doug followed him and Augie out of the house. I thought about two dogs meeting on the corner and licking each other's privates but I was sure it wouldn't end there with Doug and Augie. I was hoping that this would be enough to satisfy Doug for the weekend but I still wasn't too happy with what I had felt while we were down at the river. It's kind of disappointing when you love someone as much as I loved Greg and someone else can still turn your head long enough for you to lose it. I wish my dick didn't get quite so hard so fast. I wish it couldn't get control of me without any advance warning. I wished a lot of stuff but in the end it was all up to me.

"What's the new medication for?" I asked as Greg's mom and I sat alone in the living room.

"Says to enhance healing. Then there are some other things but it's all Greek to me. I guess it's to replace the stuff they shoot him up with. It always takes time to adjust to new medication."

"He is sleeping a lot," I said. "He usually doses on and off during the afternoon. He's done nothing but sleep since we got here."

"Yeah, should have left you boys at the house. We so wanted to have him with us for one weekend. Probably the medication and the stress. We won't make him come down any more. No sense in upsetting him like this. May as well let him do what he wants."

She too thought it was just the location. It still didn't solve anything. I was sure Greg would rather be at the house but you made the best of what you had. It wasn't like him to let anything get him down for long and that's what bothered me most.

I sat up and talked with Greg's mother until almost midnight. She was funny and smart and never let on that she thought Greg and I were lovers. I still wasn't sure what she knew and fear kept me from confessing my sin. It was simply too dangerous to take the risk. What if she told me not to see him any more? No, I wasn't going there, not while he still needed me.

Doug came back first but Augie wasn't far behind. Both of them looked like they had dressed themselves in the dark. Doug poured two glasses of tea even before Augie made his appearance, so I knew their return had been arranged ahead of time. Doug left him in the kitchen and came into the living room, tucking in his shirt and checking his zipper once he did.

"Mom, I asked Augie to stay. He can use Cheryl's sleeping bag in my bedroom."

"Oh, great, Pop'll be glad to have some company in the morning. Just don't be climbing into his sleeping bag like you do when Cheryl's, Dougie," she said in that irresistible little girl voice she used when she wanted to bring levity to a conversation.

"Mother!" Doug objected too strenuously.

"You think we're deaf, Doug," she said in a less conciliatory tone while looking over top of her glasses as she continuing her knitting. "Cheryl is not quiet in the throws of passion, my second born."

"Mom!"

"Far be it from me to deny my sons their happiness, but you get that girl pregnant and your life as you know it ends. You do know that, right?"

"Mom!"

"Well Augie should just be aware of your history concerning that sleeping bag is all I'm saying. You might forget it's not Cheryl in there."

"Mom!" Doug said, as Augie busted out laughing in the kitchen.

"Come on and I'll show you where you can sleep. Don't worry, you'll be safe."

"Your mother's cool," Augie said as Doug moved him toward the bedroom and Augie laughed harder because of Doug's obvious embarrassment.

"You boys think parents are all ignorant of how the world is. We might act ignorant but we really aren't."

"I never thought you were," I answered.

"No, but those two think we are. I suppose some parents might try to force their boys to do what they want them to do with their lives. Their father and I think they've got to make their own decisions. I mean I put my foot down if they get someone pregnant. Then they're going to take responsibility for their actions. I'm sorry. I feel strongly about that because it involves innocent children. I'm just happy Greg has found a friend like you, Martin. Those boys he use to hang with, most of them were very nice boys, don't get me wrong, but they acted like they didn't have good sense most of the time. Not many stayed for the main event after Greg was hurt and needed friends. Nope, not one I know of, just you, Martin. Don't think he hasn't noticed. You've got a friend for life, you know. I don't envy you that, Martin. My first born is a handful when he's clicking on all cylinders."

We were both yawning while Greg's mom waited for her husband to return. I excused myself and went to the bedroom.

"I'm dying of thirst," Greg said after I closed the door. I opened it and got a glass full of ice, a glass full of water, a bottle of soda, collecting the television table as I went. He sat up in the bed and drank, chewing on the ice as he so often did in the hospital. He didn't act is though I was there at all.

"Who did I hear come in with my brother?"

"August Moon," I said. "They went hunting with your father."

"My brother went hunting. Get real. He wasn't hunting coon. He must have been after bigger fish," Greg said coldly.

"August Moon," I said, figuring Greg could add things up as easy as I could.

"Yeah, Augie's intense all right. Two bulls never can get it on together, you know. He was interested though. Had the feeling he'd have sat on my lap for a wink and a smile. He didn't though," Greg said, qualifying his remarks and looking at me to make sure I heard. "Too much cock for another bull to get too interested. Nice guy though. So he's keeping his hands off you I take it?"

"Yep, we had a talk. Doug took right up with Augie. He's so funny. I love your brother, Greg."

"Of course you figured that would get you off the hook with me, right?"

"Yep, but you said I wasn't on your hook... yet, anyway."

"Why did you tell me about him kissing you?"

"I felt guilty as shit. I like Doug a lot. I wouldn't hurt him or reject him outright. Don't ask me why not."

"God, Martin, I don't own you. I know I'm not everything you need right now. If you did, I mean... you know what I mean. I wouldn't hold it against you. Not for long anyway. I would get over it. I would live if you and my brother...."

"I know better and I don't want my life to be about that. I'm only interested in you, Greg. You are what I want and the longer I'm with you, the stronger my feelings become for you. Pretty soon you'll be out of that thing and at home and we can get back to living in the real world. I can't wait and if it's meant to be it will be and if not...."

"You might have to."

"I might have to?" I asked, not having a clue.

"Wait. You might have to wait."

"What's that supposed to mean. Wait for what? We've waited long enough."

"You want to hold me right now? I want you to hold me and I guess if I don't ask, you aren't going to, so hold me already."

"Sure," I said, getting a chill but quickly losing it once I stripped and got into bed with him. "I don't want to crowd you, Greg. I know you aren't feeling good. I know you didn't want to come down here."

"Shut up. I just asked you to hold me for crap sake. Can't we do it without all the talking?"

I eased my arms around him and he wanted me to pull him closer. He wrapped himself up in my arms in a way he'd never done before. He put his head on my shoulder and I held him like he was a baby, rocking him because it seemed like he needed comforting. Another chill ran through me as I was seeing a side of Greg I had never seen before and while I proceeded to worry about it he spoke up.

"You can kiss me if you want. I mean you can't bruise my lips, although some times you act like you're trying. Just kiss me, okay."

"Silly boy," I said, pressing my lips on his and they became the ignition switch for love.

I felt better almost immediately and I yanked off his bottoms and went to work with all the gusto I'd built up while going with out that day. Once more he rose to the occasion in a way that told me he too needed relief. He filled my mouth and my jaws and didn't seem to care about my teeth or anything but his pent-up lust.

Even though it was chilly in the room, he let the quilt fall away and the sweat ran down his chest as the bed rocked to his beat. It was every bit as good as the weekend before and his revitalization heartened me back to complete awareness of our lusty goal. His shaft hardened to the consistency of steel and the ridges around his cock head stiffened so that my lips merely washed over them but could not make any impression on them once you got beyond the moans he stifled with his pillow. I felt the hard flesh tense as he held my head in a way that allowed him to push deep into my throat as the spasms hit his body and me. He lurched and twisted the orgasm out of himself, jolting both of us with each blast. It took a few seconds for the taste of his love to get back up to my mouth but the contortions of his body told me everything I needed to know. He was hanging there on the edge of bliss for some time before he finally eased off my mouth as he ever so slowly relaxed his body back onto the bed.

Even then there were gasps and gulps as he struggled to get back to the room. His eyes were closed and his chest pumped large gulps of air. His face was a cross between the ecstasy and the agony and I went with the ecstasy as I licked his shrinking ardor for all I was worth, trying to preserve that perfect erection for a few seconds more.

"Fuck! You been practicing? Damn! I'm having a heart attack. I've never got off like that before," he confessed, with both of his arms bracing himself on the bed as the sweat rolled and he panted. "Wow. Were you saving that one for me or what?"

"Absolutely. You ain't seen nothin' yet, little boy. You going to be okay?" I asked, concerned for his struggle to breathe and the appearance of his way thin body.

"Don't stop now," Greg pleaded once I'd relinquished my hold on him. "Give me another one of those. Make it a double."

"Maybe you need to rest a few minute. You're still panting, Greg. You look awful pale. I know, let's make out."

"Get it while you can, Martin. Suck it, big boy. I need you to do it again. I need to know I gave you all you could ever want this weekend. Humor me."

"You kidding me. You give me all I could want every day of my life. Just being with you is all I ever wanted, Greg."

"There's more where that came from. One more for the road, kid. I want you to have something you'll remember."

It was easier on me after his dick yielded up some of the gristle that filled it when he was getting close to the end, not that I minded it when he got that turned on. It only happened when he was most horny and most needy. It always got me going big time, feeling the way he moved under me, trying to get every bit of pleasure out of the experience. The urgency always apparent.

Soon he was rocking and rolling and started to stiffen like he'd never cum at all. While he didn't always go soft after sex the first time, he almost always did these days. Greg wasn't the sexual animal he once was but he was determined to do a repeat immediately and he was doing a convincing job of acting like he could. My jaws were once more spread to the max as he used them up, moving me on my side once he was going good so he could get every millimeter into my mouth.

Greg could reload quicker than anyone I had been around but it hadn't been like that in some time. We might get him off once an hour until he was spent some days in the hospital but he wanted the break between sessions. Some times I wondered if he came at all but there was no doubt this time. I'd almost drowned on what I'd helped him whip up and now it was like he hadn't or maybe like he had something to prove. You couldn't get me to argue about it because this was as good as it gets for me. We could have gone for three if he had been up to it but he was satisfied after two, holding me all the way down on him long after he was drained dry.

Both times I came when he did. It was all I could do to hold back until he let loose because his dick made me so hot I could get off just looking at it. Both times he got harder and filled out fuller than I ever remember him doing before. It was like he'd saved it up for one grand orgasm... or two in this case. I still had my hands on it after I dried him off and wiped him down and he was done for the night, like the race horse who had run his race, and I was now preparing him for bed.

I slid under the covers and hugged my naked body against his. I put my face on his chest and breathed in his thick scent. God I loved him, and he picked that moment to shake my world.

"There's a growth," he said long after I thought he had gone to sleep.

"What?" I said, startled completely awake in that one instant.

"There's a growth on my leg. If it's cancer, they'll be taking it off Monday. That's what those assholes have been looking at in the X-rays for the past two months. One thought it was possibly a growth, everyone else said it was calcium from the healing process. Those fuckers might have cost me my leg."

"What?" I said, sitting straight up in the bed, trying to remember each of his words, weighing them, measuring them, trying to make them mean something other than what they meant.

"You heard me." He paused for a second that seemed outrageously long, "I don't want you there Monday. Go to school. I'll be in the operating room all morning and in recovery all afternoon. Don't come to just sit there waiting alone. It won't do either of us any good."

"Your mother doesn't know?" I asked.

"No, dad said she had been through enough. Why tell her until absolutely necessary."

By then I couldn't breathe and my eyes were scalding hot. I cried and fought for air and I started shaking all over.

This is what had been hanging over us since we left the hospital. This was what wasn't being said.

I gulped air and I could hear my heart pounding in my ear. Everything now made perfect sense.

 

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 53

A Leg Up

Greg stayed close all night. While once this would have comforted me, it didn't. I wanted to take away his pain and the fear. His anger was understandable. He'd already climbed a mountain and he never let it best him for long, but now he had been kicked back to the bottom after struggling for most of a year to come out on top. I understood how difficult it was for him to accept that it was all for nothing. They could have taken the leg in the beginning and the rehab and training would have taken far less of his life from him. Now he was taking a mental beating and his will to fight had been seriously altered.

I wanted to stay close to him but I couldn't. I hadn't slept at all and now I was restless and I got up rather than risk waking him up. The sun had barely raised above the horizon I couldn't see, and the light was dim at best. As I stood in the hallway between the bedrooms and living room, I watched billowing smoke rise up past the huge window.

I could picture the Colonel at the stove outside, doing his thing. When did the guy ever sleep? I could still hear Ike barking late into the night.

I suddenly could taste hot black coffee in my mouth and as a chill ran through me, I passed Greg's mom, sleeping in the chair where I had left her, a ugly green ball of yawn had rolled off her lap and half way across the floor. Whatever she was knitting looked quite lovely, but the yarn on its own couldn't claim any credit.

I eased myself around the side of the house and I could see the colonel in his shorts and white T-shirt, turning rabbit and whatever else he had taken in the night. Ike lay two feet from the big rusty red stove. Augie sat on a pile of cinderblocks, steam rising up from a cup he held in both of his hands for the warmth it provided. He didn't have a shirt on and I shivered and he looked as though he hadn't slept at all, but when I peed a few hours earlier, him and Doug were still wrestling with the night and Cheryl's sleeping bag no doubt.

It amazed me when the colonel reached for a cup and turned the big blue coffee pot up to fill it almost to the top. He sat it at the side of the stove and went back to tending his fire.

"Not used to so many early-risers. My sons burn the midnight oil and then can't get up. They take after their mother."

I knew he was talking to me but for the life of me I never knew how he always knew when someone approached and not only that he usually knew who it was. He still hadn't looked at me and I could see no mirrors or gadgets that he could look into to see my reflection. I thought about it but never did come up with any explanation for the colonel's talents. I suppose there were things I not only didn't know but couldn't even imagine.

"How is he?" He asked, as Augie nodded, held the cup to his naked strong chest, and then sipped from the metal cup before putting back against his skin.

"I don't know. Depressed, I guess," I answered.

"We make better the things we can, accept the things we can't, and are here so he knows he's not alone. It's not for us to take his journey for him. It's not for us to understand the why. What is, is, and that cannot be altered."

"I think he feels like he's had enough," I said.

"Yes, that's the first reaction. He will accept it. Greg is strong. He has a warriors heart. Don't worry, it won't let him down now."

It was hard for me to see the colonel as an Indian. It was written all over him. His face was ten shades darker than my own but I never noticed it or the strong features that were chiseled into his face. He was big and strong and gentle and wise. That's all I saw when I looked at him and listened to his words. I never noticed how dark he was or how light his sons were in comparison. It just never came up then. I was somehow comforted by his words when nothing had comforted me since Greg told me.

We drank coffee and I ate three pieces of rabbit as soon as the colonel took them off the fire. I can tell you, it doesn't taste like chicken and had the most incredible flavor you can imagine. Of course I was always starving up in the mountains. Almost every time I went there, and I went there plenty, I ate like a pig and was always ready for more.

The colonel did eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes with onions and peppers. I ate a plate and Augie did likewise but no one had a lot to say. It was still a bit cold for my taste but that food sure warmed me up. I was surprised when Doug showed up, half asleep with his eyes half closed. He sat on the same pile of cinderblocks as Augie and they kept looking at each other and laughing.

Doug drank coffee but refused the offer of food. He was smart and had on a jacket that made me jealous.  Then the sun came up over the tops of the trees, and then it warmed up immediately even with that stove only five feet away.

The colonel sent Augie and Doug into the basement to bring out the "contraption." The colonel had made it at work and it was a platform on four bicycle wheels that could be hooked to the front of another bicycle, which would then propel it nicely. With the cushions and the location of the padding it was obviously a conveyance built with Greg in mind. I was curious about it when the colonel explained.

"You can take him down to the river later. No way to get him down to the river here. He likes the water. It will do him some good, even if he doesn't agree."

"How do you drive it?" I asked, seeing the size of the thing and I wasn't sure I could manage it.

"You do is all. You ride the bike. The rest is up to the cart. Just take your time until you get use to it. He'll want you to go faster than you are willing to go, but don't. It'll give him something else to be mad at for a while. He probably won't want to go but we won't give him an option once we load him up. He needs to occupy himself with something besides worry."

"Yeah, I can do that. What do you think they're going to do?" I asked.

"What they must."

"They aren't sure? They haven't told you?"

"Greg knows everything I know. It's not up to us. They really need to take a look see before any decision is made."

"He said he doesn't want me to come to the hospital Monday."

"Yes, he is afraid."

"I can't not be there."

"School?" Greg's dad queried.

"I don't care about school. I couldn't do anything at school. I'd be a basket case. I'm not going back until I know what happens."

"Yes, well, you do what your heart tells you. We'll be there. You can sit with us and we'll hope for the best."

"His mom doesn't know?"

"No, I'll talk to her once we're home tonight. Just no point in giving her too much time to think about it. She's rather attached to her sons and the word cancer scares all of us too much for our own good. She'll sit up all night worrying. In a way, I think she already knows."

"Do all you guys read minds?" I foolishly asked.

"Life is not so much a mystery if you read the signs Martin. The things you can do nothing about you don't do anything about them. It doesn't mean you don't know these things exist. We wouldn't choose certain things for our sons because they cause them pain and create hardship. When they exist, you can't make them go away by fighting about it. You accept it and hope that in time it will all work itself out. It usually does and for the best. This seems monumental, when you look straight at it, as we are all looking at it now, but later next week, when we can see beyond the words and the obstacle, there will be clear vision. That clear vision will lead to better times for all of us, especially for Greg. You can't struggle with life so much as you go along with it."

"Yeah, I wish," I said, wishing I could understand so that the pain in my chest would subside soon.

I hid the tears just behind my eyes but I don't think I was fooling anyone. I hadn't had a pain like this since early on when Greg would kick me out of his life as a matter of routine. Although this pain wasn't as sharp, it ran far-deeper and did something to me that even Greg's rejections had never done.

I'd never known what love was before I met him, and so I had no way of knowing what it was like to lose love. I thought that there was most definitely a chance that I could lose him and his love, and in spite of not being able to do a thing about it, I was scared in a way that nothing had ever scared me before.  Maybe because there was nothing I could do.

I took a plate of rabbit, potatoes, and bacon up to Greg once the sun was high in the sky. I found him staring at the ceiling and unmoved by my entrance.

"I brought you rabbit."

"I'm thirsty," he said.

"I brung you coffee just in case."

"Just water for now. Where you been?"

"Watching your father cook."

"We didn't get to sleep until really late," he reminded me.

"We didn't get to sleep at all. Me anyway. I was tossing and turning and didn't want to wake you up."

"You know I'm lonely when you aren't there."

"How about orange juice," I suggested, not wanting to cry.

"Yeah, orange juice. Hold the water. How about a piece of that rabbit? No sense in wasting it since you went through all the trouble of lugging it up here. The old man is an artist when it comes to wild game."

I sat the plate on the television tray beside the bed and brought him back orange juice. He ate most of a piece of rabbit and drank some coffee and the juice. He wanted to lay back down once he'd accomplished this.

"I want my coat. It's cold in here."

"Suns up. Why don't we take you outside. Augie's here."

"You told me that last night. He with Doug?"

"Yeah, Doug's in heaven, I think."

"Augie's a stud. My brother's an idiot."

"He is not, Greg."

"Well, he's been backing up to Herbie just about forever, I don't know, since he was ten maybe. Now he's with Cheryl, and she's a lot woman even for a man like me, but for squirt, give me a break. He'll never handle her and then there's that little quirk in his personality. He likes taking it up the ass. I don't think that's something a girl like Cheryl will ever be able to do for him, no matter how hard she tries."

"Greg, Doug wants a family and kids. Why not give him a break."

"You tell me he's making moves on you, and you tell me he's been with Augie. He should give himself a break and admit he'll never give that up until he's too old to attract someone to fuck him. Then he might give it up by default."

"I think he can do what he sets his mind to do," I said. "Why not let Doug deal with it his own way."

"You make a hell of fag. I thought the object was to turn everyone gay?"

"You can't turn anyone into anything. If you can't get it up it's no good, Greg. What's the point in wanting to be with a guy that isn't turned on by it."

"Well, I do fine," he said, insisting we go there.

"You're hard all the time. It doesn't require any thought for you. If a guy isn't interested he can't get it up and so that means he can't be turned into a fag. It's basic biology Greg. The anatomy doesn't lie."

"So I'm a fag because I get it up when you touch me, that what you're saying?"

"No, that's not what I said."

"It is too. If I can get it up then I'm just like you," he argued.

"Greg, you're just like nobody. You don't care as long as it gets up for someone or something. You are what you say you are. Being gay isn't about turning anyone into anything. That's a myth spread by the idiots who delight on spreading queer fear. Guys don't get hard if they aren't turned on."

"So I'm a fag?"

"You're just hard-headed is what you are and you never listen."

"Well, you got the hard part right. So if I'm not a fag what am I doing with you?"

"Like I said, you've got to decide or accept what you are. Having the ability to do something doesn't make you that which you do. Plenty of guys can swing both ways and do. Some guys can and don't, mostly because of fear, but just knowing they can upsets them so much that they don't have to do anything to be pissed off about it."

"That doesn't make any sense. I'm pissed off and I could care less."

"Yeah but you aren't pissed off about what gets your dick hard."

"No, I guess not. Thanks," he said, just throwing that last bit in.

"For what?" I asked.

"Just leave shit alone sometimes, Martin, okay? Because you're here, because you're you, because you didn't leave me alone. I don't know if I can take any more. I don't know if I want to. I'm so tired. Just when you think you've made it, you find out you haven't even started the really big fight. I don't have anything left, Martin. I keep looking for a way to face up to it, but I can't. I thought I'd be whole again one day. If I kept fighting long enough I'd get it all back. Now, I don't know. I don't even care."

"Well I do. It's going to be fine. I know it's going to be fine."

He looked at me with such a look in is eyes. I could see the doubt and the hope and the alarm at my just saying the words. You couldn't say that when you faced what he faced. Too much could go wrong and saying that just made you responsible for the outcome. He ate a little more and drank more coffee but the conversation stopped.

Augie and Doug showed up in the doorway after a while. They didn't listen to Greg's objections and lifted him out of the bed and carried him outside to where the bike and carrier waited. We went past the colonel and his mother as they watched the operation, supervising as the objecting Greg was placed down in the spot carefully prepared for him.

"I want my coat. I'm cold. Why are you doing this to me. Aren't things bad enough."

"Nope," his mother answered, putting a pillow behind his shoulders to elevate him properly so he could witness the journey comfortably.

"Take it easy, Martin," the colonel instructed. "The brakes to the cart are right beside your brakes. Use them first and then use yours if you need them. The bike won't stop that thing but it will stop the bike. The cart steers when you turn the handlebars. It's all hooked up on a pulley and chain so turn the wheel carefully and don't make any sudden moves.

We passed Doug and Augie as they walked toward the clubhouse. I peddled and it really wasn't that hard to get the thing rolling. Of course we started out on a down slope and that helped. There was a couple of small hills that required peddling but then we were on a flat stretch the last half mile or so, and that required a minimum of effort.

By the time we turned onto the grass that would lead us to a spot right next to the river, I had figured out all the controls. It was relatively easy if you didn't think about it. I pulled up near the dock and got off the bike to sit next to him as he looked into the slowly rolling river.

"Pretty, huh?" I asked.

"Yeah, Now I want to go swimming."

"I think you might sink, Greg, with that rock on your leg."

"Yeah, and it would all be over. I wish I could get in there. The water looks great."

"Believe me, it's cold."

"The voice of experience speaks," he said, giving me a cold glance.

"I thought you weren't holding that against me. I fixed him up with Augie. I'm with you."

"Yeah, just all heart, Martin. My brother wants to be straight as an arrow and you keep introducing him to guys who will fuck the shit out of him when you know it's not what he wants. A real pal you are."

"Well, it's not what he wants when there isn't a guy that will do it," I said. "He's got to work the details out on his own."

"My brother's an idiot. Why not just accept it?"

"Yeah, like you do."

"Well, there was no reason to until you started fucking with my head."

"Oh, I do that?"

"You know you do. Why do you pretend like you don't know stuff? You probably know more about me than I do and won't tell me if you do!"

"Probably."

"I just told you not to tell me that."

"Yeah, well, maybe not."

There were only a couple of campers in the campground but it was way early in the season for comfort in the evening and at night. There was no activity at all until Augie and Doug came. Then they stood next to us giggling and jostling each other. I was amazed at how mature Augie looked and how immature he acted around Doug. I guess I didn't know everything about how it works but Augie was all man and he could probably kick asses with the best of them but around Doug he was a puppy, and it was nice to see that. It didn't matter what he was elsewhere or what he had once been. He was okay.

I thought about what I had seen him doing with Van and I knew what Doug liked and obviously Doug was getting what he wanted, but I didn't know how Augie could so easily switch roles. Perhaps it was Van the man that furnished him with one thing he needed while Doug the beautiful furnished him with something entirely different, but no less important. Maybe that's how it was with some men. Greg certainly got different things from different people and it was all things he needed to make it all work for him.

It's funny how every time I thought I had it all figured out, something came along to show me how little I know and how there was no one way to be and no one way of doing things. It was a mixture of things and experiences and people that created the good life. Although I didn't have clue how what Greg was going through was going to create anything but more pain and discomfort in my life.

"Come on, I'll show you," Augie said, grabbing Doug's hand.

"What, you haven't shown him yet?" Greg laughed. "I figured little brother would have been all over it by now."

"Greg, bite the big one," Doug said. "Augie's not like that."

"Yeah, well, his is red and curves a little to the left and big as far as most guys go, but then again I'm not most guys, huh, Augie? You boys be good and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Come on. It's only up the top of the hill. I don't want to go back to your house," Augie said, still pulling on Doug.

"Thought you said two bulls can't always do something together," I said, as Doug and Augie reached the road.

"I didn't say they couldn't try," Greg said. "Augie's a bit aggressive for my taste. He's got a hell of a body, though. Fucker pumped iron in the joint. He's strong as shit."

"And how did you determine all this?"

"I wanted to fuck him and he wanted to fight. We fought. I won't make that mistake again," Greg said, laughing.

"What mistake is that?" I asked.

"Trying to fuck or fight him. He's a bad mo'fo'. Hit me so hard I thought he'd broken my jaw."

"You always seem friendly to each other," I said.

"Yeah, well, I ain't no dummy. I agreed I wouldn't try to fuck him any more and he agreed not to hit me any more. It was an agreement we reached by mutual best interest."

"He has got a nice body," I said.

"I use to have a nice body."

"You still do," I said.

"Yeah, but all you care about is my dick. You don't care about the rest of me."

"Fuck you, Greg, just fuck you. I ought to make you walk back. You know sometimes you just piss me off."

"Yeah, ain't it hell? You're a sucker for an insult, Martin. All the time we've been together and you still fall for it every time. You really need to work on your self-confidence, you know."

"That's not all I want from you."

"Might be all that's left once they finish carving on me."

"We'll deal with whatever we have to deal with when it's time."

"I won't make much of a picture with only one leg."

"Greg, you'll be a better man with one leg than most guys are with two. Besides, you're going to have two legs and that's just something you'll have to deal with."

"Not a better man than Augie," he said.

"Well, I didn't say all men. Augie is a stud," I said with an air of admiration in my voice.

"You little prick, you making eyes at Augie?"

"You fall for it every time, Greg. Get out of the kitchen if you can't take the heat."

Greg glared at me because he had risen to the bait. On the way back he kept trying to get me to go faster. I did for a short ways but I remembered his father's instructions and slowed down and listened to the protests from my passenger. Then he started yelling that he had a cramp and I stopped the bike to see what I could do.

When I got to him he grabbed me and pulled me onto the cart and kissed me. A car came past and I tried to get free of him but he wouldn't let me go. Once we were alone on the road he kissed me again. We held each other for a few minutes, listening for the gravel crunching under tires or feet but no one else came.

I cried but so he didn't know. I was really scared then.

"I'm tired," he finally said, letting me go. "I'm hungry and tired and you crowding me off my cart. What, you want me to peddle?"

"Me too," I said. "On the hungry and tired. I'll peddle."

"I guess I didn't let you get much sleep last night."

"As I remember I had a little something to do with that."

"Yeah, you put up with a lot. I really needed to prove I could," he said.

"You don't need to prove anything to me."

"You know I've never felt like that before. I mean it was like I could go on forever. My dick felt like it was a yard long and a foot wide and both times when I came it was like I wasn't going to ever stop."

"You telling me. You were almost a yard long and a foot wide. You've never reacted like that before," I said. "I got hot just being with you."

"Because I'm scared. It's the only time I'm not scared now, when you getting me worked up. I forget everything then. You figure my brain's in my dick?"

"Probably. It's going to be all right, Greg."

"Yeah," he said, not believing it. "I know."

It was something he had to deal with alone. There was no way for me to help him lift the weight he'd been given. As much as I loved him and as hard as I tried, at best I neutralized the pain for a time. I was hoping the worst thing he faced was losing his leg but I knew, although no one said it, that it was far worse than that.

No one spoke the words and no one wanted to go there but we all knew that while the leg was the worry most on our mind, in the back of our minds was the greater fear of what it meant if they took the leg - . In the back of all our minds was the same words, cancer and metastases.

 

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 54

Looking Glass

"You want more potato salad, Greg?"

"Yeah! It's good. Thanks."

"Where's Doug?" Greg's mother asked.

"I think Augie's showing him something," Greg replied, smiling at me as I glared at him. "Well he is!"

"Not like him to miss food. I'll keep a plate for him. Maybe Augie too. He's a nice boy."

"Yeah, very nice, mother. Wouldn't you agree, Martin. I think Doug said that too," Greg said as his mother looked at him strangely.

"Nice," I said. "I think he said he had to go up to check his campsite since he stayed here last night, and Doug went along."

"You're in a better mood this afternoon," Greg's mother said.

"Yeah, Martin made me see the light," Greg said, smirking.

I wanted to hit him as I blushed and swallowed hard. "He's nice. Aren't you, Martin? Nice?"

"Very nice," I said, glaring some more.

"Well, whatever he did, it's good for you. Here, I made this earlier. It's your favorite."

Greg's mom sat a piece of apple pie down in front of him and then delivered one to me, patting my arm and smiling warmly.

"If it's for me why are you giving him some?" Greg smirked.

"You want some ice cream Martin. His father churned up a batch this morning for you boys."

"When does that man sleep?" I muttered. "I'd love some ice cream."

"Hold up there, chubs!" Greg interrupted with devilish delight. "You're starting to pick up a little poundage there. Maybe you ought to pass on that ice cream deal?"

"Greg!" His mother said alarmed. "He's skinny as a rail. What's gotten into you. Let the boy eat."

"Mom, you ruin everything. I would have convinced him he was getting fat and bummed another ride of him this afternoon, while convincing him he needed the exercise, and now I'm going to have to beg him to take me out again."

"Greg!" His mother said. "You are terrible."

"That's not what Martin thinks. Huh, Martin?"

"Greg!"

"Well, since she ruined that scheme, what about another trip on that buggy? I only got two good legs for another day and a ½, and I want to use them while I can."

"Greg, you don't use them. You lay on your butt and I peddle that damn thing, and it gets heavy after a while."

"See, mom, I'd a had him begging to take me out and now I'll have to think up something else. I'll have to bribe him. Let's see, what do I have to bribe you with? Hmmm! I'm thinking, Martin."

"I'll take you, quit thinking. Whatever you come up with will just make matters worse," I said. "It will be easier if I humor you."

"I don't know. I could have thought of something you want, but I accept. I guess I can let you take me out again."

"Greg!" His mother said, "You should lighten up on Martin. You aren't exactly swimming in friends and he puts up with a lot of shit from you, young man."

"Mother! I'm shocked. I shouldn't be exposed to such fucking language as that."

"You better learn to treat your friends a little nicer." she said then turning to me, "Martin, I'd make him sit her the rest of the weekend and you can run around with Doug and Augie. He can hold my yarn while I knit."

"Yuk," Greg said, shoving his finger in his mouth, faking a gagging response and then shoving in the rest of the pie for good measure. "Yeah, Doug and Augie wouldn't mind you hanging around now that I think of it."

I suppose I should have been pleased that Greg was perking up some but he was always right on the edge of saying things I would rather him not say. It would be just like him to say something just because he knew it would embarrass the hell out of me. Nothing embarrassed him. I suppose I was just too sensitive.

I did help clean the table and then I helped Greg back up the hill to where I left the buggy, as he called it. Once I got him arranged we were on our way. There were some clouds but the sun was warm enough that I was warm by the time we got over the hill and were cruising on the flat stretch. Greg took off his shirt to bask in the sun.

There was a guy and a girl on the pier when we got to the clubhouse but except for their car, all the vehicles were gone and the clubhouse had been closed due to lack of interest. They sat with their feet dangling in the rolling river for a few minutes and then ran back down the pier and got in their car and left.

"I want to go swimming really bad," Greg said, watching the smooth water as it moved past.

"Greg!"

"Well, I do. I'm tired of being a lump. I don't care any more as long as I can get out and go. I'm sick of this shit."

"Sick ah what," Augie said, walking delicately across the gravel drive with Doug limping along a few dozen yards behind.

"What the fuck are you two dressed for?" Greg asked, staring at Augie's crotch as he moved up to the buggy.

"Swimming! Fucking roasting in that tent and your brother's no help. I need to cool down before I blow a gasket," Augie said.

He was wearing a tight red Speedo bathing suit that failed completely in any attempt to hide the contours of the well defined equipment enclosed within. I watched it wiggling against the nylon each time he moved. Augie smiled when he realized where we were looking.

"What have you been feeding that thing?" Greg asked, not taking his eyes off his crotch.

"Your brother. Fucker's hot to trot," Augie said, looking back at a slower moving Doug, who was suffering from the gravel on his bare feet.

He too was in a red nylon Speedo bathing suit that was the exact duplicate of Augie's in every way and it covered him no more completely, but Doug was built differently and you could see the top of his blond pubes peaking over the waistband below his smooth hairless belly.

Doug was totally hard and his thick dick nearly escaped the material each time he took a step toward us. He was more worried about his tender feet than the fact we could easily view his dick, although that would have been his biggest concern most days.

"What?" He said, after stopping beside the buggy.

Augie stared at Doug until he got to us and then he moved up beside him until their bodies touched.

"Your dick is showing," Greg said bluntly. "Even my little brother's dick is growing. What have you two been up to. You takin' advantage of my little brother, Augie?"

"Greg!" Doug objected.

"Well you don't usually walk around with a bone like that, squirt."

"I can't help it. It's his suit. I wasn't going to wear my underwear down here and he had this. It's hot up there. He was showing me his tent."

"Right! Did he show you his etchings, Dougie?"

"What he showed me is my business," Augie quipped.

"At least you could have waited for it to get soft," Greg said.

Augie busted out laughing and then Doug laughed too, realizing it wasn't all that serious. There wasn't anyone around but us and we knew all about Doug.

"Easier said than done," Augie said. "I needed a break."

"Well yours isn't much better off," Greg observed.

"Yeah, well, there are some things you can't do much about. We figured we'd swim for a while, maybe have some outdoor fun once we cool off. If that don't work it'll be cooling off up there in another hour or two."

"Yeah, that was the plan until you two showed up," Doug complained. "Augie said he's been swimming naked in the afternoon because no one is around."

"Don't let us stop you. Go for it. How often do you get down here, squirt? I don't care what you two do," Greg reasoned carefully.

Doug watched his brother speak, suspicious of what he said. Greg wasn't usually that generous if there wasn't something in it for him.

Before long Augie was running across the pier to dive head first into the water. When he came up he was howling from the temperature of the water. Doug moved more cautiously to the end of the pier, jumped in after studying the water. He came up, having a similar reaction to the cold water.

"Fucker's hot," Greg said softly, not sure of how I would react. He watched them swimming and wrestling in the water.

"Yep," I agreed.

"Now my dick's fucking hard. I been hard all fucking weekend."

"Oh," I said.

"Want to see?" He pulled open the front of his pajamas and all the snaps unsnapped, leaving his crotch completely exposed and with no shirt on, he was all but naked.

I looked around to see what I could see but all I could see of any interest was Greg's erection when I looked back toward him. He stroked it as he watched Augie and Doug wrestling sensually with their faces and mouths almost always touching.

He stroked himself slow at first, not asking for an assist, and it was almost as hard as it had been the night before, every pour pulled tight and shinning. It's ridges and the shaft looked like steel as he pumped in long easy strokes, while staring into the river.

I sat down beside him and reached for the item in question. I couldn't help myself. Greg's cock was like this big magnet to me, and my hand was immediately pulled onto it. He leaned back without a protest, letting go so I could handle him as we watched the lovers motions and he moaned softly for me.

"Take it easy. I want it to last," he said. "I'm ready to cum right now, so let up, okay."

"Greg!" I objected, "You take forever to cum. I'm not doing anything but holding it."

"I know it. It's watching them. Thinking about him fucking my brother. God he's gotten big. He's got a hot body."

Greg was watching them swim and his cock pulsed in my fist as I held it up without manipulations. Augie spotted us and alerted Doug that we were watching. Doug stared too as Augie let his chest rub against Doug's back, looking over Doug's shoulder toward the all but naked Greg.

"So much for the show," Greg said. "I wanted to see him fuck my brother. Go ahead. May as well finish it. Won't take long."

Greg leaned back as I started pumping away. Augie continued starring while he kissed Doug's neck and felt his chest. He became more interested in Greg's erection and started to move Doug up toward the shore where we were parked.

"Anybody but you two around?" Augie asked, when they were maybe ten feet away from the shore.

I looked around and said, "Nah, just us perverts."

Augie turned Doug and put his arms around him, kissing his neck and then planting a wet one on his lips.

"Come on. You said you would," Augie reminded him.

"Not in front of them," Doug complained, kissing Augie back and glancing toward us.

"Yeah, in front of them. Let's go up there. Come on. It'll get them going."

They stood up and Doug had his bathing suit in his hand. His dick was pointing up at us as they came out of the water and then Augie was behind him, slipping down his Speedos once they stopped just below the buggy on the shore. Greg moved his pillows behind him to prop himself up for a better view.

Augie had his hand down on Doug's swollen dick by then, turning him half a turn so we got to see the action. They were maybe an arm's length from the buggy and a little below it where the shore met the water.

Augie slid up into Doug's crack as Doug bent forward and Augie's cock slid all the way up to the top of the crack.

"Fuck!" Greg said, look at the size of that dick head.

As we watched they pushed their bodies together and Augie's cock was positioned perfectly for entry and he leaned over Doug's back as he began to ease himself forward. His body was bent as his hips moved in small increments and Doug's head was turned toward us as he watched us watch him.

Doug had his hands on his knees as Augie's hand stroked him easily. There was no doubt how much Doug enjoyed being filled with a hard cock. His face said it all as he looked at my eyes.

Augie's hips pushed forward in one long motion until his coal black cock hairs were rubbing in Doug's crack. He pushed a few times to make sure he was all the way in and Doug put one of his hands on Augie's so he'd stop jerking him off. They stood steady and motionless as Augie pinched his eyes tightly shut.

"Oh man, I don't want to loose it," he said, putting his face on Doug's back as he tried to relax under our steady gaze.

"Fuck!" Greg said. "Man I'm going to shoot. I don't want to shoot yet. This is fucking hot."

Augie looked straight at Greg's cock once he started fucking Doug. His hips slapped against Doug's smooth golden skin as he started with short thrusts never coming out far, before shoving it all the way back in. Both of them groaned each time Augie hit bottom and they moved together like a well trained team.

"Let's get closer. I want to see his cock," Augie said, moving Doug almost next to the buggy but a little below it as Greg's eyes were rivet on how the cock entered his brother's hole. Augie backed out ever so slowly until the shaft was completely visible and only the head stayed buried in that wonderful hot spot that was stretched open wide.

Augie took his time slipping it back, and then pulled it out almost as far a second time, stopping so we could watch how his cock was swollen from the thrill. His mouth hung open as he gasped excitedly and then he pushed it back in, and out, and back in, until he reached the speed of a small piston engine. They worked together, panting and moaning as Augie picked up speed.

"Go ahead," Greg said. "No point in just holding it. I'm going to shoot anyway. May as well get a good one."

Augie's eyes stayed on Greg's dick. Greg leaned back hard against the cushions and never took his eyes off of where Augie's business end entered Doug.

I stroked him harder but didn't dare put myself between him and that which had his undivided attention. My jaws had started aching from all the sucking I'd done the night before and so this was totally cool for me and not a bad show to boot. I'd have put his hand on mine only he'd have cum right off and I knew he wanted it to last.

The sound was more like from an animal than from a human. I felt the discharge like some hydraulic cannon that lurched out a shell and then another as he put his hand on top of mine so I'd squeeze.

Both jets of cum splattered on Augie, and that's what Greg had in mind by aiming his shot. Augie's hand immediately went to rubbing it into his red skin and his cock. Gobs of thick cream stuck between his fingers and puddles ran on his skin.

"Fuck!" Augie said, as more cum splattered both on him and Doug. "That's so fucking hot. Put it on me, Greg. My chest!"

Greg moaned out one last huge spurt that splattered on Augie's chest and stomach and he rubbed it into his rich round nipples, spreading the white sticky fluid all over his dark excited flesh. He tried to look at how the cum coated him as he moved it around on his skin but never stopped his fucking.

A loud moan escaped from Augie after several hard thrusts at which time he pulled out and turned toward us, jacking himself off and pointing it directly at Greg's crotch.

His thick red dick head slipped in and out of its chocolate brown sheath and clear fluid started to shine the top as he twisted and contorted. Doug got into the action and they made quite the pair jerking off for us.

Augie's first shot squirted out of him and made a splashing sound when it collided with Greg's crotch. There was another shot on his cock and balls and the third leaped out and up Greg's stomach and onto his chest.

Doug joined the party, letting loose three solid streams that finished coating Greg's genitalia with some left over for his stomach. Greg's cock hair shined with cum and his dick had stiffened by the time both boys were drained. The cum ran down the sides of his cock.

Augie wasted no time kicking off his Speedos and grabbing Greg's slick dick, pumping it up with his thick strong fingers, using the cum to get Greg going yet again and it didn't take much. He was moaning and raising his hips up as another orgasm boiled up into his loins. It shot on Augie's chest and crotch and on his spent dick and in the dark shinny cock hair. Cum ran down the inside of Augie's thighs, the white cream a striking contrast to the dark red skin and the fine black hairs.

We all stared until it was empty and then Augie looked down at his cum filled torso, once more rubbing Greg's cum into his skin.

"That's awesome," Augie said, feeling the cum that had coated his black pubic hairs. "Totally awesome, dude. You da man."

"Fuck if it wasn't," Doug said. "That was rad."

Doug's usual shy and self-conscious demeanor was all but lost there by the river's edge.

Greg lay silent, watching Augie and Doug melt back together until their naked bodies touched.

"I heard about the thing on your leg. I hope it's okay, Greg. You're still cool in my book. I figured that would perk you up some. I remember how worked up you got that time."

"Yeah, you too," Greg said, seeming almost too exhausted to speak. "You keep an eye on my little brother. He needs TLC."

"Don't worry. That's not a problem," Augie said, sliding his arm around Doug's waist. "Not a problem at all."

Doug and Augie collected their suits and moved back toward the road. This time their Speedos weren't as full as when they came.

"You want me to wipe you up?" I asked him, looking for something to do the chore with but only his pajama tops were available.

"No. I want it there. You're pissed off, I guess? You're always pissed off at something. He's harmless."

"Shit! The hottest thing I've ever seen," I said. "You call that harmless. I almost came in my pants."

"Yeah, I'm getting hard thinking about it," Greg said, feeling his soft dick. "We better get out of here. His hands are rough and now I'm raw down there. Might need the night off after that one."

"Right! That's about six and seven for you since you got started last night. I think you're done for the day."

"Never done, Martin. Never done as long as there's a breath left. Be nice and I'll let you suck it clean tonight. Augie's, my brother's, and my cum all mixed up together for you. I bet you wouldn't mind that."

"I could probably take care of that for you. You like him. Why didn't you two do anything. You're both hot for each other."

"I told you. Bulls," he said as I peddled him onto the road with only a couple of snaps holding his pants on.

He fell asleep on the way back to the house. I wanted to wake him up because I sensed another long night ahead of us. I was glad the relief team had come in for a few minutes, although watching the bulls compete got me back up and running as well. Maybe letting his sleep would make it a more interesting night.

 

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 55

Sunday Silence

 

Greg's outing had worn him out. We didn't wake him for dinner but I took him food and sat with him while he was awake for a couple of hours. There was a roaring fire going in the fireplace when I came out of the bedroom. Everyone was sitting around in the living room with one exception, Augie was no where to be seen.

There was a card game, small talk, and the food just kept on coming. There was ice cream, cake, and pie, and plenty of chips and Coke. Everyone was content to play for some time but I was still worried about Greg and not concentration on the game. I guess getting slaughtered requires some excuse, but I didn't win a hand and certainly not the game.

The idea that Greg would get plenty of rest and be a live wire when I went to bed wasn't true. I lost at cards and I lost at love, although the events at the river that day, was a keeper for my memory banks. I was far more tired than I thought and I fell asleep right after establishing that Greg wasn't going to wake up for a period of fun and games.

I don't know what time I woke up but it was getting daylight and Greg was already awake, staring patiently at the ceiling, waiting for my help.

"I've got to go," he said, sensing my awakening.

"Come on, I'll help you," I said, going around to his side of the bed.

Throwing back the covers, I found he was in a extreme state of erectile bliss.

"Why don't you use the bottle," I suggested.

"I want to stand up and pee in the toilet like a man. It's one of my few luxuries, you know."

"I've got to put those damn pajamas on you?"

"No! Pop'll already be outside. Mom and Doug will sleep until noon if no one gets them up."

"You want to go naked to the bathroom?"

"No! I've got my cast on. I'll tuck it into my cast if someone comes along."

"Yeah, right. I don't think you can tuck that thing anywhere as hard as it is."

"I was thinking about yesterday."

"Augie?"

"With my brother. You notice how when a dick head gets near Doug's ass, it just sorta sucks it inside."

"Greg!" I said.

"You've fucked him. It's like a warm mouth sucking you up."

"Greg!"

"You're so proper all the time. When are you going to loosen up? Doug knows what he likes. You know what he likes. I sure as hell know what he likes. Me saying what he likes isn't giving away any national secrets."

"You're in a strange mood today. I don't like talking about someone like they're a piece of meat."

"Jesus, that's not even what I said. Fucking him is like an experience is all I'm saying. Doug is good because he really likes it up the ass. Watching him take Augie was hot. Well, wasn't it?"

"Yes, hot," I reluctantly agreed while getting up under his arm and starting him toward the door.

"Augie's no little boy. He's near about as thick as me. Not nearly as long but almost as wide, and Doug had no problem with him. You know I wanted you. There was no way I was going to talk you into anything down there but I wanted you so bad. I figured if I jacked off you just might... you know."

"If you'd let me in on what you wanted I might have given you a hand."

"Yeah, well, I have a hand of my own. That's really not what I had in mind. While my brother was taking it up the butt, I was more thinking in that area."

As we got to the door he grew quiet. He leaned out in the hall to make sure the way was clear and he couldn't hear anyone moving around. We eased our way to the bathroom, where he stood and we waited.

"Better help me aim it. If I don't hold onto the wall and you, I'm going to end up pissing in the air while laying on my back."

"You sure we're here to piss?"

"Yeah, I'm sure but my dick ain't got the message yet. Once he sees the toilet, he'll figure it out."

I'd wanted to touch it since I pulled the covers down but I wasn't sure what was best for him at the time. When I did grab on and point it down at the water, it let go with a shiver and he let go with a sigh that was more on the order of a stifled moan.

"Maybe that wasn't such a bright idea," he said.

"Why's that?"

"I told you I've been thinking about yesterday. I've got to piss and I need to cum and that's not a real good mixture at the moment. Your hand makes it think it wants to cum. Why didn't you wake me up last night. You knew I was horny."

"Greg, you got off twice at the river and I'm not sure how many times I got you off the night before. I didn't want to bother you."

"Well, now you see what happens. It was five times and that was way earlier than last night."

"What was five times?"

"You got me off five times."

"You want me to jack you off?" I asked, wanting to help.

"I told you I've got a hand, Martin."

"Well I'm not blowing you here. I'm worried someone will walk in the bedroom while I'm doing that. I'm not doing it in here."

"I really need to piss," he said, sounding sure. "It's starting to hurt."

I did the only thing I knew to do and put a finger on his butt hole. He flinched but raised no objection. Once I broke through and slipped it past the muscle, he started to squirt a couple of erratic bursts of piss.

"It burns. I'm not like Doug. You notice he doesn't have any hair back there. You think he shaves it?"

"No, he doesn't shave there."

"I've got hair everywhere down there. You got hairy everywhere down there. Why doesn't he?"

"He's smooth. He's delicate. I guess he doesn't grow hair there yet."

"Herbie use to say it was like fucking a girl."

"What did you say to that?" I asked.

"I agreed with him."

"Greg!"

"You know we use to do that. Hell, we slept together until we moved here. I'd just roll over and there he was and as soon as my dick got close to his hot spot, he was after it."

"Greg! I don't have to know everything."

"You think Herbie and I ruined him for girls?"

"No, he's got Cheryl and they really like each other."

"Good, I'd hate to think I ruined my own brother. It wasn't like he wasn't all for it. We all started on that way too young. I worry about it sometimes."

"I think Doug knows what he likes and likes what he likes and you and Herbie merely furnished him with what he'd have found on his own otherwise."

"Augie tried," Greg said as the pee starting running, and running, and running.

"He did more than that," I said.

"You let him fuck you?"

"What are you talking about. I haven't been with Augie. Not anything serious."

"He tried to fuck me," Greg said, sounding a bit sheepish.

"You let him?" I asked.

"He didn't. He just tried."

"You let him?"

"We were wrestling. It was some time after we saw you doing Doug in the middle of the trail."

"That wasn't my idea," I defended.

"I may not be a genius but I had already figured that one out, Martin. Doug has an appetite for it. You just wait until someone politely asks you to put it somewhere."

"Why were you so pissed of then? I mean you're telling me all about Doug. Why did Doug being Doug and me doing that to him make you so angry? As I recall you dismissed me as someone you never wanted to cross paths with again," I reminded him as I held his fast emptying and softening dick.

"Very funny, cross paths again. You should be a comedian. Want to wet a washrag and maybe wash some of this shit off me. I'm covered in it. I'm starting to smell like a cum factory. It seemed like a good idea at the time but we all pumped out major loads. Except for you because someone didn't say, please Martin, won't you shoot a load on Greg while we're at it."

"Greg! Sure I can wet a washcloth. Let's get you back in the bedroom first," I said, helping him back down the hall.

When I came back with the washrag he was covered up to his waist and so I started with his arms and underarms first, working over to his chest, and then down to his stomach. When I peeled back the blanket he was working on another boner. I did his thighs and between his legs and then his balls and by that time he was standing tall.

"We were wrestling."

"You and Augie," I said, still having a bookmark on that conversation.

"Yeah, he was always wanting to wrestle me."

"He doesn't wrestle with Doug."

"That's because Doug gives it up without a struggle."

"Greg! Cut it out."

"Martin! You are so naïve. What do you think we're talking about."

"I don't talk about being with someone."

"Oh, so you were with Augie."

"No."

"Well, you're not talking about it and you said that's when you have done something. I listen to what you say."

"You're hopeless."

"Horny too. Why don't you wash on that some," he said, making it twitch so I had no trouble knowing what he wanted washed.

"You got a hand," I reminded him.

"Yeah, but yours is way softer than mine."

"We are talking about my hand, right?"

"You don't talk about it except when you want to talk about it, that it? I wanted you to cum on me too. I never figured how hot that would be. I mean my own brother standing there pumping up a load to shoot on me. I'd a kicked that little fucker's ass for that if I had two good legs. Hell, one good leg."

"I've only cum on you a hundred times," I said, getting a good grip and massaging firmly until he closed his eyes and parted his lips to let out the overheated air.

"I mean yesterday when they did it. You aren't pissed off about Augie doing that? I figured you'd get pissed off. He owed me one and he just picked a weird time to pay up. Hot fucking time. How they come up with doing that in front of me? They knew what they were doing."

"You were only jacking off while you watched them. Owed you one what?"

"You like him. I mean, like him as in sexually."

"He's okay."

"You like him. I like him. He tried to fuck me and he's got that self- lubing dick, you know, that's wild too. I wish mine did that. Well, if you don't, he's always leaking precum by the buckets. That's how you can tell if he's just being a stud and getting hard or if he's wanting action and is turned on. Anyway, he'd tried while we were wrestling."

"To fuck you?"

"Yeah, like that. He had my arm up behind me, riding my ass, you know. I let him get the best of me to see what he'd try, but he's strong and a damn good wrestler. Anyway he got that self-lubing job up in my crack and the next thing I know he's really working on my hole with it. It's not what I intended, although I got pretty hot at the time. I never got hot thinking about it before. Anyway, it hurt and I made him stop and he was like really worked up when he rolled off me. I mean just humping my hole had him ready to pop. I reached over and felt it because it was way thick and red, really red. Man's got a thick dick for sure. Not as thick as me, but probably as close as I've seen. Anyway, when I start feeling it, he's got this pitiful look on his face. I can see how bad he needs it, and he likes my hand just fine."

"You haven't seen Van," I said.

"Van's the guy Augie runs with?"

"Yeah."

"He's big?"

"Well, yeah, pretty big," I said, not wanting to diminish Greg's image of himself. "Go ahead with what you were saying. It was just getting interesting."

"So his dick is like really thick and his hips are pushing it at my fingers. He grabs my wrist with both hands and he's fucking my hand. I mean like really fucking away."

"After you wrapped your fingers around it so he could."

"Yeah, like that, and he's juicing all on my hand and in about a minute he's got this industrial strength cum firing up on his chest. He's got a good chest, you know, and he coats it with this thick cum of his."

"So he paid you back yesterday and it didn't take him much longer to get you off. You never get off that fast when I'm doing it."

"Something about that guy gets me going. On account he's such a man, I guess. I can't imagine him doing that to me. Doug... I have no trouble imagining him giving it to Doug. I mean Augie's the kind of guy that's all fucker and not the least bit fuckee, you know. I think I like a guy that's studly."

"Yeah, well, he might not be all that studly," I said, picturing Van feeding the biggest dick I'd ever seen up his ass. "He's been in jail you know."

"Yeah, I know, but he was the fucker. No doubt in my mind. No body could fuck him. I tried and he wouldn't let me near it."

"Oh, you tried to fuck him."

"Yeah, but I knew it wasn't going to happen. I was losing interest when he got on top of me and well, I told you what happened."

"Yeah, you did, and I'm wondering why."

"So none of it makes you at all mad at me? You're just all of a sudden happy no matter who I'm doing what with?"

"No, Greg. It made me as hot as it made you. I nearly shot in my shorts."

"Those shorts," he said, looking at my bulging underwear.

"The one and only until I get home. I forgot to pack."

He reached up to pull my shorts to my knees and I was getting the bath after that. Greg was odd that way. A lot of times he wouldn't even go near it and then at times like this he went straight for it. I wasn't sure what was really going on with all the confessing and explaining, because he wasn't someone that felt he had to explain himself to anyone. Greg just was, and that had to be good enough for you if you wanted to be close to him. I accepted him pretty much on his own terms but his terms were changing before my eyes and it took a few minutes for me to figure out why. Of course just then I wasn't doing my best thinking because his mouth had my mind in a turmoil.

Getting service from Greg was enough to get me going big time. At this particular point in time I was hot to trot and the fact he never let up on me, until I was trotting, and then he still kept going, until I was ready to fall down, and then he made room for me on the bed and hit me with the real question of the day.

"You think I might die?"

It wasn't a question I had considered, although I had considered his death by this time, just not in such blunt terms from the person in question.

I lay silently beside him, one of his arms over my chest as he failed to clarify or simplify the question for me. It ran around the inside of my head for the longest time and then the question became something more meaningful.

"Is that what all this has been about, Greg?" I asked, turning on my side to snuggle against him, putting my arm over his chest, watching him stare at something I still was unable to see.

"I don't want you to be alone. Augie or Doug would be good for you. My brother is cool even though I never tell him. When you think about it, you are a better match with him. I'm an asshole about half the time and I've got the sense of jackass. I mean I know it. I know you love me. No one could put up with what I put you through and not. I love you Martin and you should be happy. I want to know you will be happy if I should... you know... if that happens."

"No, I don't think you will and quit trying to fix me up. I'm with you. Why don't you want me at the hospital?"

"You're going to flunk out and you're too close to pull shit like that. You're almost there. You can't do me no good. I mean they're all going to be there. It's not like I can tell them not to come but you can't do me any good by missing more school. If you go to school and go to classes, then it will be over by the time your on the way home. Besides, I'll be in the recovery room. You won't be able to see me."

"Yeah," I said, unable to get to where he wanted me to go.

"I was always jealous of you, Greg said out of nowhere, "That's why I gave you such a hard time."

"Jealous of me? You?" The idea of the most beautiful person I'd ever known being jealous of me was funny.

"You're so damn loyal. You're a real good guy. I mean REAL good guy. I'm such a jerk. I've gotten everything I ever got with my dick and my smile. It's always been about getting what I wanted and then you come along, and from the first time I see you, I know you're big trouble and I need to stay away from your ass, but I never could.

"That day on the path when I saw you with my brother, fucking him right there in front of me, I lost it. I didn't think we'd ever be together because if that's what you liked than I was outclassed by Doug and I knew it. I suppose that's why I let Augie try. I wanted to see if I maybe could take it. I mean from someone as big as him. Of course with you it was easy."

"You saying I'm small? Well, I'm insulted. Look Greg, you are overpowering at times but I've always known what you are. I also knew that inside there somewhere was this really neat guy I wanted to know."

"You wanted to fuck, you mean," he said, giggling at my understatement.

"I'd never been with anyone, so no, I didn't think of that, but I did notice you had one hell of an ass and the way it filled those jeans was awesome. I'd never looked at a guy's ass the way I looked at yours. I never noticed anyone before that day but I knew I was going to fall in love with you. I didn't know how but I knew I would."

"I knew too. That's funny, you know. I've never known anything before. I knew you were trouble. I knew it before you ever said a word. I said, I love you. Aren't you going to ask me if I really love you?"

"No," I said.

"If you really loved me, you'd do me one favor," he said.

"I'm not going with Augie or Doug or anyone else you have in mind, Greg. I'm not in love with them."

"No, that's not it. It's not going to go down until you do something with it. I mean take it slow because I'm still a bit worked up over what we just did, but if you don't mind. I really need it."

It was on the trip home and we road in the back of the pickup his father drove. Some time during the drive I fell asleep. When I woke up, Greg was snuggled up against me, his one arm over my chest and my arms was behind his back. When I opened my eyes the back of the camper shell was up and his father was leaning on the tailgate of the pickup truck with his forearms and his hands were folded in front of him. He was just standing there looking at his son.

"You want a soda, Martin? I needed something cold to drink," he said, when I opened my eyes.

"Yes, sir," I said, and he stayed there for another minute, just looking into Greg's face. I could see the worry in his dark misty eyes.

 

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 56

Long Road Home

 

The colonel was the last to arrive and his hat with the gold braid was shoved up deep into his armpit and his uniform was sharply creased and he looked like he had just walked off a war movie set. His hair was salt and pepper gray and his face was etched with lines that ran deeper than the ones I could see when we were up in the mountains.

He went immediately to Greg's mother without speaking and kissed her on the cheek before he went to the far side of the room and sat ramrod straight, leaning his head back against the window frame and closing his eyes as he waited.

She sat knitting. Her fingers moved adroitly at an impossible speed as her steel blue eyes peered through the lenses of her silver framed glasses. She chewed gum with the same focus with which she wielded her knitting needles.

I would have paced but Doug had already taken that on as he went from one wall to the other, strolling as you might do if you were on a casual walk in the woods. There wasn't room for two of us to pace and so I sat with a magazine on my lap, starring at the door that rarely opened. I don't know which magazine. I never looked at the cover or read a word. It was strictly for show.

I don't know why we didn't talk or interact but I've got to figure that this was a private vigil no matter how many people waited. I'd considered all the outcomes and liked none of them. I saw Greg the way I saw him the first day I ever saw him. He was beautiful, walked proudly, more strutted arrogantly, and had the world by the tail. That was four years ago and my world was completely different and so was his.

I knew most of what I knew and felt about life and loving was a direct result of loving Greg. There had never been any doubt that I would love him. I knew that without ever having loved anyone before and I certainly never had been loved by anyone that I knew about even then. How does a kid know something like that, when he looks upon another boy for the first time? Was it truly written in the stars? Was this some play that was acted out over and over again and we all knew our roles and took the stage, waiting to relive it yet again?

Why was there so much tragedy in the world? Why did people hate when loving was so much more rewarding? Even though it was the most painful thing I'd ever done, I'd take that pain every day of my life to reach the love I felt for Greg. I had been made angry, jealous, dizzy with delight, warm and fuzzy, alienated, desperate, content, devoid of all feelings, crushed, alarmed, sympathetic, nurturing, liking, loving, and hopelessly intertwined in his life.

I would do it all over again to reach his love if we then only shared that love for a minute. It was that love that made my life worth the living and nothing had ever done that before.

Now I sat listening to my heartbeat, trying to keep all negative images out of my brain, praying for all the positive energy in the universe to bombard the hospital and Greg. I could hear the gum and the fingers next to me without looking. I could hear Doug each time he turned to pace back to the other wall, not really seeing him. The colonel sat without motion as we waited for the unknown to become known.

It was something short of noon when the man with the white coat came into the room. The colonel stood, Doug turned, Greg's mother stopped in mid-stitch, and I stared. My heart stopped and I did not dare breath.

"He's in recovery. He's resting comfortably. We made a small incision so we didn't disturb too much tissue. We removed the growth, sent samples to the lab, and checked the condition of the break. It all looks good. All the hardware is holding fine and there is remarkable amounts of calcium that have cemented the bone together as well as we could have hoped."

"The growth!" The colonel ordered.

"I don't see a problem. Looks good. Preliminary tests show no sign of cancer. Of course we'll have to wait for a final analysis, but I'd say we're fine on that front. I wouldn't worry."

Suddenly we were all breathing at the same time. Massive amounts of air were expelled into the room as the doctor seemed oblivious to our anguish.

"We're going to try a soft cast so he can go home tomorrow if everything checks out. We think he'll do better in a home environment. He can remove the cast at night to make sleeping easier and it will give him some good mobility, but he must take things slowly. No steps. No uneven ground. He stays in the house unless he's in a wheelchair or being carried. Other than that he should be okay at home. We'll eliminate the drugs and see if he can't do it on his own from here on out. It looks good. He's got a long rehabilitation ahead of him but he's a remarkable young man. The night they brought him in, we weren't sure he'd ever walk again but he should do fine. A limp but otherwise fine."

"Can we see him," The colonel asked.

"He's out of it right now. I'll get the nurse to come for you when he wakes up. I wouldn't tire him out too much today. He's going to want to sleep but by tomorrow morning I suspect he'll be ready to go home."

"Does he know he's coming home?" Greg's mother asked.

"No, we didn't want to risk upsetting him if we didn't like what we saw in there. You can tell him he's finally going home when he wakes up."

*****

There is disbelief and then again there is disbelief. It was difficult to take it all in at that instant. Dealing with matters of life and death are life-altering experiences, to say the least. I couldn't see it in anyone's terms but my own. Thinking that Greg was going home hadn't entered my mind but that was most certainly a life altering experience. I knew the complication that was going to create in my life but for the moment, hearing the doctor's prognosis, was good medicine for a lot of people that had been on tenterhooks.

Doug finally sat down and immediately began to weep gigantic tears of relief. He shook and the tears cascaded out of his gentle blue eyes as his mother dropped her knitting and sat beside him, pulling his head into her lap as he sobbed. The colonel stood at attention long after the doctor departed from our midst. I could see the relief come to his tired face.

He wiped his eyes with his hand, turning toward the door, and said, "I've got to get to work. Tell him I love him."

I watched him stride up the hallway and make the turn toward the entrance, disappearing from my view.

*****

Greg was in less than good humor, after we were finally allowed to see him. He didn't mention my disobedience as he stared blankly at us. We were jovial and lighthearted and he hated it, wanting to sleep and be left alone by this annoying group of admirers. After his mother and brother got out the door, he stopped me. I figured I was in for it for one reason or another.

"Come back here," he ordered, and I was sure it wasn't for a goodbye kiss by the way he said it.

"What?" I asked, still giddy with delight over his prospects.

"Pull the sheet off my legs."

"What?"

"You heard me. Pull the sheet off. I want to see."

His words were not friendly and the order was hostile at best, as if he thought we were hiding something from him. I raised the sheet and turned it up to reveal all of both legs.

He closed his eyes tight and let out a sob, "It's still there."

"Yeah, it's doing fine. Nothing to worry about. No cancer. You're going home, Greg. You're going home."

"Home!"

"Yeah, as soon as you straighten your ass out. They'll send you back if you act like a jerk, Greg."

"I thought... I was sure... I dreamed they took it off. I was afraid to look. I've been laying here thinking you all were keeping it from me."

"It's fine. They aren't putting that big Dumbo cast back on either. You'll be able to sleep without anything."

"Home!" He repeated, closing his eyes and starting to fall asleep before I bent to kiss him.

I didn't know what he had gone through. I only knew what I went through and I suspected what his family was going through, but there was no way for me to know what Greg had gone through while there was some concern that he would lose the leg. What must that have been like to live inside his head, knowing that half of you might be missing soon, and that all the pain and suffering you'd endured was just a preliminary round for the real deal that was ahead.

Life, like love, is always fleeting. Even if it lasts one hundred years, one day you had to face the reality that one way or another everything ends. That means we've got to get the most out of life and most especially love while we have it. That means that a little love is better than no love because whose to say that a little love isn't all we're going to get.

How close had I come to losing Greg? How close had he come to losing his leg? How does it all alter you? Me? Him?

I know that loving Greg had been the most painful thing I had ever done. The thought of losing him had been the most painful thought I'd ever endured. Finding love was certainly a life-altering experience, and it did create the possibility for pain. It also created the most incredible feelings I'd ever felt.

My life had been about being alone before Greg. It was never more clear to me how alone I was than after I met Greg. Meeting Greg was falling in love with him for me. There was no lead up to it or developing some great wisdom about one another. I flat-out loved him the first time I saw him. I hated it and at times I hated him and I'm not sure if I really hated myself or just my life, but it pissed me off enough that I wasn't going to let him have the satisfaction of knowing how I felt, but how could he not know?

Everything I did and every thought I had was about Greg. I didn't do anything without first considering him. I loved Doug and I loved Kent but I never considered my love for either of them without first considering my love for Greg. He came first, last, and always in my life, and I suspected he always would. Before Greg there was no love of any kind, only a hostile world that you more had to avoid than tame. There was nothing that told me that happiness existed or that my life mattered in the least, and then there was Greg, and he consumed every fiber in my life, no matter if he hated me, got angry with me, avoided me, or loved me back.

Now, it was all about to change again. My captive audience was captive no more. Everything we had said and done and experienced together had now been reset. It was a whole new ballgame. My life at home was going to get even more complicated than when I refused to obey and never came home even for the vaunted evening meal that somehow made my chaotic family healthy in my parent's distorted minds.

In reality, nothing could make my family healthy. We were by nature alienated from one another, or at least they had always been alienated from me, and perhaps that's unfair. Maybe I was the one who was flawed, deficient, unable to close the gap between us, but I was their kid and it wasn't up to me to find a way to get my parents to like me. How would I know how it's done or even what they expected of me? They never once told me the answer, only speaking of my flaws, my shortcomings, and their disappointment in me.

So, perhaps loving Greg was inevitable, because I had to love someone, sooner or later.  But there was Doug, a boy anyone could love, and Kent, a boy that would gladly love anyone. There were all the boys that flowed through Greg's house during endless weekend orgies that no one acknowledged ever took place. There were countless numbers and countless boys with wide smiles and willing genitalia, but I had never felt anything minutely similar for anyone of them compared to what it was I felt for Greg.

Love can have degrees and most certainly is different each time you love, depending on who it is you practice it with, I suppose, and in loving Greg, I was loving the best, not so much because of his experience, or willingness, or his cocky self-confidence, but because when I was with him, my entire life belonged to him. I would do anything for him. Well, almost anything, because I wasn't a big enough fool to always let him know what a sucker I was for him, but again how could he not know?

But how could he not know his leg was still attached? He'd later say he asked but he didn't believe the answer, and only when I was there with him, alone, did he know I would let him know the truth no matter what that truth was. How could he have not known that his leg was there? I never understood that. What was going on inside of his head during the time he believed it might not be there? What would have happened to him if it hadn't been there? How would all of our lives have been altered?

Everything is fleeting and if you don't make the best of it while you can, you will regret it, but I never regretted loving Greg.

"Gather ye rosebuds while you may."

There was a new world before us. As Doug sat crying and his mother rocked him like a little boy, I knew the world was changing and I didn't have a clue what it meant.

Change is always difficult for me. For one thing I didn't want to go back to feeling what I felt before Greg and so any time there was change that was my biggest fear, not feeling too much but being devoid of feelings altogether.

What if I didn't have him? What if he leaves me? What if he finds someone else to love? What if....?

You've got to live no matter how scared you are of life. There is no point to living if you don't live completely, reach out, go for the gold, the gusto. If not love... nothing.

I wouldn't know how not to love Greg, so loving him was the only thing I could do and it was easy now. It was still scary to know it was all about to change and I was resigned to the change but now that it was upon us, it also represented the unknown.

Greg was a captive audience no longer.

*****

The distance from school to Greg's was a lot shorter than the distance to the hospital. The next day I took some exams and turned in a late paper before exiting. Graduation was almost upon us and I couldn't hurt myself all that badly in my mind. Most of the seniors already knew if they were in trouble and I wasn't; not that I had done anything to assure that I might pass. I was just passing in spite of myself and I would graduate if I showed up for the exams and turned in the papers that were due.

Greg was alone in the house when I got there and he was lying on the foldout bed in the television room. I had some fond memories that centered on that bed and seeing him there just added another, because he was home now, and not just visiting.

"Where have you been? I'm thirsty and I'm hungry."

"Nice to see you too," I said, going over to kiss him.

"Why didn't you come earlier?"

"School," I said. "What do you want to eat?"

"I don't know. Anything but hospital food. Be creative."

I fixed him a ham sandwich on rye bread along with some Coke and potato chips. I found some root beer and fixed the same meal for me after I served him his.

He laughed at the afternoon reruns as he stuffed his mouth full of "real" food. Doug came in and sat down in the chair and stared at Greg. He was all smiles and offered to go get Greg his favorite ice cream. I gave him the keys to the car after Greg approved.

"What's his problem?" Greg asked, after Doug jumped up and headed for the car.

"He's relieved," I said. "We're all relieved."

"Think about how relieved I am," he said, setting down his last half of sandwich. "I'm full. It was good though. You relieved."

"Immensely."

"That's a lot," he said.

"How do you feel?"

"Bummed. I've got this headache. It's killing me. I wondered if you would come up. Where were you all day?"

"School," I said.

"Oh yeah. You told me that, didn't you?"

"You feeling alright?"

"Not really. I'm really tired. I've got pain pills and they're really potent. I don't like taking them but I don't like hurting even more."

"The leg?"

"Yeah, where they cut into it. Fucker's a bitch. The pills help but then I feel like a dope. I only pick up about ½ of what's going on."

"It'll be okay," I said.

"I start rehab next week once it is starting to heal."

"The hospital?" I asked.

"Yeah, Three days a week. If you move in and are here, then I don't have to worry about how I'm going to get to the hospital."

"You could walk," I said,

"Yeah, I can't bend my knee. My right leg is pretty good. I don't trust it but I think it'll hold me up okay. I'm a real gimp when it comes to the left leg."

"It'll take time, Greg. You've had that cast on it forever."

"Yeah, this soft cast is cool," he said, picking up the new cast that he had thrown on the bed beside him.

"When do you use it," I asked.

"When I get up," he said. "I haven't gotten up yet. I don't know how I'll take a dump. Lucky it hasn't come up. When did you say you were moving in?"

"Greg! You just got home."

"So, when are you moving in anyway?"

"I'll talk to my parents. I really didn't expect you to be home this fast," I said.

"Oh, you figured I'd be stuck up there for the rest of my life. That would have been great, huh?"

"No, I went from worrying about... you to you coming home. No time to adjust. I haven't mentioned it to my parents."

"You want my mom to talk to them?"

"No, I think I'll need to tell them."

"When do you graduate?"

"Friday."

"That soon? Good! You can move in Friday night. What can they say?"

"You know, it isn't about what they can say. It's about keeping peace and not making matters worse than they already are. I've pretty much pushed it as far as it goes. I need to go slow."

"Oh, fine time to start going slow. You should have thought about that before you fell in love with me."

"Yeah, well that didn't come up back then."

"I missed you."

"Missed me?"

"Yeah, I was here all alone all day. I told the old man you'd be over and he figured it was okay leaving me."

"It wasn't?"

"What if I had an emergency? What if I had to take a crap?"

"Greg, how long were you here alone?"

"Three or four hours at least. He doesn't know how to take care of me," Greg complained.

"No, he won't put up with your shit, you mean," I said.

Greg turned his head and looked at me like a curious little boy. He smiled a shy embarrassed smile and shook his head.

"It's not good when someone knows you too well. No, Pop isn't about to put up with as much shit from me as you do. I do appreciate it, Martin. I doubt if I would have made it through this without you. I can't imagine being lucky enough to have a friend like you."

"Yeah, well, you remember that in a year, so you know who loves you."

"I've known that as long as I've known you," he said, in a more serious tone. "You don't hide anything, you know."

"Yeah, well, I didn't think I had to. Loving someone is never having to say you're sorry."

"I am sorry, you know."

"Sorry?"

"For being such an asshole. I wasn't very fair to you. Of course I had it all back then. I was a total dick about it. I'm sorry and I wish I had made it easier on you."

"Yeah, well, if you hadn't been so hard on me, I wouldn't have been so happy when we finally got together."

"Yeah. I never thought of it like that. I was kind of doing you a favor, being mean to you all that time, huh? I guess that means you owe me," Greg said, smiling again, but not being serious.

"Yeah, I do. Big time. I owe you everything I feel and most of what I know about love."

"Just most?"

"Yeah, well, I did figure a little out on my own."

"Well, maybe you should just come over here and show me just how appreciative you are for me putting up with you all this time," he said, patting the bed beside him where he wanted me to sit. "We can suck face until my brother gets back with my Rocky Road if you want."

"I want," I said, sitting where he indicated he wanted me and being showered with his kisses before I had time to get ready.

I did love him so.

 

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 57

Rehab

 

I dreamed that Greg fell down the stairs into the basement and lay on the floor for hours because no one was home. Then, I dreamed he fell down the stairs from his bedroom and ended up landing headfirst in the hall across from the television room where he actually was, sleeping with me during my nightmares. I don't know why I was filled with fear now that he was finally out of the hospital.

My parents conceded on a limited basis to allow me to stay up at Greg's. Their reluctant agreement came because they knew I would stay anyway and this way we didn't need to have a fight. My life had been carefully built around Greg and while they weren't clear on what was actually going on, and quite possibly this was merely a delusional state of mind of mine, it worked for me.

Both of Greg's parents had seen us cuddling and holding on to each other at any given time, and if there were objections, they weren't raised in front of me and nothing seemed different in their demeanor toward me. They were happy to have someone in the house with their son.

I finally got out of high school, graduating with Greg in attendance. He did allow Doug to push around in a wheelchair and seemed to like that mode of transport, after spending a great deal of his time objecting to it as he complained about not being a "fuckin' invalid." Nobody listened to him anymore than usual and he was often put in the chair if we went out somewhere that required his mobility. His technique with his crutches was good but he tired quickly.

All my worries about him falling down the stairs were a bit over the top because the back porch stairs were the only stairs we ever used. To go down he sat down and put his bottom on one step and then the next until he was at the bottom and was then pulled back up onto his feet. Going up was the reverse with the pulling up process taking a bit more care so he wouldn't fall back down them.

His left leg was pretty pathetic, although he could stand on his right leg for a length of time and often did for one reason or another. While pissing for instance, and I was always elected to go with him so he could lean on me and then of course, after the door to the bathroom was closed, he'd also needed help holding the leaky member. This often led to erectile dysfunction, if you're trying to piss anyway, and I'd be left holding the bag, and in this case it was stiff as a brick.

There are some benefits when you nursemaid a stud and as I would hold it, pretending I didn't know what was required, he'd make sure I didn't forget.

"I really have to pee," he said.

"I'm not stopping you," I said.

"Oh yes you are. You've got me all horny now."

"It takes getting," I said. "I thought that was your natural state."

"You know what I mean," Greg said. "Why don't you work on it so it goes soft so I can pee."

I don't know if anyone noticed how long it took Greg to pee when I accompanied him, or how often he peed on some evenings, but I'm sure they couldn't miss my wet, red lips and all the evidence that they'd been wrapped around something substantial and demanding. If we weren't polite enough to avoid having sex with them in the next room, they were at least polite enough not to bring the subject up.

I always tried to get away with a quick massaging, but after the first few days, I knew I'd ended up giving him head, until he would grab the sink, moan out warning of his impending eruption, and then shiver and shake his way through his orgasm. He would hump and pump out a significant amount of pleasure and only then remember what we were there for.

More often than not he would then be able to pee and we'd return to whatever activity we were involved in before the need for relief arose. I was always waiting for someone to ask if everything came out all right or if there was a reason it took twenty minutes for him to take a simple piss, but no one ever mentioned the amount of time we spent in the bathroom either. So politeness abounded in the house.

Greg's father bought him a set of weights and they ended up in the living room because the television room wasn't big enough for us, the weights, the television, and still have room to open the couch into a bed when the time came.

I ended up spotting for Greg and he went about trying to rebuild the body that had suffered after spending so much time in bed. This led to a lot of straining and sweating, and then he required a bath afterward each day. Baths ended up much the same as our pissing trips although we always did this while no one else was in the house because of the noise level we achieved in that tiny space. This activity left me feeling a lot more passionate toward him and I didn't feel nearly as guilty once we had achieved blast off. If you asked, why did I do it if it made me feel so uncomfortable with his parents around, I'd have to say it didn't make me feel that uncomfortable.

It took several nights for him to get around to what he really wanted but hadn't asked me for and I dreaded him doing it nearly as much as he wanted it.

"What do we have?" He asked, springing it on me without any previous warning or preparation.

"Vaseline."

"Vaseline. I hate Vaseline. Nothing else? I don't guess you'd consider it without lubing up?"

"I don't guess. I might be crazy but I'm not insane. I wasn't shopping with this in mind," I said as his fingers took a gob from the jar.

"I hate this," he said, examining the goop.

He looked at his fingers and applied them to my bottom, immediately attempting to fit a finger up there without bothering to warn me of the invasion. My reflex propelled me away from him and I winced, fearing it more than before. His damn finger wasn't all that thick, but I couldn't say the same about his dick.

Greg didn't want to use the cast for obvious reasons and I kept reminding him to be careful. He growled and fussed and got busy trying to make what seemed like a very square peg fit into my tight round hole.

"You're tight," he advised, still pushing.

"You're big," I reminded him so he'd be gentle.

"Yeah, I am," he said, and I could tell he was enjoying the feel of himself in his own hand for a change.

"Greg!" I said.

"I haven't done anything yet," he objected.

"Well, just in case you have."

He then gave me a reach-around and my mind glazed over, as it always did at a time like that. My dick must have been attached to my fog control, because once it got going good, I forgot about most things, until he started pushing again.

"Greg!"

"Jesus. I haven't even gotten in yet," he argued, unhappy with my fear.

"It feels like you've got a log up there," I complained.

I felt the tight ridge of his dick head pushing into my hole. Before he could push it through to the shaft, I shifted so that it was barely in my hole. He held me in place, using my dick against me as his hand squeezed and stroked it at the same time.

"Wait until I get it in for Pete sake. I almost had it."

It was more like wrestling than screwing but I reached around and got a hold of him and he had swollen remarkably and while it was lovely to feel, feeling it wasn't what worried me. He growled and moaned as he started nibbling on my ear, and then he was chewing and blowing hot air, and my worry was no longer for my bottom.

How the hell would I look with half my ear gone? It was my turn to squeeze and twist him as the head spread me open.

"Greg!" I worried some more, feeling him pushing forward until my hole closed around his twitching shaft..

It was the gush of air and the tension in the body he had pressed hard against me that tipped me off. He chewed on my ear some more to make sure I didn't back him off the progress he had made. His hot air blower became super charged as my bottom burned from the beating it was taking. I churned as he held onto my dick with a pretty good grip as he licked my ear for good measure, sticking the wet tip as deep as it would go. He thrust boldly forward in one steady bold move to get it all all the way in to where he was determined to go.

I was on fire feeling him open me up, while jacking me off, and working on my ear. He forced his hips against me as he finished his entry and feeling his weight against me was enough to light my fire.

"Shit!" He gasped and then he growled and gurgled and leaned on my back hard. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

The silence was less than golden and his heart beating on my back wasn't reassuring as he gasped and panted and seemed helpless to do more. I slowly felt him relaxing his body on me and the lust had suddenly drained out of him.

"Are you okay?" I asked, as my ass twitched on his thick dick, and I was suddenly worried that he had hurt his leg with his gyrations.

"Fuck no I'm not all right. I blew my load and I didn't do anything."

"I don't know. It felt like you were doing something to me," I reassured him.

"I couldn't hold back. Do you know how long I've been waiting to do that? Do you know how long I've been planning this and dreaming about how it was all going to be so perfect for both of us."

"No," I said.

"About since that day we met up by your house," he said, panting and revealing something I hadn't ever considered.

I mean I knew there was more than a meeting and stares and glares going on that day. I had felt like someone had dropped a ton of bricks on me but I never thought much about what it was like from Greg's point of view, except I knew he knew what was on my mind. That had been obvious to me. I had no clue he had similar ideas on his mind but it was better for all concerned I didn't way back then.

"I wanted it to last. I wanted you to like it," he said. "I wanted it to be perfect for you and I go and pull this little boy shit."

"Greg, everything you do is great and anyway, maybe you'll regroup if you relax and quit shooting for the moon and just settle for here and now."

"You kidding me. I just blew the biggest wad of my life. You've got me where you want me. I'm done. Get the fork. What a wuss. Now I find out not only am I only half the man I was, but the half that was isn't. My life is over. I'm a fucking wimp. A fucking lightweight. I'm sorry, Martin. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what. Waiting and dreaming can build things up beyond reality. Expectation can be your worst enemy," I said. "I'm flattered when you come down to it."

"Flattered because I now suffer from premature ejaculation. Get real, Martin. I can't even fuck anymore. What's the point?"

"You're funny, Greg. You got the biggest dick in the civilized world. You just took me to heaven and back and you're complaining about it. Will you get real. It was great. I won't say I wasn't worried but at the end, it was great, and so were you and it'll only get better once we go at it a few times."

"You mean you'll let me do it again?"

"I'll insist on it. In fact I'm already ready," I said, putting his hand on my throbbing cock that was suddenly reacting very positively to the dick in my ass.

"Now if I could only oblige," he lamented.

"We'll wait. It might rise again."

"I'm tired," he said, sounding like a distant little boy. "I mean really tired."

He cuddled up against me and held me. I was afraid he'd desert me but he stayed inside. While he never went soft, he was somewhere between hard and soft as I drifted comfortably off into the silent night. I was both satisfied and wanton and my dreams were appropriate as my lover and I stayed hooked together.

I wasn't surprised to be awakened with him super charged once again. There was no more talk of impotence or a failure to live up to expectation. Whether driven by the desire to prove him self, or by simple lust, he sweated and huffed, fucked and humped at a furious tempo. My fears of him subsided by the time he was up to speed. Just his passion for the activity and the idea of him being inside of me got me going in a lusty way. I was sure that the time we spent hooked together had given me time to adapt to him and the idea of what I wanted him to do. It was a night to remember.

After two successful launches and the impending discharges that followed, he spent time kissing my neck and feeling my chest, being quite affectionate in that unexpected way that always surprised me. Affection wasn't easy for Greg but it certainly was easy on me. I loved it when he just wanted to be close to me.

"I love you, Martin," he said after covering my neck in kisses.

"And I love you, Greg. You see, you had nothing to worry about. You just needed to relax and the rest comes naturally."

"It was okay? I mean I gave it all to you and I didn't hold back. It's okay? You're not mad at me?"

"Everything you do is fantastic. Being with you is fantastic. Nothing can ever be simply okay when I'm with you, Greg. You are life and love and joy and everything I need to live."

"What about food and air," he said, kissing my neck and giggling in my ear.

"You are my food and air."

"Well, don't try to live on that, okay."

Greg's appetite for all things had increased. After our initial fuck-fest, he became energized in all things. We went to rehab three days a week and the strong black dude that worked with him kept saying, "Okay, champ, slow down a little. You don't want to rush things. You can't get well overnight."

Greg didn't know slowdown. He didn't know a little of anything. He would pump the weights in the living room until he was exhausted and covered in sweat. He'd regroup while I was giving him a bath and want more and more of a good thing until we were both exhausted.

I'd help him do his stretching and he'd keep asking me to push him harder and further, stretch his leg more severely as he winced and groaned from the pain. I'd stop and he'd curse me for not making him endure more pain and I'd refuse and he'd get mad and hook his leg over the arm of the couch and lying on the floor he'd force it to move beyond it's ability to respond to his demands.

I watched him cry from the pain and sweat bullets as he went beyond his endurance to a place I couldn't go. I always refused him this, not wanting to be a part of him torturing himself, but once he was done, all was forgiven and he was ready to move on to something else. I didn't know his limits and I couldn't purposely hurt him even for his own good and he had no such reservations, calling me a pussy, and then playfully wanting to do something he knew I liked.

I suppose there is balance in all relationships. While I often didn't know how much was enough and when enough was too much, Greg never seemed to have such confusion. His motto was if enough is good than too much must be fucking fantastic. We went through a period when fucking fantastic might describe our nights together. How he could get up running each morning, I'll never know, because he didn't sleep much at night, and while I could keep up with him for as long as he liked, I couldn't get up with him when he wanted to rise and shine and start working out. I needed some sleep.

Of course it didn't take long for him to realize he no longer needed me to spot or watch him. He would let me sleep and workout alone. He was benching close to two hundred pounds after a few weeks. He would relentlessly do curls and biceps extensions while we just sat and talked or watched the tube.

The well-shaped chest that never left him started to grow. We both spent time feeling his muscles while I bathed him, after he had pumped them all up for me, and then that left the one muscle I could be coaxed to do anything with, once he pumped it up for me. His baths often took longer than his workouts and he prided himself on doing a double header without a break between innings. It was just one more exercise he needed to do and I couldn't resist.

It wasn't all about sex but that was probably the activity we spent most of our time on. All he had to do was get hard and I'd stick with him until he couldn't get hard any more. Then there were days when he didn't get hard at all and I didn't encourage him and neither of us died. Some times those days ran together and neither of us worried about the details, because once it started up again, stopping became the difficulty.

I suppose that I began to feel somewhat like I felt he felt, if enough is good, too much will be fucking fantastic, only I could never get enough of Greg. Even after we were done, I'd still be imagining there was one more round left in me, knowing there was no way. I had become an optimist after all the time and energy I had put into pessimistic visions of how Greg and I would end up.

Oh I had no illusions about forever or always, but this time was my time, and I wasn't leaving anything on the table. I had everything I ever wanted or dreamed of, because I never wanted or dreamed of anything before I met Greg, and he was all I wanted or dreamed of after that.

Whatever we would become, we were together now, and no one could take that away from me, and I made the most of it, and him, and our love, and sex, and every other damn thing there was. Life was for the living and I lived every day for him. I lived every minute we shared to the fullest. My mind my body and my soul were full of him and it was glorious, even when he pushed himself too hard and needed too much. I was always there.

 

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 58

Just Routine

 

I needed to go out and get a job but Greg made that impossible. He needed to bathe after working out in the morning and he was helpless in the kitchen once you got past Coke and ice cream. Then there were his stretching exercises, which he needed help for maximum results.

I thought I wanted to go to college and I would need to finance it. I hadn't discussed it with my parents, although my mother had expressed an interest in the idea. I knew I was on the outs because I spent all of my time with Greg, only stopping at my house a few times a week for dinner. It was less than ideal.

Greg continued dedicating his life to a full recovery. The right leg was now starting to come around. The left leg was still weak and while he could walk a short distance, it required a crutch or a cane to assure he didn't fall on his face if it gave out, and it did give out. Luckily it was a muscle response to atrophy and not the bone, although any time it folded up on him, my heart stopped until he was trying to get up. He'd usually start laughing his ass off about that time, laughing at himself, laughing at the fact he had falling down, and maybe laughing because the leg was okay and just giving him a hard time.

The Greg I once knew would never have laughed at himself. Not about something unimportant and certainly not about something as important as that leg, but suddenly he could find humor in his condition. I'd try to laugh with him but my heart was never in it. I loved him and I wanted him to succeed completely and when he fell down, I wanted to pick him up and brush him off and hug him, but I knew better if I wanted to live.

There are some things you've got to do alone and while I could offer him moral support, push him when he needed pushing, which was rare, I couldn't do it for him and I was usually begging him to take a break, slow down, and don't push so hard. Drink something, eat something, but he would have none of that, ignoring me and changing the subject as he went on to the next exercise.

We had a routine that consisted of stretching the first thing in the morning. His parents would already be gone by the time we got up, and if Doug was there he was sleeping in, so we pretty much had the place to ourselves. After stretching, which was less painful for me once he was able to make his leg do the things he thought it should do, we moved to the living room for weight lifting, the first of three sessions for the day.

While he did walk some in the house, it was always with a cane or the crutch close at hand to make sure. I stayed close but didn't crowd him. After weight lifting, he had to be bathed or held up in the shower, because he sweat profusely. More times than not this led to more exercise, usually me exercising his main muscle until it would finally relax and then we could have breakfast.

Then, there were the times we'd go out. He'd carefully put the cast on and then once he was off the back steps, with me there helping him down each one, he wanted the crutches, handing them back to me and collecting them from me whenever he got in or out of the car.

He did like to ride. We'd fixed the front seat so it would give him enough room to keep the cast on while we road. He could have taken it off but getting it on right was tricky and so leaving it on was easier and he said it wasn't all that uncomfortable. We'd ride south through the counties and through the farmland and wooded areas that were close at hand. Mostly we drove and he watched out the window, but some times we talked.

"When did you know you only liked men?"

"I like women just fine," I protested, as he looked out the side window.

"You know what I mean. Why are you always so difficult about this stuff? When you knew you wouldn't be romancing any women? When did you know you'd always be with men?"

"When I met you," I said, not looking at him but I could feel his eyes on me.

"You're going to blame this all on me, right? It's my fault you're...."

"No, I knew I had feelings for boys. I don't know how I knew because I'd never done anything about it but I knew what I liked looking at. That day I met you, it was crystal clear for the first time," I said.

"What was."

"What I felt. What I wanted. How powerful it was. How badly I wanted it... you... love. It's what was inside of me waiting to get out."

"You're serious? One look at me and you were toast?"

"Greg, I'm not in the habit of lying to you. I knew about my feelings but no one else did. I never talked to anyone about it and I never heard of anything like it. You know, I heard the queer stuff and about sucking dicks and taking up the ass, but not about feelings. I felt more for you that day I met you than I had ever felt for anyone else in my life."

"So you took one look at me and it was all over but the shouting?"

"Exactly."

"Bullshit!"

"Whatever you say. You asked and I tried to answer the best way I know how."

"You're serious?"

"I'm serious. You knew as soon as you saw me? You said so."

"Yeah, but guys looked at me that way before. I just knew the look and what it led to. That didn't bother me none."

"I saw you look at me Greg. You knew exactly what was on my mind. I know you did. You can deny it but I know you knew it was more than me wanting to swing on your dick."

"That's different. What I knew was you were like a lot of other guys I met. You wanted it and I was just the guy to see you got it. Except you pissed me off too, even then you had a way of pissing me off. You didn't hide anything, and it bothered me. Everybody hides that. Most guys pretend they don't want it and then you get them off and offer it to them, and they're on it."

"How do I piss you off? You've said that before."

"I don't know, you always piss me off. I met a lot of guys that wanted my dick and who was I to argue with that. Most of them were into girls and it was just a thing we did. With you... well it was always something else, something serious, something more dangerous. What you wanted went way beyond my dick. I couldn't deal with that part of it. My dick was my dick and I like it when guys are playing with it. I didn't know what else you wanted but I knew you wanted something."

"Me dangerous?" I laughed and he stared at me blankly.

"I like women!" He protested.

"Me too," I said.

"I don't understand why I like you the way I do. I always thought that was something you did when you were a kid, and I certainly did a lot of it. I didn't think I'd keep doing it or liking it or liking a guy that way. It's not like I thought it would be. If I hadn't gotten hurt this would never have happened, you know. I didn't feel that until then."

"What?"

"Us."

"Us?"

"You know what I'm saying. What I feel for you. I know it's something like love, Martin. I'm not a total idiot and I don't know how I could feel so much of that for you."

"Love," I said, taking the risk.

"I knew those days you didn't come up. I waited and waited, wanting to see you. I needed to see you. Missing you more than I ever missed anyone, knowing I needed you to come, when you didn't. I knew what it was but I didn't want to say it. I've felt it before but not like this. I mean I always controlled it before, when it started and when it ended. It was never like that with a guy."

"Like what?"

"Guys were a dime a dozen. You pull out your dick and the guys that like big dicks follow you around. The ones that don't care for it stop hanging around. It's a matter of knowing which you want to be around. It's pretty simple once you figure guys out. Girls were always different. I was able to be with them and it was cool and I never had to be all that careful. You know you hold hands, kiss a little, and then you screw, and it was fine. I got what I wanted and gave them a good dose of what they wanted. It was simple then."

"What you wanted?"

"With you I'm just comfortable. It works and we fit and it's not like I thought. Now, I don't know what I thought or why I thought that way. I know what people say it is but that's not what it is. I didn't know when I first met you that you were anything but another guy that wanted time with my dick. That's what I knew, Martin. No one says it's about two guys doing this, being together, not needing anyone else. No one says that. I never heard that."

"So what brought this up? You were trying to give me to Doug a few weeks ago," I reminded him.

"A couple of weeks ago none of us knew I'd still be here today. I didn't want you to be alone. As fucked up as my little brother is, I love him and I wanted him to be with someone that would take care of him the way you've taken care of me. I wanted you to have someone sweet and my little brother is that. I didn't want you crying your eyes out for me if ... you know what I'm saying. I had to face reality and deal with what might happen, you know."

"Thanks," I said. "I figured it was something like that. That's sweet too, Greg. You've got more of Doug inside you than you think."

"Not even, Yuk! I'm not sweet. I've been told I'm a bitter pill to swallow," he said, squeezing my hand and winking.

"Well, could be, but what I've swallowed has been sweet."

I didn't look at him because I didn't want him to see that my eyes were getting misty. Greg wasn't given to long dissertations on his inner most feelings, but the words he'd used to describe what he was up to were important words for me. He might have gone about things in strange ways but his heart was in the right place.

He was far more aware of what was going on between us and inside of me than I gave him credit for. I didn't know if he'd ever get here again but he was here now, and I was here with him, and that was the thing. He could have died. He could have thrown me over and gone back to being a prick, but here he was trying to get a better understanding of why men loved men even if they thought they only loved women. Feelings could be confusing because mine changed all the time but feeling what I did for Greg left no doubt about who I wanted to be with.

Perhaps there weren't any answers the way he thought, because a hundred times I'd given up on ever spending any quality time with him. Then I spent more time with him than I'd ever spent with anyone, and I loved every second... well, maybe not every one but mostly it was good and being with the man I loved was enough for me.

If you put all the people I'd ever known together and stacked up the time I'd spent with them, I'd spent ten times more time with Greg than with all of them put together. We knew each other. We knew how the other thought. We knew what turned the other on, off, made him laugh, cry, and what he was about in general. That's what love was to me. That's what Greg was to me. I knew when to reach for him and when to leave him alone, although that was the hardest thing to do.

If he had died, then I would have had what we had and it was more than I had ever had with anyone else and I'd always be grateful for having what we had, no matter where it went after he was walking on his own again.

It just seemed logical to me. You never know if you'll get tomorrow so you make the best of today. Greg was today and I had been making the best of it and I kept getting tomorrow and it just kept getting better. I did know it was a lot more difficult for him than it was for me. He'd come to depend on me and need me, and he realized he'd never depend on or need anyone as much.

We drove down one road and up the next and being outside and seeing life moving around him was one of the things he enjoyed most. After being locked up in a room for months and months, he was once again engaged in life. He liked seeing it and holding my hand as I drove. I'd turn and catch him looking at me and he'd smile and the look on his face said it all.

We stopped at a hamburger joint and ordered burgers, fries, and shakes, and then he sent me back in for a Coke before we hit the road again. He marveled at the flavors he'd missed and seemed excited by the food, the drive, everything.

He rolled down the window and leaned his head out and his hair blew wildly in the wind. He rested his chin on the window frame and stared out until we hit a bump and he rubbed his chin, glaring at me like I'd picked the pothole out just for him and he cussed and then did the same thing all over again. Sometimes I worried about him but he was coming back to life and it didn't take much to mesmerize him.

"I'm tired," he finally said, stretching and rearranging him self until he put his head in my lap. "I'm horny."

"This is news?"

"Right now I mean. I was just enjoying the ride. Now I'm horny. Does driving around make you horny."

"You're close to the subject matter. You could check and see," I said, feeling his cheek on my crotch as I watched the road.

"I said I'm horny. I know you're horny. You're always horny, Martin. If you really loved me you'd a least give me a hand."

"But it never stops at playing with it. That's never enough for you."

"Yeah, I know," he said, giggling around the words and pulling my hand until I had to lean his way to reach what he wanted me to reach.

I had no doubt he was already hard and so I felt it and he stopped pulling on my arm as soon as my fingers closed on it.

"That's really nice. I like that. You like it? I'm really horny, you know."

"How could I not like it, Greg. It's attached to you."

"Yeah, nice accessories don't you think? It has an optional drip attachment that's been working overtime lately. Did you know that? I've been sitting here thinking about doing something with it."

"Very nice," I said, feeling the dominant vein that throbbed as I traced it with my index finger.

He held my wrist to I wouldn't suddenly desert him and he moaned as he pushed his hips up off the seat to meet with my hand.

"Wow! You don't know how close I am. Can you believe that shit. I use to go all night and never cum, and now you touch me and I'm lit up. Losing my touch. Maybe I'm getting old. Don't stop, please."

It was what it was. He didn't ask me to stop or find a place to pull over so I could do more for him. He did hold my hand in place a couple of times so he could hump it again in long hard thrusts that he held until he set a soft moan free and then he'd let go, breathing hard and fighting off what I was sure was rushing toward him.

He went along time before the second series of humps interrupted our quiet drive. At the same time he used his free hand to squeeze my dick. I did enjoy driving but even more so when we were swapping hand jobs. He was sweating and very close to the ragged edge but backed off each time I was sure he couldn't.

"You want me to stop?" I asked when he was calming down.

"No, I like riding," he said from my lap.

"We aren't riding we're playing with each other and I might drive off the road."

"While we're riding. I want to keep moving."

"Isn't going to do either one of us any good," I said.

"That's all you think about, isn't it? Sex! Sex! Sex! Can't we just hold each other for a few minutes and not worry about sex? I kind of like this."

"Greg, we aren't holding each other. We're playing with each other's dick."

"Yeah, that's what I said. Can't we just do it? I kind of like having you in my power and get you all worked up."

"Easy for you to say. You're getting me hot and I'm going to make a mess in my pants if you keep it up."

He did keep it up and finally unzipped my pants and reached his hand in feeling my enthusiasm for his talent. When he liberated me, I almost ran off the road. He rested the shaft against his lips and breathed hot air on me.

"Keep going," he said, when I was too flustered to keep jerking him off. "I remember the first cock I sucked."

"You do?" I said, as his lips nibbled on the top of my shaft.

"Yeah, it was this guy in Germany. He played football. That's soccer here. He was in a band, had his own car. All the kids liked him. He coached the little kids in soccer. We'd go to his house for soda and cookies after he practiced with us. One day he's changing his clothes with us watching. He had a hairy crotch and this long uncut cock and he's digging in his gym bag for his underwear and one of the kids is like staring at his dick. It hung down maybe six inches and had skin hanging below that. Kind of ugly you ask me. Was a pretty good size."

"What are you staring at," he asks the kid.

"You're bigger an my brother," the kid said, "except when his gets stiff."

"You touch it when it gets stiff," he asked him.

"Sometimes," he said, putting his hand on the guy's smooth white thigh.

"You want to touch mine," he said.

"Yeah," the kid said and did.

"I was pretty shocked that he would and he'd let him but then he says."

"Anyone else want to cop a feel before I get dressed?"

"Every one did. There was seven or eight of us, I guess. I knew one or two but mostly they were guys I played soccer with from the town. The dude leans back and puts his arm over the chair as we all gather around, eleven, twelve-year-old kids, feeling this man dick. Only now he's on a hard and it is really big, especially with us fighting to get our hot little hands on it. I just barely got a couple of hairs and haven't sprouted yet."

He started kissing my dick and was no longer telling the story. He had moved his hand down to my balls and was feeling them in a way that made his mouth action more pleasing.

"What happened?" I asked, starting to breathe hard and think about a place to pull over.

"Then he says."

"Anyone want to kiss it."

"He lost half his audience. I think three guys planted their lips on it. The last guy kissed it right up under the head and the skin pulled back off the head when he did it. So he feels on it some more."

"Anybody brave enough to suck it now that you've got me all worked up?" He asked.

"The one that had kissed the head went for the idea. He got his mouth around the top of it and started licking and sucking. He didn't have a clue and we just stood and watched it. My dick was stiff."

"Must have been quite an experience," I said.

"Not like Herbie and me and Kent and Doug hadn't already figured things out. It was my first group sex deal without any of them."

"You seem none the worse for wear."

"I wanted to be like that guy for a long time after that. Just pull it out and have guys wanting it. That was about the coolest thing I'd ever see. I knew all these guys and to think they went right for the guys dick, that amazed me."

Greg sat up, wiping his mouth with his forearm. He seemed to have left Germany and I could no longer reach him and I missed him already. I kept my hand on the seat beside his leg.

"I haven't thought about that forever. I wanted to be like him and I was. I mean, from then on we were always playing around with him after practice. He was three or four years older than us. So he was a man, but he was a kid and he liked the attention. You could tell. At times we'd all pile on him, you know, wrestle him. We'd got the best of him and then someone would pull down his shorts and we took turns pulling on his dick. Like punishing him only he liked that even more than we did."

"Come to think of it he never put up much of a struggle. We all knew what was going on. He really treated us nice after that."

"I knew what was going on until you sat up. What's with that? I offend you. I showered last night."

"How'd you know, Martin?"

"Know what?"

"I don't know. I never had any trouble getting guys. I just took out my dick at parties or in a group. It was big enough it attracted attention and after a while I was only running with guys that wanted it. Almost since those days on the football team... soccer team. So why did you want to hang around that? You knew what I was doing."

"I wasn't hanging around that. I was hanging around you."

"I was such a jerk. Why?"

"Greg!"

"Martin! Why Martin? I don't mean you loved me shit. Love only goes so far. I wasn't nice to you. I told you that you pissed me off all the time. I really want to know the answer."

"I don't know the answer. I never liked anyone before. I like Doug but you know Doug and there was no point past pleasure and that's cool with some guys but not Doug. You can't have sex with Doug and not get really involved. He's perfect... except he doesn't want guys to love him, which is a bummer."

"Give me a break. He doesn't love Herbert?"

"Yeah, but Herbie's safe. Like Kent was for me. I loved Kent but he had to go and that left...."

"So, I'm an afterthought after Doug and Kent? I should have known."

"It all started with you. They happened because you didn't. I'm only capable of dealing with so much pain and rejection. I backed off you and took advantage of what was there. Waited for my time."

"Told you I was a dick. Your time? What's that about?"

"You said you were going to tell me about the first time you sucked a dick," I said, wanting to get to something else to talk about, not being able to explain my mindless love for him..

"I sucked that German guy off. I saw what that first guy did and I knew I could do better than that. So I did."

"In front of your friends?"

"They weren't my friends. We were all involved with him. He was older and it fascinated all of us. Yeah, one of them made a comment, now that you mentioned it, and I decked the little shit. After that other guys sucked him too. Life was way simpler back then. You could solve little differences pretty easy. What would you have done if I died?"

"Died?"

"Yeah, it's not like it didn't cross your mind. I could see the look on your face. My old man... you know I've never seen my old man weak or powerless. He's always been the best and most in charge guy I've known. Seeing the look on his face. That hurt. I knew I was in trouble. I felt guilty I made him feel that bad, you know."

"You didn't have anything to do with it. He was worried about you."

"He found something he couldn't control or get into shape. His lame son."

"You aren't lame," I objected.

"Shit, Martin, where you been. I can't walk but ten steps on my own. That's lame. You're still here."

"Where'd you expect me to go? We're a long way from home."

"I don't know. I don't deserve you, you know. I had other plans. I let you hang around because I didn't want to be alone at first. Then I realized... you were it. No one else gave a shit. I'd been a dick and an asshole and you were still there by my side, and you didn't know how it was going to turn out. I didn't. I guess that's when I knew you were for real. That's the trouble, you see. I've never trusted anyone to stay with me. Why would they? At first it was just a game. My dick was bait and guys liked playing, but there was always another game because guys can't stick with guys without other guys getting jealous or talking about it. So I was always fishing. Looking for more suckers, so to speak. I forgot why I was doing it after a while. It was a rush at parties and after and when guys wanted some serious action. That's all there was after a while. I knew guys don't stay with you. So I'd lay back and let them have what they wanted and then I was alone. Still horny too."

"Herbie?"

"Herbie's Herbie. We're friends. He stayed with me because he wanted what I had and he knew he could get it as long as I did. Hell, he set up the parties and knew which guys would and which guys wouldn't. We knew the outcome."

"That's then. This is now. I would have cried a lot. My heart would have been broken, and I'd have collected the pieces and figured something out," I said.

"You love me that much?"

"I don't know how much I love you because I've never been in love with anyone else. If you asked me to grade it I'd have to say a lot."

"Yeah, me too," he said.

He held my hand and we drove back to the house. It was time for his afternoon workout and he pumped iron as furiously as usual or more so. He kept looking at me between sets while I was loading or unloading the bars. I didn't know what to make of it but Greg thought a lot more than he once did and I could see it when he did, and I was never sure that was good for me.

Our world had been a hospital room for almost a year and now there were larger considerations, old memories and habits, and his needs and desires. I wasn't sure if things might be changing between us. Some times I got the feeling that he only wanted to be with me but than at other times I felt the distance and I wasn't sure. A lot of things were reawakening inside of him.

Instead of showering after the workout, which was usually a given, he wanted to lie out back in the sun. Even though he was sweating he had me pour a half a bottle of number 30 tanning lotion on his skin.

He lay nude on his back with his erection stretching up on his belly. Our arms touched but I decided to leave him alone, even if my own lust for him was starting to boil in the afternoon sun. I rolled onto my stomach when my front was baked sufficiently. Before I got settled he rolled on top of me, his cock sliding into my crack as he chewed the back of my neck and my ear like a wild thing.

"I've been waiting for you to do that. You know how hot you got me in the car. I've waiting for this."

"Greg, you're parents are going to come home."

"We'll hear. They won't come out back anyway. Just for a little while. I need to be inside you. Please."

He rubbed his slippery body against mine and the heat was incredible as he coated me in the lotion. Finally he got situated deep inside and he lay still except for his lips and his teeth as he hugged himself to me.

I was faint from the combination of forces that were working on me and then. he did about the best thing he could do, getting up on his knees and starting to fuck me, slow at first, but then as I raised up to meet him I could feel both his thighs inside mine and he was pretty intent on what was coming.

When he collapsed on top of me and finished up, I was pretty sure we were making progress. It was the first time he'd used the bad leg while we were having sex. He usually favored it and did what he could to keep it out of our way but on this day he had put his weight and his lust on it, and there was no sign it wasn't up to the task.

When he rolled off I was soaked in my sweat and his and in slick lotion and cum and he used the towel he'd worn around his waist to wipe me down.

"I wanted to do that in the car," he finally said. "I knew it would be hot. I decided I'd wait. Instead of cumming so often. Cum like that once or twice a day would be good, huh? Would that be cool for you?"

"That was the best, Greg," I said, squinting to see his eyes seeing me. "Any time."

"Yeah, it was, wasn't it," he said, smiling that Greg smile and looking pleased with himself. "That was good."

He put the towel in his crotch and lay back on his back as I watched him. He reached out and collected my hand in his, rolling onto his side so he could look at me..

 

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 59

Inventing The Wheel

 

Being up at Greg's became my job. It's good work if you can get it. The days were mostly filled with his rehabilitation. Three days each week he spent four hours in rehab and the other four days a week and each afternoon, I was the one in charge of his rehabilitation, if you didn't count Greg.

He seemed pretty focused and determined to get himself back to his former glory. If Greg minded pain he didn't seem to show it. He pushed himself beyond his limits as a matter of routine. My workout was watching him drive himself. I frequently winced or refused his orders to assist him in his self-torture. This always brought on an argument.

For some reason purposely hurting him wasn't something I could do no matter how good for him he told me it was. This was where we had our most difficult moments. He would insist and I would refuse and he'd rant and rave, finding a way to accomplish what he wanted on his own and without the help he wanted from me. I suppose his determination did weaken my resolve at times but his pain stiffened it again.

The tears also became a matter of course and no less something I wanted to be responsible for. I was always a firm believer that there were human limits because there were things we weren't suppose to force our bodies to do. Greg had no such belief. There was nothing he thought he couldn't do, except maybe fly and walk without assistance. He believed if he thought he should be able to do it than he should be able to do it. His body often took my side and disagreed with him.

I stood by silently, offering what assistance I could but mostly this was a journey he was taking alone, although I made an easy target when the pain got too much for him or when he couldn't force his body to do what he wanted it to do. He would get particularly angry with me when I saw him cry. For some reason this angered him more than most other things but I knew the mountain he was trying to climb, and I didn't let his words get to me.

And usually this kind of anger led to him either achieving what he was trying to achieve, or the decision to give up and pursue more lusty objectives. Greg spent much of his working out time with an erection and the shorts he wore gave it a lot of room to roam.

How that worked I don't know but much about Greg was still a mystery to me. He'd be lying on the floor, doing something he couldn't do, and the head of his dick would be poking out of the leg of his shorts. He hated underwear because it was "too confining" and there was no jock that could hold him once he was erect.

Of course there is a certain point during sex when pain becomes pleasure and so it had to be something like that, but whatever it was, the came certain perks with his arousal, regardless the cause. Usually, after he got his meanest because he had failed to accomplish his goal, he'd then be at his best, rising to new heights, and needing me to assist him in reducing his lusty loins to a more manageable condition. We'd ride his fury until we could tame it so he could go back to what he had been doing.

How he could go back to lifting weights or stretching after we had been at our best together, I will never know. I usually like to take a break and catch my breath first, but not Greg. It was merely one more exercise in his day. I never knew if he was sweating because of the heat we created or from the exercise.

Walking in the house was becoming easier for him and I'd seen him eyeballing the too-small stairway that led up to his bedroom with determination in his eyes. I would cringe and hear him falling from top to the bottom in that narrow space. As of yet he hadn't made the effort but I knew it wouldn't be long and it would be one more thing I would refuse to help him do and he'd figure out a way to do it on his own.

I have to admit, while his legs hadn't shown any sign of muscle development, his upper body had come back immediately because he depended on his arms and shoulders to get around. While the most difficult exercises were for his legs, the ones he thrived on were bench presses and the curl bar. He'd sit watching his bulging biceps and doing one curl after another until his arms refused to bend.

Greg was responding well to the exercise done above his waist but progress was slow below the waist, well, below his crotch anyway. He had a great appetite for oral stimulation and that was during the exercise periods when he took those couple of minutes between sets. I could only get so far before he was ready to lift again, and after these sessions were completed, he was exhausted.

That's when I would help him into the shower and then he'd use the soap as lube and oral wasn't what he wanted at all. For some reason he had no trouble standing up as long as I was bent over in front of him, but as with all things, he'd developed a way to get the optimal leverage for our shower sessions.

We'd been at it for over three weeks when his father came in early one afternoon, nearly catching me servicing his horny son while he rested between bench pressing sets. Luckily he had been quicker than most times and we only got caught with me toweling him off. I was quick to get the toweling up above his waist and his spent iron had withdrawn back up the leg of his flimsy nylon shorts.

"Hey, Gregie, how you doing? Hi Martin," his father said as we blushed and I handed Greg the towel, wanting the evidence out of my hands. He gave me a dirty look when he took up wiping himself and ended up putting part of his load of cum that I'd neatly mopped up back on his stomach.

"Okay, Pop. What are you doing home so early," Greg breathed out his words heavily, still catching his breath and finally discarding the towel.

"Brought you guys something," the colonel said.

Greg sat up and leaned forward with his forearms pressed against his thighs and the sweat continued to roll.

"What?" Greg asked still breathing heavy.

"Come on out to the back porch," the colonel said, retracing his steps back through the house.

Greg stood and after a few steps he reached for me and I took my place under one arm so he could lean on me while he walked. Once we got to the kitchen where it was too narrow for me to stay beside him, he pulled away, grabbing my crotch for good measure before propelling himself with his arms until he got out onto the back porch.

"Cool!" Greg exclaimed, looking down at the driveway.

When I got out back, there were two brand new silver mountain bikes parked in the driveway. The colonel was busy lifting Greg off the porch and down to ground level so we didn't have to wait for him to scoot himself down by using his ass against the steps and probably for fear that Greg might try to jump or fly down if not immediately assisted.

I could see the look in Greg's eye as he moved around both bikes, measuring them with his eyes. After a complete examination, he claimed one as his. What made the difference, I don't know. They were identical in every way as far as I could tell. My mind wasn't really on how great the bikes looked but how a guy with one knee that refused to bend was going to peddle it, but I didn't really want to know the answer because I knew Greg.

"You think he's ready for this?" I asked his father with concern laced through my comment.

"He'll be ready and they'll be here. We'll keep them back in the shed so they aren't out in the weather," the colonel said.

"Hell you will. I want to ride," Greg announced.

"Greg!" The colonel said.

"What!" Greg argued.

"You're not to ride one of these until we clear it with your physical therapist. This is for when you can."

Fat chance, I thought. You didn't wave bait in front of Greg's face and not have him grab it. I was surprised at his father's naiveté with his son. Perhaps I knew him too well and perhaps he'd been away from home for too long, but I knew better, and there was one more thing for me to worry about, but I wouldn't have to worry for long.

"You boys check them out while I change."

"Help me up, Martin," Greg asked excitedly.

"Greg!" I said.

"I only want to sit on the seat for a minute."

Yeah, right, I thought.

He had to use me for an anchor and go through some rather bizarre contortions to get his legs on the proper sides of his bike. I helped him scoot back up on the seat once this was achieved and with one leg straight as a board and the other bent up on its peddle, all his equipment slipped out from under his too short shorts. Of course I had to stare at it and it was actually nice seeing it soft for a change.

For the past few weeks it was only soft occasionally after an orgasm and then that didn't last long. It wasn't as formidable looking as a soft appendage but he was still bigger soft than I was hard and its tan color was certainly inviting and lovely and even the major vein seemed relaxed and casual. Of course I needed to get my mind off his crotch before his father returned, and so I kept my hands to myself except where it was necessary to touch him.

"Come on, Martin, I could use a little help here," he said, not taking his eyes off my blushing face.

"Greg, your father's here. Cut it out."

"I really don't have any urge to put on a show for my old man, but if you really cared you'd help me get my shorts over it before he comes back."

His plea was a red herring and once I got to the task at hand, he started to stiffen and giggle, because in that position there was no way those shorts were going to cover that dick. I gave it the good old college try until his father was clearing his throat as he came down the steps, and if that wasn't bad enough, Greg was half hard, making matters worse after my failed effort to get him put away.

"Help me get off," he said.

"Greg!" I fussed angrily.

"Off the bike, asshole."

"Oh!" I said, letting him wrap his arms around me while dragging the bad leg back on the same side with the only half bad leg. Once this was accomplished he used his hand to pull his shorts down as far as they'd go in an effort to cover up the evidence of our duplicity.

"He trying to ride already?" The colonel asked.

"Just trying out the seat," Greg said, trying to keep me in a position that hid his rising fortunes from his father.

"Don't let him get too carried away before we check with his physical therapist. You know, Greg, he'll go as far as you let him," his father said, inspecting one bike as Greg grabbed my ass and giggled in my ear, while I blushed even more.

"Trying to keep him from getting carried away isn't easy," I said as Greg continued his activity behind my back, while his father was getting on one of the bikes to ride it toward the street.

I took this opportunity to guide Greg back onto the back porch and into the seclusion of the kitchen with Greg doing all he could to make the task difficult. First he played with my ass and then my dick and the giggling got louder as I became more frustrated. I stopped to lean him against the kitchen table and the front of his shorts were poking out in a familiar posture.

"I wish you'd cut it out," Greg implored.

"What?" I growled.

"Getting me all hard up all the time. You could have a little appreciation for the fact my father is here, and while you're at it, you can squeeze a few times if you want."

"Greg, your father is right outside."

"I'm watching him ride a bike out in the street. I won't ride the bike without you approving it. Just squeeze the damn thing before I lose the urge."

"You'll listen to me," I said, feeling the heat rolling off him.

He had stopped giggling and now stared at me. He took my hand and pulled it onto the front of his shorts, forcing himself against it with undulating hips. I really wasn't squeezing it. My fingers just grabbed onto it hard but I wasn't really squeezing as I held on and ended up with my chest against his chest and my lips against his lips, and there we were.

The harder he kissed me the tighter I had to hold on and in a minute we were both panting and trying to stop but there was a second kiss and then a third and then his father was starting up the steps as Greg and I looked at one another desperately wondering how we got ourselves into these messes.

I pushed him down in the chair and sat in the one facing him so his father couldn't tell what we were up to.

"What are you doing sitting in her," the colonel asked with that laughter in his voice. "It's so tiny in here you can't breath."

He looked at the expression on Greg's face and then the one on mine and if he couldn't see the problem, he was blind, but he just kept moving until he was in the dinning room and then went out of view.

"I need a shower," he said, moving further away.

"Fuck!" Greg whispered, moving his hand up and down on his dick. "Fuck. I want you so bad right now."

"Greg, you just finished ten minutes ago. Put it on hold."

"Something about you lights my fire, Martin. I can hardly be around you that I don't want you."

"Cut it out. Don't you ever quit?"

"I wish I could. You think I like being horny all the time. Fuck, I laid up in that hospital dreaming about this and now that it's here, I can't get enough. Every time I think about it I want it."

"I don't feel comfortable with your father roaming around," I said.

"Yeah, he only takes five minutes in the shower. He doesn't have someone like you to put ideas in his head. This puppy isn't going down until we do something."

"You sure?"

"If there's anything I'm sure of it's that. You should have left it alone," he complained, inspecting his hard on in a way that I couldn't miss it.

"I should have left it alone. You were the one that started it."

"So, you don't have to do it every time I get horny," he explained. "Good God, Martin, we'd be doing it all the time. You need self control."

"Yeah, I do," I said. "I'm afraid I do. I can't not touch you if I get a chance to. I spent a lot of time thinking about doing it with someone too."

"Who?" he asked, smiling that self-assured cocky smile.

"Let me see. Doug? Kent? Or was it...."

"You prick. You know it was me. You've been hot for me since the day we met," he said, sure of his facts.

"Whatever you say, Greg. Who am I to argue with you?"

"You agree with me. How about agreeing to suck on this for a minute and maybe it'll take the edge off."

"Wow, that was nice," the colonel said, drying his hair as he burst into the kitchen.

The waistband on Greg's shorts snapped as he let go after pushing them back up over his dick.

"You two still in here. Gives new meaning to togetherness don't you think? I need something cold," he said, removing a beer from the fridge and retreating to the dinning room.

"I need a shower, Martin," Greg yelled, feeling the front of his shorts that were now tenting out.

"You just had a fucking shower," I yelled back at him and this made him frown.

His father started laughing at our outburst. He probably suspected we were both a little touched in the head. Greg sat across from me with a long face, after I shot down the shower idea because he was too damn loud and his father wouldn't have any trouble figuring out what we were doing. As long as it was out of his father's sight Greg didn't care as long as there was someone else he could blame.

He sat facing me with his legs crossed at the ankles, looking quite normal. His eyes sparkled, the slight sneer was on his lips, and, as usual, the bulge was obvious in his shorts. He was sweating again, but Greg could sweat with no effort at all. There was a relaxed nature to him that I liked. Once I shot him down on something, he'd get quiet and accept his limitation and my control. It never last long so I enjoyed it when I could.

"I'm hopeless, aren't I?" He asked softly. "I do need a shower."

"I need some rest, Greg. I'm sore on both ends. Can't you take a break."

"You're usually more willing to cooperate."

"You seem to need more and more instead of getting satisfied," I said.

"Yeah, I noticed that too. You think I need to slow down?"

"I need to slow down. I understand you've been out of the game, Greg, but I have limits."

"I was wondering if we'd get to this point. So, how long do I have to wait? I mean give me a hint so I can know if I need to jack off or not."

"Greg!"

"Martin!"

"When we go to bed," I said.

"That's cool but I'm getting tired already," he said, letting his leg rubbed against mine as he watched my eyes watch him. "Your lips say no-no but the bulge in your pants says maybe."

He was hopeless but I was worn out and even if I wasn't, there were limits, and we couldn't spend hours each day having sex. I was sure of that, although I wasn't sure I wanted to wait until bedtime. Maybe I did need a shower after all and then I wouldn't have to put up with him all evening.

Much to my surprise and joy, Greg didn't mention the bicycles the rest of the day. We had a relatively quiet evening and watched television late into the night. The first thing in the morning I took him to rehab and I watched and waited, letting his physical therapist put up with his antics. I was sure someone like Greg had to channel his endless energy somewhere, and after all those months being down, he was never down for long any more.

On the way home we stopped for greasy burgers and Cokes. He was still able to savor the delicacies when they only made my stomach feel bloated and overfilled. By one we were on the way back home.

"I asked about the bikes," Greg said when we neared the pillars that marked his narrow lane.

"What did he say?" I asked.

"Good exercise. It will workout the knee really well, maybe give me a larger range of motion."

"That wouldn't be hard, you can hardly bend it as is."

"It bends a lot more than it did. It bent even further today," He assured me.

"Greg, I was there. It hardly bends. He said two to three months just to get back limited motion in that knee."

"It's been way over a month. Besides, I heal faster than the average bear."

"It's been 26 days, Greg. I can count and you didn't do therapy the first week at all."

"Yeah, unfortunately," he said, looking out of the side window, demonstrating his displeasure with me once again.

"You're like a kid," I said.

"I heard you liked little boys," he said, turning to glare at me.

"Yeah but a little more mature than you, thank you."

"Why do you always have to argue with me?" He asked.

"I like to think I bring reason to your insanity."

"I'm going to ride it with you or without you. Doesn't matter to me."

That was about all that needed to be said on that. When we got home instead of having me help him into the house, he grabbed the crutches from the backseat and headed for the garage, which was actually a storage shed since the cars were always parked in the driveway.

The best thing to do was leave him alone at times like these. I watched out of the kitchen window as he awkwardly rolled the bicycle into the driveway directly in front of the window where I stood. He leaned one crutch against it and started working on the logistics. How in the hell could a guy with two bum wheels get on a bicycle? Of course he couldn't and he fell on his ass to prove it, and from that position he stared up at me as he lay there on the ground, struggling to get up, knowing that in about one-point-two-five- minutes, I'd be on my way to his aid.

Greg could get up any time he felt like doing it, but it was a lot more fun, acting crippled and waiting for my help, which he knew was only a minute or two away. He was probably surprise I didn't rush right to him to make sure he was okay, but I'd seen him fall enough times to know when there was a chance he might have actually hurt himself.

"What are you staring at?" He asked as I stood over him.

"Not much," I said, staring back at him.

"Fuck you! If you won't help me, just... fuck you, Martin."

"Promises, promises."

"Oh, fuck you."

He rolled over and started to get up but predictably fell onto his better side. He made a godawful sound way out of proportion to anything that was happening and then he whimpered like a little puppy for me, turning his head to make sure I was taking it all in and to see if I was going to rescue him from himself.

I was still standing in the same spot, watching the performance with an almost complete knowledge of all of Greg's moves by this time. He got an exasperated look on his face as soon as he realized I wasn't buying it.

"Fuck you!" He growled. "Give me my crutches... please! I can get up by myself."

I gathered up his crutches and helped him up. He stared at the bicycle as he stood there and I knew if I didn't give in to him we'd spend the day arguing about how he could if I would only help him. I had other ideas for what I wanted to be doing that afternoon and arguing with Greg wasn't it.

"Okay, but the first wince or hint of pain, and you're done," I said firmly.

"God, you're a pussy. I don't know why I put up with it. No pain, no gain Martin. You don't know anything."

"I said, I'll help you ride the bike. The first wince or hint of pain, and you're done," I said firmly. "That's the only deal you're going to get, Greg."

"Okay! Okay! Just help me get on it."

While getting on a bike might seem like a relatively simple project, you've never tried it with a guy who had one knee that wouldn't bend at all and his good leg wasn't much better. But there came a time with Greg when it was better to give in to him rather than go continuing the battle that wouldn't end until he got his way anyhow.

Once he had his ass on the seat he was relatively helpless. The straight leg stretched across the pedal with it resting just below his calf. His good leg was on the ground, supposedly holding him up, but I wouldn't take any bets on it.

"Well, you going to help me or what?"

"Help you what?" I asked. "You can't ride unless you can get your feet onto the pedals. I may not know anything but I know that."

"Help me get my foot on the damn pedals then," he ordered angrily.

"Greg, how are you going to get your foot on the pedal? You knee won't bend that far."

"You put it on the pedal for me. God, do I have to think of everything."

"Earth to Greg! Your knee won't bend, Greg."

"It will if you make it bend. Ben helps me bend it. You would if you cared."

"Ben's a physical therapist. I'm your boy-toy. I somehow don't think that qualifies me to fuck with your leg."

"Boy-toy," he said, starting to laugh hysterically. "Boy-toy?"

"That's what I feel like," I said, standing back up after examining the location of his leg versus the pedal. "No way is that foot going on that pedal."

"Pussy! Pussy! Pussy!" He yelled into the afternoon air, exasperated that I couldn't see it his way.

"You're foot is eight inches short of reaching that pedal. It ain't going to happen," I said.

"It will if you help me," he shouted impatiently.

"All right. Hold on to me," I said, moving back down to address the task at hand. "My foots on the ground," he assured me. "I'm fine. Do the other foot for me."

I shoved one hand up under his knee and I put the other one on his ankle, using a fulcrum approach. I applied firm pressure behind the knee and tried to bend his leg far enough to accomplish what he wanted. A sharp sound came from him and I immediately stopped, looking up at his painful face.

"What! I'm just clearing my throat. It doesn't hurt at all," he said, twisting away from me.

"If you make me hurt you I'm going to kill you. Got it tough guy!"

"Jesus, Martin, does the word pussy mean anything to you?"

"Just Martin will do," I said, going back to the unpleasant task.

This time he muffled the sound but grabbed onto my shoulder when the good leg went bad. I was now all that was between him and a face full of driveway. I should have known better. I should have called it off and told him we were done for the day, but I could never say no to Greg.

"Had enough," I said, letting his leg go for the time being.

"No! I can do this if you'd just help a little. What, you afraid my leg'll get better and I won't need you anymore, or what?"

"Fuck you, Greg," I growled, grabbing his leg in the same fashion as before, forcing the foot up until it rested awkwardly on the pedal.

His knee was bent further than it had been bent in a year. He leaned away from me at a strange angle, still holding my shoulder in a vice like grip, and I thought his muscles were so tight he might shatter. The look on his face told me he was in serious discomfort.

"You had enough now? We'll try again tomorrow," I said, with my hand on his heel ready to push it off the pedal.

"No! I'm fine," he said through clenched teeth. "Help me ride it."

"Greg!"

"Are you going to help me or do I do it myself. I don't need you," he said nastily. "I'm going to do this no matter what you want."

"Fuck you," I said, being use to his tantrums.

"Just hold me up and push the bike so the pedal turns."

"Greg!"

He just glared at me. I was ready to dislodge him from the pedal but what was the point? He'd just fall trying to do it by himself if I wouldn't help him and it was way too early for his parents to show up to tell him no. I was sure we wouldn't get far because he was already in serious distress.

I suppose I'm not as bright as I like to think I am, because anyone in their right mind wouldn't have been a party to Greg's insanity. I was sure I was in my right mind but there was a part of me that wanted to help him no matter what, even when the help he wanted was insane. I knew it was insane but that didn't stop me, even knowing the outcome before we started.

Of course I had no idea of the seriousness of the outcome, so when I stood under his strong right arm and started to propel him along, I went very, very, slow because I fully expected him to say you can stop now almost immediately, but that's not what he said.

We had gone all of two feet when Greg let out this inhuman howl, like some wounded animal. I suppose I kept moving forward for a few inches before I got the message that made me sick at my stomach, and that was before he made the same sound even louder a second time.

"Get me the fuck offa here," he screamed. "Stop it. Stop it."

I frantically tried to get the bike on it's side without hurting him, but by that time his body and face were contorted into some crazy shape as he tried to stop the pain anyway he could.

Once I had him on the ground, I crawled across him, slapping his foot off the pedal it was wedged against.

His leg made this weird sound before his scream deafened me.

I sat in the driveway with his head in my lap as he cried. I totally regretted my part in whatever foolishness we'd been up to. I had no idea what we'd done or if it would inhibit the healing that was already going at microscopic speed. Why does one become so smart directly after being so stupid?

He cried and I held him and I cried too, felling bad and stupid and foolish for always giving in to him. I knew it was almost always the wrong thing to do, but this time it was worse than just being wrong.

 

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 60

Tomorrow Is Today

 

"I want to go to Ocean City."

"What!"

"Not right now. I want to walk into the ocean. I want to swim in the Atlantic before the summer's over."

"You think that's enough time, Greg?"

"I want to go to Ocean City."

"Sure, Greg. Ocean City."

"Yeah."

What was the point of arguing with him? His face was covered in sweat and his hair was wet. He lay with his head in my lap. I couldn't get up without dislodging him and I didn't want to move him. He seemed okay if okay was lying in my lap in the middle of his driveway, but didn't seem to be in pain and I wasn't going to disturb him.

The sound his leg made, made me queasy. If we'd destroyed it, letting him rest for a few minutes wasn't going to make a lot of difference and so I sat with him until he was ready to go back into the house, and then I put the bike deep in the shed, making sure he couldn't get to it.

*****

"You're not very hungry tonight, Gregie," his mother said, after she'd come in and fixed dinner.

He had slept the rest of the afternoon. He was white as a sheet but didn't complain or cuss me for letting him do what he wanted. He was quiet and went right back to sleep after not eating his dinner. I sat with him until he was snoring and then I went into the kitchen where Greg's mother and father were doing dishes.

"How's the champ today?" His father asked.

"I don't know. He tried to ride the bike," I stammered, not wanting to admit to stupidity or lose the acceptance of people I cared for.

"That boy, a chip off the old block," his father said, laughing that infectious laugh of his, but it didn't catch on and his mother heard the inflection in my words.

"What happened?" She asked, turning her back on the dishes to face me with her question.

We were in the driveway. I didn't want to go along with it. You know how hard-headed he is. He wouldn't take no for an answer. He was going to try to do it by himself and I was afraid he'd fall and...."

"Martin! What happened?"

"He got on the bike and I wedged his foot on the pedal. I started pushing the bike. Real slow, because I was really worried about what he was doing, but you know how he is," I stammered, looking for some agreeable words but they all made me sound like I was nuts.

"Martin!" His mother said as his father fell silent.

"His leg made a sound. It really hurt him bad. I mean crying-bad. He's cried before when forcing himself to lift weights or stretch his leg beyond where it's ready to go, but nothing like this," I continued, wanting to get it all out there as his mother sunk into one of the chairs at the table. "Then he was okay. Not okay, he's been sleeping ever since. I just don't know if we fucked it... excuse me... if we might have damaged it. It doesn't seem to have changed anything. He still walked on the crutches and walked to the bathroom afterward. He hasn't mentioned it, so I had to. I'm sorry."

It was Greg's mother's chance to fall silent. I could see the disappoint in their faces that I'd been a party to his folly and I should have known better, but I knew all that. I just hated to see them look at me that way.

"I'll call his doctor. He's not due for therapy for another day but I'll get him in first thing in the morning. You can take him over?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Let me call the doctor and set it up. If the therapist thinks anything is wrong the doctor will be waiting for his call. Just don't tell Greg what we're up to and that way he'll go along without any argument."

"He's going to notice I'm taking him to therapy on his off day," I said.

"I'll just tell him there's an extra appointment this week," his father said.

Of course Greg knew I had told his parents about our misadventure. He gave me the appropriate silent treatment on the way to the hospital. He looked like death warmed over. His eyes had deep circles under them and the usual sparkle had gone out of them, and him, as he sat motionless, staring out of the passenger side window at the fast moving world. I went along with the game plan and didn't bother trying to talk to him.

The therapist was there, although it was his day off. I followed them as he chatted Greg up with his usual positive spin on the world. Greg sat in the wheelchair after shoving the crutches at me. He had nothing to say but it was obvious he was not in good humor.

The therapist put him in the pool first. It was usual what he did at the end of a session. He had Greg's ankle on his shoulder and he was working gently to bend the knee, which was a normal part of the routine. Greg was stoic, wincing no more than usual but did not complain about his pain. Part of the time he stared at me with darts in his eyes over the indignity of having to return to the hospital on a day when he could have been home. I could take his wrath as long as I found out we hadn't set him back too far.

"Why the long face?" His therapist asked, while lifting him out of the pool.

"It's okay. Probably didn't do your tendon much good. I think it's a little inflamed. I'll give you something for that. You have about 30% motion in your knee today, so whatever you did, it looks like we're about three weeks ahead of where we were yesterday. Just don't do it again, Greg. That leg has taken all the beating it can handle. Let's go slow for a while."

"You're the boss," Greg said, not selling it.

"Yeah, well, whatever. You can listen to me because I know what I'm talking about and we'll see this through, until that leg is almost as good as new, or you can keep fucking around with it, and then maybe it'll never support your weight again. It ain't no fucking sweat off my balls, kid. I'm going to be here doing this no matter if you walk again or not."

"I want to go to the beach," Greg explained.

"Not a problem."

"I want to walk into the ocean by the end of the summer," Greg declared.

"Uh..., that's a bit ambitious. The ocean gets pretty cold by September. I'd save that idea for next summer," the therapist cautioned.

"Next summer?"

"You'll be walking on it without difficulty by the end of the year if you'll listen to me and keep doing your exercises. I'd say the ocean will be a bit cool by that time. What's your rush?"

"I'm tired of being a crip," Greg said.

There was silence that you could cut with a knife, and then the therapist erupted.

"Holy Shit! Are you kidding me?!? Let me take you upstairs and introduce you to some of the guys who really are crippled", he snarled.

"You had an accident! You're recovering! Cripples don't EVERY recover you little plebe! You should be thankful for what you have! You been blessed, boy!"

"I don't feel blessed, I'm just tired of it. I'm sick of needing a nursemaid. I'm sick of coming here, I hate this place," Greg bleated in spite of his cowering now.

The thoroughly frustrated therapist looked at me, "You dress him and you get him outta here, please! He'll be okay if he holds his horses. I've got things to do. See you tomorrow, Gregie. You should rest that today, and I'll check it tomorrow and if that swelling hasn't gone down, we might lay off the therapy for a few days."

Looking at me again, "Don't let him do any exercise. Make him use the crutches or a chair for a few days.

A second passed, then glaring at Greg he said, "I don't appreciate giving up my day off for someone that refuses to listen to me and does nothing but feel sorry for himself! You've had one, kid, and you only get two from me - then I tell your old man he can find someone else. You got that?"

"Yes, sir," I interjected, as Greg withdrew from our conversation, refusing to be scolded by some Airman 2nd class.

He gave me no help at all while I dressed him, making me wait until he lifted up his ass so I could pull his pants up to where they belonged. I started buttoning his shirt for him and he slapped my hand away.

"I'm not crippled," he growled.

"Then quit acting like you are! I screamed. "Tell you what Gregie, your nursemaid can get lost faster than you can say "motherfucker"! I can call your father to come take your sorry ass home, and be done with you."

"I'm not gonna put up with this shit again, Greg.  It's not worth it to me 'cause I got other more rewarding things I can be doing with my life!"

"I want to get a job but I can't because you want me with you all the fucking time! Now you want to get rid of me because I did what had to be done for your own good. You know something you shit, I somehow feel responsible for our little stunt yesterday - don't bother to ask me how, I just do."

"You're not a fucking little boy, Greg! You can't play games with that leg," tears welling up in my eyes, "Yesterday, I didn't know if you'd hurt it again; I was scared shitless and all you can do now is bust my balls? Well fuck you and the horse who road you in, you bastard!" I yelled, throwing his shoes at him and making him wince as his eyes opened wide at my tirade.

He held his shoes in his lap, unable to bend over far enough to put them on by himself and I refused to do it for him. I angrily wheeled him out of the room and down the hall toward the car.

He was still holding them when I put him in the car. I slammed the door and yanked the car door open, slamming it once I was inside. Once we got home, I pulled him up out of the car and one of the shoes got away from him and rolled out onto the driveway, where I let it lay.

It took him fifteen minutes to finally get up the back steps and through the kitchen and into the television room with me right behind him until I sat him roughly down in the chair, tossing the crutches onto the floor. I returned to the kitchen, where I fixed him lunch, putting way more food on the tray than he could eat. I filled two glasses full of ice and soda and I delivered it all to the television room where he still sat with his one shoe in his lap, staring at the blank television screen.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking up at me with his sad puppy look.

"Yeah, I know, I know. I'm going out to look for a job," I declared with absolutely no forgiveness in my voice. "That'll hold you until dinner. I may be back, I may not. Your nursemaid has had it up to here," motioning to the top of my neck.

"When will you be home?" He asked softly, not daring to look at the hostility in my eyes.

"When and if I get here, but don't wait up for me. I wouldn't want to get in your way. You've got plenty of food to last you until your parents get home. I'm leaving." He wanted to say something else, glancing up at me with a pitiful look on his face. He looked away when I glared at him as I went out the door.

My rage at Greg was because we both knew he played me like a fine fiddle, and I didn't know the difference between the sincere Greg and when he was giving me a con job. Giving up my life to help him get back to a place where he could dump me wasn't my idea of a good time. There were limits, and I had reached mine.

I realized at that moment that my life had to be about me as well, and not just about him. He was usually pretty careful not to cross the line, because he knew I remembered it all. Just like he knew I'd lay down in traffic for him, but what he didn't know was just how far he could push me and he had crossed the line and brought me face to face with a reality I feared more than loneliness.

It was nine o'clock when I got back to the house. I'd filled out an application for a job at a local parts warehouse and I drove around... and around, trying to calm down but only succeeding in crying a lot and wondering what the fuck I was doing.

The shoe Greg dropped on his way into the house was sitting in the middle of the kitchen table now. His mother was reading at the dinning room table and she looked up over her glasses at me as I came through the door.

"Hope it's not catching. My son's have had those before."

"Pardon!"

"Long face. You look like you lost your best friend. My son has a similar mournful look on his face right now. Want to talk about it?"

I remembered the first day I sat with Greg and his mother at that table. She had been totally pissed off at the fact Greg had come home from the hospital without telling them. Her voice took on that same little girl charm she used on her sons. She had said the very same thing in the very same voice to Greg that day.

"I'm not going to kid you. We need you, Martin. All of us need you. You don't think he wouldn't have driven us crazy if it wasn't for you? He's a real son-of-a-bitch when he wants to be, but we love him. You're the only one I know of that's ever been able to handle him, and he can't help but make you crazy now and then. I understand if you need a break, but don't leave him like this, Martin. He depends on you. It's hard on him, being the kind of boy he is. I understand if you do leave him, but you will regret it one day. He might be a bastard some days, but he's pretty amazing other days too. It's kind of a trade-off that on days like this doesn't seem worth it. Today is almost over. There will be tomorrow no matter what you decide."

"What did he tell you?" I asked.

"Greg? Nothing, nothing at all. He's been sitting in the chair in there since we got home. Did you leave him all that food?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"He wouldn't eat dinner. He wouldn't let me turn on the television for him. He's just sitting there waiting. Were you going to be away for a while. There's enough food there to keep us all going for a few days."

"I didn't know what I was going to do."

"But you came back, that's a good sign."

"Yeah, it's not easy leaving him. He just pisses me off. It's like he's the only one with a dog in this fight. I was so scared yesterday. I can't reason with him and he does stuff I know is idiocy and then I feel bad because I let him do it anyway. He said something today that just... I don't know... it just set me off and I can't forget it. I don't want to forget it. I know what he's like."

"He's sorry," she said for him, sympathetic to my discord.

"That's not enough."

"Why don't you go talk to him. He's not going to bed until you talk to him. He's sitting in there waiting for you to come home. My son is hard-headed and now he's punishing himself because he knows that he hurt you. Don't let him run you off, Martin. He needs you, and, I think you need him."

"Yes, ma'am."

I stood at the door to the television room for a long time. I could see his mother at the table and she went back to the book she was reading. I finally opened the door, and there he was in the chair where I left him.

"I missed you," he said, after glancing up to see it was me.

"Yeah," I said.

"I've got to pee," he said. "I almost pissed myself."

"You couldn't get across the hall on your own? Come on Greg."

"No, you let me fuck my leg up, remember?" He said, giving me half a glance with half a smile attached and then realized it wasn't going to work this time.

"Yeah, I remember. Put your arms around my neck," I ordered, leaning down to where he was before standing back up, pulling him out of the chair as he hung on to me.

Our faces came dangerous close together at the end of the procedure. I could feel the heat coming off of him. He moved back just enough to see my eyes. Our lips were only two inches apart. He leaned on me as we took one unsteady step at a time across the hall and into the bathroom.

"Want to hold it for me," he joked.

"No thanks," I said.

"Didn't think so. I don't blame you for being pissed off at me."

"Good," I answered.

I got him back across the hall and sat him back down in the chair.

"Aren't you going to eat any of this?" I asked.

"Not hungry."

"You've got to eat. You didn't eat yesterday."

"I said no, I'm tired. I want to go to bed now."

"Greg, you are not an invalid."

"Yes I am! And I'm a tired one. I'm sore. Help me undress please, I want to go to bed now."

We'd hit an impasse and neither of us was sure how far we were going to go to please the other.

After going to bed, I woke up later feeling Greg crying. My anger subsided immediately when felt his tears wet my chest - it broke my heart. I hugged him to me and gave in one more time.

"I'm sorry, Greg. I know it's hard for you, but it's no picnic for me, either."

"I know," he said, trying to hold back his tears, "I'm such a baby. I never used to cry."

"You never use to be broken. It takes a lot out of you but it requires more energy to keep fighting. You need to keep fighting."

"Will you stay with me?"

"I'm here aren't I?"

"I keep thinking that one day you won't come back."

"I'm here now. Let's be grateful for right now and we'll let tomorrow take care of itself."

"Today didn't go all that well," he observed objectively.

"No, tomorrow is another day. We'll give it another shot," I said, and he leaned up to kiss me.

God I loved him.

"I want to go to Ocean City."

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 61

Calm After The Storm

 

The therapist gave Greg the next few days off. He went back to lifting weights. I helped when I could and kept an eye on the storage shed's doors. I even opened them from time to time to see if the bike had been disturbed but I found no sign that it had been touched.

Greg remained subdued. He slept more than usual and didn't seem to be too enthusiastic about anything. His appetite had gone into decline as well and even when his mother put his favorites in front of him, he pushed the the plate away before he'd gotten into the meal. None of us said anything for fear of setting him off again but we were all seeing the same things and hoping it was no more than a temporary setback.

Late at night I sat with his mother as she knitted and talked about him when he was a little boy. The stories were always about his curiosity and fearless bravado as well as the impact he had on people, teachers, and classmates who came home with him, even in Germany, when he didn't speak their language and they didn't speak his.

Greg had always run with older boys until he returned to the States at which time the boys were always a year, two, or even three years younger than he was. She didn't understand the attraction as Greg was never all that friendly to anyone.  He was always assuming the lead and having nothing to do with anyone that challenged his authority. It wasn't as easy to get obedience from guys his age back in the states, she thought.

She was sure that most of what was going on now had a great deal to do with what went on then. Greg had carved out his place in the world and suddenly the world turned its back on him, except for one little boy. No one followed him home in an effort to spend time with him. No one called and no one inquired, and that had to take its toll on someone like him, she mused.

She once again thanked me for my loyalty to her son, but it was more than that, she was happy I had come to expose them to another kind of boy. My shyness and reservation was different. I wasn't the kind of boy who usually followed Greg home, being far too nice and unpretentious.

Doug came home after a particularly excellent spaghetti dinner. He was all smiles, looking even more handsome, his hair sun bleached, and his skin darker than I'd ever seen it before. His white even teeth shined in the harsh light of the dinning room table, but nothing could outshine the dazzle on Doug. He hugged both of us fondly, letting his lips brush my neck as he sniffed in my fragrance deeply and sighed before backing off with his mother knitting three feet away.

"Where's Cheryl?" His mother asked, knitting one and pearling two with a dexterity that didn't allow my eyes to keep up with her fast fingers.

"Cheryl? With her family. They went to visit the grandparents. Not what I wanted to do on a lovely evening like this. How are you, Martin?"

"Fine," I said, unable to keep my eyes off him as he studied me.

"And what did Dougie want to do?" His mother asked, never slowing down but managing to look up over top of her silver rimmed glasses at her youngest son.

"Have some of that besketti," he said. "Smells wonderful, mother."

His mother sat down the knitting and hugged Doug on the way past him and she disappeared into the kitchen. He stood still while I gave him the once over twice, not trying to hide the admiration I had for his beauty. He smiled big for me when I got to the soft blue eyes that always had a place for me in them. The things that Doug and I never said to one another could have filled a novel.

"How's my brother?" He asked, bringing us both back to reality.

"I don't know," I confessed to him. "Hard to say. He's in one of his funks."

"Yeah, I wondered how long you'd be able to put up with him once you were living with him. It's a test, Martin. Greg is a hard man to figure out."

"He's in one of his moods. Nothing seems to interest him. He lifts weights because he wants his body back. He goes to therapy because he wants to walk, but he has no interest in either. He just quit on me a ways back. I let him try to ride the bike and...."

"I know," Doug said, in an effort to save me reliving that particularly fuck up. "Pop told me he fucked his leg up again. You can't blame yourself for Greg's craziness. He'd ah done it with or without you, Martin. Greg doesn't do anything he hasn't made up his mind to do."

"Yeah, but it was with me and he hasn't been the same since."

"He feels sorry for himself. Poor Greg. I brought something to break the monotony."

"What?" I asked.

"What later," his mother said as she brought him a plate of spaghetti, setting it down in the place across from where I sat.

I watched Doug eat. He had the appetite his brother had lost. After two plates and four slices of garlic bread, he finally pushed himself away from the plate he'd emptied twice. How did he keep that body with an appetite like that, I wondered, seeing his taunt chest pressing against his inadequate shirt as his now powerful looking arms bulged as he wiped up sauce with the final crust of bread.

"Don't they feed you over there, Dougie?" His mother inquired, also watching the final dip and the crust disappearing.

"Yeah, but I try to act like I'm not always starving."

"No need to act in front of us, huh? We know you're a pig," she said with a smile. "Want another plate, Dougie?"

"Exactly," he said, leaning to pick up the big glass of milk that he drained before setting it back down. "No, Mom, I'm pleasantly full."

His now reddish lips from the spaghetti were coated in the white sheen of the milk. He licked his lips and watched me watching him, smiling only after I'd kept my gaze on his face. Even with the remnants of his dinner on his face, it was lovely to look at.

"You'll never change, Martin," Doug said, licking his lips.

"Let's hope not," his mother said, patting the back of my hand. "He's the best son I've got and I've got some good ones."

"Yeah," Doug said. "He's a keeper Ma. Don't let him get away."

Doug got up from the table and headed out of the dinning room and I heard the back screen door open and then slam. A minute later it opened and than slammed shut again and Doug came back through the kitchen and laid two tennis rackets and a cylinder of tennis balls on the table.

"What's that for?" I asked.

"You and the gimp," Doug said.

"Douglas!" His mother objected.

"You know, my lame brother and you."

"Douglas!"

"I thought maybe it would give him something else to do for exercise. It's a good game and you don't need to freak out playing it. I mean someone can play it without having to run all over the place. Then as he can move better, you play harder. At first you just hit it back and forth. He only has to move as far as he needs to. You'll see. Cheryl's father suggested it."

He cleared his place and took the remnants of his dinner into the kitchen before going into the television room and coming back in no time at all.

"It's like seven o'clock and he's sleeping already?" Doug said.

"Yeah, told you, he's lost interest in everything."

"Okay, I'll stay tonight. We'll take him out tomorrow and he can watch us play tennis," Doug calculated.

"Only one small problem with your plan, Douglas," I said.

"Yeah, that being?"

"I can't play tennis," I said.

"Me either. Cheryl waxes my ass, so I'm no whiz at it. I'll teach you the rules as we go. Make up what I need to so I can beat your ass. Greg'll want to play by the time we're done. He'll hate seeing us doing something together."

"I don't think so," I said. "He's barely doing the things he's supposed to do. He's stopped walking on his own. I've got to go with him just to get him to the bathroom. He was going on his own for a while."

"Sounds like my brother. Why do it alone when you can get help," Doug chuckled before realizing his mother was listening.

"I don't think that's it. He's quit trying."

"Martin, you might lo... like my brother, but I know him best. He'll want a shot at tennis before we quit. All you have to do is act like you're having fun playing with me."

That brought all kinds of visions to mind but none I felt comfortable commenting on in front of his mother. I let it slide and just agreed to disagree with Greg's brother, when there was little disagreeable about him.

It was after therapy and weight lifting the following day that Doug suggested we go up to the high school to use the courts behind the gym. Greg was at odds with the idea until he found out that Doug and I were going whether or not he went. He begrudgingly agreed, not wanting me and Doug alone anywhere together.

Doug ran me all over the court. It was like I was his ballboy. I could volley with him if he didn't hit the serve well but when he got his serve in, all I could do was chase the ball. Greg sat at the side of the court unconcerned and not the least bit amused.

Once Doug had worn me out, and I was sweating, and huffing and puffing from the workout, Greg wanted to get in the game.

"Let me play," Greg said.

"You can't even walk," I said.

"Yeah, well, I don't need to walk to beat your ass at tennis," Greg retorted.

He stood up and limped, more dragging his bad leg toward Doug, taking the racket from him. He then struck the ball with the racket and sailed it over my head. Once again I ended up chasing balls as Greg stood in one spot, hardly moving.

Each time I hit a ball, I did my best to hit it right at him, so he could have a shot at it. A couple of times he had to move a step to the right or left to get to it. I never put enough on the ball to cause him to take more than one step a shot. I thought I had handled the situation pretty well, when it became clear that the only thing I handled was my own irrelevant mind that was rarely as clever as I thought it was.

On one particular shot that came close to me but not close enough for me to get a clear shot, which caused me to hit it back with a little more velocity than I might have liked. Up until then every ball I hit was an easy floater that gave him no challenge whatsoever to return a shot. This ball whizzed back over the net and headed just beyond his reach, or so it seemed from my vantage point.

Greg had several options. Stand still and watch it zip past. Take a step and try to get in front of it and that would leave no hope of returning the ball in any controlled manor, or he could lunge at the ball with his racket outstretched and maybe hit it as he was falling probably on his face. Well, there was no doubt in my mind what he'd do, take a step and end up in front of the ball, knocking it down so it didn't skitter away. That's what he had done every time before.

Greg was totally focused on the ball from the time it left his racket. For a long time he didn't move at all, and then, suddenly, he shoved out the racket and lunged toward the ball, connecting with it in a big way, and launching it straight at my head. Which left me falling down as I stumbled backward in an effort to avoid getting my block knocked off.

Greg also fell down, laughing his ass off as he saw me falling away from his mighty blast. He couldn't just adjust to his limitations. He had to get in one clear shot at my head so that he felt better. No one was more amused by this triumph than he was. Doug went over to him to help him up but he was laughing to hard to stand. The game was over.

We decided we'd had enough tennis but Greg wanted to come back and try it again soon. Doug had known his brother better than I did but he never mentioned it again. He had gone back to Cheryl's before the weekend and said he'd be back before school started. No one said he should do anything different, although it was nice having him around.

We added tennis to our daily routine. Greg liked it and the one step and occasional lunges turned into two steps and then three. He could move fairly quickly on the first step, and he could reach almost anything I hit him with that, but on those errant blasts that had the ball out of his reach, he'd make a game effort to get to it. In one step and then follow it up with one or two more before letting it go, which he didn't often do.

Ever so slowly the energy was coming back. We'd gone a week without having sex and that was the longest I could remember. He hadn't mentioned it but one day while I was rubbing him with mineral oil, his libido returned with a vengeance.

First he wanted to wrestle and that meant my clothes were covered in the oil I was using on him and he liked that. Once I was shed of them, he found it easy to get a hold on me, while no matter where I grabbed him, my hands slipped off. He would laugh and get another hold on me until we were in a position he could make the most of. There was no doubt it was hard for him to hide his enthusiasm for our physical contact.

Using the oil and while kissing him, I clutched the prize between his thighs. It looked a little like a big fat bull frog the way it swelled in my fist as the oil facilitated my massaging of it. It was only a couple of minutes with me enjoy the feel while working it for all I was worth. I did all with in my power to swallow his tongue and while concentrating on that I felt the hot burst of fluid on my arm, and then watched another long straight line shoot up his stomach and onto his chest.

His kisses were passion-filled and demanding as he forced his hips at my hand to empty out the pent-up lustiness that had come back to life.

"Damn," he said, looking down at the mess he had made on his front side. "I couldn't stop it. I've never lost it that easy before."

"You mean that hard, don't you," I said, squeezing the fast fading fistful of cock as we both studied its posture.

Even soft he was thicker than I was hard and only a little shorter. Thinking he was done, I let up on my manipulations, but at a time like this, Greg was only getting warmed up.

He held my hand and used his hips to press his cock into it while we kissed some more. In only a few more minutes he was rising to the occasion again and the quality of his kisses never left it in doubt.

It wasn't unusual for him to stay hard after getting off the first time but he hadn't been that horny for some time. If there was to be a second round, it usually started pretty fast and got us right back into the heat of battle. This time he was content to kiss and let me feel him coming back to life until there was no doubt we were going at least one more round.

Having had enough of handling him, I slipped down his sloppy torso to start working on the head, remembering it took time to stretch my mouth over him. Keeping my jaws relaxed was the secret to swallowing most of Greg's erection. It took time and concentration so I didn't gouge him too deeply with my lust for his hungry cock.

I felt a little like the python after constricting his prey and then slowly swallowing it whole so his body could be nourished. With each gulp, I moved further down the shaft, smelling his fragrant balls from the days activities, the mineral oil, and the cum. The aroma made my head swim and kept me swallowing until the animal I was consuming came back to life on me. First my lips felt the vibrations as the hard prick twitched against my teeth that sunk into the gristle of his dick, and more spasms caused it to pulse in my mouth as the head swelled against the back of the my mouth and closed in on my throat.

"Sorry!" He breathed out the word heavily before I tasted the tangy and pungent liquid squirting into my throat as his hips raised up and his hand held the back of my head so I couldn't back off.

The familiar moan followed and his hips shook as more musty liquid squirted in jolts of potent thick jelly. Forcing my mouth down on his hot to trot cock wasn't the brightest idea he'd ever had.

My mouth was fairly well accustomed to the fattest part of it, but his forced introduction to a few more silly millimeters had my teeth biting the hell out of him. Past experience told me that this wasn't all together disagreeable to his effort to bust the biggest nut he could muster and so I went with him as long as he wrestled my mouth in his lustful effort to feed me his true love.

Once again he retreated rather faster than usual, allowing me to come up for air before I was desperate for the stuff.

"Sorry!" He said again, "I wanted to make it last. I know I haven't been giving you enough attention."

"Hell with making it last. There's always more where that came from," I answered, moving back to kiss him again.

"Yeah, but you still haven't done anything. I wanted you to cum that time."

"When I do, you'll know it, but I can't keep reloading and you can. This is good for me. I'll manage."

"True," he said, thinking back. "I can do better."

In the shower I soaped him up as he leaned under the showerhead. His muscles were hardening and his ability to walk and stand were improving. As I slid up behind him and wrapped myself around him, he used his ass on me in a suggestive way, making no attempt to stay out of reach.

Slipping beyond the boundaries of earth was always a rush for me, especially when I had his pocket rocket in my fist, pumping it up to keep the propellant igniting his flame. It never took long for me once we achieved orbit. I became dizzily frazzled on the jagged edges of my mind. It was perfection and once I had done the deed, he turned in my flaccid arms and gazed into my dazed and soulful eyes.

"I love you, Martin, and that was about the best sex I've ever had. You're so fucking wild when you cum. I might go often but you are champ when it comes to cumming big time."

He had gone soft and there were no ulterior motives for his remarks, nothing to be gained or lost in the heat of the moment, and so it was good. It was very, very good and as I dried his hardening body, he held onto the towel rack, watching me wipe his thighs free of moisture. It's then he laughed and at first I wasn't sure he wasn't laughing at me, but I was always prepared for some wiggle room to worm its way into something he had said.

"God, I'm lucky. God you are so cute. I want to dry you when you're done."

"That would be great, Greg, but you can't bend your knees. How do you expect to accomplish that?"

"I can sit my ass down on the throne, can't I? I can dry you off from there, and maybe even do some business while I'm at it."

We both laughed at the specter of him taking a dump and drying me off at the same time, speaking of an economy of motion.

There was nothing economical about my love for him. It was incredible being with him, especially when he was completely alive. Times were tough on both of us but there was still joy in our world that kept us going.

 

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 62

Stand By Your Man

 

There was a distinct change in Greg over the coming weeks. Once again his rehabilitation came first. He spent much of each day working out and testing his muscles. Along with his determination was a distinct change in his attitude. The long absent impishness that once defined Greg's personality had returned. There was no telling what he might do for a laugh but in general he was cautious not to risk his legs in any ill-conceived attempts at getting a laugh out of me.

I was called to come to work in August and picked mornings on a part time schedule that got me home in time to play tennis with Greg. At first the one and two steps he could take added a step and then two until he started moving better, bending his knees, and requiring less recovery time between serves. He liked to fake like I was wearing him out and then when I had him where I wanted him, he'd smash one of my serves back at my head.

Toward the middle of August both bikes reappeared in the driveway, awaiting my return from work one day. Greg had rigged up a holder for the tennis rackets and road his bike around the yard to prove to me that his leg would now bend far enough to ride comfortably.

It was impossible for me to see him on the bike without hear that foreboding noise his leg made that first day he tried to ride. Luckily, there was no repeat and we started riding to play tennis for two and three hours a day at the local park where there was little competition for the courts.

Along with Greg's impishness came an awakening of his amorous side. I'd get home at one in the afternoon and we would exercise in one fashion or another until dinner time, when we'd go to the house and eat. Then, he wanted to ride bikes until almost dark at which time we'd go back to the house for dinner again. He never seemed to get enough of anything but he was wearing me out.

I'd get up at six in the morning to go to work, after Greg had kept me up half the night having sex with him. By the start of September I was starting to fall asleep at the dinner table, which was about the first time I sat still for any length of time all day. By then I'd worked six hours, rode bikes a couple of hours, played tennis for a couple of hours, and spotted him lifting weights for an hour or so. By the time dinner was done, Greg would be wanting more and that was always one thing that woke me up fast. There was no sleeping any time he was interested in me.

Being with him was like this totally other zone. There were no times like it. I came completely alive when maybe I was half alive the rest of the time. His lips and his solid body set me on fire as he worked overtime keeping me awake. I'm sure that he thought, sooner or later I'd have to quit work, and I was just as determined I wouldn't. I still had the idea I could go to college and become someone.

At the end of the first full week in September we rented a room in Ocean City, Maryland for the weekend, and I walked with Greg to the water's edge. He was still limping noticeably and partially dragging his bad leg, but we walked the quarter mile between the boardwalk and the beach. It was maybe sixty-five degrees out and the water was always cold to me. I stepped into the ocean with him but let him do the rest by himself. Just being up to my ankles in the brown ooze was plenty for me. This time he didn't insist I accompany him. This was his mountain.

I watched as he threw himself into the water once it was up to his waist. He swam a few strokes, stood back up, walked back toward me with his tan body having a slight blue tint to it and goose bumps finished the look. He was all smiles, once he'd accomplished what he set out to do. I guess he had every right to be proud of himself. Even his physical therapist doubted he'd accomplish this task up until the final visit with him. Of course it might have been a way of motivating Greg to prove everyone was wrong. Whatever it was, it worked.

While I was hoping this event would calm Greg's constant need for more, it seemed to trigger a never ending quest for total healing. A new leg press machine joined the other weights in the living room. He'd do 10, 20, 30, and then 40 reps before adding another twenty-five pound plate to the mix and then start over again. His legs joined his arms and chest in growth spurts. His thighs bulged with their new vitality as the sweat rolled.

One day I came in from work just after two and he was naked and doing leg exercises. He was covered in sweat and bulging everywhere he could possibly bulge. As he got to the far end of his reps I couldn't help but notice his cock was standing straight out of his golden pubes. He pressed the weights out as far as they'd go, holding the sides of the contraption for leverage.

"Do me!" He ordered with a strain in his voice.

"Greg!" I said, quite fascinated and hot, seeing the muscles ripple as he strained to keep the weight at bay.

"Hurry up!" He begged. "I can't hold it much longer."

As hard as his bulging thighs were, his cock had them beat all to hell. It was rigid from the tip of his brown cock where the pee hole stood wide open down to where the fat shaft entered his wiry pubic hair. I could feel its hardness as my mouth slipped over the helmet and my lips felt the steel in the ridges of his swollen cockhead.

He blew out hot air and the weights rattled as his legs started to tremble. Looking up at his straining face, his shinning arms and chest bulged with the strain as he lifted his ass up toward my mouth. I shoved my hand under his stone hard butt, only then getting the idea of thrusting a few fingers up where they'd do the most good.

He winced on entry and shivered, which made the weights jiggle louder as he strained to hold them, his load, and the torment I was putting him through when I used my teeth on the head of his cock. I already knew there would be no time to work on swallowing, because the telltale clear nectar started bursting vividly onto my taste buds.

At first is was the sweet clear precum and then it became the thick burst of cum that jolted him while showering the back of my mouth and starting down my throat as the weights clanged, the air all came out of him, and every muscle in his body relaxed as he reached for my head, pushing my mouth deeper onto his dick.

"Oh shit!" He gasped, holding my face down on him and letting loose with another blast of cum that was followed by three short squirts and then the usual dribbling on my tongue as his cock lost a little of its will, making it possible for me to get my mouth into his damp pubes.

"Shit!" he said, shaking for longer than usual as I sucked and licked each drop as it presented it self.

He stood up and was wearing only two dirty white tennis shoes and two royal blue sweatbands, one around each wrists. He looked royal to me.

Instead of going to ride bikes or to play tennis, he started tearing at my clothes, finally ordering, "Take them off will you."

As horny as Greg always was this was even unusual for him. His need to be worshipped and loved constantly had always been a byproduct of loving him, and I'm not complaining here, but suddenly he was kissing me and feeling my body.

I was more than happy to go along with most of his demands. I must admit that I'd come into the house dreading the next six hours of exercise, but before I knew it, I was never more awake and anxious to workout with him. The usual test of my endurance had gotten to the good stuff early, and I couldn't help but think I'd get some sleep that night if I did good this afternoon. Even Greg had to stop some times.

We rolled on the floor and made out as our bodies rubbed together. My body fit within his arms and up against his chest with ease now. A few months before my chest almost equaled his, my arms weren't all that much smaller, and my legs were massive compared to his bad leg. Now, he was half again my size, his old body coming back in a few weeks and then the layers of muscle were added week after week with relentless exercise bulking him up.

I felt comfortable and safe in his arms. I could kiss him and touch him anywhere now, without a protest. Greg and I were at peace with one another, trusting, loyal, and hungry. I don't recall ever getting enough of him. Seeing him lit me on fire and I was hot for him whenever I was with him. His passion drove my passion crazy and in turn, I drove him crazy, and I had learned most of his secrets and applied them often and greedily to keep his lust alive, which had never been a problem, but I didn't want to take a chance on it.

We ended up mouth to cock and while he wasn't presenting me with the endless steel of his first offering, he was still up for the occasion in a big way. The quickness of his orgasm surprised me, because he usually liked to make it last, but he had other ideas, never getting me close. I couldn't match his frequency of orgasm, so he knew what he was doing.

It was then he rolled over onto his stomach so that I could feel the muscles in his shoulder and back, while laying on top of him. I reached under him to feel his chest, while I kissed his neck. He moaned and wreathed in my arms, but he kept his muscles taunt for me. He knew I liked his steel feel. It excited me and him as well as he felt my hands touching and tracing each muscle.

"Fuck me," he said, more directly than usual.

I was already resting on his crack, waiting to see where we were going from there, but his legs opened and the solid flesh became pliable and his hand reached back threw his legs until he had me where he wanted me. "Fucker's getting fatter."

"Whenever you touch it," I giggled.

"Whenever it gets close to my hole."

"That too," I agreed, leaning hard on his ass as the furtive hole started to yield to my blunt cockhead probing ever onward as he guided me there.

Greg liked the entry best of all. That's the part I usually had to brace for when that fat fucker of his was breaking through, but with Greg, he got hardest when his hole was just starting to spread open to accept the offering that was forcing its way inside him. I always held his dick as I slid in, because he pulsed and swelled wonderfully in my fist.

"Oh!" He said, coming up on his elbows as my face rested between his shoulder blades. "God that's nice. Go ahead. Fuck me."

Going ahead was problematic. I was so freaked by getting what I wanted so badly for so long that I'd built up a fantasy over fucking him, when he wouldn't even tolerate me touching him, so, now that I could fuck him, doing it got me so hot so fast that I could hardly hold back, and some times I didn't, just going up to full speed and blasting his ass full of cum right off.

At those times he'd keep me inside until I had gone soft. I think he liked being penetrated. There was this tender time, when he was full of me, just after my entry. Perhaps it was our joining as one that he liked, because I knew, as uncomfortable as he could make it when he fucked me, there was always a period when we were as united as anyone ever had been, and we both lie there, silent and taking it all in. We became one with each other and loved it as much as anything else.

As great as sex was with him the tenderness of the linking together almost always got a similar response, if only for a few seconds as we adjusted to one another. All the rest involved friction, heat, and a driving desire, and I must admit that I wasn't always so considerate once my cock was piston fucking his tight hole. The steel in his buns didn't do anything to calm down my response to his body. It had never changed and every day I still wanted him as badly as I wanted him that first day we met and maybe even more.

We stopped in the woods on the way back from playing tennis and had another go around on the dried leaves of so many autumns past. We lay together as the sun went low in the sky and we listened to the kids coming from the high school after football and soccer practice, just out of our sight.

We were lucky no one took a detour in our direction. They certainly would have been surprised.

That night Greg wouldn't leave me alone. The idea that I might get a full nights sleep was quickly lost once he woke me the third time. As he fell asleep and started snoring, I could see the first signs that night was giving up to the day. I sighed and resisted any idea of closing my eyes. I'd fall asleep and be late for work and probably get fired and that's what Greg wanted. I had defied him and gone against his wishes. He hated that as much as anything. He saw no reason why we weren't together every minute of every day, but I lived in the real world, and one day we'd have to earn a living and support ourselves, although he didn't seem to be aware of that.

I carried my shoes down the stairs and listened to the colonel and Greg's mom starting to rise. I looked out the large dinning room windows and it still seemed dark, but the day was on the way and I needed to be at work early. I got into the car and sat pondering going back up to bed. I tied my shoes and started the car as the dinning room light came on just above and beside the car. I put it into gear and moved toward the street.

The rest is conjecture as I have no memory of it and have only heard the story. As I came through the pillars and entered Old Branch Avenue, I didn't see the car, but I must have pulled out right in front of it. The south bound car was left going north as mine came to rest across the road after pin wheeling a few times for good measure.

There were sparks and faces that might have been there or might not have been. I think I remember Greg's mother's face and then Greg's, staring in at me with hard worried looks. It was daylight. Greg's mother should be at work or on the way. I heard the colonel's voice, yelling orders, asking for more help.

I was left with a floating feeling that made it all seem unreal. It was like the 4th of July, except after the fireworks, everything turned white in my brain. There were people all in white, a white room, and white thoughts and then there wasn't anything at all for how long I can't be sure. Too long.

I remember hearing Greg's voice, my mother's voice, strange voices, and people pushing, pulling, and pricking me with sharp objects. I was in and out of a coma for ten days, or so I'm told. Even when you aren't in a coma, after you've been in one, things are a bit disorganized inside my head. I wasn't sure which was night and which was day, literally. I was confused. I was even confused by the sound of my voice, like someone else was talking through me. I was very confused by seeing my mother sitting by my bed. I never recall my mother ever sitting by me, ever.

Then I recognized the doctor with a large round silver disk on his forehead, and he'd stare deep into my eyes and ask me questions that I had no answers for. Some I heard, some I didn't, and some times I just went to sleep on him. He had that affect on me, but Dr. Lapin was a trooper, and he didn't give up on me, always coming back.

Then it became apparent to me. No Greg. It took quite some time for me to consider the lack of him.

At first I had this longing and need for him that I couldn't tell anyone about. As my life came back to me in small ways Greg's absence from my hospital room became a source of anger and hatred.

How could he not be there? What was the deal with that? I'd spent most of a year sitting by his bed and now that I was the one in the bed, where the hell was he? I could not hide my discord with this turn of events. The accident, the damage done, and my confinement to bed were of no concern, only Greg's absence mattered, nothing more.

I was in the hospital a total of three weeks. One day after staring into my eyes for an unusually long time, Dr. Lapin said, "It's looking very good. I think you can take him home today.

...And so my mother took me to the house I had deserted months before. I walked to my room and laid in my bed and cried. It was only after I'd been home for a week that I asked the question that was always on my mind?

"Didn't Greg come up?" I asked my mother as she sat in her robe at the table one morning.

"Greg? No," she said, not looking up.

The first time my mother went back to work, I dialed the phone at Greg's house. It was just after noon. He'd be lifting weights. The phone rang and rang and rang but nobody picked up. The anger surged through my entire being and it burned my face. I slammed down the phone and cracked the cradle all the way across. I picked up the phone and smashed it down again and again until my hand stung and the phone was in fifty pieces. I went to bed and cried myself to sleep.

I told my parents I had dropped the phone, and my father looked at me with this very weird look, but he dared not question me over the insanity of smashing a phone until it was beyond recognition.

The phone would not be the last victim of my rage. I broke everything in my room that was breakable. Everything I owned was cracked or rendered useless but nothing could compare with the fracture of my heart.

How could he do this to me? I was beyond consolation. Actually it was then I wanted to die. I didn't want to live without Greg. I wouldn't live without Greg. The only thing that kept me alive was the idea that I wanted to spit in his face and tell him what I thought.

My medication was changed and I slept for ages it seemed. I finally could sleep but I had no desire to be awake any longer. My parent's presence wasn't even a factor. Suddenly they were attentive and concerned for their son.

My mother started talking about me going to college, when I'd come out for dinner. I no longer had to worry about work. They wanted to send me to college as long as I was living at home now, but they didn't know I wasn't living any more.

It was November by the time these conversations started, and I was able to walk around without getting severe headaches by December, and college would start in month. My rage had been stilled somewhat by harder medications but it was still alive and well deep inside my belly, twisting and tearing at my insides, during dreams of the dead and the dying.

I kept hearing Greg's voice inside my brain and one day it came to me, during sleep. I sat straight up in the bed when I heard it loud and clear. It was real.

"How is he?" Greg said.

"He's in a coma. They don't know how bad it is," my mother had said.

"I won't bother you," Greg said and the voice was gone.

It was real. He had been there. He had been in my room. He had spoken to my mother and she never mentioned it once. It was late afternoon and I dressed and walked up Mimosa Avenue and down Woodyard road until I reached Old Branch where my accident had happened.

The fire department was only a half a mile away. They arrived five minutes after the crash. They had cut me out of the car. I was at the hospital in another five minutes, and therein was the difference in life and death in a small town, but without Greg, why live at all? There was nothing for me if there was no Greg. I loved him with all my heart and soul and I didn't want to live without him.

I checked both ways before jogging across the street. I walked up the horseshoe driveway and looked up at the windows of the house. I remembered the lights coming on that morning over two months ago. I walked to the backdoor and opened the screen, walking by the freezer and stepping into the kitchen. There was some music playing in the distance. I stepped into the dinning room and there he was, sitting on the couch with his head leaning back and his eyes closed.

His eyes opened and he looked at me like I'd just seen him yesterday.

"I wondered how long it would take for you to get up here," he said, like he was expecting me any time.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I don't know," he confessed. "I don't know what I'm doing. Waiting for you, I guess."

"What's wrong with your leg," I asked, seeing the white elephant back on his left leg.

I was confused again. Had I missed something?

"Broke!" he said.

"Couldn't happen to a nicer guy," I said dispassionate, without adding two and two together.

"I've only been home since yesterday," he said.

"Home? From where?"

"The hospital. You'd have recognized it. They gave me the same bed."

"The same bed. What are you talking about? What happened?"

"Oh, that's right, you don't know anything. No one told you?"

"Told me what? What are you talking about?" I asked, moving closer, but not too close.

I knew there was nothing he could say to take away the pain he'd caused me. I didn't expect him to make an effort. There was no excuse.

But what did I know about life and the living of it?

Perhaps if I hadn't been so self-centered and pissed off at the world, I might have figured it out on my own but no one ever accused me of being a great thinker.

"I rode my bike up to the hospital the day you were in the accident. I'm sorry about that," he said, looking as though he was ashamed of himself. "I know it was my fault, Martin. I don't blame you for being mad. I knew it when I saw you in the bed like that. I wouldn't let you sleep because I thought, well, it doesn't matter what I thought. What I did was pathetic and I'm sorry you got hurt."

"You did come up to see me? My mother was there?"

"Yeah, she was. She said you were in a coma and they didn't know anything. I rode my bike out in front of car on the way home. Right in front of the fire department in fact, or so they say. I don't remember it. They told me about it later on. I was in your hospital for a few hours. Then my parents had me shipped back to the base. Your doctors said you shouldn't know that I was hurt. They said that it could make your recovery go badly if you knew I was hurt, since we were so close."

"You bastard," I said. "I broke everything in my fucking house being pissed off at you, and now you tell me it was for my own good? You bastard."

"Hey, don't take it out on me. The doctors said you shouldn't know. How could I talk to you and you not know. Your parents told my parents when they went up to the hospital. He isn't to know Greg's been hurt, they said. They knew if you asked them about me, they'd have to tell you the truth, so they didn't go back up to see how you were. They both checked on the phone every day until you went home. After that your parents said you belonged home and they didn't want you to know about my accident."

"I'll be a son-of-a-bitch. I've wasted all this time, being mad at you," I said.

"Hey, I just got home yesterday. They said you still couldn't drive, and that reminds me, you wrecked my fucking car? See if I lend it to you again."

"Totaled huh?"

"Totaled, shit, they cut that fucker in half getting you out of it."

Greg started laughing and I started laughing. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off me. Suddenly life was good again. I hugged and kissed him and he held me, wincing a few times when I made his leg shift. I had wasted all that time being mad at him, when it wasn't his fault. I couldn't believe it.

"Well, look whose here? You must have radar, Martin. We only brought him home last night. He was under orders not to call you. Told you he'd be around, Gregie," his mother said, setting a bag down on the table and taking off her coat.

Greg and I were holding hands and he didn't stop and I never thought of it.

"How are you feeling, Martin?" She asked.

"Better, thank you."

"You staying for dinner? You better not say no. This one has been a sour puss ever since he got him home. In fact, he wasn't much better over at the hospital. The nurses kept asking if we couldn't get you to start coming up again. I understand he drove them crazy but the colonel doesn't tell me everything my son does."

"Yeah, dinner sounds fine. I feel like I'm home," I said, squeezing Greg's hand and quickly becoming lost in his eyes.

"You are, Martin. This is your home for as long as you like. We aren't under orders up here."

"Thanks," I said.

"Thank you," she said.

"Want to go watch TV," Greg asked. "You'll need to help me get up."

"Yeah, let's go watch TV," I said, wanting to get my lips on his.

"I'll have dinner ready in an hour, boys," his mother said, going into the kitchen.

"No hurry, mom," Greg said over his shoulder as his arm rested across my shoulders as we took one hobbling step at a time together.

"How long are you laid up for this time?" I asked.

"Not long now that you're here. Cast comes off next month. They kept it in traction just to be sure, but it's looking good. Oh yeah, did I tell you, I love you."

"I love you, Greg."

"I know, Martin. It's the one thing I do know for sure."

God, I did love him so.

Discovering Love

A Rick Beeck Story

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THE END