Family

15 September 1940

Frank stood at the window of his dorm room watching some of the guys playing basketball on a half court just across the yard. He looked at them with their shirts off, bodies muscular and mature and some lean, still teenagers in build, and he felt desire for them, a lust that tormented him at times. There was something inherently unfair about how easily guys got dates with a girl on campus, and he had to be careful, try to sleuth out which guys were like him. So far, after nearly four weeks on campus, he had not dared to approach anyone.  

He knew how the others on the floor viewed him. He overheard their snarky comments when he walked past, or worse those that said it to his face. Boy, kid, and who changes your diaper. He expected it, because it had happened back home in school from time to time by the two bullies, that is until Margaret punched one of them in nose hard enough to give him a nose bled. He smiled at the memory of it, how Margaret rushed up, jerked Brian away from him, and punched him square in the nose. She had been lucky Mrs. Campbell hadn’t called Robby, but everyone knew Brian had been asking for it.  

Watching one of the guys go for the basket, he tried to think of something else. His classes were going well, already earning the respect of one of his teachers who had initially considered him too young. He would keep focused, get through this semester, and see how things panned out.

Back at his desk, he picked up his pen. He had a letter to James begun and one to Margaret sealed, ready for post, he straightened the letter and began to write. Brother, the sights on campus are something to behold. I might go mad before the term is over…

 

 

Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean south of Hawaii, the morning nearly over, James came out on deck to look at the vastness of the ocean. The ship sliced through the water, making a large wake, and James moved to the bow to see the ocean undisturbed by the ship. He thought of home, of Henry and Robby, his two dads. It was an odd thing, there only being less than ten years between them, but how else to think of the two people who took you in, put a roof over your head, food on the table, and the encouragement and means to do what you wanted with your life. He knew there were some whose parents did far worse, thinking of Jack who joined to get away from his family, admitting in a time of drunkenness being abused by his father. Henry and Robby may be unconventional with their secret gay relationship, but he knew they raised Frank, Margaret, and him, not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

He headed back in for lunch before his shift, thinking he needed to reply to Robby and Henry, and he hoped to hear from Frank and Margaret soon, knowing the mail could be delayed for some time while he was out to sea. They’re to send him their address, so he can write to them too. As he crossed the deck, he realized once again how much he missed them.

 

16 October 1940

Frank listened to Katherine Matthews read her paper on leaving Colorado and arriving on campus with a sense of freedom, no longer a child under the direct supervision of her parents. He listened to the themes of becoming an adult and finding independence. It was a common theme for the assignment. He looked at his own paper seeing the grade and he smiled.

The assignment had to been to write about something you know, some aspect of life or events that occurred to you that you could write about from a personal perspective. It was an opportunity to express yourself, to put into writing how you felt and how things had meaning or importance. Mr. Garrison had looked across the room at the twelve of them and said a couple of them would be called upon to read their paper. He said four of them wrote about leaving home and arriving on campus, five wrote about the depression and its impact on their family and community, two had written about the war in Europe and fears we would become involved, and one had written about family, and what it meant to them.

Katherine finished and everyone looked around wondering who Mr. Garrison would call next. There were four who sat up straighter, one almost raising a hand to volunteer, but the rest sat still, uneasy about reading aloud what they had written, none more so than Frank.

“Frank Greene, come up front and read your paper to the class,” said Mr. Garrison.

His stomached knotted and his heart was racing as he slid out of from behind the small desk and walked to the front of room. He had no idea he could be called to read aloud what he had written, but he took a deep breath and prepared himself. It was why he was in college, doing a dual major in Physics and English Lit. He wanted to understand life, what it was within the framework of a universe man was just beginning to understand, and at some point, in the future he wanted to write stories that told of the discoveries about it or envision what could be. He wanted to be truthful, honest in his viewpoints, and knew, standing before eleven of his classmates, there was no better time than now to begin doing so.

 

Sometime in the winter of 1930, Evelyn Buford, having been recently widowed, found herself unable to care for herself and her son, Archie Franklin Buford, who was only five. She loaded what she could into the old Model T and headed south.

She drove out of Virginia heading to Georgia where her brother lived, hoping he would take her and Archie in. The first night they stopped on the side of the road somewhere in North Carolina for her to get some sleep. It was a night of rain and strong winds, and as cold as it could get and still be able to rain in lieu of sleet or snow. They went into an abandoned house where Evelyn sat against the wall and Archie lay on the floor, head in her lap, for much needed sleep.

Frank took a deep breath to control himself, then continued reading.

Archie woke to daylight streaming through the windows, finding himself alone. He thought his mother may be outside doing her business or maybe she was back at the Model T, getting them ready to continue their journey. He went in search of her, only to find the car gone, along with his mother.

He had no idea what to do and found himself roaming along the road heading south. He knew there was nothing to the north for him and going south he might find his mother, maybe at a service station getting gas or a store buying them breakfast. He would walk for what seemed like miles to a five-year-old boy, but in reality, it was nowhere near that far. At some point, he saw a pickup heading toward him and for some reason assumed it was dangerous to be found alone, and he rushed into the woods and hid. The truck passed, splashing through puddles still on the road, disappearing around a curve.

By nightfall, he was terrified and completely lost. He hid in a barn and slept fitfully. The next morning, starving to the point where it hurt, he roamed through the woods until discovered by a brother and sister. They were orphaned and alone. James Chavis was ten, his sister Margaret, eight, and they took him with them to a small shelter hidden in the woods. He lied about knowing his last name, and for a long time wondered why he did it, eventually realizing he didn’t want to be discovered as the boy abandoned by his mother.

For weeks, James took care of them, foraging for things to eat or stealing when there was no other choice. It was a grim existence, one no adult could endure, but for three young children, they endured it for they knew no other way. 

Sometime in May, the date just a construct, they were discovered by two young men still in their teens. Henry Jones was nineteen and Robby Brown was eighteen, and upon seeing the way they were living, got the three of them to follow, leading them away from town to a house that had been abandoned, foreclosed by a bank that soon collapsed, leaving it in limbo. It was two rooms, and Henry and Robby set the three of them up in one room and they took the other.

The children found themselves in a home. Robby foraged and hunted while Henry worked as a farmhand earning a dollar or a dollar and half a day. Come August, Henry and Robby made sure they were back in school, telling them it was important, and when the teacher of the small one-room school told them of the problems they could encounter with the children not having a legal guardian, a plan was hatched. The teacher had a cousin, one not far away, who was an attorney, and with his help, Robby and Henry created a new family, one where they were brothers and guardians of the three children. They took new names, making themselves officially a family that no one could separate. And the five-year-old Archie Franklin Buford became Franklin Robert Henry Greene.

The room stirred as they fully understood what Frank was telling them. He glanced up afraid to see dismissive, judgmental stares, but he saw looks of curiosity and surprise. He looked down at his paper and picked up where he left off.

The children didn’t think of Henry and Robby as brothers, to them they were dads, two young men who gave them a home and the support denied them by the cruelties of world. Over time they would come to understand Henry and Robby were more than just their guardians, they were lovers, two men in a relationship, sharing a bed not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

The room stirred again, this time someone uttering ‘What in the hell’, making Mr. Garrison call for the room to be quiet, then telling Frank to continue.  

It was just one more aspect of their family that society would disparage, and the children kept their secret. But to young Frank, he didn’t understand why it was wrong. Henry provided money they needed and was the guardian most would call a father figure. Robby cooked and took care of their home, gardened and hunted in the surrounding woods, providing them with three meals a day and a warm home in which to live. In many ways, Robby was the motherly figure of the home, the nurturing one. He didn’t wear the costume of a woman nor pretend to be female. He was a young man, but one that gave the three of them affection and the daily care and love they needed.

Frank and his siblings went through their schooling. Frank excelled at his studies until he had skipped ahead far enough to graduate with Margaret at sixteen years of age. His teacher helped him apply for scholarships, getting him accepted at a university on the west coast.

Henry and Robby encouraged and supported Frank, doing everything in their power to help him, as they had done James and Margaret. James entered the Navy, getting stationed in Honolulu, because he wanted to travel, to leave rural North Carolina and see the world. Margaret entered Duke University to become a doctor. There were some who told her she should be a nurse instead, something realistic and more suitable for a woman, but Henry and Robby told her to ignore them and pursue her dream, that she would make a wonderful doctor. And the young boy abandoned by his mother, Archie Franklin Buford who became Franklin Henry Robert Greene enrolled at University of California Berkeley for a dual degree in physics and English Literature. He wanted to understand the universe and how life fits in it and sometime in the future hopes to write stories about what he and others discover through their research, stories that take one far out into the universe to other worlds.

In this setting, suddenly on his own, Frank understands how lucky his life has been. To have a loving supportive family, one that encouraged him to pursue his dreams, is beyond words. It is what every family should aspire to be.

Frank looks up at faces staring back. He can’t read them, for he is shaken by this confession. Then Ethelene raises her hand.

“Yes, Ethelene, you have a question?” said Mr. Garrison.

“Is that real, or did you make it up?”

“Frank?”

“It’s real,” said Frank.

“Damn,” said John from the back of the room.

“You were raised by two gay men?” said Ethelene.

“Yes,” said Frank.

“Wow. That is…amazing.”

After a silence, one Frank didn’t know how to fill, Mr. Garrison came next to him.

“That’s enough for one day. Friday we’ll start discussing Odyssey. Try to have it read by then, or at least the first half of it.”

Frank looked down and smiled, for he had already finished the Odyssey and was currently reading The Grapes of Wrath.

 

 

10 December 1941

Margaret was in the kitchen helping Robby prepare lunch. She was home on break from Duke University. Robby was silent as he moved around her within the small kitchen, still worried about James. Frank remained in Berkeley over the break, working full-time hours for extra money in lieu of spending money on a cross-country train ride that would take half of his break.

Japan had attacked Pearl Harbor three days prior and there had been no word from James. They didn’t know if he had been out to sea or in harbor when the attack occurred.

“Where did these fresh tomatoes come from?” said Margaret as she picked one for slicing.

“We grew them in the greenhouse,” said Robby. “Not as successfully as we hoped but we’ll keep working on it.”

“I wonder what Frank is doing right now?” Margaret was trying to take Robby’s mind off James, as she was trying to do for herself. It was frightening to think of it after listening to radio reports until Henry made them turn it off for a little while.

“Probably sleeping,” Robby joked, knowing of the three of them, Frank had been the one who was not a morning person.

“He said the pay at the restaurant wasn’t that good, but the tips made up for it. He said one weekend he made nearly fifty cents an hour in tips.”

“I just hope he stays with the college and doesn’t enlist,” uttered Robby in a low voice as he removed a pot of beans from the stove.

Margaret knew what Robby meant, for Frank wasn’t someone she could see in a combat situation.

Henry came into the kitchen carrying a few envelopes. “No letter,” he said, and everyone knew he meant no word from James.

“It’s only been three days,” uttered Robby.

“I’ll set the table,” said Henry, taking plates and utensils from the tall cabinet by the refrigerator.

Henry went back to the living room and set the small table. He heard someone walk across the porch, then knock on the door. He wondered who it could be since he had not heard a vehicle drive up.

“I got it,” said Henry, as he crossed the room. He swung the door open to a teenager who looked thirteen or fourteen, one of the McGee boys, his bicycle leaned against the porch.

“I’ve got a telegram for Henry and Robby Greene,” the boy said.

“I’m Henry.”

The boy handed him the telegram, rushed off the porch, and was quickly back on his bicycle pedaling back toward the road.

Henry stood in the open door reading the telegram.

I’m fine. Will write soon. James

His hand shook and tears came to his eyes. He took a deep breath to compose himself and stepped inside closing the door.

“Who was it?” said Margaret bringing a dish to the table.

“One of the McGee boys delivering a telegram from Frank. He says he’s fine and will write soon.”

“Thank God,” uttered Margaret.

“He’s okay?” said Robby rushing into the room.

“It would seem so. He said he would write soon.”

Robby stood still for a moment, then eased back into the kitchen where Margaret and Henry heard him crying.

 

10 June 1942

Frank set James’ letter on his desk sensing what was between the lines, the danger and urgency of the war with Japan. James had written back in April about the latest efforts in Honolulu, vague of any details, but the way the cursive writing sloped forward more than usual he could tell James was at least anxious if not frightened.

He leaned back and looked out the window at the quiet campus; the summer term had not yet started. He stayed on campus to pick up a couple of classes and work in town at the restaurant. He looked at the new watch and pen set Robby, Henry, and Margaret had sent him for his eighteenth birthday. He hesitated to put the watch on, afraid to mess up the leather band. But his real gift was down in the parking lot, something that took some convincing of Henry and Robby, but in the end, Robby had sent him more money than he had asked for. He had asked for seventy-five dollars for an old motorcycle another student was selling, but a check for two hundred dollars arrived two weeks later. It had shocked him, realizing he could afford a decent motorcycle. Three days later, he was buying a 1935 Indian Chief from a mechanic in Albany for one hundred seventy-five dollars. He got his license and tag giving him a sense of freedom greater than when he left home on the train for Berkeley. But he expected to feel different, older, more mature, and wondered why he didn’t. He thought he should feel like a man, but at times he still felt like a teenager of fifteen. He looked at the watch seeing it was nearing six o’clock and he thought about going into town to knock around, or maybe he would venture across the bay to San Francisco. Cruise around the city and get dinner somewhere. Then he might venture to that area he heard about where a gay population lived and worked.

“Get up and do something,” Frank uttered to himself. He stood and picked up his toiletry case and towel, heading to the bathroom at the end of the hall to get cleaned up.

 

 

Frank came back into his room, towel around his narrow waist. He stood as far as he could from the small mirror to see himself. Six foot one inches tall, one hundred and sixty-two pounds, with fair skin, little body hair (he thought it made him look immature) and dirty blonde hair that needed cutting. He stared at himself, trying to make the teenager looking back become a man. Would a guy have anything to do with him, but he had seen older guys with younger ones and knew the answer. But was it the kind of thing he wanted, or did he prefer someone closer to his own age, someone he would consider an equal to himself. Someone like Robby was to Henry.

He wasn’t sure, as he tugged the towel from his waist and looked at himself naked. His cock hung heavy over its sack, and he knew from countless nights of masturbation, it got to over eight inches in length and fit snugly within his hand. It was the one thing that made him reconsider his assessment of himself.

He put on a pair of white shorts and a three-button undershirt. He slid a box from under his bed, one that contained used clothing he had bought with some of the money left over. He took out a pair of denim pants, tight around the waist but full along the legs. Then he took out an aviator’s jacket, the leather black instead of brown, with a soft worn feel to it. He put it on over the undershirt, feeling a sense of rebelliousness.  He looked in the mirror and smiled. He looked like one of the guys he had seen riding motorcycles off campus. Deviants he overhead a woman walking past describe them.

To women, he could be considered a deviant, for they were not the ones he wanted to garner attention.

Reaching under his bed again, he slid out old black boots. They were worn a bit more than he liked, but they were affordable. He slipped on white socks then the boots. Coming back to his feet, he looked in the mirror again, seeing someone who felt taller, more masculine…someone who felt like a man instead of a boy. He realized his slightly used clothing made him look more the part than if he had brand new things, like someone new to the game.

Opening the bottom drawer of his desk, he took out a notebook and slipped a folded page out. He looked at it again, reading down the list of restaurants and bars in San Francisco. He picked out a restaurant, realizing he had read the list so often he knew the directions by heart. Every street, every turn, from campus to 101 Taylor Street, where The Royal Grill & Cocktail Lounge was located.

He grabbed up his wallet and keys and headed out.

 

 

Frank approached the motorcycle, dark red with gold pinstripes, and loud when running, one he considered his beast. Something tempestuous. He straddled the seat and fired it up. It rumbled to life and idled with a deep, slow cadence. He gave it some gas, and its rumble became throaty, louder, and he could feel the mechanical nature of it through his body. He put it in gear and motored away from the curb.

He came to the bridge and increased his speed. He had been over it a few times and every time it was a bit of a thrill, being high over the water and open to the wind coming off the bay. As he rode across the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge heading toward the Yerba Buena Island that was about halfway across, he was reminded of how he wanted to go over the Golden State Bridge on the north side of the city. He wanted to ride across it on his motorcycle feeling the sun and wind as he did so, for the bridge was more majestic.

The bridge took him into San Francisco and immediately he was in traffic of the city. He navigated the streets until he was on Market Street heading away from the bay until at intersection with Taylor Street, 6th Street, and Golden Gate Ave, and he turned hard right onto Taylor Street, his destination only a block away.

On the corner sat The Royal Grill & Cocktail Lounge, a place open to gays and straights. He pulled past it, then found a place to park next to four other motorcycles, two Harley-Davidsons, a Triumph, and an Indian he knew was a new Model 441 in black. Once parked, he sat on his bike looking at the Indian, admiring it, the ways it was like his older model in the way fenders curved tightly over the wheels, and the ways it was nicer. A bigger engine and the overall appearance of a more solid machine.

 

 

Frank entered the restaurant and lounge, finding it busy. People were waiting to be seated, mostly men, and he took in the place letting his eyes roam over one masculine form after the next. Guys looked around giving him the same look, some even smiling. It made him feel good.

Right in front of him were two guys who were average in height and build. One about five foot seven with a lean build and the other a couple of inches taller and more muscular. The shorter guy wore dark pants with a white dress shirt and the other wore jeans with a striped polo of white, red, and gold. The shorter guy had black hair and the other brown hair, both with it cut close to the scalp. They were military, probably Navy. The short sleeves of the polo revealed the muscular guy had a tattoo that looked fresh, still a bit red around it.

The shorter one looked back and smiled. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Frank replied wondering how they viewed him. Six foot one, lean build, and dirty blonde hair that was starting to touch his ears and collar.

“Are you alone?”

“Yeah; not many guys on campus during the summer, so…” Frank let it go unsaid he didn’t want one of the guys on campus to come with him.

“Campus? Which college?”

“UC…Berkeley.”

The other guy turned, revealing green eyes and a boyish face. “You’re not on break?”

“I’m taking a couple of classes over the summer because I’m a dual major. You guys in the Navy?”

The short one smiled as he rubbed a hand over his head. “It’s obvious isn’t it.”

Frank saw the green eyes look him up and down.

“I’m Eugene,” said the muscular guy, “and he’s Joe.”

“I’m Frank.”

“Frank, you want to share a table with us. It could take you a long time to get a table by yourself.”

“You guys don’t mind?”

“No, not at all. It’ll give us something to talk about other than the war.”

 

 

A couple of hours later, Frank followed Joe and Eugene out of the restaurant, heading to a bar. They guaranteed he could get into it. What they never said aloud but had hinted the bar catered to gays. Joe called it different and a fun place to hang out. Eugene said it catered to guys looking to have a good time, making no mention of a female.

It didn’t surprise Frank two Navy boys could be gay. He had heard the rumors and just a few minutes in The Royal Grill made it visibly clear, the bar and table after table having military boys gathered together, some with older men who looked like businessmen of the city. There was a jovial nature to the different groups, with boisterous laughter, and the occasional gesture that was intimate. A touch of an arm, or the straightening of a collar, or a hand on another’s knee.

It was something he had experienced with Joe and Eugene. Joe had touched his hand to make a point, and Eugene put a hand on his knee a couple of times, the last time giving it a slight squeeze. Immediately after, Eugene asked him if he wanted to go to Bluejacket Tavern.

As they walked down the sidewalk Frank noticed again Eugene seemed more confident and Joe a little nervous. He wondered if Joe was a virgin too. Since he was still a virgin, he felt nervous…and excited.

“What do you drive?” said Joe.

“A motorcycle,” Frank replied.

“Really? We do too. Eugene said we might as well have some fun before we ship out.”

They came to the motorcycles, Frank’s the first one in the line.

“That old Chief is mine,” said Frank.”

“It’s nice,” said Eugene running a hand over the gas tank.

“We have the Harleys,” said Joe.

“They’re nice,” said Frank.

“They’re the WL models. Mine is the red one and Eugene’s is the black and cream one next to it.”

“Let’s go,” said Eugene climbing on his bike.

Frank and Joe straddled their bikes and fired them up. The three bikes rumbled to life and soon the three of them were motoring away. Eugene led, with Frank in the middle and Joe bringing up the rear. They rode to Market Street, turning left to head toward the bay. Only a few blocks from it, Eugene slowed, then turned on Main Street heading south for a couple of blocks, then he turned left on Howard Street.

They had to be careful of the railroad tracks embedded in the road, but they came quickly to the bar, a building on the left near one of the piers. A few men were standing outside the door, a couple in uniform.

Parked along the street just before the intersection, Frank followed Eugene and Joe, trusting them to get him into the bar. At the door, they entered without problem and made their way to a table near the bar.

“I’ll buy this round,” said Eugene. “What will you have?”

“A daiquiri?” said Frank.

“One daiquiri coming up; Joe you want your usual?” said Eugene.

“Yes.”

Eugene came back with three cocktails. “Screwdriver for you,” he said setting a drink in front of Joe. “A daiquiri for you,” he added when he set Frank’s cocktail down. He set the third drink down and sat.

“What did you get?” said Frank.

“A Mai Tai.”

 

 

Sometime later, Frank was feeling the effects of having three drinks and Eugene’s hand on his leg. Joe was watching a drag queen perform, as he told Eugene about growing up in North Carolina and raised by Robby and Henry.

“Two guys raised you?”

“Yes. None of us had parents and they took us in and acted as our parents.”

“So, you had two daddies.”

“Yes,” Frank replied smiling.

“Were they gay?”

“Yes.”

Eugene laughed. “Goddamn, I’ve never heard of such. That is wild. No wonder you’ve not been nervous being here. Joe was really worried about being caught the first time we came.”

“I guess you guys could get into a lot of trouble.”

“Thrown in jail.”

Joe turned to them, leaning over the table. “Hey, you guys want to get out of here?”

“Where to?” said Frank, feeling Eugene’s hand squeeze his thigh.

“We’ve got a room at a hotel near Union Square.”

Frank smiled. “Okay, let’s go.”

 

 

Frank followed Joe and Eugene up the stairs to the second floor and down the hall. He felt excited, heart pounding in his chest, as they strolled past room doors until at 224, a room that faced the back of the block, a cheaper room than those facing the street. Eugene unlocked the door and stood by the side, letting Joe and Frank enter the room. A lone lamp on a nightstand illuminated it. It was stark, the only other furniture was a dresser and an armchair in the corner. The curtains were closed giving the room an intimacy, a space safe from the outside city.

Joe went to the side of the bed and turned to Frank, who stopped only a couple of feet away ready for them to mess around. He was willing to do what the two Navy boys wanted. He would take their dicks in his mouth, let them fuck him, for he wanted to experience everything men could do.

He took his jacket off and Eugene took it, tossing it on the dresser. He started to move to Joe when Eugene reached out slipping arms around his waist. Lips touched his neck, then moved up to his ear as Joe approached him.

“I can’t wait to get you on the bed,” whispered Eugene.

Joe kissed him, lips pressing gently against his own, then with increased desire, they opened their mouths to each other as Eugene touched him, hands rubbing over his chest, stomach, then down over his crotch, manipulating his cock.

He moaned into Joe’s mouth as hands touched him. Eugene tugged his undershirt out of his pants. As soon as his stomach was exposed, Joe touched him, hands rubbing bare flesh, over his stomach then upward over his hardening nipples. Eugene tugged the undershirt upward until it was slipping over his head as Joe began to undo his belt and pants. The undershirt was pulled down his arms until just below the elbows when Eugene twisted it tight, binding his arms behind him as his pants and shorts were tugged down. He looked down as Joe stooped before him staring at his cock angled up fully erect.

“Go on, Joe, suck it,” said Eugene.

Yeah, Joe, suck my cock, Frank thought as he watched Joe lean forward. He gasped as lips touched the head of his cock. He shivered as they slipped over it and the mouth took over half. Eugene held his arms bound behind him as Joe moved on his cock. He watched the movement of the head as he felt it through his cock.

As Joe sucked, he watched the mouth take more of his cock until Joe was able to take all of it, every fucking inch, nose buried in his pubic hair. Joe choked and drooled around it until he felt drool trickle down his nuts. It was too much, and he began to move his hips.

“That’s it. Fuck that slut’s mouth,” whispered Eugene.

Frank saw Joe hold his mouth open, the head of his cock resting on the tongue. He wants me to do it, he thought and he began to fuck Joe in the mouth. He pumped his cock over the tongue, at times pushing inward until it entered the throat cutting off Joe’s air. As his arousal increased, so did his pace, until he was pumping hips furiously.

“I’m going to cum,” Frank exclaimed.

Joe closed lips around his cock as he thrust erratically, shoving it into Joe’s mouth, then he shuddered and jerked as it erupted, spurting wad after wad into the suctioning mouth.

Eugene released his arms and the shirt fell to the floor. He saw Joe stand with a hard cock in hand, pants falling around his ankles. It curved upward a bit shorter than his eight inches and the head was arrow shaped. He imagined it in his mouth or penetrating his ass. As he got his boots then pants and underwear off, he watched Joe strip. Eugene was behind him and he knew by the clothes landing on the floor, he was stripping too.

Joe got on the bed and stroked his cock slowly, seductively, while looking at him.

“Do you want to fuck me?” said Joe.

“Yes,” Frank uttered in reply.

“Then get on the bed,” said Eugene, giving him a little push.

Frank climbed on the foot of the bed and stood on his knees between Joe’s feet watching him stroke cock as he did the same. Joe smiled at him, raised his knees and spread his feet apart, and Frank watched him slip a hand down to his ass and slip one finger into it. Joe worked the finger in his ass as Frank watched. He knew Joe was loosening himself for fucking. He watched one finger become two, then three, stretching the ass open.

Eugene was on his knees by the bed watching and Frank knew by the movement of the right arm, stroking cock to full erection.

“Go on, fuck his ass. Let me see you sink that cock into it,” said Eugene.

Frank looked from Eugene to Joe who slipped the three fingers out of his ass and held his legs up for him to take. He moved forward, placing the legs on his shoulders and his cock to the ass. He rubbed his dripping cock over it, then pressed against it. Joe fell back flat, head tilted upward, mouth open, moaning as he penetrated him. He sank the head into the ass, then inch after inch until over half was inside him.

“Damn, that’s nice,” said Eugene. “Now fuck him.”

Holding the legs against his chest, Frank began to fuck, to drive into the depths of Joe’s ass, building up a furious pace. Eugene ran a hand over his stomach, then down to his cock as he piston it inside the ass.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” said Eugene.

Yeah…hot…Frank thought as he began to sweat from his exertions. He slowed, worked his cock through the tight opening feeling every inch of it move through it, then he fucked fast, pushing into the depths of Joe’s ass.

The bed squeaked and rocked beneath them in rhythm to their fuck. It spurned Frank to fuck harder. To drive his cock into Joe’s depths with such physicality the bed began to bang into the wall.

“Frank,” said Eugene.

Frank slowed to stop the bed from hitting the wall, and he shifted the legs down to the crook of his elbows and moved over Joe. He braced himself on hands and knees, hovering over the folded body, and fucked. He drove his cock into Joe all the way, sinking every inch into him. He began to smack down against the upturned ass and make the bed squeak again. He fucked with full swings of the hips, tugging upward until nearly slipping free. Then buried all eight inches into the ass.

Eugene had his head close, watching Frank hammer Joe’s insides. The sound of hips smacking ass echoed in the room and Joe begged to be fucked. To be fucked harder.

Frank pulled his cock out of Joe, hovered over the ass, then slammed back into it, all the way, hips smacking against it. Four, five, six times, he pulled out of Joe only to slam back into him. Then he sank over halfway into the ass and fucked to cum. He fucked until sweating and gasping for breath. He fucked as Eugene ran a hand down his sweaty back to his ass.

“Jesus, keep fucking him,” exclaimed Eugene, smacking the left ass cheek.

And Frank kept fucking until he was at the point of release. His whole body went rigid as he slammed his cock into Joe’s depths and came. He shuddered with every ejaculation until finally spent.

 

 

Frank eased back, letting Joe bring his legs down. His cock hung half hard and dripping as he watched cum trickle out of Joe’s ass.

“My turn,” said Eugene, giving Frank a gentle push to move to the side.

Frank lay on his side against the wall giving Eugene and Joe room to fuck. He watched Eugene take Joe by the ankles, spread the legs apart, and scoot up to the wet ass. He watched Eugene penetrate it, sink over half of his cock into it. Eugene wasn’t as thick, but he was longer, at least nine inches, and he looked at the few inches still visible thinking how most of it was inside Joe.

Eugene began to fuck and Frank watched. He stared at the cock as it came more fully into view then disappeared into Joe, and as with him, Eugene sank deeper and deeper until pumping nearly inch inside Joe.

Joe pushed against the iron head of the bed and arced his back as he took Eugene’s fuck. His body was sweating and his cock was rock hard, tapping his stomach as Eugene fucked his ass.

“You like Eugene’s cock fucking you?” said Frank leaning close to Joe.

“Yes,” Joe replied breathlessly.

Frank leaned closer and kissed him while sliding his hand down the skinny flat stomach to the cock. He took it in hand, stroking it.

“Let me,” whispered Frank to Joe, and he slid down the bed and until hovering over the cock.

Frank took the cock into his mouth capturing the odd sweetness of its precum. He tongued it, then moved his lips along its length as Eugene’s cock hammered the ass. He watched it as he sucked, how the cock moved easily in the cum slick ass.

“I’m going to cum,” exclaimed Joe.

Frank held the head of Joe’s cock on his tongue. He felt it flex then erupt, pumping wad after wad into his mouth. He captured the cum, holding lips tight around the spurting cock until he had to swallow. As the cock dribbled out the last of its load, Eugene bellowed and shoved into Joe so hard the bed banged against the wall, then he was jerking and shuddering with his own release.

 

 

Frank found himself on his knees, fucking Joe who was in a doggy position while Eugene fucked him. He moved between them, pushing cock into Joe all the way, then tugging it outward while sinking Eugene’s cock into his ass. He moved steadily, showing his stamina and strength, and his lust for their sex. He held Joe by the waist as Eugene’s hands moved over his chest and stomach, and lips moved along his shoulders and back of the neck.

Eugene came first, pumping cum into his ass. When Eugene eased back, he pushed Joe down on the bed and fucked harder, pushing himself to the point of release. He came inside Joe again, then collapsed on the bed next to him.

 

 

Frank came out of the bathroom drying himself after a quick shower. He saw Joe and Eugene spooned together on the small bed, sound asleep. He watched them sleep for a minute, thinking of Henry and Robby. He had seen them sleep like this and wondered if Eugene and Joe could make a life for themselves the way Henry and Robby had done. It was tough, damn near impossible, but he had seen how Henry and Robby made it work, and in doing so gave James, Margaret, and him a home. A family that was loving and supportive and never, never once, made them feel unwanted. He smiled at the notion of Eugene and Joe doing the same.

He was too wound up to sleep, so he dressed and eased out of the room. As he moved through the hotel he knew he would probably never see them again, but for this one night, they gave him his first experience and for that he was grateful.

The night was cool and the breeze carried the smell of salty bay on it. He straddled his motorcycle and fired it up, worried it was too loud for such a late hour. He eased away from the curb and headed for the campus and back to his dorm room.

 

12 July 1942

 

Margaret, home for the summer, was having lunch with some friends from her grade school days. She had taken the car, because they were going to Fayetteville to a restaurant that was open on Sundays. It left Henry and Robby alone, something they didn’t really want. They missed James, Margaret, Frank more than they could say and relished having Margaret at home for the summer. But having a few hours alone, knowing she would be back later in the day, was something they would take advantage of, their first alone time since she had come home.

Henry caught Robby in the barn putting away the garden rake. He entered the small barn, pulling the doors closed and flipping on the single bulb used to illuminate the interior.

“What are you doing?” asked Robby jokingly, knowing exactly what Henry wanted. With the two of them alone around their home, they had gotten to used to having sex whenever the urge hit them. On the porch, down in the spring, in every room in the house, and especially the barn.

“What does it look like,” said Henry, pulling his shirt off. “Get naked.”

They stripped and for a minute just looked at each other. Henry was thirty, Robby twenty-nine, both men with lean muscular bodies from their labors, operating the garden center and growing crops. They needed haircuts, and dirt and grime covered their arms and in Robby’s case, even his face, but they still considered each other beautiful, someone they desired as much as they had when they first discovered their shared attraction for each other.

“Come here,” taunted Robby playfully, stroking his hardening cock. “Come here and fuck me.”

Henry moved to Robby as he sat upon the worktable. Henry came between his legs and kissed him. As they kissed, they fondled the other, toyed with hardening cocks, then rubbed chests and stomachs, and pinched and twisted nipples until Henry moaned and Robby cried out.

Robby lay back, head up against the wall holding his legs up. Henry took each, spread them apart as he moved up close. He raked his cock across Robby’s ass then pressed against it. Robby shivered as he penetrated him. He eased into him, slowly, gently, until halfway inside him.

“Fuck me…fuck me, Henry.”

Henry began to fuck with a steady pace.

It was so familiar to them, their intimacy, no matter the form it took. Late at night, a slow gently fuck that was all touches and caresses, concealed in the darkness. Or the fuck they did playfully in the house, fucking on the sofa or in the tub to the point of exhaustion. Or the fuck down in the woods, usually at the pool on the stream, horsing around like two teenagers before one submitted to the other, their fuck playful. Then there the was fuck in the barn, within its heat and dirt, a fuck that was physical, two men needing to be pushed to the point of release.

It was the fuck they were engaged in now, Henry hammering Robby’s ass. The table rocked, until banging against the wall and Robby was moaning and grunting. Henry took Robby’s cock while hammering his own into Robby’s depths. They fucked until sweat trickled down the dirt and grime of Henry’s body and Robby was holding the edge of the table in a white knuckled grip taking his fuck.

Henry soon came, never able to hold out when fucking with such abandon, pumping Robby’s ass full of cum. Then he slipped out and went to his knees, taking Robby in his mouth. He only had to suck a short time before cum hit the back of his throat and filled his mouth.

 

 

Robby was in the kitchen frying chicken while Henry was going over the ledger for the garden shop, smiling with pleasure that they were making money during such hard times. Margaret came in from her hanging out with her friends.

“How was lunch?” said Henry, not looking up.

“It was good. Rachel is pregnant and Stephen and Vivian are getting married in the fall.”

“That’s nice.”

“Henry, look what I’ve got,” said Margaret holding a letter.

“Where did you get that?”

“Mr. Hanks stopped me just as I was turning off the main road. It seems the mailman put it in their box.”

“Who’s it from? James or Frank?”

“A letter from one of the boys,” Robby called out from the kitchen.

“Yes; it’s from James,” Margaret replied loud enough for Robby to hear.

“Well, don’t just stand there, read it to us,” said Henry, closing the ledger and sitting back.

Margaret read the letter, one dated June 10, 1942, James telling them he was on shore leave from the USS San Francisco, the heavy cruiser he was now assigned. There were few details of his life on the ship except what the food was like and how there was no privacy, making a joke about the head. Then he wrote about meeting someone, Elizabeth Shepperd of Portland, Oregon. They first met when he was visiting a friend in the Naval Hospital where she was a nurse.

He told them he thought she was the one, and Henry and Robby smiled proudly and nodded as Margaret read of their relationship.

 

 

The next day the mailman entered the garden center and handed Robby the Fayetteville Observer and an envelope. It was from Frank, and he rushed to the toilet to read it in private.

Henry and Robby,

I’ve been meaning to write for a month but wasn’t sure how to tell you something. This summer, I discovered what the two of you understand and know. I haven’t met anyone who could be to me what you are to each other, but I’ve discovered the physical aspects of it.

I’m laughing at what I’ve written, for it is so obvious what I mean. Don’t let Margaret read this or I’ll never hear the end of it. My summer classes are going well, and work is putting a few dollars into my account, so I’m doing well. Robby, you’ll be pleased to know the Chief has been a good companion in my roaming when I have the time. It gets me into all kinds of trouble. I just know you’d want to know.

“That rascal,” said Robby, shaking his head.

I’ve got everything set for the fall. There is a break between summer and fall, but to save money and because it is so short, I’m going to keep working through it. I promise to come home during the Christmas break, which reminds me I need to get a ticket for the train.

How’s the store? Have you heard from James? I’ve not heard from him in a couple of weeks, nor have I heard from Margaret. Tell her she owes me a letter.

I’ve got to stop so I can get to class on time. I’ll mail this on the way to work.

I miss both of you and can’t wait to see you in December.

                                                                                                Love, Frank

 

Robby slipped the letter back into its envelope, folded it in half, and put it in his pocket for Henry to read. He went back to the sales floor, going to Mrs. Jenkins who was looking at gardening gloves. “Can I help you find your size?”

 

6 August 1945

Robby and Henry stood around the radio, crowded in the checkout area of the garden center. It was Monday morning and the store was not busy. Most people would be doing the same as they, listening to every scrap of news about the war ever since President Truman announced the previous evening a nuclear bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, Japan at 8:15 A. M., August 6th their time.

The description of its devastation horrified Robby and Henry only shook his head. “I hope this ends it; it has to stop,” uttered Henry. They worried about James and where he was during all this madness. Margaret was still in Suffolk, England as part of Duke University Hospital’s war effort, treating the wounded and sick. She had gotten her degree in the accelerated three-year program, did her year of internship at the hospital, and once licensed, was shipped out to Suffolk.

It was maddening to Robby that two of their children were involved in this war, only Frank seemed able to avoid it. Frank had just finished his dual degree in Physics and English Literature and was set to pursue his Masters in the fall. Robby understood little about what Frank’s goals were but didn’t care if it kept his youngest out of the war. Frank, of the three children, was the one that had no business in a war. It was bad enough, James was in the thick of it, now Margaret too. The horrors she must be seeing in the hospital, it didn’t due to dwell on it.

The bell to the front door rang out and Robby looked around the corner to see the mailman come in carrying their mail.

“You got a letter from that boy in the Navy,” said Mr. Cullman, handing it to Robby.

“Thanks,” Robby replied, dropping everything but the letter on the counter.

“Quick, what does it say,” said Henry.

 

July 14, 1945

Robby and Henry,

I don’t have a lot of time, but I did want to write and let you know I’m well. It helps the San Fran has been a good ship, doing a lot of damage but not getting into trouble. If only the others were so lucky.

I don’t know what is happening, but we get the impression something big is up. Some of the higher ups have been more positive about the war coming to an end soon, but I don’t see it. The Japanese have been fighting to the last man at times. They seem to be dug in for the long haul.  But Germany surrendering, it means we can turn all our efforts against them, so maybe that is what everyone seems to be hinting at.

I’ve got to stop and get back to my post. Love James.

 

“This war has to end,” said Robby, walking away to be alone for a minute.

Henry watched him cross the room and go out the side door. He frowned because he knew each letter, as much as Robby wanted them, still caused him to be anxious and scared for James.

That night, Henry and Robby held each other in bed whispering about their fears about the war. James in the Pacific had been bad enough, then Margaret ended up in England. At least Germany had surrendered back in May. Exhausting themselves on the war with Japan and James’ involvement, they fell silent for a few minutes. Sleep wasn’t going to come easily, and Henry mentioned how he was glad Frank wasn’t involved. When they talked of Frank, their anxieties mixed with their knowing Frank was finding his way, becoming a man, a gay man in a society that didn’t accept him, at least not in most of the country, but they wondered about Berkeley and San Francisco after reading Frank’s letters. They couldn’t imagine it.

 

 

Three days later, Henry and Robby were huddled around the radio again, listening to the news reports on the second nuclear bomb being dropped on Nagasaki, Japan.

“Japan has to surrender after this,” said Robby.

“I hope so,” said Henry. It felt to him as if they had been at war for decades, not years.

 

22 September 1945

Frank came out of the dorm and looked up at the sky. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, smiling as he did so. He was twenty-one and a graduate student. He had finished his dual degree in five years and was solely focused on his master’s in physics. But this wasn’t the reason he was so happy. He had received a letter from James the day before telling him Elizabeth and he would be coming home for Christmas and wanted to make sure he was there. It had been too long since they had seen each other, and he couldn’t wait for the Christmas break to arrive. He already had his ticket for the trip back by train.

Strolling through the dorm buildings, he headed to the cafeteria for lunch. He had finished a report the night before, a series of calculations that morning, thus intended to take the afternoon off, waiting until the next day to do his reading. He wished he had time to go into San Francisco for he was feeling frisky, like he could fuck all night.

 

 

The cafeteria was surprisingly busy, and Frank carried his tray across the dining room looking for a place to sit. He saw girls at various tables appear ready to invite him to sit with them. Was he that attractive to them, he wondered. He was six foot one, but he also weighed only one hundred sixty-five pounds. Not some masculine hunk the girls claimed they desired. He found himself moving along the side wall seeing tables occupied by three or more until near the corner he saw a table with a lone person sitting at it. They held a book in one hand and their fork in the other, oblivious to their surroundings. But the thing that captured his attention the most was the red hair. Almost curly, and vivid in color, it made the guy look young, and he wondered if the guy had arrived on campus younger than eighteen as he had done. 

“Excuse me, could I sit here?” said Frank.

Green eyes looked up at first, seeming not to comprehend someone was talking to him, then they looked around the table to see he was indeed the only one sitting at it. He looked up again.

“Sure, take a seat.”

“Thanks. The cafeteria is busier than usual.”

“There’s no game.”

“Excuse me?”

“There’s no football game on campus.”

“Oh, that,” Frank replied and he heard his tone, dismissive of the sport.

The guy laughed and Frank saw the perfect teeth, the boyish face with high cheekbones and gracefully arching eyebrows.

“Are you a freshman?” said Frank.

“I’m a junior, and yes I’m twenty-one.”

“I wasn’t questioning your age…not out loud anyway,” said Frank, turning jovial in tone. “I’m Frank Greene.”

“Seth MacDonald. And you don’t look any older than I. Are you a freshman?”

“No, I’m a graduate student. I just finished getting a degree in physics and English Lit.”

“Dual majors and…physics?”

“Yes. What is your major?”

“English angling toward journalism.”

“You want to be a beat reporter?”

“Something like that. What about you?”

“I want to do research in physics.”

“And the English degree?”

“Maybe…one day when I’m older…write some.”

“Nice,” said Seth, and he sounded sincere, unlike everyone else he had told.

Frank began to eat as Seth resumed his lunch. After a minute, he could see Seth was glancing at him with a questioning look.

“How old are you,” said Seth.

“Same as you; twenty-one.”

“How old were you when you arrived on campus?”

“Sixteen.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, and it sucked at first, being this kid on campus.”

“I bet. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Have you gone to the city?”

Frank knew Seth meant San Francisco and he wondered what he meant by asking.

“Yes, when I have time. I work part time, so it doesn’t leave me a lot of free time.”

“But you’ve gone.”

“Yes.”

“Did you take the bus, or do you have a car?”

“I have a motorcycle.”

Frank saw the look; one he had seen from Seth three times so far.

“Where did you go?”

Frank hesitated, unsure if he should tell him. But if Seth knew the places, it would mean he had looked for them, or he hoped that was the case. He leaned forward so only Seth could hear, ready to take a chance with the cute redhead, hoping beyond hope his sense of him was going to be proven right.

“The Royal Grill and Cocktail Lounge is a good place to go for food. After that I’ve been to Bluejacket Tavern, The Bilge, and the Blue Moon Café, and of course The Brass Rail that opened back in ’41.”

Seth sat back and cleaned off his fork by putting it in his mouth and slowly pulling it through his lips as he stared at Frank. Then he smiled, knowingly. He sat up, leaning forward looking Frank in the eye. “So, you’re gay,” he whispered.

“Yes,” Frank whispered conspiratorially. “Are you?” It was daring to talk so openly, but he was feeling as if the whole world was on his side.

Seth nodded, then he looked around making sure no one was close. “Will you take me to those places?”

“You’ll go with me?”

“Yes, Frank Greene. Would this be considered a date?”

“I hope so.”

Seth smiled. “What about this afternoon? Do you have plans?”

Frank frowned. “I have a shift this afternoon until closing. What about dinner tomorrow just to get to know each other, then next weekend, maybe we can go over to the city?”

“I’d like that.”

 

 

Monday, Frank left his last class and rushed back to the dorm. He tossed his books down and headed out because he was on a mission. As he went back down, he replayed his date with Seth the day before. They walked into town, strolling the sidewalks, stopping for dinner, then strolling back to campus, the two of them frustrated with their roommates in for the night, thus not giving them a place to be alone.

Frank had been tempted to drag Seth to an isolated place on campus and get into his pants. He liked Seth, wanted to get to know him better, and he wanted to have sex with him. To engage in a physical connection that had to have a safe place to do so. He didn’t want Seth to think of it cheaply, just sex in some alley or behind a building. He wanted it to be special, something unhurried.

Between classes and his work schedule, it would be Friday before they could get together, and he intended to make the most of it. He came out of the dorm, straddled his motorcycle, and headed into town. He was headed to the Indian Motorcycle dealership to get a buddy seat so Seth could ride with him. Come Friday, that ride would be across the bay into the city.

 

28 September 1945

Seth held Frank tight around the waist as they rode over the bay bridge. It was a perfect afternoon, the sun in the western sky and the bay covered in waves created by the wind blowing from the west, off the ocean. The motorcycle was rumbling beneath them, and when Frank went to pass a large truck, it was thunderous to Seth as it accelerated around the truck.

“Whoa,” Seth uttered while tightening his hold, making Frank smile.

Frank carried them to The Royal, and after a dinner among other gay men, Seth looking around the dining room amazed at the openness of it, Frank carried him to the Bluejacket Tavern

The bar was busy; men crowded along its length and most tables occupied. A drag queen had everyone’s attention, singing a bawdy song, “Good Grinding.” Frank squeezed between two guys at the bar, to get them cocktails. There were the usual flirting and a hand on his ass by the guys next to him, but he paid the bartender and turned to the handsy guy. “Sorry, but I’m taken.” Drinks in hand, he led Seth to a corner of the room where they could watch the drag queen performing.

“Holy mackerel,” said Seth.

Another drag queen came to the front and began to perform.

“Are you having fun?” said Frank, leaning down close, his mouth right at Seth’s right ear.

Seth nodded, then looked around smiling.

They watched a couple of performances, had a couple of cocktails, and politely refused advances by other men. Seth seemed nervous about it and Frank was not letting anyone get between him and Seth.

“Are you ready to go to the hotel,” said Frank when the performers finished and the bar erupted into a white noise of chatter.

“Yes,” said Seth.

 

 

Seth followed Frank to the second floor to a room overlooking the street. They could hear the sounds of the city as they came into the room. Frank went to the window, closing the curtains shielding them from prying eyes. He turned to Seth.

“I’ve waited all week for us to finally be alone.”

“Me too,” said Seth.

Frank went to him, pulling him into a kiss.

Frank undressed Seth slowly, kissing newly exposed skin, touching it, caressing it until Seth moaned or shivered. He stripped him naked and kissed him while manipulating the cock. When Seth was erect, he guided him to get on the bed. He crawled between the legs and took the cock. A couple of strokes then he took it in his mouth. Seth moaned and he could see the hands ball into fists clutching the bed.

“Frank,” Seth uttered.

Frank sank his mouth down the cock until his nose pressed in the flame red pubic hair. The cock was thick and nearly as long as his own, and he relished the way it filled his mouth. He sucked and tongued it until Seth was pushing upward. He tugged on the tightening nut sack then ran his fingers down below it until rubbing the tight opening. He circled a finger over it while working his mouth on the cock. He was pushing Seth to the point of release, and he increased his manipulation of the cock, wanting him to do so.

“Frank! I’m going to cum,” Seth exclaimed.

Frank sank the cock into his mouth taking the first blast of cum down his throat as he buried a finger in the ass. He pulled back and let the spurting cock fill his mouth until he had to swallow.

Frank nursed the spent cock until Seth begged him to stop, all the while, fingering the ass until he had three fingers inside him. He looked up from the wet dripping cock and pushed three fingers into the ass as far as he could. “Will you let me?” he asked. Seth raised his head and he saw the green eyes staring back with what he knew was pure bliss; a lust for much more to happen.

“Yes,” Seth uttered breathlessly.

Frank moved over Seth with legs hooked by each arm. He brought the legs up until the ass turned upward, and he pumped his cock along it.

“Jesus, Frank, put it in me.”

Frank put his cock to the loosened opening and penetrated Seth. He sank the head into the ass, then inch after inch until halfway inside him, and he held still, letting Seth become accustomed to the penetration. Hands touched his sides, then rubbed along his torso. He watched the head tilt back, mouth open, letting a guttural moan escape as the body undulated, pushing upward to take more of his cock. He knew Seth was ready.

Frank began to fuck. To work his cock inside Seth, initially a slow grinding fuck, then a fast fuck, pushing inward all the way until hips smacked against the upturned ass. He slowed again, relishing the feel of his cock moving inside the ass. He closed his eyes, focusing on nothing but the sensations it created. It pushed his arousal until his nut sack tightened, no longer slapping Seth’s ass. He increased his pace again. He hammered the ass, hips smacking down against it and the bed protesting beneath them.

“Fuck,” Seth exclaimed.

Yeah, fuck, Frank thought as he kept up his pace, not slowing this time. He fucked until sweating and gasping for breath. His need for release built. Then he could not hold back, and he shoved into Seth’s depths and shuddered with release.

 

 

Frank moved on Seth’s cock, working his ass up and down nearly every thick inch. It had shuddered him the way it had stretched him open, and now he couldn’t get enough of it. He lay back against Seth and worked his ass on the cock, working his body to grind down on it. He felt hot exhales on his shoulder and obscene utterances while he fucked himself on the cock.

Sitting up, Frank rolled to his back. “Come on, Seth, get that cock back in me.”

He watched Seth roll to his knees, and he held his legs up for him. With each leg over a shoulder, Seth was soon back inside his ass fucking. The fullness of each thrust into his depths made his own cock flex and smack his abdomen until it was leaking. The bed rocked and squeaked and sweat began to rain down on him.

Seth was in the zone, glassy eyed, and sucking in lungsful of much needed air through his open mouth.

 “Seth; pump it in me,” uttered Frank.

Seth rose, head tilted back and hips shoving cock into his depths, and Seth shuddered and jerked with release, holding his spurting cock deep inside him.

 

 

Frank held Seth around the neck, torso bent back letting the shower hit the chest as he fucked the ass. He thrust into it hard enough to make Seth’s cock flop around heavily. Hands grabbed his thighs and squeezed as he kept fucking.

“Don’t stop. Fuck me,” exclaimed Seth.

Frank didn’t stop. He fucked with a physical pace until trying to jam his spurting cock deeper into the ass.

 

 

Frank listened to the irregular breathing as Seth slept. He was spooned against him, holding their warm bodies close. A glance at his watch revealed it to be nearly four in the morning. He needed to sleep but he couldn’t stop replaying their sex and how it made him feel. It wasn’t like with Joe and Eugene. Seth had been more intimate. He wondered if Seth could want more from him. He tried to imagine it, an opportunity to have a life similar to Henry and Robby’s. It seemed such a fantasy, but he knew it was one that was possible. He had seen it, been a part of it. He settled against Seth and smiled, knowing no matter what happened in the future, he was still a part of Henry and Robby’s life.

 

4 July 1953

 

Robby sat on the porch watching the children playing in the yard. He couldn’t believe how quickly everything had changed. It seemed only yesterday he had sat on the porch and watched James, Margaret, and Frank playing. Margaret playing teacher with Frank, or James and Frank wrestling on the ground, the laughter and Frank’s shrieks echoing in the clearing. Now he watched James and Margaret’s children playing.

Rob and Bill racing each other on tricycles, Meredith and Carol Jean making flower arrangements from those picked from around the house, and little Tim watching them, trying to make his own.

Henry came out with sodas, handing Robby one, then taking the other chair.

“Can you believe it?” said Henry.

“What?”

“That everyone will be here this weekend. It’s been so long since all of us were together.”

“It’s really nice,” said Robby.

“Let’s see, Rob was born January ’58, then Meredith in November the following year, keeping James and Elizabeth in California.”

“Frank and Seth hadn’t been able to come in ’57 and last year.”

“Luckily, we have Margaret close by. I’m glad the hospital at Duke keeps promoting her to get here stay.”

“Even though she has missed so much time having the kids. At least Richard is able to help with them.”

“So many birthdays to keep up with,” joked Henry.

“Margaret had Bill in January ’47 then Carol Jean in August of ’49.”

“And Tim in August of ’51.”

“Look, he’s holding out his arrangement to Meredith.”

“He seems drawn to her.”

“Someone’s coming,” said Robby, making Henry look toward the end of the lane.

A Chevrolet 2-door sedan, turquoise with a white top, pulled up to the front of the house. Frank was behind the wheel with Seth in the passenger seat. Robby and Henry climbed to their feet and went down the steps to greet them. James and Margaret came out of the house, followed by her husband, Richard, then Elizabeth, James’ wife, who was five months pregnant.

Frank jumped out of the sedan and rushed to Robby, bearhugging him, lifting him off his feet. Then he turned to Henry and hugged him tightly.

“We made it,” whispered Frank.

“It’s good to have you guys here,” Henry whispered in reply.

Robby, then Henry hugged Seth, then led them up to the porch where Frank and Seth hugged everyone else.

“How was the flight?” said James to Frank.

“Good, very little turbulence.”

“Very little?” said Seth looking at Frank like he was joking. “It was horrible over Oklahoma. I thought I was going to be sick.”

Frank smiled at James, making him laugh.

“How’s the gibberish coming?” said Margaret to Frank, referring to his academic studies, running equations that filled chalk boards.

“Good. We feel like we’re on the edge of some breakthroughs. We can’t wait for the collider to be finished outside Geneva.”

“Have they started building it?” said Richard.

“Supposed to start next year,” said Frank.

“Let’s go inside and sit. Elizabeth needs to get off her feet,” said Robby.

“Robby, I’m fine,” said Elizabeth, giving him a smile for he worried more than James.

“When are you due?” said Seth.

“November.”

 

 

The children were fed and in the living room playing. Outside the cicadas were buzzing and droning as the sun dropped below the horizon. Around the dining table, everyone finished, they sat in casual conversation, talking of things never put in one of their letters. Margaret rushing to get Bill’s vaccines to start school in August, Elizabeth and James starting to look for a new home, one large enough for three children. Richard joking, Carol Jean was too much like her mother, head strong and determined to do everything by herself.

“Oh god, really? Meredith is the same way,” said Elizabeth.

The conversation drifted to the garden center, back to the children, to Margaret’s research at the hospital, to Frank’s research at Berkeley, then back to the children.

Margaret looked over to Seth and leaned forward. “When are Frank and you going to adopt a child?”

“What?” Frank exclaimed.

“I don’t think we could pull that off,” said Seth.

“It sounds like you’d do it if you could,” said James, winking at Frank.

“It’s just…here with all the kids, it feels like family. To think about coming home to that—”

“And the dirty diapers and constant messes to clean up,” interrupted Margaret.

“And the children fighting at times, or worse, getting together to do something they know they’re not supposed to be doing,” said Elizabeth.

“Yes!” exclaimed Richard, “that is far worse.”

Henry looked over at Bobby, knowing there were times when Bobby said he wished they had found the children when they were younger, so they had more time with them. He wondered if Bobby had changed his mind after being around the grandkids.

Robby saw Henry looking at him, and he reached out and patted him on the arm. “What is it?”

“Nothing; just thinking about the family.”

 

21 May 1961

 

Henry looked at the birthday cake with the fifty burning candles, not sure if he should feel shocked or if it was some kind of joke. He looked up at Margaret and James standing to either side of the table, then Richard and Elizabeth, with the grandchildren amongst them. He felt Robby’s hand come down on his shoulder.

“Blow them out before they cover the cake in wax.”

Henry took a deep breath and blew across the top of the candles extinguishing nearly all of them, but a few along the left side flared up and kept burning.

“I’ll blow them out,” said Lisa, the youngest of the grandchildren, now eight, and she leaned forward and blew across them extinguishing them before anyone could stop her.

Henry laughed, patting her on the head. “Thanks; there were too many for me to do it by myself.”

“There were a lot,” she replied.

“You want to cut the cake?” said Robby.

“Yes; hand me the knife,” said Henry.

 

 

The opened presents sat on the end of the dining table; at the other end, Henry sat at the head of it, with Robby, Margaret, and Richard to his left, and James and Elizabeth on his right. Half the cake remained, after everyone had a slice.

“I wish you guys could stay longer,” said Henry, looking over at James and Elizabeth.

“We do too, but I have a shift at the hospital on Tuesday and James has to get back on base,” said Elizabeth.

“That mess in Cuba back in April, and Vietnam is a mess we are getting more involved in,” said James.

“Are we going to go to war with Vietnam,” said Robby.

“I can’t see us doing it, but who knows. China is helping the north and there are those in Washington who can’t stand it. Margaret, Elizabeth says you have been approached about a position in some research group at Duke.”

“Yes, the Clinical Research Unit. I’m not sure. I’ve made inquiries about working with another group at the hospital,” said Margaret.

“Oh, what group?” said Elizabeth.

“Virology and Cancer.”

“Do you think you can get in?”

“I’m not sure. There is a lot of interest in working with them because they are doing some real pioneering work.”

The phone rang, and Meredith beat Rob to the phone in the corner of the room.

“Hello?” said Meredith. She listened, grinning back at everyone. She pulled the handset to Henry. “It’s Uncle Frank for you.”

“Thanks Meredith,” said Henry, taking the handset. “Hey, you calling to rub it in I’m fifty?”

“I can’t believe it. But I trust it has been a good day for you. I know you’re thrilled James and Elizabeth were able to make it.”

“It has been a great weekend. I wish they could stay longer.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it. Did you get our gift?”

“Yes, it came on Friday. I appreciate it.”

“Have you told Robby about December?”

“Not yet.”

Frank laughed, then spoke to Seth away from the headset. “He still hasn’t told him.”

“I told you,” said Seth in the background.

“Henry, are you afraid he’ll not want to fly on an airplane?” said Frank.

“Yep. James says you guys bought new motorcycles.”

“A couple of Harley’s. The FL Duo Glide models.”

“I assume those are some big touring bikes.”

“Yes. We’re planning to do a ride up the west coast to Seattle.”

“Do you miss that old Indian?” said Henry referring to Frank’s first motorcycle.

“Oh, I still have it.”

“You do.”

“Yep. Seth and I have been restoring it. I’m having it painted soon and we can start putting it back together.”

“I thought you traded it when you got that ’53 Chief.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to let it go.”

“This call has got to be costing you a fortune.”

“Okay, Henry, but Happy Birthday…old man,” said Frank laughing.

“Thanks.”

Henry got up and set the handset back on the base. He turned and looked at everyone around the table, knowing how it was time to tell Robby. It would be hard for him to argue against it with James and Margaret there.

“Everyone, I have something to tell you.”

“What is it, Henry,” said James.

“Well, since you’ll be with Elizabeth’s family and Margaret and Richard are going to be with his family for Christmas this year, Frank and Seth have gotten Robby and I tickets to fly out and be with them this year.

“That’s great,” said Margaret.

“How long will you be in California? We’ll be back on the 27th,” said Elizabeth.

“Fly?” said Robby.

“Oh, you’ll have a great time in Berkeley and San Francisco,” said Margaret.

“We’re supposed to fly?” said Robby.

“You’re going to Uncle Frank and Uncle Seth’s for Christmas?” said Bill.

“I want to go to Uncle Frank’s,” said Tim.

“Wait! Wait,” said Robby getting everyone’s attention. “We’re supposed to fly…to California?”

“Robby, you’re getting on that plane, if I have to physically put you on it myself,” said Margaret.

 

 

 

The next morning, Henry and Robby stood on the porch waving at James and his family as they drove into the lane quickly disappearing.

“It was good of them to make it for your birthday,” said Robby.

“It was a pleasant surprise.”

“We should get the kitchen cleaned up before we go open up.”

“But you haven’t given me my present?”

“What do you mean? I gave you that watch and new jeans.”

“That’s not the present I’m talking about,” and Henry grabbed Robby, lifting him over his shoulder. He popped him on the ass and swung the screen door open to carry him inside. “I’ll take that present now.”

 

 

Henry moved over Robby, pumping cock into his depths with a familiar rhythm. The slow intimate fuck of lovers. Hands moved over bare skin, lips pressed together, along jawlines, down necks, and Robby’s legs wrapped around Henry’s waist while taking his fuck. Henry held him down while increasing his pace, fucking to bring release. He fucked until his skin glistened in the early morning light and Robby’s pleas for him to come inside him echoed in the bedroom.

 

23 December 1965

Henry saw the headlights of a car coming into up to the house and he came to his feet heading to the front door.

“They’re here,” Henry called out as he opened it.

“Okay,” Margaret called out from the kitchen were Robby and her were getting dinner prepared.

Henry stood on the porch watching a Ford sedan pull up. When the front doors opened, the dome light came on, and he saw Frank and Seth. He had worried about them flying from Geneva. It was such a long flight, with a stop in New York City, before arriving in Raleigh. Despite the distance, there was a part of him glad Frank had gotten a position at CERN for it meant he wasn’t on the west coast where the worst seemed to be happening. Ever since Kennedy got assassinated back in ’63, the whole country has seemed to have gone mad.

The US was getting more involved in Vietnam and James hinted that some of the reasoning wasn’t factual. There were the race riots, the assassination of Malcolm X, Bloody Sunday in Selma. Berkeley even had protests last year.

The mess in Vietnam was why James couldn’t get away for the holidays, instead Elizabeth took the children to her family for the holidays.

Frank and Seth walked up to the porch as if they had walked from Geneva instead of flying. Everyone came out onto the porch, where Robby came next to Henry and everyone else stood behind them.

“You finally made it,” said Henry.

“Yep, we finally made it,” said Seth as he climbed the steps in front of Frank.

“Well, come on guys, give us all a hug and let’s get inside; dinner is ready,” said Margaret.

“The boss has spoken,” joked Frank as he gave her a hug, then moved to Robby and Henry.

Frank then hugged Richard and moved to the children. “Damn, you guys have grown,” as he hugged Carol Jean then Bill, and finally Tim.

“Uncle Frank,” said Tim as he hugged tighter than the other two. “I’ve missed you.”

 

 

Bill, Carol Jean, and Tim were in the living area watching Gilligan’s Island, occasionally one of them making a disparaging remark about something one of the characters said or done. Still around the dining table, everyone else was listening to Frank talk about some of the research they were doing with the collider.

“What are antideuteron nuclei?” said Richard.

“Antimatter,” Frank replied.

“Don’t ask, I don’t understand it either,” said Seth, making everyone but Frank laugh.

“What about you, sis? What’s happening with your research at Duke,” said Frank.

Margaret had gone with the Clinical Research Unit after some pleading by a couple of the doctors, promising she would not be disappointed. She gave her best layman’s speech on their research knowing the only ones who really understood it and appreciated what it meant were Frank and Elizabeth, and Elizabeth wasn’t there.

Henry and Robby listened, feeling like they were witnessing something important. It was unimaginable how everything had changed, and to listen to Frank and Margaret talk of research projects, and Frank and Seth living in Geneva so Frank could pursue his research, it was so far removed from five kids finding an abandoned two-room house in the woods just trying to survive.

Tim got up and went to the kitchen for something to drink.

Robby saw Frank watch him and knew what he was thinking. Tim was fourteen and, by every indication, had shown no interest in girls. It was obvious to everyone Tim was closer to Frank than any of the other kids. Margaret had expressed last year to Henry and Robby she thought Tim was gay. There were too many signs. But no one had approached him, instead waiting for him to come to them.

Frank leaned closer to Robby. “Do you think…” He couldn’t say it, afraid to make it real. Like everyone in the family, he didn’t want any of the kids to have a tough life, and no one had any doubts life could be very hard for someone who was gay. Despite all his successes and finding Seth, he worried it wouldn’t be so easy for someone else. The civil rights movement was creating riots and violence and that was focused mainly on racism. Gay right movements were beginning to happen, and he worried it too would have violence as part of it.

Tim came back into the room and over to Frank, putting an arm around his neck.

“Can I come visit you in the summer?”

“Tim! You can’t invite yourself to someone’s like that,” said Margaret.

“But it’s Uncle Frank and Uncle Seth.”

“I know but—”

“Margaret,” said Frank, and she stopped. “Why don’t we discuss this idea tomorrow after Seth and I think about it. Maybe Bill and Carol Jean will want to come, and what about your cousins? They might want to come too.”

“I’m going hiking next summer with some friends,” said Bill from the living area.

“Hiking? Where?” said Frank.

“The Appalachian Trail; we’re going to hike it.”

“What? I’ve not heard anything about this?” said Margaret.

“You can’t hike that trail in two months,” said Henry. He had checked it out, wondering if Robby and he could do a section of it one year.

“We’re just going to do Georgia up to Virginia.”

“Bill, do you know the logistics of doing a hike like that?” said Richard.

“Yes,” Bill replied, then turned back to the television as Carol Jean smiled back, knowing Bill had surprised their parents again.

“I’ll come visit you,” said Carol Jean.

Frank smiled, wondering what he was suggesting. To have four or five teenagers stay with them for a week or two seem daunting, but looking at Tim standing next to him, he knew there was nothing he wouldn’t do for them.

“So, you’ll think about it,” said Tim.

“Do you really want to come visit us next summer?”

“Of course.”

 

 

 

14 August 1969

Tim wandered down the pathway created by the blankets where others had staked out a small patch of the pasture. He was shocked at how many people were there. Down below him, closer to the stage, people were crowded so close to together he didn’t know how they moved about. But all that mattered was he had taken the initiative and made the trip to Bethel, New York, to the dairy farm where what promised to be the best music festival of the decade was about to take place.

In two weeks, he was to start at UC Berkeley, his uncle’s alma mater, and his parents believed he was in the North Carolina mountains hiking trails like his brother had done a couple of years ago. He tried to get Bill to come with him, but Bill had other plans. Carol Jean was too young, and his friends from high school were busy with vacations with their families or working at jobs before going to college in the fall. So, the day before he left early in the morning on his Triumph T120 Bonneville. It had been tough convincing his mother to let him get one but once he had his dad on his side and reminding them Uncle Frank had used a motorcycle all through college, he finally won the argument and for his seventeenth birthday, he rode off the dealership’s lot in Raleigh on it.

He moved through the crowd, shirtless, not sure where he lost it. At first, he felt too skinny, still too much of a teenager, until he paid attention to the other guys, so many of them with similar builds. Now he moved confidently among the crowd checking out one guy after the next, wondering if any would be willing.

“Hey man, you need a beer?”

Tim turned to see a guy with curly long hair, shirtless, smeared in mud, holding a PBR.

“Yeah, thanks man,” said Tim as he took the can and popped the top. He drank from it as he moved through the crowd. He saw some girls eyeing him and he smiled as he passed them. “Sorry girls,” he uttered to himself as he turned and headed further up the hill.

He came to the pathway that curved along the top of the hill and strolled along it eyeing the guys.

“Timothy Sanders, what are you doing here?”

Tim turned to see Meredith Beckinridge, his older first cousin coming toward him.

“Same as you; I’m here for the festival,” he replied.

“You’re not old enough to be here. What are you? Sixteen.”

“I’m eighteen. Aren’t you too old to be here?” he replied jokingly.

“Very funny. Does your mother know you’re here?”

“Do your parents know you’re here?”

Meredith smiled, shaking her head. “Where are you set up?”

“Nowhere. I’m free to roam around.”

“Come on, we have a blanket down there…somewhere.” She sounded unsure, then laughed. “Come on, you can help me find my friends.

 

It took nearly half an hour, but Meredith finally pointed out her friends, two girls from Berkeley where she was about to start her junior year. One of the girls was slim, with dark brown hair and small breasts visible through a muddy wet T-shirt. The other was a dirty blonde with large breast barely contained in the bikini top she was wearing.

“This is Sharon,” pointing to the slim girl. “And that is Joyce,” pointing at the dirty blonde. “This is my cousin, Tim.”

“Hey Tim,” said Sharon, and it was obvious she was showing interest.

He sat on the edge of the two blankets spread over the wet ground away from Sharon and Joyce. Meredith gave him a questioning stare then sat between them. As they talked and drank cheap beer, Tim saw Meredith continue to look at him with that questioning look.

“What?” Tim finally asked Meredith.

“I was just wondering,” Meredith replied, leaning in closer, “are you gay?”

Tim knew it was something his family openly acknowledged and did so without judgment. His maternal grandfathers were after all gay, then there was his Uncle Frank, whom he adored, and along with Uncle Seth, they were the only two he had come out to during their summer in Geneva. He looked at Meredith and for the first time saw her mother, Aunt Elizabeth, in her expression.

“Yes,” Meredith, “I’m gay.”

“Well, that explains it,” she replied chuckling.

“What’s so funny,” said Sharon.

“Just one of those family things,” said Meredith as she slapped her hand down on Tim’s thigh.

 

 

Tim was walking toward the stage after overhearing there was a pond behind it where some were skinny dipping. It was a temptation to great to ignore. He felt his masculine nature, shirtless and jeans riding so low they felt as if they could slide off at any moment. It stirred his arousal to see guys look at him, eyes going up and down taking him in. He knew some were having sex, for he had seen it, and hoped before the festival was over, to have had his share of it. He was no virgin having fucked Calvin Anderson’s ass all summer, the second baseman and big jock of their high school class. He smiled as he thought of the way Calvin would beg him to fuck harder. Calvin even liked to have his long hair pulled while taking cock in the ass.

Tim hoped there was someone like Calvin at the festival, and looking around believed there had to be many Calvins just waiting to take his cock.

Standing on the bank of the pond, he saw people swimming or just frolicking in the water. To his right, near where the woods came closer to the pond’s edge, some were skinny dipping. He moved to them, drawn to the male specimens on display. Cocks hanging loose and flaccid, just waiting on the right temptation.

He saw clothes strewn on the ground and quickly added his jeans and briefs. He stood straight, naked, feeling the air over newly exposed skin. His cock stirred and he moved into the water not wanting to spring an erection in front of everyone.

His eyes moved from two guys horsing around to a group standing around talking to a guy kissing a girl (the guy quickly ruled as unavailable). He waded out, cutting a line between the groups wondering if someone would approach him. He saw a couple of girls look his way, then a guy with curly brown hair and dark eyes went to them. The girl that had been kissing waded past him looking frustrated or angry. He looked back at the guy seeing him smile and shrug the shoulders.

A real devil may care attitude, Tim thought as he daringly waded toward the guy.

“Hey, the water’s nice isn’t it,” said the guy.

“Yes, and so is the view,” Tim replied, sizing the guy up. Five foot seven or so, nice build and a cock that looked stretched out about four inches and he knew it could stretch more when gotten erect.

The guy laughed. “It is.”

Tim saw the eyes scan him and he wondered if the guy was sizing him up. Did he notice he was five foot eleven, or was he focused on his lean build, or his cock that would get nearly eight inches long when erect.

“I’m Tim.”

“Paul. Where are you from?”

“Durham.”

“North Carolina?”

“Yes. And you?”

“Pittsburgh.”

“So how long before this party really gets started?” Tim asked as he moved a little closer.

“I’m ready for it to start right now.”

Tim smiled and nodded toward the woods, then turned and waded that way. He glanced back once, seeing Paul was following him. On the bank, he moved straight into the woods, going far enough to be out of sight and unable to hear clearly the occasional yell or scream from someone.

He came to a fallen tree, the trunk held off the ground by the large limbs still intact. He knew it was a perfect place, and he turned to face Paul.

“Have you done this before?” said Paul, coming up to him.

“Yes; have you?”

“No, but I want to. I want to see what it is like.”

“Let me show you.”

Tim went to his knees, knowing virgins, especially hesitant virgins, only needed to be sucked on to get them going. He looked up while holding Paul’s cock. He opened his mouth and moved to it as Paul watched intently. When the cock touched his tongue, he closed his lips around it and tugged on it. Paul shivered and moaned. He manipulated the cock until it was erect, curved upward as big as his own. He pushed forward until nearly every inch was in his mouth.

“Goddamn; that’s intense,” Paul exclaimed.

Tim rubbed Paul’s legs and sucked his cock. He slipped his mouth off of it and bent to the long hanging nut sack and took one nut into his mouth and pulled until Paul was quivering, then he did the other one.

“Jesus, tug on those nuts,” exclaimed Paul

Tim released the nut sack and took the cock again. He sucked and slurped noisily until drool ran down his chin, and when Paul began to work his hips, a slight pumping of the cock into his mouth, he slid a hand up the right thigh and rubbed the ass. He raked his fingers along the crevice until he found his target, and he rubbed the tight opening until Paul was rocking on his feet.

“Fuck: I’m close,” uttered Paul breathlessly.

Tim worked his mouth on the cock more intensely, until he felt Paul pumping it through his lips. He held still, lips tight around it, and let Paul fuck his mouth. Faster and faster Paul pumped cock through his lips until shoving it into his mouth erratically, out of rhythm. The cock erupted, gushing cum into his mouth and he swallowed until the cock was spent and he had taken all of it.

He climbed to his feet and pushed Paul back until leaning against the tree trunk.

“What are you doing?” said Paul

“What does it look like,” said Tim as he stooped to take him by the legs. He lifted the legs pitching Paul back over the trunk. Head down, ass up, Tim was soon fingering the ass, playing with it until it loosened to his ministrations and Paul no longer had doubts, he wanted to get fucked.

Tim didn’t toy with Paul, instead he put his cock to that ass and penetrated it. He pushed into Paul, rocking him over the tree trunk as he sank deep into the ass. He held the legs to his chest and fucked. He fucked slow to get the feel of the ass, how it gripped his cock as he pushed and tugged through its tightness. Then he increased his pace, fucked with determination, pushing deeper and deeper until smacking against the ass. He never slowed, fucked to cum, and watched as Paul began to masturbate while getting fucked.

“Yeah, jack it. Jack it until you come,” said Tim as he kept fucking until sweat ran down his face and torso.

Tim watched as the hand became a blur, stroking the cock at a furious pace while he kept pumping cock into the ass. Paul began to jerk and try to push hips upward, then the cock erupted, spraying cum over the chest and stomach. Tim tightened his hold on the legs and hammered the ass, the sound of hips smacking against it echoing in the woods. Then he shoved into the ass as far as he could and tried to jam his cock even deeper as he erupted and pumped his load into Paul.

 

 

Tim swam out into the pond, letting the water cool his body and rinse the sweat from it. He was sated, at least for now, and after swimming around mindlessly, he headed in, wading past Paul and some of the others, wondering if Paul admitted what they had done, knowing he had not done so.

 

 

Tim looked around for guys looking at him. One giving him that look of longing or interest. After fucking Paul the afternoon before, he was feeling horny again. Sexual tension seemed to vibrate through the air. Hormones were raging. He could damn near smell it. With darkness approaching, it seemed to intensify it. He was lying on the blanket, still shirtless, wearing just his low-waisted jeans. Meredith and her friends were off somewhere with some guys that had met that morning.

He noticed a guy working their way through the crowd coming toward him. When the guy was passing along the front edge of the blanket, he slipped a hand down the front of his jeans and stared at him. He felt his cock having left his briefs down by the pond and could see it flex through the tight crotch. The guy stumbled, then looked back as he continued. It made him laugh to see how he affected the guy.

When he looked back toward the stage, he caught sight of a guy on his feet just two rows below looking back at him. Average height, shirtless revealing a lean build, and hair just long enough to cover the ears that was black and wavy. He nodded and the guy nodded back. He slipped his hand into his jeans again to let the guy see him adjust his cock. The guy didn’t turn away, instead he openly stared back.

“Score!” Tim uttered to himself and he came to his feet and headed toward the access road. Looking back, he saw the guy was following him. He led him up to an area where vehicles are parked, weaving through them until on the far side where they were in dark shadow and no one was around. He stood behind someone’s white Falcon sedan watching the silhouette of the guy approach. He wondered what the guy would be willing to do, eager to find out. He undid his jeans and pushed them below his cock.

The guy didn’t say anything, just went to his knees and took him in the mouth. He tilted his head back and moaned with satisfaction as lips and tongue manipulated him to full erection. The guy sucked noisily, sloppily and he felt spit trickle down his balls as hands held his thighs in a white knuckled grip. It pushed his arousal to the point of release, and he took the head between his hands and fucked the drooling mouth.

“Fuck, take it,” Tim uttered as he shoved into the mouth and came. The guy choked then swallowed as cum spurt from his cock.

Barely finished pumping out his first load, Tim grabbed the guy under the arms and pulled him to his feet. He smiled to see the jeans slide down the legs, already undone and the cock sticking out fully erect. He spun him around and pushed him over the truck of the old Falcon. Kicking the legs apart, he moved to the ass, slapping his cock across it.

“You want this?” Tim uttered.

Hands reached back and spread the cheeks. “Yes, put it in me. Fuck me. Let me feel what it is like,” the guy uttered breathlessly.

Tim put his wet dripping cock to the tight ass and pushed. He shuddered as the head of his cock squeezed into it, but he didn’t stop, just kept slowly pushing until over half of his cock was inside the guy.

The guy banged his head on the trunk lid then pushed back, taking another inch.

“Fuck. Do it. Fuck me. Fuck my ass,” the guy exclaimed far too loud.

Tim didn’t care. Let whoever was nearby hear. Sex was happening all around them and this was no different. He held the waist and began to fuck. He fucked slowly just to feel every inch work through that tight opening. When it loosened to his penetration, he sped up, fucked faster, until hips were smacking against the ass.

“Jesus. Don’t stop,” the guy cried out.

Tim had no intention of stopping. Instead, he fucked with greater physicality, hammering the guy’s ass unconcerned how loud the sound was as it echoed around them. The sound of flesh smacking against flesh mixed with the guy’s obscene utterances.

He fucked until sweat trickled down his face and chest and his muscles burned from his exertions.

“Fuck! Harder. Fuck me harder.”

Tim smiled. He slid a hand up the sweat covered back until fingers combed through the thick hair, and he balled it into a fist and pushed the guy’s head down, firmly against the trunk lid, and he fucked as hard as he could. Fucked until the old Falcon began to squeak on its chassis and the guy was a moaning grunting mess.

He was breathless and his muscles burned from his exertions, but he kept up his brutal pace, hammering the guy’s ass. Sweat ran down his face and chest and his nuts no longer swung freely between his thighs slapping against the guy.

He fucked until he could hold back no longer, and he jammed every damn inch into the ass and shuddered with release.

 

 

Tim stepped back, cock finally going flaccid. The guy stood up, and Tim saw his cock was flaccid and dripping. The gas cap and area around it were glistening wet and he knew the guy had cum while being fucked. He pulled up his jeans, tucked his cock into them, then buttoned them up. He noticed the guy was suddenly acting self-conscious, something that displeased him. He didn’t want to get into a scene with someone insecure.

“Thanks,” Tim uttered, turned, and walked away, heading back to their place on the pasture.

 

 

Tim found Meredith and her friends were back, and he dropped down on the blankets next to Meredith.

“Where have you been?” said Meredith.

Tim sat up, leaning close to her. “Fucking the shit out of this guy.”

Meredith tried to look shocked, but she laughed instead. “You promiscuous boy.”

“I don’t think he considered me a boy when I was tearing up his ass,” Tim replied, keeping his voice low so Sharon and Joyce didn’t over them.

“I can’t wait to tell Aunt Margaret what her youngest was up to.”

“And I’ll tell Uncle James and Aunt Elizabeth about you skinny dipping with two guys, and god knows what else.”

“Touché.”

They laughed again, drawing Sharon’s attention.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Tim and Meredith replied in unison.

A few minutes later, as the next band was setting up, Meredith tapped Tim on the shoulder.

“What was his name?”

“Who?” Tim replied, looking confused.

“The guy you fucked, dumbass.”

“Oh, him. I don’t know.”

They looked at each other, Meredith with a surprised expression and Tim with a ‘devil may care’ expression. Then they laughed, drawing Sharon’s attention again.

“You’ll need to write Uncle Frank and tell him of your escapades,” said Meredith.

“I plan on it.”

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