The Village

Rodney’s Perspective

Moving back home was a big deal for me. I left Wilmington to go to college in Charlotte, and was happy as hell to be out of that small town, I didn’t exactly feel welcome there as a gay teen. I graduated and found a job with a non-profit in Charlotte, but I didn’t love it. I had broken up with my boyfriend several months earlier and that kind of killed my social life. So, in summation, work sucked, social life sucked, I wasn’t dating much… so there wasn’t much holding me there. My mom saw that as an opportunity to get me to move back home, she’s the one who saw the posting for the job at The Village and sent me the link. She made me promise to at least apply, and when I got the interview, she was beside herself with excitement. Honestly, I had no real interest in the job when I accepted the interview but there was no way in hell my mom was gonna let me say no without meeting with them first. So, I interviewed.

Um… damn. My first interview was over the phone with Seth, he was smart, caring and had his act together. He was a psychologist not a social worker and it was clear that he listened to his clients, knew them, and was focused on helping them set themselves up for future success. By the end of the first interview, I found myself enthralled by the idea of what they were doing. My next interview was with Rhonda, one of the Board members. She was a straight shooter who lived in St Louis, and asked me a lot of tough questions that started with “Tell me about a time that you dealt with (fill in blank here), and how you handled it.” She wanted to understand my experience, how I thought about things, and how I problem solved. I really liked her too. Then I interviewed with Max, the founder of The Village. He and Seth weren’t all that much older than me, but he was so confident and so accomplished. He had started his own candle company and used it as a source for employment for clients who needed jobs. He was focused on creating opportunities for the people they helped, not just giving them freebies. This intrigued me. One of the things I hated about my job at the time was that I’d help someone and two weeks later they were back in the same boat, it was like they never moved forward or progressed. The Village was different.

Max started The Village with a trust his grandfather left him in his will. He and Seth set out to build a legacy in honor of his grandfather with the goal of building stronger LGBTQIA young adults by guiding them and creating opportunities. There is a disproportionate number of homeless LGBTQIA youth in the US, and The Village set out to address the issue head with a one on one approach to self-sufficiency. They provided immediate help for their clients, but they also held them accountable for helping themselves and planning for the future… THAT was the difference that got my attention. By the end of my interview with Max, I wanted to be part of The Village so bad I could taste it. When I came to town for the in-person interview I was overwhelmed. First off, everyone I met who was associated with the organization was smoking hot. Seth, Max, their husbands, all of them; and they all genuinely gave a shit. I was sucked in immediately, and when Seth made me the offer I jumped. I moved in with my parents for a few weeks and then found the cutest little rental house in downtown Wilmington, just a few blocks from the office. Things fell into place quickly for me, my first weekend there I did a client in -take of my first new Villager, Maverick. I did everything without even calling Seth and on Monday morning I gave Seth all the details… I think I impressed him. I’m glad, because my goal was to show him that he hired the right guy, the guy that could bear some of the weight for him. I earned his trust quickly, then tragedy struck, Seth’s mother died and he had to head out to Texas for a week leaving me in charge, I gladly stepped up.

There was a lot going on as we had several Villagers prepping to move into new homes (which was a major goal of our program since we worked with a LOT of homeless LGBTQIA young adults). One case in particular intrigued me: Colton. Colton was a young kid whose father unexpectedly kicked him out on his 18th birthday, he was living in his car when he connected with The Village. Seth got him hooked up with a job and temporary housing… that was just a few months ago, now he has a better job, is enrolling in culinary school, had a beautiful (permanent) home, and… get this… he got awarded guardianship of his younger sister and got her away from their abusive father. The Village got him legal counsel (Seth’s hot fucking husband Zach), and even found Colton’s little sister, Ella a foster home until the court decided her fate. I got a call from the Social Worker on Ella’s case, Victor. He wanted to network with me and see if we could pool resources to help the two siblings.

He came to my office on a Monday morning for a meet and greet. What’s the word I’m looking for? Maybe… DAMN?! Holy shit this guy was hot as HELL! On a side note… when I grew up in Wilmington, the other gay guy I knew worked at the place where I got my haircut and all my friends used to mock him. NOW, this place was teeming with hot, gay guys; things had changed. Anyway… back to Vincent. He was in his late twenties, an incredibly sexy, bald, mass of muscle and as rock solid as a freaking bank vault. Vincent looked intimidating as hell, but was the nicest guy you’ll ever meet and we hit it off instantly, there was this undeniable spark between. We worked together sharing resources and trying to find ways to help Colton and Ella… he knew the local lay of the land and introduced me to so many new people and resources I could tap into. He made me look great in front of Seth and Max. Anyway, our relationship went from professional, to friendship, then started to move into the realm of “less than professional” when he asked me out on an official date.

We were having coffee at the little coffee house near my office when our eyes met at an awkward moment and Vincent asked, “Hey, um, would you consider having dinner with me… um, socially?” He shot me this shy little grin that clarified exactly what the was asking.

HELL YES, I screamed on the inside as my lips calmly said, “that sounds nice. What did you have in mind?” He told about a little place he knew and we set a date for Friday night. Our first date was so nice, and well, innocent. We talked over a great dinner of shrimp and cheese grits, at first the conversation was focused on Ella and Colton, then our jobs, then our goals, THEN we got into the personal stuff and truly got to know each other. That night he kissed me goodnight right on the curb in front of the restaurant, then we went our separate way. After that we talked daily and had a couple more dates. It was on the fourth date that the spark lit an explosion.

We went out for dinner and a movie, then he dropped me off at my little cottage and I invited him in for a night cap. I poured him a drink and put on some music, there was just a small reading lamp on in the living room as we sat together on my mother’s old hand-me-down couch. He complimented my place, I thanked him for a nice evening, and then he moved closer so that his mighty thigh was touching mine. I’m having trouble telling you how freaking built this guy was. Solid. Fucking. Muscle. Biceps, triceps, and any other ceps there were… he had them. I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss this big, sturdy, slab of sexual hotness, so I kissed him. Smack on his full, beautiful lips. He leaned into the kiss at first, then pulled back and smiled at me, his beautiful light blue eyes and sinning smile shone through the darkness… god he was beautiful. He had this exotic look about him like no one I had ever seen before, It was like he was this new species of super-gay that I was seeing, touching, and experiencing for the first time.

He leaned into our kiss again and things turned passionate FAST. Our tongues explored each other, and my arms wrapped themselves around his neck, his strong, solid neck. Damn, this man was just one giant muscle mass, and my long-neglected body responded to him like a wilting flower to an April shower. Our shirts came off and I leaned back to drink in his perfection, those dark, perfectly formed muscles begged for my touch. I ran my fingers over hist tight, tight, TOIGHT body, his smooth skin was stretched to the hilt over his bugling frame. I couldn’t resist reaching for the muscle I desired the most. I lowered my hand to his groin as my teeth gave his nipples a playful bite. My hand met his nature through the worn denim of his jeans and I stopped fucking dead in my tracks. Holy shit! I backed off him and he must’ve seen the astoundment in my eyes.

“It’s proportionate to my other muscles” He said with the shyest voice and cutest fucking grin, his darker skin didn’t hide the blush in his cheeks.

“Um… er… um…” I was at a loss for words, “Can I um…” I didn’t need to finish the questions. He opened the button, then down went the zipper and his jeans dropped to his ankles.

“I’ll let you unwrap the rest of it” he said with that same grin. The mass in his skimpy Calvin’s was spectacular. Shit, seriously it looked like he had at least three pair of rolled-up socks in there. I put my fingers under his waistband and pulled down the straining fabric. Great god almighty!!!! I was in fucking awe! I mean, I’ve been around but I had NEVER seen anything like it, it was gargantuan!! I am not exaggerating when I guess at LEAST eleven inches long, and a good six inches in diameter… seriously, it was almost the size of a can of Reddi-Wip. On top of that it was hard as a rock and pointed out from his body and curved towards the ground. He was absolutely a new species of super-gay with a cock that rendered all others inferior. I looked up at him in disbelief. He was still grinning shyly as he begged “please tell me you’re not scared of it” if I was, I obviously wasn’t the first. I moved onto the floor and knelt in front of him in response. I angled myself and took him in my mouth… well at least I tried to. My mouth could barely open wide enough to accommodate the head much less the entire monstrous shaft. I gagged and choked and struggled to take him, I made it just a couple of inches past the head and it was clear that his cock was shaped perfectly to go down my throat… if only my mouth would open wide enough. I coughed and sputtered and finally retreated in defeat of the jolly, brown giant. FUCK! I wanted him so badly. “It’s okay” he said disappointed, I know it’s a lot to take.”

I’m sorry but there’s more than one way to skin a cat. Right? I wrapped my mouth around the side of his shaft and moved my wet lips up and down, moistening every freaking inch. He moaned in pleasure making me look up at his beautiful face. His light blue eyes were rolled into the back of his head as he reaped the spoils of my determination. After working his shaft for all I was worth and spending some time on his weighty orbs of life I tried again. The cockhead went in mush easier, and I got at least another two inches down my blissfully sore throat. I worked at it as long as I could before I came up for air and looked up at the gorgeous specimen on my couch. “I want you to fuck me” I said without thinking.

Vincent’s mesmerizing eyes opened wide, “Are you serious? You couldn’t even get the whole thing in your mouth.”

“I want it bad” I whined. I stood up with my pants still and reached out my hand to Vincent. He kicked off his shoes, jeans, and Calvin’s and left them on the floor of the living room and I led him to my bedroom. He laid on the bed while I walked over to my dresser and opened my sock drawer. I had a large bottle of lube (which I used to make my solo time more fun) and an old bottle of poppers in there. I hadn’t had sex since I left Charlotte, my hole was tight but my soul was determined to take this exquisite embodiment of masculinity.

“Let me help” Vincent said. “Bring me that ass.” He sat up with his back against the headboard and I got on all fours in front of him, my ass in his face. He put a hand on each ass cheek, parted them and started licking my crack. His tongue felt wide and warm as it slickened my crack and slipped into my tight pucker, oh my god it had been so freaking long since I had been rimmed, but this went way beyond rimming. He ate me the fuck OUT! He slurped and slobbered, slickening my rarely used chasm. Then he took the lube and drizzled some into my crack, working it into my hole with his index finger. He worked it in and out with his thick fingers, he started with the index finger, then added his middle finger then eventually his ring finger and pinky. He twisted and turned his four fingers in me making me moan and groan in ecstasy. Holy fuck it felt amazing. “Do you still want it?” He asked as he lubed up his cock.

“More than fucking anything” I said almost pleadingly.

I was still on all fours facing away from him when he told me to sit on it. “That’s the best way to take it” he advised. I maneuvered around until the curve was at my crack. Vincent lifted it up and again instructed me to sit on it. I opened the little brown bottle, covered one nostril, and inhaled deeply, then I did the same to my other nostril. The essence of the fumes relaxed me as I squatted down on his manhood. I lowered myself and pushed hard until the head plopped in.

“OW! OW! OW! FUCKING OW!!!” I screamed at the top of my lungs scaring the shit out of Vincent.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” Vincent said with remorse as he tried to pull out.

“No. No. No. leave it there, just let me get used to it” I said with tears in my eyes and pain in my voice. For the next several minutes, I just squatted there above him with his plum-sized head inside me. Finally, I was ready to try again. I took another hit of the poppers and slowly sat down on his magnificently mammoth member. Inch-by-inch I lowered myself onto him, his girth felt like it was splitting me open but I didn’t stop. His curved cock was reaching places inside me that had never been touched. After what seemed like several lifetimes, my ass finally rested on his meaty balls. Oh god, Vincent was all the way inside me. I wished that I could look into his eyes, but I had my back to him as I tried to find the most comfortable angle to take him. I just squatted there for a moment then said, “move with me” and started working my way onto my knees with his large dick still inside me. When we finally got into the traditionally doggy position, I begged him to fuck me hard. He moved in and out of me slowly. Surprisingly his cock moved easily in and out of me once we found the right position and I couldn’t get enough. I begged him to fuck me harder and harder. The sound and feel of his balls slapping hard against my ass sent me into euphoric rapture. “Harder, more” I yelled without control. It was the single most intense sexual experience of my life.

“Fuck, I’m cumming” Vincent said as he fucked the shit out of me.

“Cum in me. Fuck yes! Cum in me” I pleaded in desperation as he pumped and thrusted in wild abandoned then let loose a load to end all loads! Oh, my fucking god, I could feel his cock throbbing and pulsing inside me as his seed flooded my wanting cavern. He delivered his final thrust with a wail of pleasure that shook the rafters of my tiny, rented cottage and punctuated it with a might slap to my whiter than white ass with his large, brown hand. FUCK!

He spent the night in my bed and I fell asleep in his big arms. Moving back to my hometown was the best decision of my life.

Seth’s Perspective

The night after the visitation, Zach and I lie on the makeshift double bed in my old room face-to-face whispering. My head was reeling with all that had happened that night, so many people traveling so far just to support us. So many flowers and wishes of sympathy. Brad meeting one of his abductors and forgiving him. Father asking people to donate to The Village in Mother’s name. So much raw emotion, so many issues of the past colliding with my present.

“What about inviting your dad to our place for Thanksgiving?” Zach asked out of the blue.

“Are you serious?” I responded. I hadn’t thought of that. I’d spent the last decade avoiding the man, it would take some time to reprogram my thinking to include him.

“Yeah, why not? The guy shouldn’t be alone at the holidays. It would be a nice gesture, plus Eli will be there and we’ll have my parents and Riley as buffers” We laid side-by-side as we talked through the idea.

“Where would we put him? Riley and Eli will still be living with us, and your parents will be in the guest room.” I asked. I think I was looking for reasons not to do it more than I was talking through it. It’s not that it was a bad idea… like I said, I just had to reprogram my thinking after years of avoidance and pent up resentment.

“He can take our room and we can set up an air mattress in the den” Zach said. “That’s all just detail bullshit we can figure out. I’m just making a suggestion; this is up to you.”

“And Eli” I said. “I wouldn’t invite him without Eli being on board.” Zach nodded in agreement. We talked a little more about the idea, our day, and everything that had transpired over the past week, then I fell asleep with him spooning me.

The next morning, we were up early and at the church for the funeral. It was held at a non-denominational church that Mother and Father joined after leaving the Church Of The Demon (as it had become known to our family). The cute little church was packed solid with people (mostly our friends), the support was heartwarming and overwhelming. My father delivered the eulogy, it wasn’t a bunch of flowery lies but words from his heart about the flawed woman he loved. The woman who stood by his side through the worst of times and even sacrificed her family to be there for him. She was his life and he was hers… that thought saddened me. It didn’t have to be that way.

After the funeral, we all rode out to the cemetery for the private burial. Father said a few words at the graveside assuring us that mother loved us regardless of what our history might suggest. Then Brad stood up and spoke, “My mother was far from perfect, but she was a loving wife, and she did some very amazing things while she was on this earth” he smiled and looked at my beautiful family as we stood there glued to his every word. “Six of those amazing things are standing here today. She may not have been the perfect mother, but she brought me and my siblings into the world and for that I will always love her.” His words were simple.  His words were few. His words were heartfelt. He loved us all and he had proven it time and time again. Maybe my sister Mary was right and things had turned out exactly as they were supposed to. The casket was lowered into the ground and we each threw a handful of dirt into the hole on top of it before we piled into the caravan of cars and went back to the house.

When we got to the house things were in full swing. The Halls and Mom and Pop had things under control and the place was wall-to-wall friends. Finally, fucking finally that house was filled with love again. I had thought a lot about what Zach had said about inviting father for Thanksgiving and decided it was the right thing to do. I cornered Eli and asked what he thought, he agreed with Zach and we decided to invite him. As we were talking, Brad and Mary came up and joined us, eventually all my siblings were there chiming in… by the end of the conversation, Zach and I were hosting Thanksgiving for the Halls and my entire family. They ALL wanted to join us in North Carolina for our first true family gathering in well over a decade. Where the hell we were going to put all these people, I had no fucking clue… but like Zach said, it was all just detail bullshit we could figure out later.

After the crowd had left and we all pitched in to clean up the mess, Eli and I sat with dad in his den and invited him to North Carolina for Thanksgiving. He gratefully accepted with tears in his eyes. The next day my siblings and I said goodbye to my father at the airport, leaving him alone until Thanksgiving.

The next couple of weeks were rough as my entire family dealt with my mother’s death. I tried to let go of my resentment and hatred, and grappled with my own guilt. Most of my siblings faced similar emotions, except for Brad; he was finally at peace with it all. I talked to my dad on the phone every night after dinner, my other siblings were checking in with him regularly too. We all did our damnedest to forgive, let go, and rebuild... shit, if Brad could do it so could the rest of us.

Zach and I had started our training to become foster parents, along with Max and Brody, but the licensing process would take four to six months to complete. By then Eli and Riley would be in their own place and we’d have room to take in foster children, the timing was working out well for us. Things at the Village were going great too. We got an influx of donations from Mother’s funeral, the most interesting of which was a $500 donation from Barry Bestford, the man that apologized to Brad at mother’s visitation. I learned that he and my dad were close when they were part of the church… they were known as Best and West. They both dropped out of the church shortly after the incident with Brad, and remained close over the years and my dad considered him his best friend. Barry’s son was the other guy abducted with Brad and Barry was alienated by his family too. It was sad, the two men had sacrificed their families for their misguided beliefs.

Zach and I got back home just in time for the big moving day at Harrington House! Colton and Ella moved into their new home on the fourth floor, Mason moved up to Colton’s old one-bedroom on the third floor, and Maverick moved into his own studio on the Village’s second floor. Everyone was so excited and proud… they all worked so damn hard to fix their lives and now they were all taking a step forward. Helping them all get settled was a great diversion for me. I filled up the Hall’s pick-up with all kinds of stuff from our garage three times as we made sure everyone had what they needed. Colton fixed his place up really cute. Ella had her own room (Mrs. J bought her a beautiful comforter, sheets, and curtains that Ella picked out herself. It was HER room.), and Colton bought himself a brand new, queen-sized bed. He told me in one of our sessions that having a brand new bed felt like a rite of passage, like the next step, I translated that he saw it as a declaration that he was no longer homeless. The most interesting piece in his home was a framed wall hanging that said, “All Are Welcome Here” and taped to the glass frame was the note his father taped to a garbage bag full of Colton’s belongings when he kicked him out of his home that read ‘You’re an adult. If you want to be gay that’s your choice, but not here.’ The framed saying was a declaration of his independence… I fucking loved it.

Harris and Terrance helped Mason with his place… of all the Villager/sponsor relationships I had witnessed I would have to say theirs was the most like family. They already had two sons close to Mason’s age and he basically became their third. The boys treated him like a brother and he just seemed to become part of their family. As for Maverick, he was adding an element to BroMax Farm that Max needed to grow the business. Under Craig’s long-distance tutelage he was learning how to manage the greenhouse and the gigantic, ever-growing herb gardens and Rodney was trying to talk him into going to school for horticulture to help secure his future. Taylor was out of Harrington House and in his own place, he was kicking ass at the dealership and loving life. We met weekly and I still wasn’t 100% convinced that he wasn’t turning the occasional trick, but he told me he wasn’t and I did my best to trust his word. All in all, it was nice to see all of them really taking control of their own lives and moving forward… adulting. Owning their futures. Damn, I was so proud of all of them.

Life went on and the world was moving forward without Mother in it. It was a time of new beginnings.

 

To be continued…