That night I lay in bed thinking about the kiss. What did it mean? I decided it was just a little appreciation for my support.
I was awakened around midnight by a soft voice saying, “Richard?”
“What?” I asked groggily.
“Can I come in here? I really don’t want to be alone tonight,” Tyler said sadly.
I sighed. When he woke me, I had been dreaming of Mark. But what could I say? The kid had just lost both his parents and he was sad and lonely.
“Okay,” I said. “There’s room for two in my bed.”
“Thanks.” He climbed in as I pulled myself over to one side of the bed.
We lay for some time, both thinking our own thoughts.
“Richard?” he said.
“What?”
“This . . . this is the fir . . . first time I’ve been in bed with a boy.”
“Get some sleep,” I said, thinking that it was the first time I’d been in bed with a boy since Mark went to the hospital.
“Okay. Thanks again.”
We were once again silent. A few moments later, he shifted a little so that he was spooning me. I felt his arm come over and his hand rested on my chest. Very gently, I moved his arm back and slid a little closer to the edge.
Soon, Tyler was breathing deeply, and I relaxed.
When the alarm went off in the morning, I realized that it was on Tyler’s side of the bed. I leaned over him and hit the snooze button. That gave us fifteen minutes more.
Tyler turned on his back.
“Do we have to get up?” he asked.
“Well, we probably have to make some arrangements today,” I said.
“Like what?”
“Like with a lawyer, and maybe with a bank and a funeral home.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“You’ll need to get some things settled soon. You can’t just avoid problems, especially if you want things to work out for you.”
“I don’t think I care.”
The alarm went off again. I reached across Tyler again to turn it off. “Come on,” I said, “you’ll feel much better if you stay active.” I climbed out the end of the bed and went into the bathroom to pee.
Tyler walked to the bathroom door and saw what I was doing. “Sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be. C’mon in. We can do it together.”
I made room for him at the toilet, and we peed together, our streams crossing.
Back in my room, we dressed before going downstairs to breakfast.
Ater breakfast, we drove to Tyler’s home.
“I don’t want to go in,” he said.
“You don’t have to,” said Christian. “I’ll go in and see if I can find any papers or a will.”
Peter, Tyler, and I sat silently in the car until Christian returned about 45 minutes later. He was carrying a suitcase.
“I didn’t find a will,” he said, “but I found some papers about the house which might be useful, as well as a key to a safe deposit box. I also brought some of Tyler’s clothes, his phone charger, and his laptop.”
“Thanks,” Tyler murmured.
“Tyler, do you know if your parents had a lawyer?”
“No, sir,” he said. “I don’t know if they ever went to one.”
We drove to the bank with the key Christian had found. The bank manager found that the box was in Tyler’s father’s name. He said that we would need a death certificate before the bank would let us open the box.
From there we drove to a lawyer the men knew. In fact, the lawyer also knew Tyler’s parents and told Tyler he was sorry about what had happened, but that nothing could be done until an autopsy was performed and a death certificate signed.
We stopped at a diner, and when we finished eating, we drove to the funeral home. As we went in, Tyler asked, “How can we do a funeral? I have no money.”
“We’ll cover it for now. It won’t be that expensive,” said Christian.
At the funeral home, we met a Mr. Hopewell, which I thought was a cool name for someone involved with death. He was slender and probably in his thirties. He had a little black moustache and greasy hair. I thought he was rather smarmy, but I wasn’t having to deal with him.
“Well,” he asked cheerfully, “are you thinking of burial or cremation?”
Clearly, Tyler hadn’t been thinking of either one.
“Ummm,” he said. “Does it have to be the same for both?”
“Not necessarily,” said Mr. Hopewell, “although that would be rather unusual.”
“Okay,” said Tyler, recovering his equilibrium, “we’ll cremate Dad and bury Mom.”
“Really? You don’t want to bury them together?”
“Definitely not.”
Clearly, Mr. Hopewell didn’t approve, but he ushered us into a room with several coffins.
“Mom never liked anything fancy or expensive,” said Tyler, “so I suppose that would be true of her coffin too.” He picked out a low-end model although Mr. Hopewell tried to talk him into a more expensive one.
When we left, Mr. Hopewell said he would let us know when the bodies were released to the funeral home.
We drove to the school’s parking lot, and I picked up my car. Tyler and I drove home. I know it might have been dangerous, but I had my arm around his shoulders. I could see the tears beginning to form, but I thought he’d done well to get through the morning.
In the afternoon, to distract Tyler, I told him about my landscaping work and suggested that he might want to join me. That way I could do more houses, but I would need to trade in Grandma’s car for a pickup truck to carry equipment.
“I think I might like the work,” said Tyler. “At least it will give me something to do.”
That night, Tyler again joined me in bed. I began to grow hard, and knew that he was too, as his crotch was against my butt cheeks. Is it possible for a horny teen boy to be in bed with another boy and not have that reaction? I doubted it, but I didn’t really know what to do.
Finally, I reached down inside my underwear and began rubbing myself.
“Wait,” said Tyler. He reached across my back and side and put his hand on my cock. “Let me,” he said.
Should I? I wondered what Mark would say, and then I knew! He would be all for it. I turned on my back to make it easier for Tyler to reach. I pulled down my underwear and lay exposed as he began to fondle me very slowly. It had been a long time since anyone but me had touched me down there, and my cock immediately responded, growing so hard it nearly hurt. I felt that wonderful sensation growing in my groin.
“Oh, yes!” I muttered.
He kept rubbing and touching.
The pressure built, that amazing pressure which I loved so much. And then I arched my back and exploded, shooting cum first up to my neck and, with subsequent contractions, onto my chest and stomach.
Tyler withdrew his hand and rolled onto his back.
When I got my breath back, I said, “My God, that was wonderful.” I took a couple of tissues from the bedside table and wiped myself clean before I turned towards him and reached into his crotch.
“Wait,” he said, and peeled off his briefs. Then he turned a little to me and said, “Please. Do it.”
I did. When he got close to climaxing, I stopped for a few moments to let the pressure begin to recede a little. Then I began again.
“Don’t stop!” he cried out.
And I didn’t. He too shot an impressive load. When he finished, I removed my hand from his cock and licked off some of his cum, which seemed very similar to mine.
“Lord, I needed that,” he said.
We lay side by side as he took my hand and held it. Soon we were both asleep.
I awoke in the morning and the first thing I felt was regret, thinking that I had led Tyler on for my own pleasure. There was no way our relationship could amount to anything.
I shifted a little in the bed, and Tyler said a groggy, “Good morning.” He rolled towards me and again put his hand on my crotch.
I removed his hand saying, “Not now.”
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
What could I say? I didn’t want him to think we had become boyfriends, but I also didn't want to hurt his feelings, especially since he was so vulnerable at that moment.
We went into the bathroom, our boners preceding us. I stood by the toilet and began my morning piss. He reached down and tried to take over what I was doing.
“No,” I said. “Let’s just do ourselves.”
He looked at me sadly but took care of himself.
The feeling of regret returned, and I wished that I hadn’t allowed what had happened the night before.
We returned to my room and dressed for the morning before going downstairs to breakfast.
A week later the death certificates came through.