We Could Be Heroes
Chapter 3
When I reached him the next afternoon, he sounded a little harried. “Still in a panic trying to get caught up? That’s the price you pay for going on vacation. Especially for going to an exotic destination.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose, but it was worth it. It was really the first long vacation I’ve had since graduating from seminary, and other than a camping trip or two the first real vacation my partner and I have had, so that was wonderful and worth the panic of getting caught up. It’ll be under control in a day or two. By the way, you asked about finding something cool in Europe for your boyfriend.”
He paused, and I got the sense he was testing me.
“Yes, Paul, go on. And, you’re right, he’s my boyfriend. I’ll fill you in before we’re done. You were saying?”
“Well, when we were in Berlin, we happened into this very hip record store in the right part of town. By that I mean the gay part of town, and there’s a large gay population in Berlin. We got talking to the owner, told him we were from the US and we talked about upcoming concerts, great restaurants and bars to visit, all kinds of stuff like that. I asked him about something interesting that would be a good gift for a teenager in the US. He showed us a new album by David Bowie. Do you know who he is?”
I said I knew the name but not his music.
“Well, he’s all the rage with the younger set, and he moved to Berlin last year and this year he recorded two albums, and the latest one released last month, called Heroes. It has a fabulous title track with a great back story about lovers at the Berlin Wall. He told me it hasn’t released yet in the US, so you can be assured of giving him something pretty cool that no one else has!”
“Wow! Paul, that’s so great. He loves contemporary music, so this should be a hit. I can’t thank you enough. It will be a perfect complement to the other gift I have for him.”
“And that is?” I filled him in on the Love Birds bracelet, and he thought it was a terrific expression of sentiment. “You’re really over the moon on the young man, aren’t you?”
“I am, Paul, I’ve told you before that I’ve never felt this way, and it keeps getting more so and more so. Some pretty interesting things happened while you were gone.”
I told him about the identity chart exercise that turned into Jackson completing a before and after version, which on reflection was an opening of his heart and soul to me. He was suitably impressed, and I explained how he’d completed one for the day before we met and another for three months later. He paused to consider what I said. “I remember you telling me about the Psych class assignment and the decision to consciously omit things you didn’t want public. You’re telling me that in these two he put down everything?”
“I sure am. Everything. Abusive father, bullying brother, being an Invisible Kid, a gay loner contemplating suicide, and then the one for three months later he was equally honest, but completely different. And he was so brave, I asked him to walk me through each one and he did, explaining what was what, and why. It was pretty impressive and very emotional.”
“You do know how unusual it is for any couple to open up like that to each other, don’t you?”
“I think I do, though you’d know better as a therapist. I told him I was honored, and I told him I’d try to do as good a job on mine. I’m working on two of them too, but it turns out to be a lot harder to do this and be completely honest about it that it appears when you look at the forms.
I shared my concern about my replacing his father at the top of the chart, and he waived it off. “If it lasts for a year or two, you’ve got a problem. He’s young, he found out that his mother’s husband isn’t his father, and you’re there and older. You’re his lover and it’s not a surprise he sees you as a surrogate father. Don’t stress over it. The odds are it will resolve one way or the other over time.”
I told him that was a relief to hear, and then filled him in on the invitation Prof. Higgins had extended to attend one of his comparative religion lectures on identity and mythology and how that expanded into a discussion of tribalism and religion. I walked him through Higgins’ description of tribalism as a fundamental human dynamic to maintain social connections but also to assure conformity and traditional practices, and how tribes developed belief systems and the successful ones developed social foundations and traditional practices that helped them survive and thrive. Like Christianity!
“He sounds like he knows his subject matter. I’m not familiar with the relationship of tribalism and religion, but it makes sense in two ways. First, it helps the tribe and the tribal leader explain the unknown. That would have been important in early times. The second piece is really interesting, that religion developed along with it as a means to hold the tribe together and then by extension as a control mechanism. That’s kind of illuminating, don’t you think? And by the way, you shouldn’t be afraid of any of this. People’s faith matures over time like anything else. The belief of a seventy-year old is very different than that of a kid in high school.”
I found that encouraging. Then I told him about our lunch conversation and the questions Higgins had asked and how he’d connected my absentee father and living overseas with a need to find a replacement father and community in the church. He only said, “Go on.”
“Well, he basically said it sounded to him that I had pursued a metaphysical father to fill the void caused by my own absentee father and pursued the church to fill the void of no extended family or community. Does that make sense?”
“Of course, it makes sense! That’s not the question. That’s a fundamental psychological statement. The question is if it is the case for you. Is it?
“I, I…I don’t think I know yet. It hit me like a ton of bricks. He’s a very kind and discerning person, and he also got me to tell him that I’m gay.”
“Really? That’s interesting. How did that happen?”
“Well, to be honest, it wasn’t like he coerced it out of me. We were talking about identity and he simply asked, ‘And who are you David?’ Jackson had recently gone through his identity charts with me and was so transparently honest that I couldn’t be anything less. So, I told him I’m gay. It didn’t even phase him. It was after that we began talking about the metaphysical father and seeking community and stuff.”
“He sounds to be quite a perceptive person.”
“He is, Paul,” I said, “here’s the thing though. Toward the end he said that it’s not unusual that when you have to come to grips with something as new and fundamental as, in my case admitting to being gay, it sets off a cascade of questions about other things. Is that right?”
“It’s not unusual. I’ll tell you though, that you shouldn’t use that fact as a way to dismiss all the other question, as if they are just the result of the first one. They can all be equally real and equally significant, but only you can answer them. You can’t just dismiss them. Do you follow what I’m saying?”
“I think so. Tell me more.”
“Well, Okay, let’s start with you being forced into accepting you’re gay after your encounter with Jackson and falling head over heels in love with him. That forced you to face the position that the majority of Christianity takes that homosexuality is a depraved sin, right?”
I hesitantly said, “Yes.”
“Okay, so now you have an existential struggle going on within you about whether or not you are depraved and if what you want to do with the person you love is a depraved sin. That’s pretty heavy. It rocks your identity, right? Now as you know, Identity is a key piece of mythology, one of the three key pieces according to Campbell. And within that mythological construct is Tribalism, and as Higgins pointed out to you, religion is intrinsically tied to both tribalism and mythology. So, if you start struggling with or questioning one of them, then if you are serious and intelligent, and you are David, then you can’t avoid taking on all of them.”
I was silent. Finally, I said, “He told me he wasn’t disparaging my beliefs, but was just setting a thesis before me that I would have to struggle with and prove or disprove.”
“He’s a very smart and compassionate man. You’re lucky you met him and that he’s now in your circle of acquaintances. I can imagine a great evening of conversation with him, especially if we did so over a shared bottle of Scotch!”
I knew Paul was trying to lighten the conversation up a bit. “That sounds like fun, even to me, and I don’t drink Scotch.”
“Well, you should try it. It is an acquired taste, but you’ll be amazed how much ‘a wee dram’ enables vibrant conversation!”
“Right! So, Paul, what do I do now?”
“What, are you asking me? I’m not a medical doctor, I can’t write you a prescription. You have a ton of stuff to work through. That’s what it comes down to. But don’t panic. It’s normal. You’re human. You may not have done a lot of critical thinking about these subjects before, and now it seems overwhelming because feels like you’ve got to take all these heavy subjects on at once. Just chill, man. Take them one at a time. There’s no rush. In fact, the risk is if you rush. Just be you, do your job. Love Jackson, Work through them as they come up. And they will come up naturally. You don’t have to force them. They’re cooking away in your head, and one day or another one will surface, and you’ll deal with it. Months later another one will. That’s the way it goes. That’s why therapy with patients takes so long. There’s no single neat fix. It doesn’t all happen at once.”
He stopped talking to let me absorb all of that. “Well, Paul, what you said makes sense. So, I should just go with the flow, and take it as it comes?”
“Absolutely! The worst thing you could try and do is force it. Like trying to resolve all these questions in the next week or something. For God’s sake, these are the big questions of life. Some people require their whole lives to sort them out, and most never do. Chill. There’s no schedule. You’ve got to work through them in your own time. Do that and you’ll be fine.”
“You know I couldn’t do this without you? I wouldn’t even be here having this sane conversation with you today if you hadn’t gotten me through the last few months. I owe you big time.”
“You’re right! You do owe me. You owe me two ways. First, you owe me $7.99 plus postage, totaling $10 for the David Bowie album. You can mail me a check. Second you owe me for all this free therapy and counseling, which I am happy to provide to a brother, and for which I will someday collect when I come to visit you and you get to put me up for free!”
He chuckled at that, and it took the edge off the conversation and I laughed too. “Okay, deal. The check is in the mail tomorrow and you have an open invitation. I’d love you to visit and I want you to meet Jackson too.”
“Okay, we have a deal. Now, I need to get back to catching up on the rat race here, so I’m going to hang up. You have to let me know, though, how the David Bowie album is received, Okay?”
I promised him I would, and we rang off.
*****
Jackson came by after school on Friday and I asked him how band practice went. He grinned and said, “It was a set-up, like I thought.”
“What does that mean?”
“Like I told you, Will needs another singer with a higher tenor voice, and he was trying to work me into it without saying anything.”
“I don’t get it. What did you do?”
“I confronted him and said, ‘Hey, just tell me what you’re after.’ I don’t know if I can sing in front of a crowd with a band. I’m barely pulling it off with the choir in music class. But he apologized. He said he was worried that if he was too forward about it that I would have freaked and not even come to practice. So, anyway, Tom was working me hard too, like ‘you’ve got a really good voice, you just need a little more confidence’ and stuff like that.”
“That’s what Miss Albridge says too!”
“Yeah, well. It’s one thing to sing in a choir. Another to do lead vocals in a band. Then you’re really out there. You know, as in really letting it hang out there! I don’t need another reason to be embarrassed and hassled.”
I paused, and he didn’t say anything else. So, I carefully said, “Jackson, can I say something?”
He nodded.
“You remember when you did the identity charts for me? Do you remember the difference you mapped out between then and now? You were the Invisible Kid with all the shit that went along with it. Now you’re not. Now you’re you. You’re becoming the guy you were always meant to be. You don’t need to worry about being embarrassed and hassled. You’ve got abilities. If you want to do it, just do it. Susan thinks you’ve got talent. Will and Tom think you’ve got talent. So, what’s the problem?”
He was quiet, then said, “I’m afraid of bombing.”
I laughed quietly. “You won’t bomb. Trust me. More importantly, trust Susan. I guarantee you something else, even if it’s rock and roll, which is not her favorite type of music, she’ll do whatever she can to help you. All you have to do is ask. She’s a fan of your’ s Jackson. Do you know that?”
“I guess I’ve never thought of it that way before.” He was quiet, ruminating. After a minute he said, “I guess it’s not just the Invisible Kid stuff, but because I felt I was worthless for so long, right?”
I smiled at him and pulled him in for a big hug. “Could be, but guess what? That was then, and this is now. I bet Susan would be excited to find out you were singing in the band with Will, because she’ll think it will make you perform better in the choir. Why don’t you call her and see what she thinks?”
“What? Call her and ask her?”
“Yeah, she’s your teacher, and she cares about you. She’s also your friend. In case you don’t know it, you can ask her anything. Go on. The phone is in the office. Her number is in the directory right next to the phone.”
“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Uhh, yeah. Now go call her. It sounds like you need someone in the know about music to tell you what you need to hear in order to overcome your insecurities!”
He did. He had a lengthy and friendly conversation with Susan, and she told him he had more talent than he understood or gave himself credit for, and that singing in the band would stretch him in new directions, and that she’d help him however she could.
He came out of the office smiling, but still acting a little embarrassed. “You were right. She told me pretty much what you said she would.”
“Hey, recognizing and developing musical talent is one of the things she does. And by the way, I’m not going to be pressuring you at all. You need to do this at your own pace. If you need a sounding board, shout my way. Otherwise, I’m just here to support you, Okay Lover Boy?”
We spent a little time on the couch hugging and kissing after that!
Saturday Gary wanted to go down to the community college campus to spend some time on his propagation project, and Lois decided to go with him. Jackson came by for breakfast, and it was an overcast day with no rain, so we decided to drive and take a hike. Will had told him about Saddle Mountain State Park, which was at least an hour and a half drive northwest, in the Coast Range. It would be wet, but it wasn’t raining today, so why not?
Jackson went home to get a rain jacket, just in case, and to let his Mom know where we were going. I made a couple of sandwiches and when he came back, we headed out. Half the drive there was a major highway to the coast, then county roads north to Saddle Mountain. That part was slower, but it was beautiful old forest, wet and damp as only forests in the northwest can be in the winter. The trail was less than five miles long, and Saddle Mountain turned out to be the highest point in northwest Oregon. The view from the top was terrific, from the ocean to Mount St. Helens, but we couldn’t see all the way in either direction for the low cloud cover. Still, it was a terrific hike, we were out together, and had a great time. Not the least of reasons was that it was October and there were very few other people on the trail with us.
We were back in Newberg a little after 4:00 PM, and when I dropped Jackson off at his home, we could see Gary was back from Salem. He smiled and squeezed my hand, and said, “I’ll be over to see you later, my Sexy Man.” I was tired from the hike, but he was young and energetic. He looked me full in the face and stuck his tongue out, somehow making a circling motion with the tip.
I grinned. “I guess we’ll be testing the athleticism of your tongue tonight, is that what you’re saying?” He laughed softly. “You better be ready. It’ll blow your mind, Rev.”
And it did. I heard him coming up the stairs a little before 10:00 and we embraced and kissed as he came in the room. I’d taken a nap in the evening so felt refreshed, and he was a man on a mission. We broke from the kiss and he whispered in my ear, “I want to make you feel as wonderful as you made me feel the other night.” He was stroking my low back and buttocks, and ever so softly grinding on me. We slowly undressed each other, and when we were both naked, he stepped back, holding my hands in his, and he smiled, his face radiating joy. “You are my Sexy Man. You are so beautiful. I’ve been dreaming about this all week.”
He walked me backwards to the foot of the bed, and we laid down, our legs draped over the end. He was leaning over my chest, stroking my chest and belly, and then slowly dancing his fingertips through my pubes to the base of my very hard cock. I’d been anticipating this since he did his tongue maneuver in the car. I felt him slide down and move between my legs, kneeling on the floor. He’d rested my legs on his shoulders as he continued to stroke my cock, then he slowly rose up so that my legs went up as he moved upward to take my cock in his mouth. He slowly sucked me for a few strokes, then pushed my knees upwards with his arms extended, opening my ass to him. I could see him looking intense and lustful as he approached his goal, and he licked my scrotum and then worked his way down my perineum. The sensations were incredible. He was making sure I was wet as he went down, and then as he pushed my knees back and my hips raised further off the bed, I felt his tongue at my entrance.
He softly licked and circled it, delicately stimulating me in what I could only describe as electric feelings. I’d rubbed my own anus while jacking off, but the feeling was nothing like this. He alternated between licking and circling until I experienced what I’d felt with him the other night—I relaxed and opened. He continued to lick, and then I felt his tongue flick forward, pushing straight into me. It was like a shock. He let go of one of my legs, and as he flicked his tongue into me, he slipped the arm around my leg and started stroking my cock. I could feel the rhythm he was establishing, with each thrust of his tongue he was stroking down on my cock, creating the maximum stimulus in both places.
Now I was writhing, just as he had, with each stroke. Each one felt more intense than the last, and within a minute I knew I was going to cum. I reached down between my legs to hold his head, just to feel his head in my hands, and then I came. Loud and hard, bucking up off the bed all the way to my shoulders, just completely lost in the sensations that were washing over me ending up almost making whimpering noises. He slowed, matching his movements to my increasing sensitivity and finally stopped when he knew it would be too much for me.
I felt him slowly drape my legs on the end of the bed, and then crawl up next to me, sliding his arms around me in an embrace that was to die for. Hard and warm and comforting and loving all rolled into one. His lips were on my neck, nuzzling me and licking me, continuing to assure me that he loved me. I’d never felt totally wasted or so loved in my life before.
When I’d recovered, I did my best to reciprocate, bringing Jackson to as strong and sensuous a climax as I could. He appeared to love it but seemed to be happier with the high to which he’d taken me. There is something to be said for the satisfaction achieved in taking your lover to a new level of intensity and pleasure!
*****
Sunday dawned with intermittent rain and a low cloud deck. We were in for at least a few days of wet weather. Jackson had awoken to head home at 5:30. How he could keep the old paper route schedule was beyond me. Again, I wasn’t letting him go without a serious embrace. “I love you so much,” I whispered in his ear.
“Me too, David. Me too.”
‘You make me real, you know that, don’t you? I don’t know what I’d be without you.” He kissed me hard after that and slipped down the stairs.
I almost cried myself back to sleep. I really didn’t know what I’d be without him. I’d be clueless and on auto pilot, for sure. Out of touch with myself, moving through life like some kind of zombie. It was only because of him that I’d gotten in touch with myself and finally felt not just the passion and emotion of love, but some kind of peace from finally being home. I rolled on my side and pulled the sheet up over my shoulders, pulling myself into a fetal position, realizing how helpless and vulnerable I felt at that moment.
Getting up and going for the Sunday service was a challenge, but it is amazing how much two cups of strong coffee can help. I had my sermon under control thanks to the afternoon Jackson and I had spent doing homework together, and today’s passage was again from Luke, immediately following that from last Sunday.
The parable of the Pharisee and the Publican is another well-known one, with most Christians already pretty certain they know the meaning, so what is there to say about it. We all know that the parable begins with two men praying in the temple: one a Pharisee, and the other a Publican, the tax collector. We are told what they pray, and these prayers are quite a contrast to the Lord’s prayer that was given earlier in the Gospel of Luke. Now instead of a personal prayer characterized by humility, forgiveness and deliverance, we hear the prayer of the Pharisee who has no need of anyone because he is certain he is already perfect, especially in comparison to the tax collector!
So, we have the classic contrast between those who trust in themselves and those who trust in God. And that is just where Jesus goes in the parable, excoriating those who trust in themselves, and saying of the Publican, who only asked for mercy because he understood himself to be a sinner, that “this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted."
All of which, of course, begs the question of where we are on the continuum between self-righteousness and humility. Delivering the sermon was pretty straight forward. The nagging question in the back of my mind, though, was simply this. Yes, in the grand scheme of the Gospel everyone is a sinner and needs redemption. But here, in this passage like so many others, the tax collector is being called out as a sinner. We’re told it’s a sin, it is sinful, to be a tax collector? How can your vocation can make you a sinner? And what then about me? That doesn’t leave much room for me, a gay man, who is necessarily a sinner by virtue of his state of being?
Susan and Ellen had an engagement in the afternoon, so I wrapped up the coffee hour, and headed home for lunch, not feeling any too good about the nagging concerns about being a sinner for just being me! I had some lunch, then a nap, and felt a little better, then spent the afternoon finishing up my identity charts. I owed it to Jackson to do this, and as I’d told Paul it was much harder to honestly complete than I’d expected.
Jackson and Will showed up a little before 6:00 and had clearly been practicing earlier and were ready to go with some singing for Youth Fellowship. It was still a small group, but we were building a connection, and the lesson was simple, and the singing connected everyone in a positive way. Everyone knew at least the first verse of Amazing Grace, and they taught them Pharaoh, Pharaoh. Jackson stayed behind when everyone else left, and we sat on the couch together, just holding each other and reveling in the connection.
“You know I meant every word I said you this morning, don’t you?” I was referring to when I’d told him that he made feel real, that I didn’t know what I’d be without him.
He paused before answering. “That was the most wonderful thing anyone has ever said to me. It’s so amazing, so huge, though, that it’s scary. I’m just your Lover Boy, you know?”
I realized I needed to mollify any concerns. “Jackson, it wasn’t either a guilt trip or an attempt to load a bunch of responsibility on you. It was just a simple statement of fact. I was damaged goods before I met you. You’d maybe say the same thing. All I’m telling you is that it was getting into this relationship with you that helped me clarify all of that and to find myself. Simple as that. It’s why I love you.”
*****
I called Lilly the next evening after her in-home therapy session. This was her second one, and both were one-on-one with the therapist, neither of the boys had been present. She seemed pretty positive, saying that they spent most of the time talking about how she had allowed herself to get under Bud’s control and become an enabler for the dysfunction that became their family. She wasn’t happy with it, but seemed to be objective about how it happened, and how she allowed it and accepted her role in it. I knew that to be a positive starting point.
Jackson came by after school and we chatted for a while. Then I asked him if he had much homework. He said, actually, not much today and asked why. I told him that I’d finished my two identity charts and asked if he could come over after dinner so I could show them to him. He looked at me for a long time, his expression shifting from comprehension to appreciation to love. “Of course. You did this for me. I know you told me it wasn’t easy. I’ll tell Mom we’ve got some Youth Fellowship stuff to do and come back after dinner.” He was smiling softly.
When he came back, we sat down in the kitchen, and I set both identity charts on the table, the July 3 version on top of the recent one. “I still think back to when you did this for me with your charts, and I said it was so brave, and I meant it. What I didn’t know then was how hard it is to be so honest to actually conceptualize this stuff and write it down, and now to talk about it. But we agreed to do it, and when I told Paul what you’d done, sharing both of them with me, he made a point about how unusual it is for any couple to be that open and transparent with each other. So, Jackson, I just hope I can be as open and honest and transparent for you as you were for me.”
He smiled and held my hand. “David, don’t be so dramatic. You’re just doing your end of what we both agreed to do to move our relationship forward. Remember, it was your idea?”
I grinned back at him. “Yeah, I do, so here we go. This is the July 3 version, before I met you.”
The top of the chart of Seminary Graduate, because that was the newest thing in my life, and the one I was hanging my hat on. I was clearly defining myself by my vocation. Down the right side was the obvious, objective stuff like Son, Brother, Absentee Father, Distant Mother. I stopped there and said, “You know all of this stuff, right?” He nodded.
I moved over to the left side with Truth Seeker, Christian, Audiophile, Youth Fellowship Leader, and again asked, “You know all of this too?” He nodded again and said, “Not so sure about Truth Seeker.”
“It might be another intellectual construct, like celibacy, it’s the way I thought of myself. It’s probably a fancy was of saying intellectual or something like that. Anyway, those are all the objective things. The labels. Now it starts getting real.” I went back to the right side and walked him through Emotionally disconnected and Insecure and Lonely. “I may have sounded like I had it all together, but that was a front. You know now how emotionally disconnected I was. I didn’t even know I liked boys. Insecure because of the way I grew up and nothing I ever did was good enough. Lonely because we moved so often when I was growing up, I had no real friends and my brother was just some distant showboat. That gets to the No Family Connection. Living overseas meant there was no extended family. We were all just on our own. The Unworthy part ties to the insecurity, because for our father, nothing I did was good enough, I could always have done better, so I constantly struggled with if I was good enough. No surprise then that I had no close friends there, and when we moved back to the States I didn’t here, either. It seemed like I didn’t know how. And I did Some Sports, like rowing, but I was not an athlete, that’s for sure. I focused on schoolwork, so that made me a Good Student, but below all of that was a Sexually Repressed.”
I paused, catching my breath, and Jackson squeezed my hand. “You know most of this from our time together in the last three months. I haven’t tried to hide any of this from you. Something happened, though, when I was filling this out. I almost had to force myself to be honest, make myself open up and say some of this stuff to myself, like for the first time. I guess that means I’m pretty screwed up, that I’m not even in touch with myself enough to be able to write this fundamental stuff down. Anyway, in the course of doing it I remember a couple of things. The first was playing around with another boy when we were in 5th or 6th grade. I don’t remember which, but you know, showing each other our cocks and jacking off, and stuff like that. I’d completely blocked it and suddenly it was there in my mind like the TV had been turned on or something. So, I didn’t have this sexually neutral childhood.”
“The other one was in college. I was in a dorm with only ten or twelve guys, One New Year’s Eve, this other guy that I was pretty good friends with and I were the only ones there. Everyone else had gone home or somewhere else, either for Christmas vacation or for New Years, and just Simon and I were there. We’d had dinner and then a couple of glasses of wine to celebrate New Year’s and started opening up to each other. I was attracted to him, and I guess he was to me too, because it reached a point where we’d been coming on to each other and we agreed to leave the sitting area and go to one of our bedrooms. In my mind we were going to go do something. To do what, I don’t know. Kiss? Make love? I don’t know. We’d been making eyes and chatting each other up. I remember how wonderful it felt, like ‘finally’ or something like that. But it didn’t happen because we’d walked up to a bookshelf kind of talking softly to each other, and I blew out this big candle, and I blew too hard, and some of it spattered on his face. Like drops of hot wax, on his face. And it hurt, and he jumped back, and that was the end of it. I felt terrible and tried to console him. He was more shocked than hurt, I mean there were no burns or anything, but that was the end of whatever was going on between us. I put ice on his face, and then we both went to bed.”
“That’s what I mean about Sexually Repressed. Not just that I didn’t know, but that I didn’t know I was consciously hiding this thing about me that had been there for a long time. Maybe it would have been more accurate to have written Living a Lie.”
I didn’t want this to turn into some emotional therapy session, but I was getting pretty emotional. I’d never told anyone this stuff, not even myself. I stopped, feeling like the tears where just a step away, and that’s when I felt Jackson’s hand on the side of my face, slowly stroking me.
“David, it’s Okay. We both had shit happen to us. It’s just that your’ s is different from mine.”
He took his hand from the side of my face and kissed his fingertips and then placed them on my lips. “I love you. You know that, right. No matter what?”
The silence seemed deafening. When I finally replied I said, “I do, it’s just hard to come to grips with having been so fucked up!”
I could see he wanted to say something back immediately, but he didn’t. He was controlled and quiet, stroking the side of my face softly. That’s when I started crying.
“I think we both found out that we both were fucked up, right?”
He turned my face toward his and leaned over and kissed me softly. “Both fucked up. It’s just a question of degree, to quote this cool pastor in my church.”
I smiled at him, feeling numb. He went on, “I think this pastor was telling me that in the early church the idea was that the church was a hospital, where the sick and infirm were cared for.”
He paused, looking me straight in the eyes. “So, let’s see. If the church is a hospital, and it treats the infirm, and we’re in the hospital, then that means we’re all sick or broken or injured, or whatever. Right?”
He touched my lips again with his fingertips. “Even you, Rev. Even you.”
It was such a simple statement, but it saved me that night. Many of us, and certainly those in certain professions like ministry, tend to think of ourselves as above the fray, as not being hamstrung with the same problems as everyone else. Truth is we all are, to one degree or another. We’re all fucked up and have our own set of problems to sort through. It’s such an obvious statement that you’d expect someone with a seminary degree could have figured it out for themselves, but it took this identity chart exercise and a loving dialogue with this astonishing young man for the Rev. David Ayers to come to grips with it.
“We need to take a break. Let’s go into the living room and listen to some music. I want you to play me that Gordon Lightfoot song. It makes my heart sing every time I hear it because I feel like it was written for me. Will you do that for me?”
I was fighting back the tears, but nodded, and we walked into the living room hand in hand and I put the album on and cued up the song. Jackson pulled me over to the couch and hauled me into a tight snuggle, just holding me and sharing his warmth with me as the song played.
When the song ended, he whispered in my ear, “Do you still feel that way?”
“I’ve never wavered. Have you doubted it for even one second?”
“No, not for one second. I’m just checking, though. It’s that important to me.”
I pulled him in for a deep kiss. “Never doubt it, Lover Boy. Never doubt it.”
We stayed like that while two or three other songs played on the album. Finally, I said, “Okay, I think I’m back to normal. Thanks for saving me again.”
He held my head in his hands and slowly kissed me. “Always and forever.”
“Are you up for doing this other chart? I’m betting you weren’t expecting the first one to be such an emotional roller coaster.”
“I’m up for it. You may not remember, but you were there for me when I shared mine with you. Come on, let’s go get this done.” He hauled me off the couch and we walked back into the kitchen.
Doing the second chart was not just a lot easier, but way more upbeat than the first one. Boyfriend had replaced Seminary grad. I looked right at him and said, “That’s because it is the most central and most important thing in my life—being your boyfriend and having you as my lover.”
We just looked at each other and smiled, and his fingertips reached out to my lips again. He was giving me space but assuring me as we went along. I ran through the labels that were the same, like Son and Brother, and said “Those are the only two that are the same. I want to be sure you see that everything else has changed.”
Then I went on around the chart. Brother-in-law meaning the growing relationship with Gary, to whom I was starting to feel closer than with my own brother. Pastor instead of Seminary Grad because that was the vocation I was in, but now it was just a job. More importantly, Happy, New Family, Emotionally Solid and Fulfilled all tied to my relationship with him. Helping Others meant just that, doing something worthwhile for others instead of just talking about it. Circle of New Friends included Susan and Ellen and Lois. Active outdoors simply referred to all the different stuff we had been doing together, because it was healthy and fun to do together.
Becoming Expressive had nothing to do with public speaking but starting to be able to express emotions and feeling. “I’m getting to the point where I can tell you how I feel about something or about you without having to play you a song. You see, I’m getting there!” He grinned and leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.
Partner was really important, because that’s exactly how I thought of us. Marriage wasn’t an option, and partnership was still a premature concept, but that’s how I felt now. Two halves, two partners, making a whole. And out of that came Confident in Self, and what characterized it was In Love. Up at the top, next to Boyfriend I’d put Gay. I could now say that confidently even though it wasn’t something that we could go public with. The last label was the sticky one, but it was now true: Questioning Christian. I’d had to explain the doctrine and theology to Jackson, and that had forced me to come to grips with it. I knew full well I wasn’t depraved, that I wasn’t a depraved sinner, let alone some kind of deviant or psychologically deficient person because of my homosexuality. If Christianity couldn’t accept that, then I guess I was on my way to not being a Christian!
When I finished, I was quiet, emotionally spent, and Jackson was stroking my cheek again. In spite of the positive side of the second chart, I must have looked lost or hurt or something like that, because Jackson said, “Come with me. I know just what you need.”
He stood up and took my hand and hauled me out of the kitchen and back into the living room. He pulled me down onto the couch, snuggled up against him, my head on his chest. He held me tight and kissed the top of my head, rubbing his hand over my shoulders and down my back. It was so peaceful being there in his arms, feeling all my emotions starting to come back together after the disclosures of the last hour.
“I want you to know you’re my lover,” he whispered in my ear. “You’re the best. You’re my Sexy Man, but you’re also my best friend. I know you’ve been telling me you’re only here because of me. I don’t know about that, but I know I’m only here because of you. So, then we’re even. We both needed each other to get real about our problems, and we both needed each other to get well. So, that proves the point about two halves making a whole.”
That’s all he said. Then he hugged me, pulled me tight and let me cry on his chest. I don’t know how long we were there. It didn’t matter. It was long enough. It brought us together in a way we hadn’t even anticipated when we started the Psych assignment.
*****
It was October the 26th, and Jackson’s birthday was on a Wednesday, a school night. We had discussed the limited options. It would have been nice to be able to go out and celebrate over dinner, even if the restaurant choices in town were limited. However, Lilly wasn’t well, but wanted to cook dinner and have a party at their house to which I was invited. We’d agreed that he’d come over to the parsonage later for some additional celebration.
I walked over to the Harris home about 6:00 PM, and helped the boys finish up cooking dinner. Lilly apologized that it wasn’t fancy, but it was a nice pot roast with carrots and potatoes, preceded by a green salad that Jackson made, and capped off with birthday cake and ice cream. I carved the roast and arranged it on a platter with the vegetables, and we all sat down to eat. The conversation was lively, and mainly about school and homework.
Gary’s projects were transitioning from simple nutritional chemistry to plant propagation, and he was getting excited about growing his own plants in the nursery next quarter. Jackson had aced almost all the quizzes and reports on Frankenstein, and the test at the end of the book was a week or two away. He was almost floating off the ground. Next was Shakespeare’s Macbeth! They were now starting to sing harmonies in Susan’s choir class, so it would be fun to watch that undertaking unfold!
Lilly held up her end of the conversation pretty well, clearly very pleased with where both her boys were in life and how they were engaged in school and getting along with each other. The three of us cleared the table, and Gary brought in a birthday cake and a carton of ice cream, and Jackson was beaming and making eyes. The cake was German Chocolate and with the ice cream was rich and delicious. Gary ran the ice cream back to the freezer, and Lilly asked him to get the present she had for Jackson. It was on the sideboard, and Jackson smiled as it was handed to him. It was a fairly large rectangle and heavy, and he hefted it, trying to figure out what it was. You could tell he was impressed by the weight but acted quizzical until he felt the side and realized there were indentations, long indentations on three sides. “It’s a book, hard bound books! Wow! What is this?”
Lilly just smiled and said, “You’ll have to open it to find out!”
As the wrapping paper carefully came off it was apparent it was three nicely made hard bound books with embossed titles and images on the cover. He was excited. “Wow! This is so cool.” He held up one book. “It’s the complete set of The Lord of the Rings, in hardback! Is that cool or what? I thought you didn’t like me reading sci-fi and fantasy?”
She smiled again. “Well, you’re doing well in school now, and if they’re making you read Frankenstein in English Lit, then The Lord of the Rings must be Okay too. I know you’ve already read it, but you told me then that this was the kind of series you’d need to read many times to fully understand it. So, there you are. That set will be hard to wear out!”
He was grinning happily and got up to give his Mom a big hug. She responded in kind, and by then Gary was sliding a present onto the table.
The wrapped box was about the dimensions of a shoe box, but only half as high. Jackson carefully unwrapped it and didn’t recognize the brand name on the box. It was a Brooks leather bike saddle. Jackson looked up at Gary with an expression of confusion on his face.
“Well, bro, it’s easy. That bike you’ve got now is a beater and it’s too small. You need a new bike next year. You’re riding more and you need a decent bike. Most bikes come with lousy seats. This is a classic. So, next year we’ll work on getting you a decent adult size BMX bike, and with this seat it’ll be a killer set up.” Gary was grinning and Jackson stood up and gave him a hug.
Jackson beamed, and I made a mental note to talk to Gary about the bike. That would be a good Christmas present. I slipped into the hall where I’d dropped my gift for him and came back with it. He knew already by the shape what it was and started smiling. “New album? Too cool,” he said”
I sat back down and handed him the gift and said, “There’s a little story to go with it, and that’s why there’s no cellophane wrapper on it. Remember a friend that I went to seminary with went to Europe on vacation last month? He told me about the trip and asked if he could get me anything, and I said I was fine, but I did ask him to keep an eye out for something that would be special for an American teenager. It turned out he was in a music shop in Berlin and learned that David Bowie left LA last year and moved to Berlin. He just released his second Berlin-recorded album, and I don’t even know if it’s available in the US yet. Happy Birthday, Jackson.”
He opened it quietly and his smile grew as he pulled off the wrapping paper. “I haven’t been a fan, but I really like a few of his songs, and this isn’t available yet in the US? Wow! How cool is that. Will is going to be so envious when I tell him. He’s a big Bowie fan. Thank you. Can I give you a hug too? Everyone else got one?” He didn’t wait for permission from anyone but came around the table and gave me a quick one and mussed up Gary’s hair as he walked back to his seat.
We talked a little while longer, then Lilly said she needed to get into a comfortable chair, and I helped her into the living room. By the time I got back to the kitchen the boys had clean up underway, and within twenty minutes we had everything washed and dried and put away. Jackson and I went back to the living room, and Gary said he had to call Lois. We chatted with Lilly for a few minutes, and then I made my goodbyes and headed home.
It was about eight thirty when he came up the steps to the back porch and walked into the kitchen. I was in the living room, and called him in. He walked in smiling brightly. It was already dark outside, so the smile was welcome. “Hello, Lover Boy. You look splendid.”
His smile grew into a grin and his dimples came to life. I love them and he knows it as well as what they do to me. He was carrying the Heroes album, walked straight over and gave me a hug followed by a sensuous kiss. We stood and reveled in the embrace, kissing occasionally, for quite a while, just enjoying what we had together.
“I guess I should call you Birthday Boy this evening, not Lover Boy,” I said, wiggling my eyebrows.
“Why pick one over the other, Rev,” he replied. “I’m still going to be Lover Boy later, and I will be claiming my reward from my Sexy Man tonight.” He looked at me directly, and his eyes sparkled, and it was absolutely certain what he had in mind. “I’m eighteen, and I deserve to be loved completely now, and you deserve to love me completely, and so we will! “
He handed me the Bowie album that I put on the turntable and cued up. When I turned back to him, he said, “You’ll never believe what just happened”
The moment was so joyous I couldn’t imagine anything negative happening. “I did my homework after school, so after you left, I listened to the Bowie album, and Mom went to bed early, so I said goodnight. Then I went into Gary’s room where he was doing homework and told him I was coming over here for a short birthday celebration. He looked up at me and said ‘Why don’t you just stay over? You don’t need to come sneaking back in the house at 5:30 in the morning?’”
My heart jumped into my throat! Jackson was still smiling though and continued. “I must have looked like a deer in the headlights. Then Gary said, ‘You know, I’m not stupid and I hear things at night and in the morning. You know, like you leaving at night and coming back in the morning. You guys are not that hard to read, and I’m dating Lois, so I’ve got some idea about what love feels like. I can see it. Lois can see it. I don’t care if you’re gay. And I don’t care if David’s gay. You’re happy. You two are good together. It’s your birthday. Stay overnight. If Mom wakes up or needs something, I’ll cover it, Okay. You don’t need to worry about it. Go have a good birthday celebration.’ That’s exactly what he said to me, is that radical or what?”
“Holy Shit! That’s what he said?” My heart was still pounding. “Yep,” he continued, “that’s what he said. And he meant it. When I thanked him, he got up from his desk and hugged me and told me I deserved to be happy. Can you believe that?”
“Well, we have to believe it, because it just happened. And this is your eighteenth birthday, and some things are now legal, while others aren’t, but this will make the family relationship a lot more manageable.” We were quiet for a minute, processing the news, then to try and get us back in the spirit of the day I said, “ You may not technically be old enough to drink, but in spite of that, would you like a glass of wine while we celebrate?”
He nodded, and I released him, grabbed a bottle of nice white wine from the refrigerator, and filled two wine glasses. The album had continued to play, and Bowie was now singing another song as I toasted him. “Here’s to you, the best thing in my life.” He blushed as we clinked glasses and took a sip.
He leaned over and kissed me and whispered, “I like the whole album, but I’d rather hear Heroes now.” I moved the tone arm and cued the track up.
We sat on the couch leaning together and listened to the song. “I haven’t told you today how much I love you. I’ve been missing you all day long.”
He grinned. “You’re not alone. Getting through school was a chore, it all seemed so mundane and all I could think of was you and being with you tonight, you know?” He was wiggling his eyebrows now, “I wasn’t only thinking about getting it on with you, it was also just time together like this, sharing our love.” With that he put down his wine glass, and as I did the same, he pulled me to him for a passionate kiss. We kissed deeply for a couple of minutes, till we both needed to break for air.
Yes, this was a momentous date, but in spite of that, and in spite of what lay ahead later tonight, it was also just another night where we spent time with each other for the very simple reason that we loved each other. In the three and a half months since we’d met, we had gone through the whirlwind of romance, dealt with the roller coaster of a relationship that couldn’t be public, had been almost outed a couple of times, and had family losses and grief to boot, but in spite of that, had made it this far and still loved each other more that we could have expected possible back on July 4th.
I gave him a final short kiss. He pulled away, and took a sip of wine, then said, “Tell me the rest of the story about the album. If Paul got it in Berlin, I know there’s more to it.”
I leaned back down next to him and said, “There’s a little story to go with it. Well, as you know, one place he went with his partner was Berlin, a city with a significant gay population. I’d asked him to keep an eye out for something that would be special for you, and he was in a music shop in Berlin and learned that David Bowie left moved to Berlin last year. This is his second Berlin-recorded album, and I’m pretty sure it’s not released yet the US. So, the story Paul was told by the music shop owner is that the title song is different than his normal style. Apparently, the song was inspired by Bowie seeing his producer and engineer, a guy named Tony Visconti embracing his lover by the Berlin Wall. You know the wall separates East and West Berlin, right?” He nodded.
“So, the song tells the story of two lovers, one from East and one from West Berlin, on the other sides of a wall separated by armed guards . David Bowie is married but the word is that he’s bisexual, and I don’t know anything about Tony Visconti, but think of it as about two lovers dealing with this obstacle between them, this thing that separates them, and their struggle to deal with it. I don’t think it matters if it’s a physical wall or a social barrier.”
He smiled and said, “Now the lyrics are starting to make sense. Will you play me that song again, please?”
We sat and listened in anticipation, holding hands, Jackson’s head on my shoulder, reading the lyrics in the album cover.
I, I wish you could swim
Like the dolphins
Like dolphins can swim
Though nothing, nothing will keep us together
We can beat them, forever and ever
Oh, we can be heroes just for one day
I, I will be King
And you, you will be Queen
Though nothing will drive them away
We can be heroes just for one day
We can be us just for one day
I, I can remember
Standing by the wall
And the guns, shot above our heads
And we kissed, as though nothing could fall
And the shame, was on the other side
Oh, we can beat them, forever and ever
Then we could be heroes just for one day
We can be heroes
We can be heroes
We can be heroes just for one day
We can be heroes
When the song ended, we sat quietly and let the next song run, then I got up and lifted the tone arm. I looked at him. He was smiling from ear to ear.
“What are you thinking?”
“I love it. It’s got a great rhythm, and it’s so upbeat! And when he hits the high notes like ‘shame was on the other side’ in the lyrics, you can feel the raw emotion. You can tell that where the lovers are going is a good place. Like us!”
Watch the YouTube video of David Bowie performing Heroes from the 1970's album
He went on, “I love the music and the vibe, and I’ve got to listen more, but did you catch not just the ‘we can be heroes’ line, but also the line ‘we can be us for just one day.’ That’s what I want more than anything, that we can be us, not just for one day, but forever!”
It was the sweetest thing I’d ever heard him say. I replied, “I did, and I also didn’t miss the part about kissing as though nothing could fall, and the shame being on the other side, and we can beat them forever and ever! Paul was very enthusiastic about the song and the lyrics.” Jackson was reading the lyrics on the album cover again.
“There’s one thing I don’t get, one line that doesn’t make sense to me.”
“And that is,” I asked?
“It’s the phrase early in the song, Though nothing, nothing will keep us together.”
I said, “Tell me why.”
He smiled. “Because then the song is about love, like you said. It starts with swimming together, dolphins swimming together. And it talks about love keeping them together along with the claim that We can beat them, forever and ever. Then the verse about being King and Queen and We can be us just for one day and moving to And we kissed, as though nothing could fall and then wrapping with And the shame, was on the other side, Oh, we can beat them, forever and ever. All with the overarching theme being together, of we can be heroes just for one day. So, the line Though nothing, nothing will keep us together just doesn’t make sense to me. It seems like it should be This love, this love will keep us together.”
I smiled then too, “That’s a very astute observation, Lover Boy!
He went on, “So that’s the way I’m going to think of it, and then, you know what, in my mind it would be the song of our life!”
“Wow,” I whispered softly, choking up a little. “You’ve become a real romantic, haven’t you?”
“Sometimes I can be. I love the music and the message, and from now on we’re legal, and maybe someday we’ll be able to really be us, the way we want to be. If this country finally gets its act together about love and gays. Us. That’s what I want, not just you and me, but us.”
He hugged me tightly and gave me another kiss and whispered, “Do you like the song of our life idea.” I hugged him, kissed him briefly, and nodded as I slipped him a small wrapped box.
“Wow,” he said, “something else? In my family you were lucky to get anything, let alone two things.”
“Well, this isn’t your family, this is us, and this is also for you. It’s about ‘Us’ too. I hope you like it.”
He was very cautious, almost tentative in unwrapping the box, lifting off the lid, to look at the bracelet sitting on a pad of cotton inside. It glinted in the light as he carefully lifted it and turned it in his hand examining the form, a sterling silver band and two animal heads as terminators.
“This is so far out! This is amazing! It’s beautiful, but I don’t know what it is except maybe it’s Native American. So, fill me in, David.”
“You’re right, it is Native America. It’s what’s known as a silver trade bracelet, and it’s a Pacific Northwest design by a Tlingit designer from British Columbia. On one end the head is an Eagle and on the other end is a Raven.”
“Wow, that’s so cool. Okay, I don’t know about Native American stuff, so what does that mean?”
“Hey, Lover Boy, I knew nothing either till I found the Mayer Brothers jewelry store in Seattle when I was up there with my parents. They’ve been manufacturing these for over seventy-five years, all with Native American designers. Pretty cool, eh? The Eagle and the Raven are important in Pacific Northwest art and life. The Eagle is a sign of power, but also a symbol of peace and friendship. The Raven is the most important of all creatures because he can take many forms—he put the sun in the sky, the fish in the sea, the salmon into the rivers and he loved to tease, to woo, and to trick. What do you think so far?”
“Like I said, very cool. But there’s more to the story, right? I can see it in your eyes. You’ve got something else to tell me. Go on.”
He’d seen through me, so I went on. “Yes, indeed. The Eagle and the Raven together in a form like this are knows as The Lovebirds! What do you think about that?”
“Wow! That’s outrageous, as in so cool.” He had spread the bracelet and slipped it on his wrist and squeezed it close to fit. “It’s so beautiful and that story is so wonderful.” He paused, then went on, “So which one of us is the Eagle and which is the Raven?”
I knew he was going to ask that, and I’d already prepared my response. “I can’t say, because I don’t know. I think that’s up to you to figure out!” I grinned and left it at that.
“Very tricky, my Sexy man,” he whispered in my ear, “Very tricky. I’ll have to give that some thought. Maybe we can talk about it later after we’ve made love?” He was looking at me with a gaze now that combined love and desire with deadly intensity.
“Lover Boy, I’ve been waiting for this as long as you have, remember? I’m a little nervous, but this is a milestone for us, and that’s the way it is.”
He laid back and leaned on my chest. We listened to Heroes one more time, but we weren’t really listening now, we were reveling in each other’s presence, peaceful in our shared love. Just in the pleasure of being together and sharing a moment like this. It was pushing 9:30 and I suggested we turn off the lights downstairs and go up to what was becoming our bedroom.
As we went upstairs, I thought about his comment that one line in the lyrics needed a fix, and that correction was exactly how I felt at that moment: and this love, this love will keep us together.
I had left just the bedside light on, so the lighting in the bedroom was warm and subdued. I took him into my arms at the foot of the bed, and we both sat and ditched our shoes and socks. As we embraced again, we laid down, our legs hanging over the foot of the bed. We were both feeling a little driven, and though we stroked each other’s chest and belly, ran our hands up and down each other’s backs and buttocks, grinding together, we both knew what we wanted—our clothes off.
“Let’s stand up so we can undress,” I whispered to him. He smiled and stood, and he unbuttoned my shirt and stripped it off me, and I pulled his T-shirt over his head. We simultaneously opened each other’s jeans and pushed them down, along with the boxers, and kicked them off on the floor. Then I stepped back to admire him. He’d grown taller over the summer and filled out with muscle definition from the mowing jobs. He looked like a Greek god to me. I touched his lips, stroked down his neck to his chest and on across his belly to his pubes and then softly took his hard cock in my hand. He was doing the same to me.
“You are so beautiful, Lover Boy!” I leaned in and kissed him ever so slowly stroking him. “How are we going to do this?”
He whispered back, “Slowly, like the book says, lots of kissing and lubrication. Fingers first, then cocks. I think when you’re ready you should first fuck me from the rear, you know to have me relaxed and open. But don’t you dare cum. When we’re both comfortable I want to turn over and have you fuck me so I can see you. I want to see your face. I want to watch you and see your feelings while I’m feeling my own. Okay?”
It’s hard to argue with a well thought plan! I slowly pushed him back on the foot of the bed and dropped between his legs, spreading them a little wider and beginning to lick up his thighs and lick his balls. He groaned and wiggled on the bed, and I held his cock to keep it hard, but not stroking it. As his groaning intensified, I let go of his cock and lifted his knees, exposing his rosebud and as I got close was struck and excited again by his musky aroma. I started to lick his perineum down to his opening. His groaning got louder as I swirled my tongue around it, and I could feel it relax and I started flicking my tongue into him.
He grasped his knees with his hands, freeing mine, and I reached for the Vaseline I’d placed on the floor by the bed, and then slowly began to slip one finger and then two into him. His breathing was increasing, and the groans had become sounds of pleasure. Inserting my second finger was easy too, he’d clearly been practicing, but the third took a little time. But we had time, and our pace was leisurely. I’d been holding his cock with my left hand, occasionally stroking his cockhead with my thumb, and now stopped to make sure he didn’t cum too quickly.
“Alright, up on the bed, on your knees. You ass is wonderfully ready.” He smiled, his eyes a little glazed, but radiating happiness and pleasure. I came up behind him and put some move Vaseline on his hole and on my cock, and slowly and carefully brought the head of my cock up against his opening. It was already open, and I could feel the intense sensations as I slowly pushed and watched half of my cockhead slip in.
“Is that Okay, Jackson?”
“It feels wonderful. Push into me.” I did, pushing slowly, and then pulling back, then pushing again knowing I’d slip past his anus before encountering the first muscle ring. Suddenly I was in past my cockhead and met the first resistance and was overwhelmed with the feeling. It was like being in a velvet tunnel.
“Push more. It doesn’t hurt, just go slowly, it feels amazing.” I held both of his hips now and slowly pressed forward against the resistance.”
“It feels tight, but no pain. Pull back a little, then forward. Just go slowly,” he said from in front of me. I did and suddenly the resistance ceased, and I slid halfway into him. He groaned loudly as I must have passed over his prostate. “Oh my god, that is amazing. David, I love the feeling of you inside me. Pull back a little, then forward again, slowly.”
I was struggling to stay in control of myself and not just lose myself in the overwhelming sensations emanating from my cock as it slowly slid into his ass. I kept the firm pressure, with my hands on his hips, and in a few seconds the second ring released, and I slid in all the way, my pubes pushing up against his buttocks. My belly was against the softness and warmth of his bum, and the feeling was so beyond what I’d imagined it could be that I had to remind myself to breathe.
“David, your cock feels unbelievable in me. Fuck me, please, fuck me!”
I could tell he was getting lost in the sensations as well and didn’t want to blow it by cumming while I was still in him from the rear. I desperately tried to concentrate on the mechanics, slowly pumping into him three or four times. As over the top as the feeling was, I could feel a climax slowly start to build, and said, “I’m pulling out so you can turn over onto your back.”
“Okay, just come out slowly, I don’t want you to leave.” I did, and he turned onto his back and swung his legs back holding his knees over his shoulders. His hole was still open pink and beckoning, and he whispered as he looked at me desperately, “Fuck me, now. Take me, my Sexy Man!”
It wasn’t hard at all to re-enter him, and I repositioned my cock and slowly slipped in. Taking my weight on my arms, my cock slid all the way in till I was up against his pelvis. He’d bucked as I slid past his prostate. “Fuck me, fuck me, please. I want to feel you going in and out.”
I could see a little tension in his face, and probably erred on the safe side, pumping slowly and not pumping all the way back in until I could see his facial expression relax. His eyes were open, staring right at mine, his mouth open and his breathing heavy. My stroking became faster and more rhythmical, and I could feel my climax starting to build. Our eyes were locked, and I was sure my smile faded as his did, replaced by a simple expression of pure pleasure.
“I’m getting close. Being inside of you is like nothing in this world,” I panted. His eyes were still a little glazed, but he must have sensed where I was because he reached one hand down and started stroking his cock. It had softened a little, but came right back up, and just the sight of it hard, his hand moving up and down the shaft, while my cock slid in and out of him was enough to move me into my final strokes. A few strokes later I could feel the heat build and then release inside of me and start pumping up my cock. “I’m cumming. Oh my god, it’s …,” and I cried out as loudly as I ever had, stroking deeply into him, as I watched his face and saw he was close behind me.
For me it was five of six pumps, each further lubricating the black velvet tunnel and making it more and more sensitive. I was able to stroke a few more times as I softened, the sensations almost becoming too much. “Don’t pull out yet, let me finish. I want you inside me when I cum!”
I was able to stay with him, and not long at all after that he almost shouted as he came, his ring closing down on my cock as he shot long and hard up on his belly. I pulled out, totally drained and laid down beside him, pulling him close to me, reveling in his seed that was now smeared between us.
“Oh god, David. I had no idea. Having you inside me was amazing, but cumming with you in me, with you rubbing your cock on my prostate, was beyond belief. It was like a volcano coming to life deep down inside of me and then releasing.”
My feelings had been much the same, like an eruption from within. “I wish I could have gone longer for you, that I hadn’t cum so soon. I’d like to have kept it up for you.”
“Are you kidding me? I guess it could get better, but I don’t know how. Anyway, we’re just starting so we’ll get better. We’ll just need more practice.”
I could see a smile on his face, and I leaned in to kiss him, and we lay like that till be both realized we needed to clean up. “Let’s go clean up, then we can come back to bed.”
The shower was delightful, soft and sensual as we washed each other. I took special care to softly wash his anus, and he carefully but playfully washed my cock. “I’ve got to take good care of this,” he said, “it kind of belongs to me now in a whole new way, and I want it able to do its job, you know!”