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As I stood at my Father's grave, I thought back to what I had just done, and tried to decide what I would do next. My Dad had died only a week ago, but the last seven days seemed like a lifetime, one filled with loss, confusion and pain. It had always been my Dad and me. My Dad was gay, big-time! How he ever got a woman pregnant is a mystery, but the proof is me. Whoever my Mother was, she didn't want the son of a QUEER. I might turn out to be "abnormal", too. So at my birth my Mother abandonned me to a homosexual father who had more than enough love to have raised a dozen kids. And my Dad did love me, raising me to be open and accepting of others, and showing me, by example, that gays were just like everyone else. Everyone needs to love and be loved. If the object of that love happens to have the same sexual equipment that you do, it shouldn't make any difference. If I grew up to be gay too, that would have been perfectly alright with my Father. Which is what did indeed happen. Both of us being gay, we could talk freely, neither of us had to hide feelings, emotions, or the fact that I was in love with John. When I was fourteen, we moved to a new town, and I had to attend a new school. Not only did I have to endure the trauma of entering High School, with its' social differences between the classes and frightening first advances into the "adult" world, but I would be alone in a sea of unfamiliar faces, not even having the security of the pack with kids from my old school. So I was all alone to face a new situation where I in completely over my head without even the proverbial straw to cling to. The first week was terrible, wandering the halls alone trying to find classrooms. Eating by myself in the cafeteria. Walking to and from school with no one to talk to. The other Freshmen stuck together for reassurance and safety, and were not about to open their ranks to a small, under-sized stranger. But out of the towering masses stepped John. A senior, an athlete, senior class vice-president, captain of the wrestling team, star quarter-back, champ of the school swimming and diving teams, and the tallest, handsomest boy I had ever seen in my short life. " What are you doing, sitting here all by yourself?" I looked up fearfully from the small table in the corner of the cafeteria. And up and up again to see a giant god standing over me with his meal tray in his hands. "I've never seen you before, have I? New to town?" I managed to squeak out a "Yes". "John, we've saved you a place over here", boomed a voice from the other side of the room. We both looked over to a long table that seemed to hold the entire football team, with attendant girlfriends and groupies surrounding them. "I'm talking to my friend here", replied the dark-haired god, and he sat down, not across from me, but right beside me. "Why do you want to waste your time with that little Frosh git?", yelled a huge mountain of a guy, his shoulders threatening to burst through his varsity jacket and his beefy arm crushing a pretty girl to his side. "I'm just getting to know the next generation", said my hero, who still hadn't introduced himself. "Besides, good things come in small packages". And he actually put an arm around me and ruffled my hair! "I'm John S> by the way. I've seen you walking to school. You live one block over from me, on Elm Street, right?" Unable to utter a word, I nodded. I was staring at the guy; I don't think I had blinked in over ten minutes! "I live on Ivy, 321." Now I knew where Heaven was located. "Your dad works with mine at the college. I'll be going there this Fall. Maybe your dad will be one of my teachers." "He teaches computer science", I blurted out. "We used to live in R>, but he was asked to head a new department here." I was proud of my Dad. He was really smart and well liked by his fellow proffessors, even though he was completely open about his sexuallity at all times. This thought struck me at once, and I was suddenly afraid of what this new friend might think if he found out about my Dad. If he knew about my Dad, he might guess about me, too, and that would be the end of any interest in me, however slight it appeared to be. Then I felt such SHAME. How could I have even for a moment been ashamed or embarassed about my wonderful Father? He would NEVER have felt anything but LOVE and PRIDE for me. "He's starting a gay alliance group at the college this Fall", I said boldly, sitting up straight in my chair and looking John right in the eye. He looked at me for a moment, a look of doubt crossing his so handsome face. Then he smiled, a smile that outdid the Sun. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Maybe I can help get it organized with him. I'd like to meet your Dad." John was gay, too! From that moment, John became a part of our lives. Not just mine, but my Dad's as well. I did take John home to meet my Dad, and they got on great. John would walk home with me, looking like my much handsomer older brother, and then chat with my Dad about his school work and his sporting activities. My Dad tutored him for his final exams and helped him with the paperwork to enter college that Fall. That Summer, John went on a two-week camping trip with us, and for the first time I saw John's body in all it's naked wonder. We would skinny-dip in the lake we camped beside, my Dad and John both glorious examples of manhood, with their muscular bodies, wide shoulders, firm pecs and six-pack abs, narrow waists and tight asses, and thick cocks and large hanging sacs of balls. At fourteen, I looked like a twelve year-old, small statured, skinny, no chest just tiny nipples spaced a hand-span apart, a child's nub of a cock and a little scrunched up pouch of tiny nuts with not one pubic hair in sight. I would sit on the bank and watch, all hunched up to cover my embarassing lack of manhood, and watch my Dad and John swimming, splashing and wrestling in the shallows. They were quite physical with each other, jumping on each others' backs, lifting each other on shoulders to throw into deeper water, and ducking each other under when they reached the deeper and cooler water. Cocks and scrotums were grabbed and pulled in this water warfare, and erections sprang up to pop above the surface. I would react to this with my own small boner, which I would try to hide. But I was never ignored or forgotten for long, and my arousal noticed, I would find myself attacked by the two most important people in my life, and carried over someones' shoulders or under someones' arm, and dumped in the lake where I was immediately joined and fondled and made to feel the most loved human being in the universe. That Fall John went to the local college, and did take courses with my Dad. He would come to our house in the evening or on the weekend, and study would soon lead to sex, John and Dad disappearing to the big bedroom for a couple hours before returning to the books. That John and my Dad were lovers made complete sense to me. Both were wonderful people, smart, attractive and as far as I was concerned, deserving of only each other. Of course I loved John and fantasized about being in a loving situation with him, but he was still in my life, filling a role that only another loving parent or older brother could do. By the time I was a senior, John was living openly with us, and I don't know which of the three of us was the happiest. My Dad had his wonderful son and his lover; John had his lover and little brother; and I had them. John was still in college, 21 years old, and I was 17, when my Dad was killed in a car crash returning from a late lecture. John and I were devestated, clinging to each other for support and comfort at the most painful experience in my life. My Dad was only 38! He had a lifetime to live yet, but was now gone in an instant. What was I going to do? "John, what are WE going to do?" "Your Dad made arrangements for you to go on to college. You'll have no trouble attaining a degree, and you'll go on to have a wonderful and fulfilling life." "But what about US?", I cried. "What will we do? What will we do together?" "I'm sorry Brett, there is no US. I was your Father's partner, almost another father to you. I can't feel the same about his son! Please try to understand." And he turned and left the room. Now it seemed I had lost BOTH of my anchors. I had hoped John's love for my Father would now be directed to me. After all, we were always together. It only made sense that the two of us remaining should continue as a pair. A week passed, during which we made arrangements for the funeral, held visiting hours where many people from the college and the gay community paid their respects and passed to John and I their condolences, and we stood together as a couple, I thought, as my Father was lowered into his grave. The Monday after the funeral, I came into the kitchen to start the coffee, and as I looked out the window to see what kind of day it would be, I saw a strange car parked behind John's in the driveway. I went down the hall to the room my Dad and John had shared, and tapped on the door. No answer! I opened the door and peeked inside. The curtains were still drawn, but I could make John's body on his side of the bed. But where my Dad used to sleep lay a stranger, a young man with blond curly hair, naked and ass-up with his arm thrown across John's chest. I threw the door open. Its' crashing against the wall woke the two on the bed. The blond merely raised his head to look at me through sleep-bleared eyes, then turned his head away from the door and went back to sleep. John, however, sat up at the noise, rubbed his hand over his eyes to clear them, then, seeing me standing in the room, jumped naked out of bed, came to me, and pushed me from the room. "Give me a minute", he said before closing the door in my face. I stumbled down the hall to the kitchen and dropped into the nearest chair. I was so angry I was trembling from head to foot! I thought, " I'll kill him! I'll kill them BOTH!!!" John appeared in the kitchen, belting my Father's silk dressing gown around his narrow waist. "Let me explain", he began, and came toward me with his hands held out in front of him, begging me to understand. I sprang from the chair shoving his hands away. "Who the fuck is THAT? In my Father's BED!!! WITH YOU!!!!!" "Please try to understand, Brett. I know your Dad's only been gone a week. But he would have been the first to want me to get on with my life. Terry is a member of the Alliance your Dad and I set up at the college. Your Dad would have been pleased to know that we had each other at this time." "IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU AND ME!!!!!! AT THIS TIME", I screamed in his face. At this moment the blond, wearing only his jeans, slipped barefoot through the kitchen, holding his shirt and shoes up in front of him to ward off any attack. At the door he turned and said to John, "I'll see you later at the dorm, after you straighten things out with the kid." He made his escape, and we soon heard his car start up and reverse down the driveway. With a roar, it tore away down the street. Left alone together in the kitchen, John and I still confronted each other, John pale and sweating, I glaring at his face, breathing heavily. "GET OUT", I screamed. "GET OUT AND NEVER COME BACK!!!! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!!!!!" Then I started to cry. I sobbed and cried 'til I could hardly breathe. I found I had sunk down to the floor against the wall, and felt small and lost and SO ALONE! A hand came to rest on my head, but I flung it off and screamed once more, "GET OUT!!!" "Alright. I'll go. I didn't mean to upset you. But you have to understand. I never loved you the way I loved your Dad. You were a little brother to me. Nothing more. You'll always be my little brother, but Brett, you can never be anything more." I heard him leave the kitchen. I heard him go back down the hall and enter the bedroom. I heard the closet door, and then drawers opening. He would go. He would go and leave me. He could turn his back on someone who had loved him as much as I had loved my Father. My Father had loved him as much as he had loved me. But there it ended. He never had loved me as much as he had loved my Father. I opened a drawer and took out the knife my Father used for carving meat. It was very sharp. I would drive it into his back. The back he had turned on me. I would kill him! I silently stole down the hall and looked in the bedroom door. John had a suitcase open on the bed and was filling it with his clothes. He was bending over the suitcase arranging items in it. He was still wearing my Father"s silk robe. I couldn't plunge a knife through my Dad's robe. I leaned against the doorjam and let the hand clutching the knife fall to my side, and watched as the person I realized I still loved prepared to leave me alone. As alone as I had felt in High School before I met him. I remembered how kind he had been to a small insignificant stranger. How he had loved my Father and how much my Father had loved him. I remembered watching them together when they didn't know I was there. How they would kiss each other; lips, nose, chin, nipples, navel, then take the cock in their mouths, play with, then suck on each others big sagging ballsacs. John loved having his big balls played with. Loved to have them pulled, sucked, squeezed. I never did develope big nuts like my Dad and John had. It came to me suddenly that that might be why John didn't love me the same way he had loved my Dad. I looked over at him just as he untied the belt of my Father's robe. He drew it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. As he bent to pick it up, his big balls fell back between his thighs to bobble and swing. Such BIG balls hanging there! Hanging SO LOW! Inviting me to GRAB THEM! Inviting me to TAKE THEM! He straightened and held the robe to his face, breathing in my Father's scent. He bent once more to place my Father's robe in his siutcase. He meant to TAKE IT! His balls once again swung back between his legs. I darted across the room, and grabbed his heavy sac of balls and pulled out back as hard and as far as I could. I slashed down with the knife and felt the razor-sharp blade slice through the thin smooth skin of his sac and sever his balls from his body. He whirled around to face me, clapping his hands to his ass. When he looked at what I held in my hands, a bloody knife in one and his lopped-off sac of balls in the other, he looked down at his cock. His eyes widened as he slowly reached around to lift his cock aside. What he saw, or what was no longer there to see, made him fall back on the bed. He placed his hand over the bloody wound and searched for his missing sac. When he finally realized what I had done to him, he grabbed my Father's robe and thrust it between his legs, and rolled onto his side, drawing his knees to his chest. I left him there, bleeding on the bed he had shared with my Father. I left the house and walked to the cemetary, still holding the knife in one hand and my trophy in the other. At my Father's grave I dug a hole with the knife, and buried John's balls with my Father. After all my Father had loved John and his balls. I stood over my Father's grave and thought about what I had done. And then I thought about what I had still to do. The blond guy, Terry. His balls should join John's in my Father's grave! I remembered he said he would be waiting at the college dorms. I left the cemetary and began walking towards the college................... |