Craigslist 10
WARNING
This story details explicit gay sex between men, teens and boys. If you find this kind of thing distasteful, or if you are underage where ever you live, then stop reading this now, and delete this file. The story is completely fictional, the author does not condone or encourage any of the acts contained herein.
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Chapter 10
Four weeks later, Gary calls to see if we'd like to have dinner with him and Nathan.
"Of course," I respond, and we set a date, "but not at your place," I say. "We owe you this one. You've had us over so often. It's got to be our turn."
He agrees. They'll be at out place tomorrow at 6pm. "I really need your guys help, Tim. Nathan isn't doing so well. He hasn't cum in four weeks, not since the day we were in Santa Cruz. He's very depressed, crying constantly."
"You know, Gary, this marble game may not be the best idea. When we left you after the Santa Cruz trip, Jason begged me never to do this to him, or said that I should only do this if I was totally pissed with him. He said he didn't think he could take it. I don't think I could take it frankly."
"Duhhh," he says, angrily. "It was never meant to go this far. But he won't let me stop it. He won't let me give him any relief. I ask him what he wants most in the world, and he tells me he wants me to fuck him, but he won't let me do it, says it might make him cum. It's not only his abstinence, it has also become mine, which is fair, but I don't want him suffering this much; I never intended that he should suffer this much. I love him too much for that."
"It sound like he's playing you. It sounds like he and Jason should have a talk."
"Yeah." Pause. "That's what I was hoping."
We hang up, and I go find Jason. He's weeding the back garden, naked of course. He looks so incredible, his bronze skin contrasting with the green of the lawn. Green is a really good color for him. He looks like a fawn grazing on the grass, so beautiful. I tell him that we'll have Gary and Nathan over tomorrow, and he's elated. Then I relay the rest of the conversation, and he's very sad, and a little angry.
"Goddamn Gary. He shouldn't mess with Nathan like this. Doesn't he know what he's dealing with. Nathan loves him to death – maybe literally."
I'm stunned. I've never heard Jason so forcefully express himself. I'm actually a little bit irritated. "He knows that. I don't think he knew how far this might go."
"Well, then he's an idiot. Didn't Nathan take his last punishment way too literally?"
I pause. "Jason, Gary is a friend of mine. He's not an idiot. They've been together for a long time..."
"Well, then, why didn't he expect this. He's a moron."
Long pause. "We're not going to have this conversation out here in the garden," I say, through my7 teeth, clearly very angry. "We're going to have this conversation in the basement this afternoon. Gary is many things, but he's not an `idiot' and not a `moron.'" Those are insults that I won't tolerate, insults that, when you think about them, you'll be embarrassed about having said. I'll have this conversation with your ass this afternoon. You'll get 15 of the best I can lay on you. Razor strop."
Jason is stunned, and stares at me for several seconds, and then, realizing what he's said drops his head, embarrassed, contrite, humiliated. I storm off, very angry. He stands for several minutes, thinking, and then returns to the weeding, crying softly. He's crossed the line, and knows it.
Four hours later, we meet in the basement. I didn't show for lunch, which is a sure sign that I'm really pissed. When Jason arrives, he steps demurely to the table, and I motion him into place, strapping him down. I go for the razor strop.
"Tim," he says, as I begin to swish the strop into the air. I pause. "I want to apologize. You're right. Those are not things I should have said about Gary. I don't understand their relationship, and I don't have any right to judge either of them. I like Gary, and I like Nathan. It was stupid of me, and I'm sorry. And, I don't want you to think that this apology is motivated by my impending punishment, so I think we should raise the number to 18."
Very smart boy. And very sincere. He apologizes just before his punishment, assures me that his apology has nothing to do with his punishment, and then proves it by raising the ante with the device he hates most, the razor strop, but only by three strokes – this isn't bravado, but sincerity. I stroke his back. "18 it is... You need to know that I love you."
"I know you love me," he smiles. "I love you, too."
I lay into him, and by 18 he has some serious bruising and swelling. He's also sobbing. He screamed on each of the last six strokes, but didn't ask me to stop. At the end of the punishment, I release him, and carry him upstairs, where he continues to cry for the next 45 minutes. I rub some lotion on his ass, and he slowly quiets down. I snuggle with him for the next three hours until he eventually falls asleep.
He's learning.
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Gary and Nathan arrive punctually the next evening, Nathan stopping in the entryway to take off his clothes. He looks...different – older, a bit thinner, tired. His eyes are puffy, red. Gary looks worried.
Jason bounces into the room, smiles at Gary, and runs to hug Nathan. He drags him to the kitchen, chattering in Cantonese, while I lead Gary into the living room, making us both a martini, his poison of choice.
"This has gotten really complicated, Tim. He's picked red marbles every day since Santa Cruz. He picks it, stands and stares at it for maybe a minute, and then starts to cry. I don't have the heart to torture him, to try to make him cum, for the duration indicated on the marble. He just looks so sad, so forlorn, I can't bear to put him through that, but I'm concerned that he may think that, because I'm not tormenting him, that I don't love him. I've told him that I love him so many times, that I forgive him for the infidelity, and he'll smile wanly, but that's it. I've tried to get him to end the game, even ordered him to end it, but he says he owes me this. I've even tried to reason with him, telling him that his celibacy has become my celibacy, and I don't want to be celibate. He just says "I know. I'm sorry," and usually starts to cry. He cries very easily now."
I commiserate, and we continue to discuss the situation for the next hour, until dinner. With Nathan's help, Jason has whipped up what I can only describe as a Chinese banquet. He's got hot and sour soup, two kinds of dumplings, clay-pot eggplant (a favorite of mine), a stir-fry with shrimp and black mushrooms, and stir-fried choi sum. As the boys bring it out and set in on the table, the aromas are just unbelievable. Walking over to my seat, I hug Jason, and kiss him on the lips. "You've outdone yourself tonight, babe. This looks amazing."
"Thank Nathan. He's the cook here. I'm okay, but he's world class."
Nathan grins, no beams, and Gary is stunned. He walks over to Nathan, lifts his face by the chin, and stares into his eyes. Nathan begins to tear up, and then reaches out and hugs Gary – attaches himself to him – arms around his neck and legs around his middle. He cries softly.
I give Jason a quizzical look, and he smiles and winks. Some magic has been wrought, and he's not going to tell me about it, at least not now.
When Nathan finally releases Gary, and that takes several minutes, we sit down to eat, and it really is a work of art. The eggplant is perfect, soft but not mushy. The shrimp and mushrooms are a perfect combination, and the sauce is light and elegant. And the hot and sour soup is magnificent – just sour enough, and very spicy thanks to lots of white pepper. It's a meal fit for royalty, and that's how we feel. For dessert, we have sliced mango, and adjourn to the living room for tea. I play a recent recording of Mahler's fifth symphony by Michael Tilson-Thomas and the San Francisco Symphony, and we chill. Very restful.
After about an hour of pleasant conversation – in which Nathan has been an animated participant – Nathan looks to Jason, and then to me. "Tim, would it be okay if Gary and I borrowed one of your guest rooms. In fact, would it be okay if we stay here tonight?"
To say that I'm surprised would be an understatement, and Gary is stunned. We look at each other, not knowing how to react.
"Of course, Nathan. You and Gary are always welcome here. Let me take you to the room."
Nathan beams, and winks at Jason. Taking Gary's hand, he follows as I lead them to the largest of the guest bedrooms – a room with a private bath. "There are clean toothbrushes in the top drawer of the cabinet," I say, "and robes in the closet. If you need anything, give a shout."
I leave them there, closing the door. Nathan is smiling broadly, looking into Gary's eyes, and Gary is in shock, but clearly feeling some relief. What the fuck is going on?
I return to the living room, and Jason is gone, but I find him in the dining room clearing the dinner dishes and washing the glass top of the table.
"W.T.F.O?"
He looks up, confused.
"What The Fuck, Over?"
He laughs. "Magic."
"Magic, my ass. What the fuck did you do?"
He giggles. "I – what's the expression?" He pauses, thinks. "I read him the riot act. I spent 45 minutes telling him what an ungrateful person he was, what a lousy lover. I told him that I thought Gary should beat the shit out of him, that he should dump him. It was the "dump him" part that got to him. I asked him why he thought that Gary shouldn't dump him, and he started to cry, and when I asked him what he'd done recently to show his affection for the man he says he loves, his crying became sobbing. He was so distraught he had to sit at the table while I finished the stir-frying. The timing of all this wasn't great," he giggles. "He was working on the choi sum when he started bawling. We nearly burned it."
I have to laugh, but these are all arguments that Gary basically made. This is testament to how close Nathan is to Jason. There's a good deal of affection there, and a hell of a lot of trust.
I help Jason clear the table, and dry the dishes as he washed them. Dishes were a ritual for my brother and me; it's how we bonded. You get a lot of sensitive subjects discussed over dishes. "Have you ever thought of coming out to your parents," I ask Jason.
He pauses, actually stops scrubbing the plate in his hand, and looks at me. "I have. I thought about it today." He seems surprised that I asked. "Why do you ask?"
"I don't know. It was just much easier to be comfortable with myself once I'd come out. I mean it was really hard to come out to my parents and friends, really scary, but once I did, I was much more comfortable, much less...burdened. And, it made a lot of other decisions easier."
"Like what," he asks, glancing aside.
"Like deciding where to live. I couldn't exactly live with a boyfriend if I wasn't out. I mean, I told you about the guy I lived with later on, the closet case. His parents found out he was gay because there was no bed in the room I was supposed to be renting. That was years later, but that kind of thing happens every day. My parents didn't take it well at first."
"How'd you tell them."
"I didn't want it to be dramatic, so I didn't sit them down and say, in funereal tones, `Mom and Dad, I have something to tell you...' I waited for an opportunity, and then threw it in as an aside...to each one individually. For my mom, we were glancing through a magazine, and she happened upon a picture of a guy in a Speedo," I laugh. "'Wow, he's not wearing much,' she says. I laughed, and slipped in `Well, we gay guys go for that kind of advertising. You can sure tell the demographic of this magazine.' It was Interview, I think. `Are you gay,' she asked? `Yeah,' I replied. She didn't say anything else for a few days, and then we had the inevitable conversation. My father I told while we were watching football, which I hate. I mentioned, during a commercial, that I didn't know any other gay guys who watched football, even with their fathers. He looked at me, and left the room, left the house. He took a couple of months to come to terms with it, wouldn't speak to me. They dealt with it, though, both of them. They're both dead now, unfortunately."
He's pensive. "Do you think I should tell my parents."
"Dunno, but I'm going to complicate the issue for you."
He looks at me, quizzically, as I leave the room, returning with a small wrapped package. "Open it."
He dries his hands, pulls off the ribbon, and tears through the wrapping paper. Thank god he's a tearer and not a peeler. Peelers, those people who insist on carefully preserving the paper, peeling back the tape oh so carefully, those people make me crazy. Ripping through the paper he opens the box to find another box, a ring box. He flips open the cover, and finds a plain gold band, about a quarter inch wide. He stares at it for a long moment, and then looks at me, a mixture of fear, joy, and expectation in his eyes.
"Jason, we've been together for five months, five of the happiest months of my life." I'm starting to tear up. I have to get control of myself. I pause, a long pause, and he starts to tear up, having surmised what's coming.
"Five months is not that long, I know, but I also know that I want to be with you...forever." He's wiping his tears, but it doesn't help because they're coming faster than he can wipe them away...and I'm choking. I put my hand on his shoulder.
"Come November, we might not have the right to marry. Californians, in their wisdom, might decide that faggots shouldn't be allowed to marry each other, but for the moment, we have that right. And, while we do, I'd like you to consider..." I can't go on. I'm choking on tears.
"...marrying you?" He completes my sentence for me. I nod.
"Tim," he says, wrestling with his own tears, looking me in the eyes, and taking the ring out of the box and putting it on his finger, "I'd love to marry you."
I break out crying, and so does he. We hug...for a long few minutes, break the embrace, and go on with the dishes, sniffing away for the next ten minutes. Finally, having washed and dried everything, and put it away, we move back to the living room, sit on the couch, and kiss passionately for the next several minutes, until the phone rings. I glance at the clock in the corner. It's 11:25pm. I glance at Jason, and go for the phone.
It's Nathan. "There's a problem here, Tim. Could you and Jason come to our room?"
Shit. Something's gone awry. I grab Jason's hand, and we make our way down the corridor. He must have called me from one of their cell phones. I'm really concerned, and so is Jason from the look on his face. Maybe he hasn't fixed this as well as he thought.
We get to their bedroom door, and I knock gently. Nathan answer, naked, of course.
"What's the problem, Nathan," I ask, really concerned? Jason is right behind me, looking anguished.
"The problem is that you two aren't here," he says, smiling radiantly.
It takes me a few seconds, and then I get it, and relief washes over me. Jason punches him playfully on the bicep, and they begin to chatter in Cantonese.
We move into the room, and Gary looks contrite. "Sorry, Tim, it's just such good news that we wanted to share it with you. Nathan is back to being Nathan. We've stopped the stupid marble game. He's accepted that I've accepted his apology for his infidelity, and we're back to..."
And then Nathan screams, jumping up and down, hugs Jason, and screams again.
Gary is confused. "What the hell is going on," he asks, amused?
Nathan drags Jason over to Gary by the ring finger, showing him the ring. Gary looks confused for an instant, and then looks at me. I nod. "I asked him to marry me."
I don't think I've ever seen a broader smile on anyone in my life. Gary is absolutely beaming. He gets up from the chair and hugs me for many seconds, then hugs Jason, and then smiles at Nathan, who is still jumping up and down, squealing in Cantonese. It's hard to understand what's going on, exactly, but in a minute or so, Jason starts to jump up and down and squeal, too. I look at Gary, who is still beaming, and has started to tear up. I'm totally lost.
"I asked Nathan to marry me, too, and he said `yes'."
Now I'm beaming. I hug Gary, hug Nathan so tight I almost suffocate him, and hug Jason, just for good measure. We prepare to leave the room.
"...But none of this is why we asked you to come to our room," Gary says with a snort.
I'm confused again. I turn abruptly and look at the two of them, at Gary and Nathan, and then at Jason, who's giggling. He already knows, apparently. Nathan breaks out in laughter.
Long pause. Finally Gary breaks the silence, imparting the mystery. "Nathan has thankfully abandoned his vows of celibacy, and we've been fucking like rabbits since we left you." Nathan cuffs him playfully, turning red with embarrassment, and Jason laughs hysterically.
"Nathan would like to know if you two would do it again, the `Santa Cruz thing'."
Jason and I look at each other, and start to laugh...so hard we can't stop for several minutes. Every time we stop, we look at each other, and start to laugh again. Finally, I wink at him, and he winks back. Turning to Gary, I nod: "Sure. Why not?" He smiles, as I start to strip.
"Nathan also says," and Nathan is suddenly concerned about what Gary might divulge, "that you, Tim, are both a better kisser and a better cock-sucker." Jason puts on a face of mock-dejection, and Nathan cuffs Gary yet again. "So, he'd like you to kiss, and Jason to suck. Now that's a dedicated potato queen," he says, and snorts.
I laugh, and have to explain the vocabulary to Jason later on – "Rice Queens, and Gary is one, is a Caucasian man who only has sex with Asian men. Potato Queens, and Nathan is one, is an Asian man who only has sex with Caucasian men. I'm just gay, I guess. It's a little easier.
"So, you're fucking, I'm kissing and you're sucking. That right, Nathan?"
Nathan looks almost apologetic. "Yes, please."
I ruffle his hair. "Just trying to get the gymnastics right." Everyone giggles as we get ourselves into position and begin our respective tasks.
As I kiss Nathan (and he is a very sensual kisser) I imagine myself casting this as a movie, maybe taking out ads in Variety for the actors – Wanted: One expert kisser, one expert cock sucker, and one expert fucker. I guess it wouldn't be funny to anyone else, but it makes me giggle a little. Specialization in the workplace has gotten a little out of hand.
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We all agree that we'd like to be married together, and I give our county supervisor a call. He's gay, and I know he's been deputized as a justice of the peace. I've known him for several years. It will give this a little more meaning.
He's delighted. Turns out he knows Gary and Nathan as well. And, he'll be at the county building that day anyway. We're set.
Gary needs to get rings, and I point him at a jeweler in Menlo Park that I've used for years. He's able to expedite the order, and get it done in three days. This guy is amazing. He's a gemologist, and makes the rings himself. Theirs will be more elaborate than ours, a diamond set in a "floating" mounting. Stunning. I wanted ours to be simple because I thought that would be `easier' for Jason, because he can't take it off once we're married – my rule. If he's going to be lying to his parents, it'd better be something simple he's lying about. A 2 karat diamond isn't something simple. We can get that for an anniversary or something.
Coming home three days before the wedding, though, I find Jason tearful, though not crying, in the living room. "'Sup," I ask, playfully.
He looks at me, eyes red. "I told them."
"I'm not much of a mind reader, Jason. You told who what?"
He looks at his shoes. "I told my parents I'd decided to be gay."
I scrunch my eyes at him. "There'll be a lot of punishment coming your way if that's what you actually said," I say, warily. "What did you really say?"
He pauses. Thinks. "I said `I'm gay.'"
"Better. When? Where?"
He starts to tear up. "I did what you said I shouldn't do. I sat them down and told them." He's almost defiant.
"Okay. And..."
"...And...they weren't happy."
I snort. "Duhhhh. And..."
"I did this in a restaurant, a Chinese restaurant."
I shake my head. "Other tables around?"
"Yes," he starts to cry.
"Anyone they know?"
"Yes." He starts to sob.
"And..."
"...And...they left the restaurant." Sobbing...sobbing...sobbing...
I give this a long pause, a long, long pause. "How fast?"
He can almost not catch his breath. "Tim...Tim...they'll never...speak to...me...again."
He falls forward, sobbing on my chest. I hug him; stroke his back. "So, why today, baby?"
Sobbing. "Because...I wanted them...to come to my...wedding."
I hold him, caress him, stroke his hair. "That was probably unrealistic, hunh?"
"Yeeaaahhhhh." Wailing.
"Jase, you're going to have to give them time. How long'd it take you? More'n three days, I'll bet. And, maybe they won't come around. They might not. I told you this would complicate things for you." I hug him tighter. "But I love you."
He's crying so hard he can't quite choke it out. "I...you...too."
After a while, maybe 45 minutes, I ask him: "So, are you sorry you did it?" I'm genuinely curious.
Trying to control his breathing: "No... It actually...feels pretty good, liberating, like now I can tell my friends..." Pause. "I was going to say `...and extended family...' but word spreads pretty fast in my family. Mom's probably been on the phone with her sisters."
"In any family." I chuckle "This will be okay, sweetie, different, but okay."
He nods, uncertainly.
And then, in an Edgar Allen Poe moment, there's a knock on the door. We glance at each other, and I go to the door.
...And it's Jason's father...
The good news is that Jason hears him from the living room and scurries off to get some clothes on before he's seen, naked, in the living room.
The bad new is that his father is very angry, berating me at rocket speed in a mixture of English, Cantonese, and Mandarin. Finally, Jason emerges from the bedroom, full dressed, and engages with his father, and they argue for many minutes, the word `faggot' figuring prominently in their conversation, the `o' sound long rather than soft.
Finally, Jason turns to me, clearly embarrassed, and says "My father would like to meet with you...in private." He pauses. "He won't leave."
I give him a half-smile, a this-will-figure-in-your-punishment smile, and nod. "He hasn't brought any weapons, has he?"
This draws a smile from Jason. "Not that I know of."
I motion Jason's father into my office, and he follows. I close the door, and he sits in the chair in front of the desk. He's clearly nervous, clearly very agitated. I wait for him to start the conversation.
"Jason tell us that he is gay," he says, finally.
"Yes."
Pause. "You gay?"
"Yes."
"Why you not tell us this?"
I give him a long look. "Because it's not relevant."
"You make my son gay," he blurts.
My eyes narrow. "No, Mr. Leung, nature made your son gay. God made your son gay. You made your son gay. Not me."
He's stares at his hands.
"I'm glad he is, though," I confide.
He looks up abruptly, looks into my eyes, stands, and leaves the office, leaves the house.
As I emerge from the office, Jason is coming from the kitchen. He's surprised not to see his father.
I move to the entryway and shut the door. "He's already gone," I smile, wanly. "It didn't go very well. Sorry, babe."
He nods, looking a little forlorn.
"I don't think you can expect them to be at the wedding, Jason."
He nods again, but smiles. "At least I invited them. I'd feel pretty shitty if I hadn't given them the chance to come, especially if it was because I was too scared to tell them who I really am."
I give him a hug, and he goes to his room to take off his clothes, and then heads back to the kitchen to finish making dinner.