Finding Family

Finding Family 11

This is a fictional story dealing with love and consensual sexual activities between males. If you are not of legal age, reside in an area where viewing such material is illegal, or are offended by homosexuality and/or homosexual themes, leave this site now.

The author retains all rights to this story. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the permission of the author.

Note: Thanks to Tim for feedback on the draft chapters. I owe special thanks to Robb and Rock for doing the final proofreading and catching all those silly little errors I missed.

Finding Family

by Jeff Allen

Chapter 11

TJ's PERSPECTIVE:

As soon as Ryan and I walked into Coach's and Trey's house the day after Thanksgiving, I knew they'd talked. There was just something different about the way they interacted with one another.

When Trey and I were upstairs I asked, "You told him didn't you?"

Trey smiled. "Yeah, I did. It's cool, and he knows about us having sex. He asked that question right away. I told him, and he doesn't have a problem as long as we're careful. Now I've got a question for you. Have you ever had sex with Parker?"

The question caught me off guard. I'd urged Trey to tell Coach about being gay because I knew Coach was gay. I hadn't anticipated that Trey would ask me about what Coach and I might have done before. "I . . . ah . . . What did Coach say?"

Trey slugged my shoulder. "I'm asking you, dorkface."

I sat down on the bed. "Okay. Don't get mad. We slept together twice, and we've played around in the shower a few other times."

"Damn, I wish he'd do something with me."

"Who'd do something with you?" Ryan chose that moment to walk into the conversation.

"Uh . . . nothing, Ryan."

My brother sat down on the futon he used as a bed, looked at both of us, and broke out laughing. "Let's cut the crap, guys. I don't know who you were talking about `doing something' with you, Trey, but I've got a good idea. Just give me some warning before you try it. It's bad enough lying over here at night listening to you guys trying to suck each other off quietly. Even us straight guys get boners hearing those sounds. I think I'll ask Coach if I can sleep down on the couch in the living room this weekend. I might sleep better."

He got up and walked out of the room. Poor Trey looked like he'd been hit over the head with a sledge hammer. "He knows too?"

"Don't worry. Ryan's cool, even if he is my brother. He's known for three or four years that I'm gay. He knows about Coach and me, and now he knows about you. He's never told any one, and he's not going to."

"Jeez Louise, TJ! You should have told me. That just about gave me a heart attack."

"You know my motto, buddy. Don't ask. Don't tell."

That remark earned me another slug in the shoulder.

**********

All of us had a good time over that Thanksgiving weekend. Not that it wasn't always a good time with Trey and Coach, but that weekend was one of the best. We didn't do anything special . . . just stayed around the house watching games on TV, jogging in the morning, playing Risk and poker, talking, and eating. I loved it out there. There was no wicked stepmother to nag me. There was no evil stepsister to think of new ways to make my life miserable. I wished I could live there all the time. As it was, I spent two or three nights during the week and most weekends out there, but I had to be home some time just to give Ryan a break from Angela's nagging. Good ole Ryan never said very much about what went on when I wasn't there to direct Angela's wrath away from him, but I knew it was hard on him. Fortunately, Coach and Trey were okay with the idea of having Ryan out every other weekend or so.

Ryan moved his futon into Coach's room. He repeated his taunt that he wanted to get some sleep that weekend instead of listening to the slurping sounds from the bed as Trey and I sucked each other off. Trey turned real red, but Coach just laughed and kidded Ryan that he was really just jealous that Trey and I were getting our rocks off while he was still a frustrated, horny virgin. Ryan gave him the finger. He would never do that to Coach with anyone else around, but the four of us were `safe'. Coach just laughed harder.

The following weekend I stayed out at Trey's also, but Ryan stayed home. Friday night after Trey and I had sucked each other off for the first time, we lay in bed talking about which guys on the team or at school we thought were sexy. Finally we got around to talking about Coach.

"What about Parker? I know you've been with him. What was it like?"

"It was fun. He's good in bed. Just like you are."

"I think I've always had a crush on him. When he told me he was gay, I was angry. Not because he was gay, but because he hadn't ever tried to do anything with me."

"I don't think he would ever make the first move with you. I was the one who had to take the initiative when we did sleep together. I just climbed into his bed, and things happened."

"Maybe that's what I should do. Then again, what if he tells me `no'?"

"Then you aren't any worse off than you are now. Right?"

"Yeah, I guess. What if he gets mad? What if he yells or something?"

"Trey, has he ever yelled at you?"

"No."

"That's right. Coach doesn't yell . . . except on the soccer field and then it's always to encourage us. It's never because he's angry."

"I don't know. I'm still chicken to try it."

I got out of the bed and grabbed his hand. "Come on. No time like the present. I'll be right there for moral support." Beside that, I wanted another round with Coach.

****************************************

PARKER'S PERSPECTIVE:

I didn't know what was happening at first. I'd been sound asleep when I felt someone climb into the bed and a naked body moved up against me. My first thought was that Trey'd had another nightmare so I reached out and wrapped my arms around my new bed mate. Then I realized there was a second naked body pressing up against me from the other side.

I started to sit up, but one of the boys pushed me back down and began nibbling on my ear while the other started licking my nipples. Both grabbed my cock which was waking up faster than my mind was.

Heaven help me, I hadn't had sex with anything other than my right hand since the nights I'd spent with Karl Henson before he'd left for West Point at the end of June. That was almost six months earlier. I heard myself moan as I reached for the nearest body. I wasn't sure if it was Trey or TJ. Right then it didn't matter.

The action was fast. Mouths covered hard cocks. Tongues stimulated nipples and assholes and dueled with each other in eager mouths. Our sexual abandon ended with me taking TJ's cum in my mouth while Trey milked my cock with his warm mouth. After releasing his seed in my mouth, TJ moved down and engulfed Trey's hard on. As I shot volley after volley of cum into Trey's mouth, I felt his body tense as TJ's oral ministrations brought him to his own climax.

Exhausted we fell asleep in a tangle of arms and legs.

In the morning I disentangled myself from the boys and quietly padded into the bathroom to pee. When I peeked back into the room, Trey moved to snuggle up against TJ's back. I grabbed some clothes and headed down to the kitchen. I needed coffee, and I needed to think.

I was on my third cup of caffeine when I heard the toilet flush upstairs. A few minutes later two bleary-eyed teenagers stumbled into the kitchen and headed straight for the coffee. I waited until they had taken a couple of sips before speaking.

"Guys, we need to talk about what happened last night. I enjoyed it very much, but I don't think it would be a good idea to do it again."

They looked first stunned and then guilty.

"Coach, it was my idea. I talked Trey into it."

"No, it was my idea. We were talking last night about guys we think are hot. You're up there at the top of the list for both of us, and since I know you and TJ have slept together I didn't think you'd mind."

"Like I said, guys, I enjoyed it very much. My concern is that if we start having sex together, it will change our relationship. Trey, if I were just an uncle, I don't think I'd be concerned about us having sex with each other once in a while. But, I'm not just your uncle, I'm your guardian, and that makes the relationship very different. TJ, the same thing goes for you, bud. I feel like I'm a big brother to you and Ryan, and I'm also your coach. We shouldn't have sex with one another. It would change the relationship. What you guys need most right now in your lives is me in the role of the guardian, the big brother, and the coach. You don't need me as another sex partner."

TJ looked up with tears in his eyes. "Are you angry with us?"

I crossed the room and drew both into a hug. "I'm not angry with you guys. I'm a little angry with myself. I'm the adult here, and I should have said `no' last night, but you got me in a weak moment."

Trey buried his nose against my shoulder. "We love you, Parker."

"I love you, too. Both of you. Are we okay now?"

The boys gave me a squeeze before pulling out of the hug.

"Yeah, we're okay."

"You got it, Coach."

**********

My relationship with Trey and TJ . . . and with Ryan . . . did change after that. For the better.

The three of us were more openly affectionate toward one another in private. We hugged and kissed each other a lot. We sat next to each other on the couch when we watched TV. Before we'd been careful not to be in the bathroom shaving, showering, or doing other things at the same time. After that, it didn't make any difference. If I was using the shower, it was common for Trey, TJ, or both to join me.

My relationship with Ryan was more open also. He did move his futon into my room when he stayed over so that Trey and TJ would have a little privacy. Perhaps once every other month or so he would crawl into bed with me during the night and snuggle against me. I was amazed at how fast he was growing. By Christmas time he was almost six feet tall, and when he got his braces off the week before Christmas, his new brilliant white and toothy smile could have lit up the entire town. I gave him a big bag of chewy caramel candy as a gag gift. He shared it with all of us. In some ways, he was the most adult and caring person I knew. He also continued to give dynamite back rubs!

**********

Karl Henson came home for Christmas. He looked good! He had added a little more muscle to his already well formed body. His face was more mature, and West Point had placed its mark on his physical bearing. His posture was ramrod straight without being forced. He stayed overnight at the house three different times in the two weeks he was on leave. Two of those times TJ and Ryan were staying over also. Of course TJ slept in with Trey, but Ryan just quietly took his blankets downstairs to the couch.

Karl and I didn't get a lot of sleep those three nights. We spent a lot of time talking. He told me all about the rigors of the first year at West Point, about the hazing, and about the rampant homophobia in the Army. We also made love. I can't describe the feeling I got being with Karl. The summer before our lovemaking had been tender and exploratory. This time he knew what he wanted. He was still gentle, but there was an intensity to our lovemaking that, at times, almost took my breath away.

When he left my house for the last time before returning to West Point, I sat in the chair looking out the window of my bedroom to the layer of new snow that was falling and was surprised to find tears running down my cheeks.

**********

The start of school in January was delayed for almost a week by a snowstorm that dumped 10-12 inches. The ski slope operators loved it. I wasn't that pleased. My old Volvo just couldn't handle the snowy roads unless I put chains on the back wheels and then it drove like a darned army tank. The old 4x4 pickup truck in the barn had a hard time starting in the cold weather so Trey and I were reduced to bumming rides with TJ in his Jeep. I decided it was time to get a vehicle that would handle the snow, and if I did that then Trey could drive the old Volvo when he got his license in April.

I tested a couple of SUV's at the car dealers in town and finally settled on a Ford Explorer. The income from my inheritance was way more than my salary as a teacher, and since I hadn't really used any of it for living expenses I was able to pay cash for the truck without touching the principal. The salesman had a hard time with the idea that a twenty-three year old teacher could pay cash for that kind of vehicle. He made all sorts of excuses to delay the final paperwork after I gave him the check. I'm sure he had someone call the bank to make certain the check was good.

Trey, TJ, Ryan, and I spent the next day tooling around town in the Explorer. It was the first brand new vehicle I'd ever owned, and I was just like a kid with a new toy, a very expensive new toy.

When school started up again the familiar routines started also. All the kids seemed glad to be back in school and making contact with their buddies again. Isaac South was absent for the first three days of classes. When he appeared in my class on the fourth day he looked pretty bad. He seemed thinner than before and there were dark circles under his eyes. I didn't have time before or after class to ask him how he was feeling, so I made a note to myself to ask at the soccer team After School Study Hall, but he wasn't there that afternoon.

I knew that Christopher Harris had been giving Isaac rides to and from school the previous semester so I asked Christopher if he knew anything about Isaac.

"Coach, I don't know what's up with Isaac. He called me a couple of days before school started to tell me not to bother picking him up. He said he wouldn't be able to come to the morning runs or stay after school."

"Did he say why?"

"I asked, and he said something about his folks wanting him to work after school. I think that's too bad; he's a good soccer player."

"Yeah, he is. Thanks for the info, Christopher."

I decided I'd wait for Isaac to tell me he wouldn't be coming out for soccer in the spring and then try to get more information from him. I knew his folks weren't well off. They lived in an old trailer up one of the more isolated roads in the county. I also knew from looking at Isaac's school records that the Souths didn't have a telephone. When Isaac had called Christopher it must have been from a pay phone or from a neighbor's, but the nearest neighbor was quite a walk down the road.

Isaac didn't say anything to me, and I started to become concerned. He wasn't paying attention in class. His grades started slipping. I talked with a couple of his other teachers, and he wasn't doing well in their classes either. After a couple of weeks I decided I had to talk with him about his grades.

The first Monday in February, I asked Isaac to come back to my room at lunch time to see me. A few minutes after the bell signaling lunch period sounded Isaac walked quietly into the room. His head was down and his body language told me he wanted to be almost anywhere else but there.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Arnold."

"Yes, I did, Isaac. Come on in and sit down. Did you bring your lunch?"

"Uh . . . no, I uh . . . I left it in my locker. I'll eat it a little later."

I'd figured he wouldn't have a lunch, or much of one, with him so I'd packed a couple of extra ham sandwiches that morning. I placed one of the sandwiches on his desk and swung the desk in front around to face him and sat down. "Here, I made lunch this morning and then Trey decided to eat in the cafeteria. I can't eat my lunch and his too. Have some."

Isaac looked up at me for the first time since he'd entered the room. Perhaps for the first time in a couple of weeks. The corners of his mouth turned slightly upward as he reached for the sandwich. "Thanks."

I let him finish about half the sandwich before I started. "Isaac, I'm concerned about your grades. You're a bright student, but you're just not paying attention in class. I also heard from Christopher that you won't be coming out for soccer next month. What's going on?"

He swallowed what was in his mouth. He cast his eyes down on the desk top before answering, "My pa and momma don't want me to do soccer in the spring."

"Can I ask why?"

"They say we can't afford it."

"Isaac, soccer is a school activity. There isn't any cost for the student. The school pays for everything but your shoes and jock, and I'm sure I could find some extra funds some place to provide those for you."

"It's not that. They want me to work instead of playing soccer."

"Isaac, how old are you?"

"I'll be fifteen at the end of March."

"You're underage. You can't get a working permit until you're sixteen. No one's going to hire you without that permit."

"Uh . . . Pa's got some work for me with some guys he knows. I don't need a work permit for that."

"Where are you working?"

"Uh . . . I, uh, work at a couple of places."

"Isaac, when are you working and for how long?"

"I guess I work most every night until eleven or midnight or so. Sometimes later."

"That's why you're not paying attention in class. You're up too late at night. You're not getting enough sleep. It's not just my class, Isaac. I've talked with your other teachers, and you're not doing well in any of your classes right now. I think I need to talk with your father and . . ."

"NO! No, don't talk to my pa about that." There was panic in his voice, and he looked like he was about to break into tears.

I reached out to put my hand on his shoulder to calm him down. He winced and pulled away.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, my shoulder and back are a little sore. I, uh, fell on the ice pretty hard. That's all."

"Why don't you want me to talk to your father?"

He looked close to tears again. "Please don't talk with him, Coach. He'll just get angry. He says what happens in his house is his business. It's not any one else's."

"Isaac, you're in danger of failing my class and a couple of others. Something's got to change."

"I'll do better. I promise."

"I think you need some help. Do you ride the bus in the morning?"

"Yeah,"

"Okay what time do you normally meet the bus?"

"I need to be down at the road by about 7:00. Why?"

"Okay, here's what we're going to do. Someone from the soccer team will pick you up at the bus stop at 6:50 each morning and bring you into school. You'll work with a tutor from the team until school starts at 8:15. At lunchtime you're going to come in here and work with another tutor until we get you caught up in all of your classes. Will you do that?"

His lip trembled. "The guys will do that for me?"

I nodded. "I told you at the start of the year that teammates are brothers. Brothers help each other even when that brother can't be on the team anymore. The guys will do that for you. I'll do that for you."

The tears that had threatened a couple of times finally let loose. He put his head down on the desk as he cried.

I came around and knelt down beside him and pulled him into a hug. He winced.

"Sorry, I forgot about your back."

He leaned into me. "It's okay. You really do care. Thanks, Coach. Thanks."

I held him until the tears stopped.

"If you finish that sandwich, there's another here for you."

I saw him smile for the first time in a couple of weeks.

**********

That afternoon in the Study Hall, I pulled TJ, Trey, Christopher Harris, and a couple of the other soccer guys aside, and told them what needed to happen with Isaac. They said they'd take care of it, and they did. They worked out a rotating schedule for morning pickups and tutoring.

I was also concerned that Isaac wasn't getting enough to eat. He was going to be in my room for lunch. That part was easy. Either Trey or I simply packed a couple extra sandwiches in the morning. Breakfast was a different matter. I couldn't figure out how to get a breakfast to Isaac without interrupting his valuable time with a tutor in the morning. Ryan was the one who finally came up with the solution. He suggested that whoever picked up Isaac should just swing by McDonald's and get a couple of sausage biscuits. I didn't want the guys on the team to be spending their own money, after all they were already spending money on gas to pick Isaac up every day, so I put twenty dollars in a box just inside the door of my office in the locker room. Who ever picked Isaac up in the morning simply took enough money to cover both his and Isaac's breakfast. All I had to do was keep money in the box. It was simple, and it worked.

**********

Over the next two weeks Isaac seemed to come back to life. He still had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, but with the extra food he didn't look as thin and emaciated as before. What's more, his grades were improving in all his classes.

Trey and I left right after school to drive down to Charlotte for his session with Dr. Goddard, the therapist. According to Dr. Goddard, Trey had made remarkable progress dealing with the trauma of his parents' deaths, and our sessions had been scaled down to once a month. Two hours down to Charlotte, an hour with Dr. Goddard, finding a place to eat dinner, and then a two hour drive back up to Carterville meant it was sometimes nearly ten o'clock before we pulled back into our driveway.

That night we were even later than normal heading home because we'd stopped at one of the malls to pick up more clothes for Trey. The gas gauge in the Explorer was low when I pulled off the interstate for the last leg up to Carterville. There was a truck stop with relatively cheap gas right at the exit so I pulled in to fill up before heading home. Trey filled the tank while I went in to use the bathroom.

I peed and then went back out to the truck to let Trey go in and relieve his bladder. He had replaced the filler cap, but just stood there looking over to some big rigs parked across the way with their engines running.

"Parker, I thought I saw Isaac South get into that truck."

"Come on. What would Isaac be doing in a truck stop all this way from Carterville?"

"I know. It doesn't make sense, but the kid looked just like Isaac. Hey, look, he's getting out."

I followed Trey's eyes to the truck. The door opened, and a slim figure climbed down from the right hand side and walked over to a beat up old Ford Taurus parked between two of the trucks. The figure opened the passenger door of the Taurus and climbed in. The dome light came on as he opened the door. It was Isaac! He got into the car with a thin man who looked mean as a snake even from a distance. Isaac handed the man something as the car door closed. The car's interior light went out as the door closed, and Isaac was lost in the darkness. Why was Isaac there at that time of the night?

A few seconds later the car door opened again, and Isaac started to get out. Suddenly Isaac fell out of the door on to the pavement.

Trey grabbed my arm. "Did you see that! The guy kicked him out of the car!"

Isaac picked himself up from the cold blacktop, dusted off his pants, and walked head down toward another one of the idling big rigs. He took a couple of steps on the ladder beside the passenger door and knocked. The door opened, and Isaac climbed into the cab of the truck.

"Trey, get in the car."

I pulled the Explorer away from the gas pumps and over beside a couple of cars parked by the side of the building. We were less visible but still had a good view of the trucks on the other part of the parking lot and the old Taurus.

"Sit back like you're taking a nap. I want to watch this for a little while."

Ten minutes later Isaac emerged from the truck's cab. He stepped down to the pavement, tucked his shirt into his pants, and zipped up his thin jacket before making his way back to the waiting Taurus. Again we saw him hand something to the man in the car before the door closed and the dome light went out. Just a minute or so later Isaac's door opened again. This time he managed to emerge from the car without a helping foot from the man inside. He slowly walked toward another one of the idling big trucks. He knocked on the passenger side door of the truck. The door opened, and he boosted himself up into the cab.

In the darkness of our car Trey whispered, "What's he doing?"

"I'm not sure, but I bet he's not delivering Easter candy. I've seen enough, we're going."

Neither one of us said much the rest of the way home. When we did speak it wasn't about what was really on our minds. What was a fourteen year old boy doing going from rig to rig at a truck stop?

(To be continued)