CHAPTER 35
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.
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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.
Send comments to: jeff_allen15@hotmail.com
Finding Family
by Jeff Allen
CHAPTER 35
IN CARTERVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA
PARKER'S PERSPECTIVE:
My life settled into a comfortable routine after the college crowd left to go back to Adams State. I was busy during the week with soccer practices and schoolwork, but the weekends were fun times.
Karl and I saw each other almost every weekend. Either he came back to Carterville or I packed up and headed to Adams State for the weekend. Those weekends I went to Adams State to see Karl, I usually had the entire crew with me. Donnie was able to come along because he'd promoted one of his employees into an assistant manager position so he didn't have to work on the weekends. Donnie, his boys, Ryan, and Nacio stayed with Trey, TJ, and Josh at their apartment. I stayed over at Karl's apartment which was only a block away.
Karl and I were still re-establishing and exploring our relationship. It was warm and comfortable. It's not that there wasn't passion. Believe me, there was a lot of passion. However, beyond the passion there was a friendship and caring that I'd always hoped to find with another man. In a perverse way, our time apart from one another had made us more appreciative of each other.
As I said, we had a comfortable routine going. All that changed in November.
The first thing that happened was that Nacio's mother was finally deported back to Nicaragua. After nearly almost ten months in custody in the Carter County Jail, the Immigration and Naturalization Service acted.
And when they acted it was quick.
Red Stuart, the Sheriff, called us in the evening of the first Tuesday in November. He said Serena Gutierez was going to be transferred into INS custody the following afternoon, moved down to Charlotte, then to Miami, and finally put on a plane to Nicaragua two days later. He told me to bring Nacio down to the jail so he could say good-bye to his mother.
Nacio was a wreck. I think he'd begun to believe that his mother would never really be deported. Suddenly finding out that she was going to be thousands of miles away in just a few days precipitated an emotional meltdown.
I took Nacio into town to see his mother that evening and then let him skip school the next day so he could spend as much time with her as possible. Red Stuart called me when the INS agent arrived, and I hurried out of soccer practice and over to the jail to be there for Nacio. Serena cried. Nacio cried. I cried. Even Red Stuart and the INS agent shed a few tears. I took Nacio back to the house afterwards, and he literally spent the rest of the day plastered against someone's side. If he wasn't hugging me, he was hugging Ryan or Donnie.
That night Ryan and Nacio appeared in my bedroom doorway about an hour or so after we'd all turned in. Nacio had on a pair of boxers, but Ryan was naked.
"What's up, guys?"
"Coach, Nacio's real upset. Would it be okay if we slept with you tonight?"
I rolled over to the side of the bed and opened the covers. Nacio slipped in, snuggled up against my chest, and started crying again. Ryan followed Nacio into the bed and spooned up against him on the other side.
That's how we spent the next several nights.
Karl was really great about it when he came home that weekend. He and I managed to find a little "private" time during the day when the guys were gone. Ryan retreated to his own bed that weekend, but Nacio slept between Karl and me both nights.
Nacio became less clingy over the next week. By the end of the following week he was sleeping back upstairs in his room, but he continued to seek more physical contact with me and the other guys than he had before. He'd always been more reserved with physical affection than the others, but after the support he'd received from all of us following his mother's deportation, he was as physically demonstrative as the rest of the guys.
Since soccer season was over, I'd gone back to monitoring the afternoon study hall in the old gym. The original idea of the study hall had been to keep team interaction going among the guys on the soccer team. Over the years it had expanded so that now the regulars at the study hall included some of the football players as well as a couple of non-jocks. It was a strange grouping, but I enjoyed it. The boys did also. The study hall met Monday through Thursday. Friday was a "vacation" day.
The Friday before the week of Thanksgiving I was correcting a bunch of papers from my ninth grade history class in my office in the old gym after school. I heard someone walking into the locker room, and looked up to greet Ske Takamachi standing in the doorway to my office.
"Hi, Ske. What's up, bud?"
"Can I talk to you for a second or two, Coach?"
"Sure, come on in."
He sat in a chair on the other side of the desk. "Coach, do you know Jorge Menendez?"
I pictured a good-looking, well-built Hispanic kid I'd seen around school. "Yeah, I think I know who he is. I've never had him in any of my classes. He's a junior, right?"
"Yeah, that's right. Jorge has worked at my parents' restaurant as a dishwasher and busboy for a year or so now. He's kind of a quiet guy, but he's always been a good worker and real polite. I don't think his folks have a lot of money so he's always been willing to work whenever we needed him. Anyway, I think there's something going on with him."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he's been hanging around the restaurant a lot more than before. Even when he isn't working. He's also carrying his schoolbooks and some clothes around in a big old backpack that he has with him all the time. Another thing is that Jorge has always been real careful about his personal hygiene, but now it doesn't look or smell like he's taking regular showers, and he's not changing his clothes too often."
"Have you asked him what's going on?"
"Yeah, but he just sort of shrugs it off, you know what I mean. He says everything's okay, but I don't think it really is."
"What do you want to do about it?"
"I was wondering if you could talk to him. All the kids here look up to you, Coach. Maybe he'll tell you what's going on."
"I'll look up his schedule and then talk to a couple of his teachers. They may know if anything's happening with him."
"Thanks, Coach. You're the best." He came over and gave me a hug before disappearing out the door.
I looked at the time. It was too late to expect anyone to still be hanging around the school office to check Jorge's schedule for me so I wrote a note to myself and stuck it in with the papers I was grading. I'd check on his schedule on Monday.
But I didn't.
Sunday afternoon I got a call from Josh over at Adams State. He explained what had happened between Brandon Harris' brother and father and asked if I would see if Robert Marquez, who was out in Salt Lake to broadcast Monday night's Jazz, could check up on him. I called Robert, told him what I knew, and gave him Josh's cell phone number. Robert said he'd take care of it.
Robert called me back a couple of times that night. He'd picked up Bart Harris and had taken him to be checked out by the Jazz's team physician because Bart had a black eye and some other bruises. Later he called to tell me that the poor kid's back was covered with bruises, both new and old, from his father's beatings.
Robert had Bart safely tucked away in the second bedroom of Robert's hotel suite. The doctor had given him a mild sedative, and the poor kid had gone out like a light. Robert left one of the team trainers staying with the sleeping teen. The next morning he was going to meet up with the team doctor and one of the lawyers from the Jazz's head office. They were planning on going out to the Harris household and having a little heart to heart talk with Mr. Harris.
I'm ashamed to say that my focus was on what might be happening or had happened out in Utah. I forgot completely about checking up on Jorge Menendez.
When Robert called on Monday, he related that he, the doctor, and the lawyer aided by digital photographs documenting Bart's injuries had "convinced" Mr. and Mrs. Harris to sign over legal custody of Bart to Brandon and gave Robert written permission to bring Bart back to North Carolina with him the next day. Robert said the Harris' told him basically that they didn't care where Bart was as long as they never saw him again.
"I pulled some strings with the Network and got another ticket on the plane for Bart. We'll get in late Tuesday afternoon and I'll bring him up to Carterville. I talked with Josh and Brandon a little earlier. They should show up on your doorstep about the same time Bart and I are arriving. It looks like you just added two more guests for Thanksgiving dinner."
"You, Tyrone, and Elena are still planning on coming over aren't you?"
"We wouldn't miss it. Elena's already started on the desserts."
"Thanks, Robert. I really owe you on this one."
"Darn it, Parker! I told Brandon, and I'm telling you...neither one of you owes me a thing. Once I got a look at what Bart's father had done, there was no way I would have been able to leave the kid by himself out here. It was all Doc Trister and the lawyer could do to keep themselves from taking that slime bag of a father out in the backyard and beating the shit out of him for what he'd done to both Bart and Brandon because they're gay. Bart seems like a heck of a nice kid. I haven't met Brandon in person, but from talking with him on the phone, he seems like a solid sort of guy also."
"I've met him a few times when the crew and I have been over at Adams State. I think you're right about Brandon. I like him a lot, and Josh has a major case of the hots for him. See you tomorrow afternoon."
IN SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH
BART'S PERSPECTIVE:
Dad found some gay porn on my computer. I should have known better and been more careful. I mean, my parents had completely disowned my brother, Brandon, when they found out he was gay. They come back from visiting him in the Army hospital in Washington, DC, and told all of us kids that he was no longer a member of the family because he was queer. Mom went so far as to throw away anything in the house that still belonged to him. She even went through all of the family photos and when she came across a shot with Brandon in it, she either threw the picture away or took a pair of scissors and cut him out of the photo. I knew how they would react if they found out about me.
Mom and Dad didn't know about the picture of Brandon and me that I kept in my wallet. It was taken just before he went in the Army. He was almost 20 and I was still just 14. We were both shirtless and standing in the backyard grinning at each other. Brandon had his arm around me. He was already a man at that point with a thick mat of dark chest hair. I was a skinny little kid who was in the most awkward stage of adolescence. I mean, I had braces, pimples, and everything.
That photo was worn around the edges from being in my wallet. I took it out and looked at it every time I needed to remember what it was like to feel safe. Brandon had always made us feel safe.
There are nine kids in my family. Five boys and four girls. My folks had a thing for names that begin with "B". In order we were Bradley, Barbara, Bruce, Beatrice, Brandon, Bobbi, Bertram, Betty, and me. Brandon was the exact middle child of all of us. I was the youngest.
My first memory is of being held by Brandon. I was maybe two or three at the time so Brandon was about seven or eight. I remember hearing my dad yelling at my mom and one of my older brothers. Brandon took me, Beatrice, Bobbi, Betty, and Bert into a bedroom and closed the door.
Brandon did that whenever dad got angry and started yelling. He would gather all the kids and take us into another part of the house or out into the yard.
Guess it's pretty plain to see that my dad had a bad temper. He yelled at us or hit us for just about any reason. Mom wasn't much better. She didn't yell as much as Dad, but she was sure quick with a slap across the face. Of the nine of us kids, Brandon was the only one who ever stood up to our parents.
He paid for it too.
One time when Brandon was sixteen and I was eleven, Dad started in on Bert about something. Brandon told Betty and me to go into one of the bedrooms then he grabbed Bert away from Dad and hustled him off to the bedroom with us and shut the door. That really set the old man off! He came charging down the hallway. Brandon had closed the door to the bedroom, but it wasn't locked. He was heading back to do that when Dad kicked in the door. The edge of the door caught Brandon in the head and opened up a straight-line gash in his left eyebrow and another one just below on his cheekbone. I was so scared I wet my pants, but Brandon just stood there with blood running down his face and somehow kept Dad from coming in the room to get Bert.
After my parents decided that Brandon was no longer a member of the family, I was the only one to keep in contact with him. I had his email address, and we exchanged emails almost everyday. I was beginning to realize that I was gay, and I think talking with Brandon on email was the only way I held on to my sanity. Finally I had the courage to tell him that I thought I was gay. He wrote me back right away and told me that he understood what I was going through because he'd been there himself, that I wasn't a bad person because I was gay, and that I should call if I ever needed him.
Well, that day when my dad discovered the JPEG files of naked men on my computer, I really needed him.
Dad started hitting me, but I managed to get away from him. Luckily I had my wallet and car keys with me. I jumped in my car and tore out of there. I drove into Salt Lake City, found a phone booth, and called Brandon. I told him what had happened. He got me calmed down then asked how much money I had with me, and I told him. He told me to go find a cheap motel some place and call him back. He would figure something out.
It took me a while to find a motel that would rent to someone my age. My eighteenth birthday was coming up the next week, but that didn't make any difference. I was still just seventeen, and the places wouldn't rent me a room. Finally I found a place that didn't even ask how old I was or ask to look at my driver's license. I got up into the room and called Brandon.
That's when my brother told me that Robert Marquez was going to come and pick me up. I thought he was joking at first. When I realized he was serious, I couldn't believe that the Roberto Marquez was going to come after me. He had been one of my favorite pro basketball players. I even had a poster of him up on the wall of my room. Not only had be been a great player, I thought he was darn hot. The poster I had showed him making a jump shot. You could see his dark underarm hair, and some of his chest hair was visible above the neck of his jersey. Woof! I had jerked off many times while looking up at that poster.
I was a nervous wreck waiting for Mr. Marquez to come get me. Nothing like being thrown out of your home and then meeting one of your masturbation fantasies in person to make a person break out in a cold sweat.
If possible Robert Marquez was even hotter in person than he was on that poster. He was also incredibly kind. The first thing he did when I called him Mr. Marquez was to tell me to call him Robert. He told me that one of Brandon's friends in North Carolina was a friend of his son. He also told me that he knew I was gay, and that was all right because he was gay too. Talk about being blown away. Robert Marquez was gay!
Robert took me back to the sports complex and had one of the team doctors for the Utah Jazz take a look at my eye, which was starting to turn black, and my wrist which was hurting like hell. The doctor had me take off my shirt when he examined me and noticed some old bruises from a previous beating Dad had given me. The doc asked if he could take some photos to document the bruises, and I said yes. The doc and one of the team trainers took the pictures. All the while Robert was standing over to the side of the room with a really dark, angry look on his face. I thought he was angry with me `cause I was taking up so much of his time, but when I apologized he told me that he was angry with my father and not with me.
The doc put a soft cast on my wrist and gave me some pain pills and a sedative. I don't know what the sedative was, but it sure worked quickly! I could hardly stand up by the time Robert and I got back to his hotel suite. The team trainer came with us, and I think he and Robert helped me get undressed and into bed, but things were so fuzzy at that point I really wasn't sure what was happening. I do remember waking up a couple of times during the night. The first time I saw the trainer sitting in a chair on the other side of the room reading something. The second time I woke up, it was Robert in the chair, and he was asleep.
The third time I woke up it was daylight. The door to my room was open, and I could hear voices coming from the other part of the suite. The first order of business was relieving my bladder. When I was finished with my business in the bathroom I pulled on my tee shirt and jeans and walked out to the other part of the suite where Robert was sitting at the table eating breakfast. There was a place set for me at the other end of the table.
"I thought I heard voices."
"I was talking with the bellman. I sent him down to the clothing store in the lobby to bring some sets of clothes for you to choose from. He should be back in a few minutes"
"I don't know if I have enough money to pay for it. This is a pretty fancy hotel. The prices in the gift shop must be kinda high."
He laughed. "You're not paying for the clothes, I am. I want my new assistant to look sharp at the game this afternoon." He smiled, "Sit down and have some breakfast. How do you feel this morning?"
My stomach growled.
Robert laughed again, "I guess that answers my question. I ordered a bunch of food, but if you have an appetite like my son and his friends, we may have to order more."
We were just finishing breakfast when the bellman returned with a cart that had several pairs of pants and shirts plus underwear, socks and shoes. Robert told me to pick out enough clothes for the next week. I was amazed. With nine kids in the family, I had a lot of hand-me-down clothes. I'd never had so many new clothes at one time before in my entire life. I picked out some jeans and chinos along with shirts, socks, and boxers. The bellman gave Robert a ticket to sign, and then left with the clothes I hadn't selected.
After breakfast the team doctor who'd worked on me the night before showed up along with another man in an expensive suit. Robert told me that they had some business to take care of so I would be on my own in the suite for a couple of hours. He said we would be going over to the arena to get things set up for the broadcast of the Jazz game that afternoon when he returned.
I took a shower, got dressed in some of the new clothes and lay back down on the bed. I fell asleep right away.
When Robert came back he said that he'd gotten my mom and dad to sign some sort of document that transferred legal custody of me to my brother, Brandon. I was going to go live with him in North Carolina!
I talked to Brandon on the phone later that morning. We both cried on the phone, but those were tears of happiness not tears of sadness.
AT ADAMS STATE UNIVERSITY, ADAMS, NORTH CAROLINA
JOSH'S PERSPECTIVE:
Brandon worked at Cantana's that Monday night. I waited over in our living room till I saw his truck pull into the drive next door then I went over to see him. I'd talked with Robert earlier in the day, and he'd sort of filled me in on the plan to bring Brandon's brother to North Carolina from Utah. I knew Bart was supposed to have talked with Brandon also. I wanted to hear what they'd decided...and I also wanted to see Brandon.
When I got over there Brandon was standing out in the yard waiting for Mason to do his business. He pulled me into an embrace and delivered a full kiss that made my dick start to get hard.
When he broke the kiss I said, "Gee, it appears that you're glad to see me."
"You bet I am. I've been thinking of you all night at the restaurant. My shorts are all wet from thinking about you so much. Can you spend the night?"
"But, Sir, I'm afraid you might take advantage of me." I playfully batted my eyes at him in my best 'Southern Queen' manner.
"Only if you're willing."
"Oh, I'm willing. Let me run back to the apartment and get my toothbrush."
I went to leave, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back against him. "It's already taken care of. I bought you one on my way to work today."
"Then what are we waiting for?"
Mason came bounding up.
"We were waiting for Mason to finish his business. Now we can go in, but I need to take a shower first."
"Need some help?"
"Best offer I've had all day."
We took a long time in the shower. It didn't take us that long to wash, but we did take a long time exploring our bodies and kissing. We finally had to get out when the hot water started to run out.
We toweled each other dry and then got on his bed. We lay in a sixty-nine position. I was able to get a little more of his monster cock in my mouth that night. Handling his thick meat was going to require a lot of practice! He alternated between playing with my foreskin and balls and sucking on my throbbing cock. He began gently probing my hole with his finger as he sucked me. I took my mouth off his dick long enough to get my middle finger slick with saliva. I began moving my finger around his pucker. He moaned in pleasure. He took his mouth off my cock for a second, then his spit-lubed finger slid into my entrance. I knew what I wanted. I just wasn't sure I could stretch enough to accommodate his massive girth.
"Make love to me."
"That's what I'm doing."
"I want you inside me."
"Are you sure?"
"Oh, yes. I've never done that before, but I sure want it now."
He moved around so we were facing one another. "I know I'm a little on the large side. Since this is your first time let me work on getting you loosened up and relaxed a couple of times before we try that."
He retrieved some lube from under the bed and knelt beside me. He moved his slippery finger in and out of me as he slowly sucked on my erection and nibbled at my foreskin. I tried to play with his dick and balls, but I kept getting lost in the feelings generated by his finger and mouth. He added a second finger. I tensed for a second then gave in to the incredible feelings of pleasure that replaced the momentary pain. He added a third finger. He was brushing across my prostate with every stroke of his hand. I couldn't hold it any longer. I exploded in his mouth as every muscle in my body contracted in the most intense orgasm of my life.
I heard Brandon grunt, and I managed to open my eyes in time to see him spew his load all over my stomach.
He gently cleaned me up with a towel before climbing back into bed and folding me into his arms. I lay my face against his furry chest as he softly stroked my hair.
Before meeting Brandon, I'd always been attracted to guys that were shorter and skinnier than me, but at that moment with him softly stroking the hair on my head and with my nose buried in the fur on his chest and his scent filling my nostrils, I knew I'd found the place where I needed to be.
(To be continued)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Many of the characters who play parts in this story were previously introduced in either "When Love Comes" (last posted in the College section on Sept. 6, 2001) or "Love of a Lifetime" (last posted in the College section on May 19, 2003). While not necessary, readers may find it useful to read the two earlier stories posted on this site. Both previous stories are also posted at www.crvboy.com.
Send comments to: jeff_allen15@hotmail.com