"Okay, we've debated this thing long enough... Let's get on the road." It's been weeks now and we have been talking this thing to death. We've been back-and-forth about the dates; we've been waiting to find out if Grant and Morris can take the time off. After all, their schedules are so much more chaotic than either mine or Phil's. After all, Morris is a private-duty Licensed Practical Nurse (and an occasional actor) and his schedule is often dictated by sick people, not a very predictable lot. Grant is equally stressed by his job as an Assistant Director for television shows. Often they aren't exactly clear-cut and productions can be delayed or postponed. For these two to decide on a date together is a minor miracle. They have finally picked the date and it's now up to Phil and me to match them. We both put in for the time off and within days of one another, we are told that the vacation time has been granted. We can finally get underway. (You see, Grant had started this whole thing by suggesting that we four would have a great time together driving out to Flagstaff to meet with Morris' parents. We all instantly agreed that it sounded like the trip of a lifetime.)
In all our discussions about our road trip, one thing was certain: we were determined to 'take the old route' not necessarily in the 'Blue Highways' sense but more in the nostalgic vein of a trip down Memory Lane. When Morris and Grant had taken the trip before, they had only gone there via I-40 and the trip was at best 7 or 8 hours with a piss stop and a meal or two. We were planning something much more demanding. We expected it to take the better part of two days.
Once we decided we would pay homage to the Mother Road, Grant did his usual balls-to-the-wall job organizing our trip. He spent days researching the best routes and decided that if we were going to do it right, we would just have to drive down to Santa Monica Pier and follow the route east from there. Route 66 is obscured in many places and there are some debates about where exactly it was located at what time in the past but there are some pretty commonly agreed upon standard routings and we tried to follow the best of them. They included the National Trails Highway to Needles in California, Oatman Highway, Andy Devine Boulevard (I really liked the thought of that one... I do watch too much TV...) and Arizona State Route 66.
We took off at noon and arrived at Needles at dinnertime. We've seen many historic sights and heard many oohs and aahs from we, the collected vacationers along the way while traveling east in California. As a group, we're bushed. We've stopped at a little diner here and met Janice, our waitress (and a talented craftsperson in her off-hours) who is no slouch in the gaydar department and must have seen "the signs" and from then on was our sweetheart love and became friends with us immediately. She confided to us that she had been a transgendered man back east and once she had the operation, she moved to LA for a short while but the life there made her crazy in so many ways we were all familiar with and she settled in Needles just because she liked the name and the relaxed attitude and connectedness she found to people here. Desert life had grown to be a part of her. She told us she just knew we were kindred spirits immediately and she gave us great local recommendations for see and do ahead including a referral to a venerable, friendly old motel we should stay at in Kingman. Grant instantly canceled the reservation he had made at an up-scale chain place and made one where she suggested. Janice was another lover of all kinds of strays and told us of her human and animal companions over the years. She and Morris had an instant affinity and he was captivated by her stories. She would eventually decorate our homes with her crafts and be our spirit mother forever, but I'm getting ahead of myself...
Once we arrived at the motel in Kingman, I went off to gather ice twice because of the ridiculously small container they provided and each time I would dump it into the sink to cool down the beer and soft drinks we would need through the night. I returned to the bedroom from the bathroom and heard someone shout: Dogpile! Suddenly I was at the bottom of a squirming mass of giggling humanity and seemingly in an instant I was completely naked and had what I thought was way too many penises (penii?) in too many orifices keeping me busy and happy to think about who owned what appendage. I sucked and stroked and was in turn fucked by what seemed to be a dozen busy bodies when I knew in my mind it was only us four. Everybody decided it was fun to ejaculate on Tyke. They coated my belly and chest with their juices but I noticed that something strange was afoot. Nobody was stopping. The three of them were just stroking away like nothing had happened. Well, I thought, who am I to worry! I do notice, however, that in particular Grant is having a hard time of it, not because he can't keep it up (keeping it hard is not one of Grant's problems) but that he's adopted a strange stroke - he's jacking on his dick only on the outward stroke and he's avoiding touching the head at all. He's also avoiding moving his foreskin over the head. He's grimacing as well when he gets too vigorous with his stroke. I reach out to fondle and tickle his balls in appreciation and think back to the day I discovered his "problem".
I was giving him head as I would do as often as I could and I have this habit when giving head of lingering a while once my partner comes and giving him that little bit of extra attention; tonguing the slit and drinking down the last dribbles and prolonging the experience. Some guys love it, some guys mock-protest, some object a bit, but this time was different: Grant said a couple of times "Hey, stop" then he became silent and started to breathe in sharp breaths. Finally he gave a yank to my hair and I figured I better come up for some air and I discovered his face was just bathed in tears and he was clearly being tortured by my actions.
I said "Oh, Grant - I didn't mean to hurt you..."
He finally was able to control his breathing and said "It's just that the head gets so hyper-sensitive after I come that I can't stand to touch it for a while."
I've come back to reality now and I can see that Phil is just about ready to pop (He's always ahead of the pack when it comes to that...) and Morris is showing the signs as well. Everybody will be ready when Grant is ready and soon it's time. I figure they are going to contribute to the mess on my belly again but I am surprised when they all start moving as if pre-arranged and start to crowd around my head. They take their free arms and wrap them around each other's shoulders and press inward so that I'm facing three red, angry dickheads about to burst. Finally when they do spurt, my face is covered, I get cum up my nose and even in both ears and over my eyes. I'm a virtual prisoner. I have my eyes screwed shut because cum burns when you get it in your eyes (believe me, I know that). I wait a while for everybody to get their breathing under control and finally say "Guys - how about a little help here?" As usual, Morris comes (pardon the expression) to my rescue and just picks me up off the bed and carries me toward the bathroom and after almost dropping me along the way because I'm so slimy, he gently deposits me on my feet in the shower. He adjusts the water just right and steps into the shower with me to help me wash up. Most of the time he's using his tongue to squeegee off the cum from my body and face (my dream job...) but eventually starts to use a washcloth. He's got me so that I can probably finish up by myself but he's having too much fun to leave. Finally he starts to pay some attention to my privates. He tongues around my pubes and over my balls and eventually gets to my dick. He laps at the head and finally takes it into his mouth. I'm instantly hard again and I'm getting a great blow job at the end of a super experience. I realize that these three guys have done all this just to show me how much they love me and I start to sob. Morris must have realized what I was thinking and pulls me closer, first with his hands on the back of my thighs then later his hands wander up to cup my asscheeks and finally he's split the globes and his fingers are doing a dance on my hole as he's sucking me down hungrily. I can't last too long at this pace and soon I'm flying high and I come, gushing what seems to be gallons down Morris' eager throat. He finally releases my dick reluctantly and stands up and lets the water cascade onto my crotch and now I am the one in agony until I get used to the feeling. I have another one of those involuntary shudders and Morris steadies me by my shoulders, then hugging me until it passes. By the time we finish our shower, Grant and Phil have snuggled up together in one bed and Morris takes me by the hand and we slip into the other bed, thoroughly spent. My last thought was of Janice and I bless her for her good taste. I owe her a big kiss on the way back home.
In the morning, I awaken to the sight of Morris watching me.
I ask him "Not sleeping well?"
He says: "I've been awake for a while watching you sleep and thinking how I was going to talk to you once you did wake up. I noticed something last night in the shower and I want you to promise me that when you get back to LA, you'll contact your Primary Care Doctor and tell him just what I'll tell you. Then I want him to call me and get the details of what I observed and once he's satisfied that there is no problem, you can ignore the whole thing. If he wants to pursue it further, then I can get you a referral to a great specialist who knows all there is to know about this condition."
I'm starting to panic now not only from what he said but how serious he is looking in the early morning light. I ask him: "What's wrong with me?"
He tells me: "I don't want you to over-react to this so I'm only going to tell you a little since this could be nothing. Last night you were in the shower and you shivered just a bit after I gave you head and I had to hold you up for a while in case you fell over. Do you remember that?"
I said: "Sure, I remember you holding me by the shoulders. I did shudder a bit there sort of like the shakes you get from a chill. I didn't give it much thought."
Morris asks: "Has this happened before recently?"
"Yes, I think I noticed it a couple of times before in the last couple of months. Phil was there for one of them, probably the first one and he would remember it, too. I think yesterday was because you stepped out of the shower stream and it hit me square on the dick and on my abdomen and the feeling was a bit overpowering."
"I see... well, I need you to describe all that you can remember about all the experiences to your doctor and don't whitewash the fact about sex in close proximity to each time. Perhaps you should write down what you can remember now because the memory of the details sometimes fades with time and it will be a week until you are able to see your doc."
"Morris, I can't stand the mystery... what do you think it is?"
"It's not what I think that's important. It's what a doctor thinks when he has all the facts before him. I'm not a doctor. I'm only the eyes and ears for a doctor but I can't make a diagnosis; I'm not trained for that. Plus, I think you know that I'm more than a bit over-protective when it comes to you. I feel like you are the kid brother I never had. Some of that comes from internalizing the acting role I played with you when we first met. Certainly there is nothing weak or sickly about you as far as I can see, but I don't act this way towards Grant or Phil, so I don't know why I do with you. It clouds my judgment some. It makes me doubt what I'm thinking. I'd rather have an objective observer judge if I'm just making up what's in my mind. Just promise me you'll go see your doctor about this."
"Morris, I trust you and your judgment is so sound - I promise."
"Thanks, little bro! Now lets see if we can get a little more sleep before the others wake up."
"I love my big bro so much!"
Next morning in Kingman we stop and get our Route 66 passports - (collect all 10 stamps)... We felt just like tourists. And we dressed for it as well. Well, OK, a little on the gay side for just average tourists but always in fashion (we wished!) We stayed in Kingman for the morning just wandering and then after lunch, we piled into the car and headed east. The attractions are more widely spaced here and we took the time to visit a few that made us curious or nostalgic. We were steadily moving toward Flagstaff and Morris' family home. After a long day gawking and laughing, we finally arrive.
After all the traveling, we finally meet 'Chief' (Sakima) and Kate... Katie was the tomboy and Margaret was the serious, studious sister. Their father was a 'Gentleman Farmer' in upstate New York just pre-war but needed to move to New Jersey with his wife's family due to failure of the farm and the war. The entire extended family moved from New Jersey to Arizona in 1962 because Katie was somewhat sickly and Arizona was thought to be good for her health (it turns out it was.) Arizona was a great place to raise a tomboy and Katie bloomed!
Chief was a hellion growing up on the reservation but knew enough to realize how destructive the wild life was to his friends. He quit drinking and carousing and buckled down to work for the Santa Fe. He started in as a fireman at the end of the steam era but the 'extra board' life was too crazy. He was threatened with a layoff and he gravitated toward maintenance-of-way. Through recognition of his hard work, he rose through the ranks to Section Chief eventually. ('Chief' the section chief... had to get that in...) Kate got married to Chief in 1973.
Kate was a seamstress ever since she was a teen. She loved the feel of the work and made clothes for her family. Once she was of age, she worked for a number of work-from-home outfits doing dressmaking and did make some money at it but once she was married, she drifted out of that work and concentrated on making clothes for Chief and eventually, Morris. She had met Chief through Square Dancing and they stayed enthusiastic for it through the ebb-and-flow of the years and still dance today. She looked at the dresses others wore and decided she could do a much better job with the designs than the ones she saw on the dance floor or in catalogs. She loved the picky, fussy details of the clothes and got a special thrill matching patterns perfectly from the background material to a pocket made from the same material, for example, or the detail work matching the pattern on a shirt or blouse left-to-right across a line of buttons so you couldn't find the match point or seams without close examination. The lesser manufacturers couldn't be bothered with all that and it was somewhat more wasteful of material than the slap-it-together factories could justify. She tried to refine her art and became adept at wasting the least material by squeezing the most usable parts from ever-smaller pieces of fabric fitting them together somewhat like a jigsaw puzzle.
Kate had started by creating matching outfits for herself and Chief but soon realized he was somewhat uncomfortable with them, though he wouldn't come out and say so, and so she began to design outfits that were more complementary with the man's outfit more a simple suit design with some elements carried over from the woman's dress like the colored piping used as decoration and sometimes decorative embroidery. Chief was most attracted to earth tones and colors of gray and she designed his outfits in the western style using those colors and finding complementary colors in more elaborate fabrics with Southwest Native craft themes for her blouses and dresses. After some experimentation, the outfits she created for them became simply amazing and they looked great together and separately. Chief even started to wear his more conservative Square Dance suits when he needed to have management meetings and at banquets. Kate couldn't have been prouder.
After her first few outfits were praised for their quality and imaginative design, she decided she would start making Square Dance outfits for men and women from home. As the business matured, she realized she would need a shop to sell from and a separate address to base her growing business from. She also had discovered a few manufacturers who made good quality, serviceable Square Dance outfits of which she approved who became her partners and a source for her 'affordable' lines while her own work became the 'premiere' line of hand-crafted outfits. She also had met similar-minded women at the local sewing shops and enlisted them to help her either at the shop working flex-time for those with school-age children or working from home with patterns she would design. She weathered several up-and-down cycles of the economy and also cycles of interest in Square Dancing over decades but finally had to close the business in the early years of the new millennium when it was no longer possible to make a profit doing it. One bright spot, though, was her close connection to other dressmakers and crafters and their periodic requests for Kate to train their young daughters and once-in-a-while their sons in the fabric arts. These sessions continued to this day and the strongest proponents of these ideas were the Native American women she knew who continued to sew even when many of their Anglo counterparts had drifted off to buy clothing at the big discount retailers that were becoming so popular in recent decades. Chief was enormously proud seeing his wife training a new generation of young women who appreciated these domestic skills and would soon become new wives and mothers.
When the six of us would relax together and talk, Kate would break out the photo albums and pass around the obligatory embarrassing photos of a young Morris including several of him wearing Square Dance outfits. They would talk of their camping vacations together, often with the theme of traveling to distant cities to visit other Square Dance groups there and represent their local club to them and invite the members to visit Flagstaff in turn. They would also travel to hear many legendary Square Dance callers and made good friends among them and would invite them to Flagstaff as their guests.
I was able to question Morris later privately about the seeming contradiction of a gay man in the very hetero Square Dance world and came to understand that in the early years Morris wasn't sure of his orientation yet and never paired off with any of the ladies he would dance with but acted as the designated partner for any women who would come to the dances unaccompanied and he told me he was sought out because of his stature and increasing skill at dancing. At first he was pretty uncoordinated and thought he wouldn't be much good at it but came to realize he was learning quickly and gaining valuable skill and getting pretty light on his feet for someone of his size. He particularly enjoyed dancing with his mother when Chief would take a break. He also told me that when he moved to LA in his twenties he visited a gay Square Dance group at CalTech which was glad to have him join and he had some really good times dancing with them until years later when the administration changed the rules and required student activities be restricted to only students there.
Once, when I was having some quiet one-on-one time with Kate, she confided that she had secretly dreamed she would bear a younger sister for Morris, a "living doll" as she described her and someone that she would be able to dress in custom outfits that matched her own. She pulled out her design drawings for a mother-daughter dress line which she had sewn a few times for customers on special request but once Morris became ten or so, she realized that it was not very likely to happen. She turned all her attention to Chief and Morris.
Kate also regaled us with stories about her sister Margaret. Margaret is 6 years older than her sister. She started working in 1966. One of her early assignments was to join Howard Hughes at The Desert Inn in Las Vegas and be his right-hand aide. (The management was desperate to please him and Margaret was yet another sacrificial lamb; He had a well-deserved reputation.) She only stayed with him for 6 months in early 1967 but that was 5 months more than any other person assigned to that position before or after. Eventually, the hotel and then his handlers (who came to be known as the Mormon Mafia) hired his assistants directly. Margaret returned to LA with an established reputation as a steady, determined assistant of great value to many top CEO's. She continued to receive personal letters from Hughes until his move to Nicaragua at the end of 1972. Phil had met Margaret once or twice at business lunches and receptions but hadn't made the family connection until now... he was impressed.
At one point the four of us were sitting and talking with Kate and Chief and something set us off and three of us started giggling like schoolgirls and Morris says to Kate: "Ma, see what I put up with... I'm surrounded by Giggling Gerties" and Grant shoots back: "Hey, old man, when we get back to Kingman, you're carrying the ice!" That sets us off once again and Morris is looking sheepish. Chief looks at Kate, Kate looks at Chief and they shrug their shoulders and start laughing with the rest of us. Later that night, Kate and I are snuggled up together watching some old movie on TV when Chief enters from the general direction of the kitchen and says "Hey Tyke, you makin' time with my girl?" I said "I guess so, sir." He responds: "That's okay; I forgive 'ya. Sleep tight." and kisses me on the top of my head on his way toward the bedroom. After a while a commercial comes on, Kate grabs the remote and pushes 'mute' and says: "Tyke, honey, I don't want to pry, but are you boys practicing safe sex?" I'm taken aback just a bit but say: "Ma'am, so far, it's just us four; we're all healthy, very much in love and yes, we still 'play safe'." She says: "I'm glad. You boys just keep it up." She pauses a second, then says: "That didn't come out the way I intended; oh, my!" We both had to chuckle at that. I just know in my heart she's had this conversation three other times while we've been visiting.
Soon the time comes and we need to leave. We make our goodbyes with hugs and kisses and we all are a little bit misty-eyed as we pile into the car. It's back to Kingman and the adventure ahead of us. We drive there and stop at the motel to drop off our bags. We do a little additional sightseeing and when suppertime nears, we decide to take the trip back to Needles and have dinner once again with Janice at her diner. This time, she greets us like long-lost relatives and I finally can kiss her and whisper to her why I needed to do that. She says to all of us: "You boys have a good dinner and then when you are done, I think I can slip away and take you back to my place for a night-cap. You can finally meet my menagerie." We agree whole-heartedly and have the usual great dinner. Once we are stuffed, Janice leaves with us and leads us to her place and introduces us to her family of strays. She has a good number of kitties that stay with her, all of which are cats she has adopted from the local area, most of them were found right on her own property just while passing through. She's also had a number of additional strays stop by for a while but who made it clear they weren't housecats but appreciated the attention she gave them and then moved on down the road, a little fatter and more content for her care. We sat and talked for hours, each of us with a cat or two on our laps while we recounted our visit with Chief and Kate and Janice told us of her adventures. She also told us of how she came to be in Needles in more detail and of the times back east when she was pre-op and we asked her all the newbie questions about the life of a transsexual and the operation. During this time we were bantering about how she still had a warranty on her pussy and how it was store-bought. Finally, when we had run out of steam, she said to us "I know that most gay boys don't want to get too familiar with the particular equipment in question but since you are all so curious, would you like to see the handiwork?" We all said "yeah" together and in a flash she had her jeans and undies off and was showing off her privates to the curious masses. One of us said "wow" and another said "I think I can see a bar-code down there". Morris was observing with a clinical eye and said "That looks like a great job - bravo!" and the last wag said "It looks so life-like." She, kidding, takes a towel and wraps it around her waist and says "You guys don't deserve to look at my beauty!" We all have a good laugh at that. We all crowd around Janice and give her a group hug. Someone has pulled off her towel and we are taking turns swatting or squeezing her ass and one or two of us have copped a feel around front as well. We decide out loud that next time we come to town (and we think that will be soon) we will have to make an exception to our guys-only policy and invite Janice over to Kingman and make her our honorary ice-carrier and will ask her to pop our various cherries if she wants. She says: "Don't wait too long; I don't want the warranty on this thing to run out in the meantime." We all give her a goodbye kiss and tell her we will be back soon. She gives us some of her craft works we have been admiring all night, jokingly tries to give away a kitty or two with no takers and sends us off back to Kingman to spend the night.
We are all pretty wiped out by the late night and don't have the energy for any group sex activity but we all engage in a little self-stimulation (with and without help from our bed-mates) and a number of us are thinking of Janice while we do. She's an interesting amalgam of boy and girl, male and female and we all have found that mix stimulating. I know I did. The sounds in the night (and the motion of the ocean beside me) lead me to believe I am not alone in that, either.
Author's note:
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