Invited

Chapter 45

(The Power Of Love)

Back from the Sears parking lot, Ronny and I idling in the car across from his house; I've decided to tell my parents I'm gay. It's not something I want to do or thought I'd ever do, but I tell Ronny convincingly, "Okay, I'll do it tomorrow night. I'll do it for you."

He's like, "Do it for yourself too, but what a fantastic night we just had, Wallingford. With you, I feel as if I've stopped drifting and finally taken control of my life, and know where my life is headed. It'll be with you by my side. Love you so much, sweetheart."

Sweetheart?

We have a quick kiss, then he hops out of the car, and I feel this overpowering love for him in my heart. My heart pounds as I watch him scoot across the street and up to his front door. He turns and smiles at me, the street light sparkling off his eyeglasses, then he disappears inside his house.

Oh, man! Wow! I grope myself, then slowly drive away, wishing I could have disappeared inside his house with him. But, wow, another uniquely wonderful night with Ronny Lynch. Holy shit, the unexpected things that happen when we're together!

As I'm driving through Philly, I marvel at how breathtaking and swiftly everything happened for Ronny and me. It was almost love at first sight. Well, we fell in love the first night we were together, so that's almost at first sight. And ironically, it was all arranged by my ex-boyfriend Billy Underwood.

Ronny's and my love is a different kind of love than the love I still feel for Billy. It's different than the love for my family, too, although I'd be hard-pressed to articulate all the specific differences. Love of all kinds is a powerful emotion.

Hmm, I don't know; but it feels like there's a seriousness about Ronnys and my love for one another. And I feel a sense of maturity being in love with him that I never felt with Billy.

Well, maybe not maturity as much as a sense of certainty. It's like something monumental happened when Ronny and I almost instantaneously connected, our hearts pumping together, beat for beat. It was weird, but on our first date, we had our arms around one another the whole night, and the same for our dates since then too. Amazing, surreal, shockingly bizarre, but wonderful beyond belief.

Jeez, and I got chills just now because all of that is so true. Ronny recognized the love connection between us before I did, but I followed and agreed with him quickly. Yeah, our love feels important, seriously important. And its mutual love, which is one of the huge differences between him and me and Billy and me.

And another thing is how much I admired Ronny handling his coming 'out' to his parents. It wasn't planned at all, and I kept my mouth shut, but I felt Ronny was glad he had me with him. Now, it's my turn to come out to my parents.

No, I'm not as cavalier about doing that as I sounded just now. Actually, I'm almost pissing my pants at the thought, but I don't want to look weak to Ronny. I said I'd do it tomorrow night, and I will.

Congratulating myself for not getting lost driving through Philadelphia at night, I turn onto 69th Street, and now I'm in familiar territory. As Ronny's lover-boyfriend, I'm determined to be a more responsible and less immature individual. Well, I'll need to be because Ronny won't baby me the way Billy and Pat routinely did. Yeah, it was lazy of me to let them do that, but now I need to be accountable. I need to grow up and act my age.

And an example of that very thing will be tomorrow night telling my parents I'm gay. I need to do that so they don't find it out from others, which they eventually would, now that Ronny is 'out.'

And I'm sort of expecting a reaction from my parents similar to Mr. Lynch's when Ronny came out, meaning they won't be shocked. Well, there isn't anything horribly wrong with being gay in the first place. It's not like I'm telling them I'm a murderer or something. It's simply that, between genetics and environmental influences, I became sexually attracted to some members of my sex. Some call that Nature/ nurturing. Whatever you call it, it's real life, albeit different from the norm.

Anyway, tomorrow night, my 'coming out' will be an epic load off my mind. Getting it over with, I mean. Then, in bed, I tell myself to think about dealing with the more immediate concerns of tomorrow working on the dock. The coming-out party won't happen until after I've completed Friday's work day with Malcolm.

Speaking of Malcolm, as I shower Friday morning, I'm arguing with myself about letting him give me his morning wake-up fuck or telling him no because of Ronny. He fucks me really hot, though. It's hard and fast fucking that gets cum gushing out of me, sensations off the charts. Yeah, but even so, I'd still like to tell him 'no' because it'd be cool to tell Ronny I abstained to be faithful to him.

Uh-huh, that'd be awesome, but the thing is, as I just admitted, it feels really good getting fucked by Malcolm. Also, he's my boss and expects me to be okay with it. Then there's this: Ronny and I agreed we're in a transitional phase, as in some things will simply peter out on their own. Malcolm fucking me is one of those petering out on their own things. I mean, my work on the dock falls into that category as the job will peter out in a month or so, and then that's the end of Malcolm and me forever, so why make waves now?

Okay, yes, I did some severe rationalizing to come up with that conclusion, so I'm rejecting it. Even though Ronny reluctantly inferred he was okay with me doing Malcolm's fast-start morning fucks, I'm not going to do it. I'm staying faithful to Ronny. He's staying faithful to me, right?

Oh, and here's Malcolm now, driving up right on time this morning. When I got into his car, he was in a good mood, "Hey, good morning, Grant! Damn, it's a pleasure seeing your cute girlie face first thing in the morning. And, wow, motherfucker, you got an awesome haircut too!"

I'm like, "Thanks! Gee, you like my haircut, huh? Um, I'm Gary, though, not Grant... remember? And, yeah, I've had this short butch haircut for a year, but you didn't see it because, for the last seven or eight weeks, I, um..."

He nods, cutting me off, "Yeah, whatever. Hey, you're in for a special treat today because I brought lunch for both of us. It's my grandmother's meatloaf sandwiches on Italian rolls. Two each with her famous coleslaw on the side."

"Wow! That sounds fantastic, Malcolm!"

Damn, I was hoping to talk with Mark Jones at lunch today. It'd be helpful if I could tell him about Ronny coming 'out' and then about me coming out to my parents tonight, and does he have any suggestions on how to do that? No way to see Mark, though. Not when Malcolm has us eating lunch an hour later than Mark normally has his lunch, and then there are grandmother's meatloaf sandwiches. Hell, I won't see Mark at lunch until I'm finished with this shitty job on the loading dock.

Glancing at Malcolm as he drives, I shake my head a little, admitting that he's a super handsome young black sexy dude! To keep my mind off telling him I'm not doing the morning wakeup fuck; I try for more compliments. Rubbing my short hair, "So, why do you like my haircut, Malcolm?"

He goes, "Except for the color, it looks like a black brother's hairstyle. That short, it's kind of kinky or something."

I nod, mumbling, "It's way too curly when longer, so, yeah, it's kind of frizzy this short... "

He glances at me, "Yeah, without all those curls, you now look like a cute queer guy instead of a cute girl. And you know damn well which one I like fucking the most."

Damn, after that insulting remark, it would have been a good time for me to tell him I'm not doing it with him again.

After parking in the garage, we get out, and as we're walking to our office building, Malcolm asks, "So, do you wanna be my date tonight, Grant? Tyrone has the flu and can't go to a Friday night party with me. I'm willing to take you in his place, but you'll need to wear eye makeup and a doggie collar with a leash. Then, oh man, I'll show you off as my favorite cuter-than-shit wigger fag dawg. Um, can you dance?"

Walking fast to keep up with him, I go, "Yeah, I can dance good and, gee, I'd love to be your wigger fag dawg for the night, whatever that is, but I've already got a date tonight. A date, plus I'm coming 'out' to my parents, so it's kind of a busy night I've got planned, ya know?"

He snickers, "Jesus, I cannot believe you're turning down the chance to go on a date with me. Shit, I thought you'd jump at the chance. Can't you tell your parents about you being a gay motherfucker tomorrow night or something?"

Getting in the freight elevator with him, I say, "It's kind of an important step for me, coming out, ya know? If you had asked me a few days ago, Malcolm, I'd probably have jumped at the chance to be your favorite wigger fag dawg, but now I've fallen crazy in love with my boyfriend, Ronny. So, besides the thing with my parents, I can't break a date with Ronny."

Off the elevator, at Morrison's office, Malcolm signs us in on his time card, then puts his arm around my waist, "Well, you're passing up a fabulous opportunity with me, but no hard feelings. To prove I'm not mad at you, I'll still let you suck a boner on me before our wake-up fuck this morning. Did you bring a condom or lubricant?"

We walk down a short flight of stairs and out onto the dock, where I take a deep breath, then say, "Um, we won't need condoms because I don't want your morning wake-up fuck. Sorry, but I'm in love with my boyfriend and only want to share sex with him. Don't be mad, alright?"

Malcolm shrugs, "Mad? You've got a nice pussy for fucking, Grant, but it's not like I don't know guys with better pussies than yours. Dude, I was offering to do you a big fucking favor. Two of them counting the offer of a date with me."

Nodding, "Uh-huh, you were willing to give me a pity fuck, huh? Nice of you, like the one you gave me the other day. I'm not doing it with you anymore, but thanks for offering."

He shrugs as if he couldn't care less. Can I believe he doesn't give a shit one way or another? Then he looks at me and asks, "Last chance, Grant. Do you want to suck my big dick? I won't offer again."

Shaking my head, "I don't know how many times I need to remind you that my name is Gary, not Grant. And no, sorry about this too, but I'm not sucking your dick anymore. My boyfriend, um, I don't want to cheat on him, um... you know how it goes."

"Hey, it's your loss, pussy. Get to work!"

I feel proud of myself, but I can't help fantasizing a little about Malcolm's huge penis. It's actually too big, but it was a sort of wickedly interesting daredevil-type experience trying to suck on it and, especially, a daredevil move taking it up my ass, not that I had much choice in the matter the first time.

Getting fucked by his huge penis was fascinating and interesting, and here's something I learned too. There's a correlation between the pain a huge dick like Malcolm's initially causes and the pleasure it can generate later on. Yes, that's right, all the nerve endings angrily shooting out pain convert to pleasure providers as the rectum adjusts to the size of its hard penis guest. Those same nerve endings stop shooting off pain and begin shooting off increasingly intense, delicious waves of pleasure.

So, yeah, that happened as Malcolm lazily fucked me, and I never lasted two minutes before blowing my load. The sensations of sexual pleasure that began soaring from my rectum as his huge boner tightly activated nerve endings by the millions, some of them never activated before, became insanely pleasurable, so my climax button exploded prematurely.

In other words, after the pain part faded out, less than two minutes of thrusting was all it took to get my too-early climax overstimulated and exploding with supernova force. It was intensely pleasurable, and I matched the girlie screech I made when Ronny fucks me with his much smaller boner.

Yeah, all that is true, but I get a bigger thrill, and it's not even close, from Ronny fucking me. Huge cock on Malcolm and a small one on Ronny, but the fact it's Ronny's penis fucking me is what makes it my favorite penis... whatever its size.

Sure, I can daydream about the last fuck Malcolm gave me with my creamy cum roaring up from my nuts, streaking at the speed of light out my five-inch boner straight out into the world, smacking up against a cardboard box Yeah, it was thrilling, whatever.

I won't lie; that was special, but what is more special is how I'm wicked proud of myself for resisting another fuck from Malcolm. It's quite something to say 'no' and deprive myself, for Ronny, even though yesterday morning's enormous climax followed a series of pleasure flashes as big as the Big Bang traveled all over my body. Yep, it was rolling thunder, my vision a dizzily wavy rainbow of colors for a few seconds.

Omigod! Whoa, but I don't need that... I have Ronny Lynch.

Thinking these thoughts while working with Malcolm in the filth of the dock helped make up for this boring job. Sure, sex with Malcolm and his ginormous cock was wicked unusual, but sex with Ronny as my man is superior. That's because, in my brain, the size of his boner is just as ginormous as Malcolm's. The human brain is very involved in humans' sex life.

Yeah, as we all learned in middle school, a vital part of the brain's reward system is the nucleus accumbent that runs on dopamine, which is a well-known neurotransmitter. It gets other brain stem activity increasing to reach peak levels of sexual climax, which in turn causes higher levels of serotonin and endorphins in the brain... chemicals that make you happy and feel good.

Was it middle school, though? I forget. It might have been in high school that sexual activities were studied. Some students were doing sexual activities when still in middle school, of course, so if sex education didn't occur until high school, they were winging it, ignorant of what was happening. Yeah, uh-huh, but they probably didn't care all that much.

Oh, shit. I just uncovered a wasp's nest, batting at the swarm of wasps as Malcolm cursed at me. It's a miracle neither of us got stung. "Watch what the fuck you're doing, Grant, Jesus!"

That is so stupid of him. How was I supposed to know where a swarm pf wasps made a nest? Looking at how hot and sexy Malcolm is, I go back to thinking about sex. Wow, he's a wicked good-looking young black man. I rub my junk, remembering being manhandled by that stud yesterday.

Yeah, and whatever chemical things were happening in my brain getting fucked by Malcolm yesterday morning, and lunchtime too, resulted in an embarrassing girlie screech from me. He had me shivering with pleasure; my ass opened wide enough to push a can of Coke up inside me. Malcolm grunted, "How'd that feel, Grant?" then humped against my ass, making a breathy, gasping sound and filling me up with his jism, all hot, thick, and creamy.

Then, yeah, how could I forget his monotone, almost bored voice, adding, "Your tight pussy rattled my brain a little. Goddamn, Grant, that was a pretty good morning eye-opener."

Then, it was pretty much the same thing after lunch. And, nope, his voice didn't match his words then either, but I need to stop thinking about Malcolm.

As I'm pushing a desktop off a pile of junk onto the dock, I'm remembering another thing about yesterday, and it's that Malcolm spanked my ass hard after fucking me. Yeah, that's right, andmy buttocks stung like mad, my hands going back to rub out the stinging. Strangely, though, it was kind of sexy too, so I guess I didn't mind it too much. Maybe Ronny can do some of that rough macho stuff if I ask him to. He's too sweet to do it on his own.

Oops, I'm squeezing my dick thinking about that spanking from Malcolm. Good, because the hotter it was, the more I'm giving up for Ronny. Looking around, I see Malcolm's busy with the broom, so he wasn't looking at me grabbing my dick. Haha, yeah, it was good yesterday, and I'm kind of glad I did it then, but a memory will need to suffice from now on because I'm done giving my ass away to anyone who invites me to have sex with them. Only Ronny's invitations count from now on!

And another thing... it took way too long for my anus to finally close up completely, so sex with Malcolm definitely wasn't all plusses; there are negatives involved as well. Negatives I don't experience getting fucked by Ronny.

Looking up from lifting a pile of smelly file folders, Malcolm finally lets us take a short coffee break. Sitting at the end of the dock drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes, Malcolm sarcastically mutters, "Have you miss working with a wide-open asshole like you had yesterday?"

"No, not at all. Look, I know you're mad at me for not going along with your morning eye-opener fuck, and I am sorry for letting you down. I am, Malcolm. And, seriously, you fucked me awesomely, but I'm in love with my boyfriend and can't let him down. We're in love!"

He goes, "Hey, faggot, I don't give a shit if you're in love or not. You're not a big part of what I give a shit about."

I think he protests too much. I can't wait to brag to Ronny about me telling Malcolm no.

We're back to work, and then at five of one, we washed up in the ground floor lavatory and then bought Cokes from the vending machine for lunch. Sitting at the end of the dock again, our legs hanging over, we ate Malcolm's grandmother's meatloaf sandwiches that I thought were okay but nothing to get excited about. The good part is I saved the ten to fifteen dollars that I usually spend on lunch.

There wasn't a mention of the after-lunch fuck because Malcolm's boss, Morrison, came down as we were finishing the coleslaw, and he spent the afternoon taking inventory in the third bay. Morrison showing up eliminated any potential awkwardness as I had no intention of doing the sex after lunch. Morrison's presence saved me the trouble of saying 'no' to Malcolm again.

I half expected he wouldn't, but Malcolm drove me home. I told him I hoped he had a good weekend and I was sorry I couldn't be his wigger fag dawg tonight at the party and sorry I couldn't do wake-up and after-lunch fucks with him anymore, and I hope we'll stay friends, blah, blah, blah.

He shrugged and said, "You're the one missing something super cool, but you seem to be fine with that, so I don't give a shit. I've got sex buddies coming out of my ass." Oh sure, then he said the words I wanted to hear, "So, be out here when I get here Monday, Grant!"

Good, he's stuill driving me to and from work. What a crock of shit, though, about all the gay guys he has to fuck. He's just saving face, and I actually feel a little bit bad for him. Still, I made the correct choice, saying no!

Still getting a ride to and from work which is fantastic and so much more pleasant than the bus/train rigamarole, plus it saves me at least a half-hour each way. Going inside my house, it feels odd not to be thinking about seeing Billy now. Well, I'm thinking about him right now, but without seeing him.

The world turns, ya know?

As I slam the front door, Mom calls from the kitchen, "Hi, Gary! How was your day, dear?"

Oh, Goddamn, that reminds me that tonight I needed to tell Mom and Dad I'm gay. Should I do it during dinner? I want to do it before Ronny gets here in case I cry like a fucking baby while telling my tale.

In the kitchen, I nervously smile, "Hi, Mom. My day was good; how was your day?"

That question opened the floodgates for Mom to talk, talk, talk as I knew she would, and I'm glad she did. I wanted Mom to talk instead of asking questions about what was up with me. Plus, you know, I'm interested in her day... in a vague way, I am.

As I expected, Mom tells me much more than I need to know about some meetings the regional manager had with the clerical people and about the reasons prices have shot up for food recently and blah, blah, blah.

I nod, drink a Coke, and drop in a few appropriate comments or questions. Then, I'm saved after ten minutes when Mom's phone rings, and she says, "Oh, I'm sorry, Gary, but I need to answer this call. It's Rosy Parks getting back to me about the Conners' surprise party."

Nodding, I'm like, "Oh, no, no problem. I need to, um, go upstairs or..."

She answers, "Rose, thanks for..." and I quickly go upstairs to my bedroom. My bedroom has been a sanctuary for most of my life. A sanctuary I now want to exchange for an apartment near the college on the other side of Philly. You know, an apartment for Ronny, Billy, and me.

Looking at myself in the mirror over the bureau, I nod and smile at my latest haircut. Malcolm and I like it. Hell, and I'm used to it after all these months of my hair looking like this. And now it looks like, well... it looks like me.

The problem, though, is I can't forget it's actually Billy's and my haircut. Yeah, I suppose I should try something different next time; give it more thought. See if Ronny can describe a haircut he'd like me to get, ya know? I need a Ronny haircut. I still love Billy, but not the way I love Ronny, which is a love so strong it scares me, although I'm ready and anxious to learn all about the power of love... Ronny's love.

Hell, I already have felt the power, but I know there is more. Omigod, thinking about it gives me a hard bonder. Ahh, Jesus, my dick is so hard! Then, looking in the mirror, I'm frowning, thinking... am I beginning to look old? Then, my phone pings, which indicates a text. Oh, a text from Billy! Oh, yeah?

Uh-huh, the text is about our township's annual spring softball game. I hadn't been included in that very often, but that was before Billy became my friend, then my boyfriend. He texts that the first team is being organized by Spike, who has four other players signed up for this year's first team, and he's asked Billy to be the sixth player and for Billy to recruit the last three players to make our nine-player team. Billy is texting Pat, Ronny, and me. If it weren't for Billy, I'd never get a chance to play... and now I'll be on the first team!

We'll never be boyfriends again, but I know Billy and I will be super-close friends for life. That's awesome, and so is my lover boy for life, Ronny Lynch.

I text Billy, 'Thanks for including me, Billy! How are you doing? I miss you! Um, when's the game? What time, and did you text Ronny yet? Is it at the high school diamond?"

Billy texts me back, 'Gary, that's too many questions! Dammit, you know I don't like when you ask too many questions! Okay, though, here goes: it's Saturday, one o'clock, at the high school, and yes, I texted Lynch. Heh-heh, I miss you too, but Ronny said you two are perfect together, so hearing that makes me happy. I hope you still 'L' word me."

''Thanks, Billy! You know damn well I'll love you forever. Let's talk about the apartment tomorrow, okay?'

He sends me a thumbs-up icon. Oh my God, that was so cool texting with him!

I text Ronny, 'Ronny, as you know by now, there's a softball game tomorrow. See you tonight around seven-thirty.'

Ronny always texts right back. 'Yes, sweetheart, I knew about the softball game. I can hardly wait to see you! Love, RL.'

That sweetheart word again. That's creepy. Hmm, and it'd be simpler typing Gary, but he types sweetheart or Wallingford. And, damn, I should have ended my text with 'Love, GW.'

Well, wait a second; he didn't mention me coming out to my parents, so maybe I don't need to do that tonight. I'll put it off until...

Nah, I'm not putting it off. I'm going to do it tonight. Shaking my head because, the thing is, even if I don't tell them, it won't be long before the word spreads about Ronny being openly gay, and he and I are together all the time now, so I actually don't have much choice about telling them, not when you get right down to it. I might as well make it official myself because others will do that whether I do it or not.

First, though, I Google to find out the best way to come 'out' to parents, and there are many suggestions. As usual, however, there are conflicting opinions about the best approach to this dicey matter. I'm going to do it the way Ronny did it; just come out and say, 'I'm gay.' Then apologies for the inconvenience my being gay will cause them.

Actually, by apologizing, I'm expecting to elicit sympathy and get them trying to convince me that it'll be okay and I shouldn't feel sad about it, and so forth. Hmm, sounds easy, but I'll bet it won't be when the time comes. Well, there isn't anything more to think about, so I'll stop rethinking it and take a shower before dinner.

In the shower, I think about Ronny and our instantaneous love affair. In one way, it's mindboggling, but in hindsight, it seemed inevitable and understandable. I say that because, other than our physical appearance facially, Ronny and I are almost identical twins in every other way that matters. Billy was always talking about him and me having twin haircuts and twin dicks, and twin this or that when it's Ronny and me who are the ultimate twins.

And we've all heard about how self-love is essential for well-being and good mental health. You know, if you can't love yourself, how do you expect anyone else to, blah, blah, blah. So, since Ronny and I are identical twins in many ways, how could we not love one another? It's almost like self-love.

Hmm, I'm getting a headache from running that concept around in my brain.

When I'm out of the shower and just about finished getting ready for tonight, I get a text from my golfing buddy, Dave Summerset. He tells me about the softball game that, for once, I already knew about. Dave asked if I wanted him to include me on the team he's putting together. Aw, he's so sweet!

Well, he knows the old reclusive me rarely got invited to, um, anything. He doesn't know that during the past year, I've become popular. Popular with gay guys, anyway. I text Dave that I'm on a team but thank him for thinking about me, and I'll see him tomorrow at the high school, and we need to plan a golf outing soon.

Yeah, well, I'd be more excited about the game tomorrow and about my date with Ronny tonight if I wasn't scared about coming out to my parents tonight. I can't 'effing believe I'm doing it, but I am. See, that's Ronny's positive influence on me. Then I practice what I'm going to say, but, dammit, each time, I say it differently. If I can't even find the right words while practicing, I'll be stumbling along incoherently, trying to do it for real at dinner.

Okay, this time, I try a firm, confident, and matter-of-fact approach: 'Um, Mom, Dad, do you have a second? Let's not make too big a deal out of this, but I'm homosexual and have a boyfriend who I'm sexually active with. It's no big thing, just normal homosexual sex...'

Um, no! That's not what I wanna say!

Hmm! That's not me, but I don't want to go too far the other way and sound whiny, wimpy, and, um, swishy gay, telling them, 'I'm sorry, Mommy and Daddy, but I'm queer. I'm not wearing girl's clothes yet, or anything like that, but, um....'

No, I need something in the middle; then I hear, "Gary! Dinner!"

Oh, shit, it's showtime.

As I was going downstairs, I decided there wasn't any reason I needed to do this tonight. I mean, why ruin my parent's Friday night? They worked hard all week and are looking forward to a pleasant weekend, which I will not spoil!

I sit down at the table, and my Mom, sounding very concerned, asks, "Gary, what's wrong dear?"

Dad asks, "Are you feeling ill, son? You look, um... are you all right?"

"What? Huh? Whaddaya mean?"

Dad gets up and stands behind me, putting his hand on my forehead, "You don't feel feverish, but you're white as a ghost and shivering."

I say, "Well, yeah, um, that is, I'm not sick; I'm gay."

Mom says, "Gay? Do you mean, ah...? Well, um, Richard, he's not ill. He's, stressed out and... oh, I don't know."

Dad sits down and asks, "Do you mean gay, as in you like guys instead of girls?"

Nodding, I sputter out, " Huh? Wha...? Ah, yes, I mean, no. Um, yeah, I'm afraid that's it exactly, Dad. Sorry that you need to change how you see me now, but, um..."

Mom says, "And you got yourself all worked up to tell us. Is it that Underwood boy?"

"No, no, no! No, Mom, not him. Billy's not gay; he's just a great friend to me."

I'm lying about that because why drag Billy down with me? He's never brought it up because he trusted me to do the right thing. Well, it's only Ronny who knew I was coming 'out' to my parents, which also means coming out to the tiny, infinitesimally small part of the world that's ever heard of me.

Our dinner is being ignored now as Dad says, "I'm not going to ask if you're sure about this, Gary. That's a stupid question, as I'm sure you've given it a lot of thought, and, as Mom said, you've got yourself all worked up and stressed about telling us. Son, listen to me... it's okay."

Sweat is running down my face; I can't think of anything to say, so Dad goes, "Ah, you know, Gary, it's kind of like some people are born left-handed, and others are born, um, bad at, ah, math, for example. And then some are born sexually attracted to members of their sex. Whatever, we love you, and it's all right, Gary. Please relax; seeing you sweating and shaking like this is upsetting."

Mom says, "And it's more complicated than being born left-handed. There are influences on an individual's entire life that factor into, ah, choices. Mostly we don't know what they were or are." Looking at my Dad, she asks, "Aren't I right about that, Richard?"

Dad looks quizzical, then nods, and Mom goes on, " Um, but more importantly, Gary, listen to what Dad said... it's okay. Don't stress yourself about this anymore, please. We love you. It's okay that you're, I mean, you're not into, um, girls, I guess."

My brain is in turmoil as I try to absorb the support and positivity of my parent's response to those two words of mine... I'm gay.

And as I feared, I've got tears running down my cheeks. Not boo-hoo crying, but it's emotional how grateful I am that my parents are as I thought they'd be... supportive, loving, and understanding. No interrogation or blaming anything or anyone, and no lecturing. Just support and concern that I know they love me, gay or otherwise.

Taking a deep, sobbing breath, I mumble, "I'm sorry for being wicked emotional about this and acting like a baby, but I know me being gay is an embarrassment and an inconvenience to you guys, complicating your lives, and I'm very sorry about that. I'm sorry for letting you down."

As I expected, my apology gets both of them up, hugging me as I sit here wishing this would be over, wishing it was six months from now when no one gives a thought or a shit about me being gay or being a stud rock star screwing starlets and whatnot. Ew!

Mom kisses my cheek, and Dad gives my shoulders another hug, murmuring, "You're not complicating anything. Mom and I aren't embarrassed or... um, c'mon, calm down."

It's moving along, but Jesus, why can't I handle this as well as Ronny did last night? And I wonder how hard it is for Mom and Dad not to ask personal questions, especially Mom, about how I know I'm gay and how sexually active I might be, and asking if I'm aware of AIDS and all kinds of stuff like that. Or is it that they may be afraid to hear what I'll say if they ask personal questions?

I mumble, "Thank you so much for understanding how hard it was for me to say those two words, and I understand how hard it was for you to hear them. You've been wonderful, but I'm emotionally drained, so can we eat dinner and leave this alone for a while, please?"

Dad pats my back, "Yeah, sure. I admire that you did the right thing by telling us."

"Thanks, Dad."

As he sits down, Mom kisses my cheek again, then says, "Dad and I are here for you, Gary. You can come to us anytime with anything that's troubling you."

I nod, mumbling, "Thank you, Mom," and as she sits down, she asks, "If not Billy Underwood, then, um, who do you know who's, ah, is someone you're, ah, you know, interested in?"

Well, she held off getting personal for a little while anyway.

I shrug, "This, ah, gay thing has only been apparent to me part of this past year. I guess I was suppressing it, or I don't know. I should have suspected something because I never had the interest in girls some of my friends had. When I acknowledged to myself I was gay, it was shocking and scary to me... it's complicated, ya know?"

That didn't answer her question, but she goes, "I can only imagine." Then, "Do you want more gravy on your mashed potatoes?"

"Yes, thanks, Mom."

As she pours extra gravy on my potatoes, I feel Dad staring at me, and I don't blame him. It must be a shock for a straight man, married with a child, to imagine what it's like to be homosexual. I could tell him I can't imagine what it's like to be a straight man married with a child, but you know... it's a 'walk a mile in my shoe' kind of thing. It's like, the same God that made you made me too, kind of thing. If you don't believe in God, believe in the broader point of that idiom.

It's complicated...

While we're eating, there's some forced, stilted discussion between Mom and Dad about the town repaving our street and three streets on either side of ours and how it's about time the city did something for our part of town as we pay taxes too! I didn't need to say anything; that's the main thing. Then Dad told us about the Memorial Day picnic this year and how it will be at Uncle Tony's, and blah, blah, blah...

I've been floating in a confusing fog of being glad my gayness was out in the open and wishing it wasn't. I don't know what to expect when it becomes more widely known. Life isn't easy...

After eating a surprising amount of my dinner, considering everything, I turn down dessert, get up and hug Mom and then Dad as they sit there, "Thank you both for understanding. I love you."

In my room, I flop on the bed, trying to feel good, but it's too big a deal right now. My face gets red thinking about the neighborhood guys hearing that the former recluse Gary Wallingford is actually a fag.

That reminds me again that I'm going to make sure Billy doesn't get dragged down in this. I mean, we were together a lot the past year, but I'll make it obvious that it's not Billy but Ronny, who is my boyfriend. Most of the guys on our softball team won't know Ronny, but they'll meet him tomorrow.

Here's another thought: Ronny and I most likely won't be the only gay guys playing softball tomorrow, although we'll be the only two admitting we're gay. Yeah, but so what? We all need to deal with it the best way we can.

Then there are my relatives who will eventually learn of my gayness. That's not as big a concern to me as the guys I grew up with finding out I'm queer. Actually, now that I've actually thought. about that, except for Uncle Tony, I don't give much of a shit about what my relatives think. Oh, fuck... I need to stop thinking about this topic for a while.

What should I think about instead? Well, I need to change my shirt and put on fresh deodorant after sweating up a storm during that coming-out dinner. That's how I'll always think of it: My coming out dinner. It's like; The gunfight at the OK Corral... my coming out dinner. Very similar things... not!

Hmm, I'm losing it, obviously. Okay, what to do now?

Well, before changing shirts, I'll wash up in the bathroom. I do that, saying out loud to my image in the mirror, "You did it, Gary... good for you." Yeah, good for me, but Christ, I feel as though someone beat me up. Also, shouldn't I be more elated that it's done than I am?

And what was that I just heard from downstairs? Who's voice was that?

Oh no! Was that Ronny's voice? Looking at my phone, I see the time is seven-thirty-five. Shit, I lost track of time. Ronny's always early, and now he's inside the house talking to my parents!

Quickly stripping off my shirt, I swipe on some underarm deodorant, then quickly pull a clean Polo shirt over my head. Going downstairs, I hear from the kitchen, "Yes, it was just the other night that I told my parents."

My Mom said something I couldn't hear, then Ronny said, "Oh, no, not that long. Gary and I only met a few weeks ago, but there was this instantaneous and undeniable connection between us that felt so strong. Honestly, I never felt anything like it before in my life."

I'm in the living room now, so I can hear Mom asks, "Is that when you realized you were, ah, you know... gay?"

I step into the kitchen, "Oh, Ronny! Sorry, I lost track of time. Um, ha, I see you've met my Mom and Dad, huh?"

Ronny starts to put his arm around my waist, saying, "Hi, Gary!" I do a fake cough while stepping away slightly. If he kisses me, I'll faint.

He says, "Um, I was just about to tell your Mom that I knew I was gay long before I met you, even though it wasn't until the other night that I told my parents."

Looking back at my Mom, he adds, "So, yes, I knew for six or seven years that I liked guys but didn't do a lot about it until I met Gary." Looking at me now, he says, "I've never in my life felt anything like the connection I felt for him; for Wallingford, er, Gary. That was a first-time experience, ya know?"

My face is cherry red and hot again as Dad asks Ronny, "Is Gary your first, um, I guess, boyfriend?"

Ronny grins at me, then looks at Dad, "Yep, and I'm Gary's first boyfriend. We talked about it and expect that some people will think we're merely going through a phase or just goofing off to be different or something. Time will tell, I guess. We, Gary and I, are convinced we're serious about one another. Aren't we, Gary?"

I nod, then look at my parents, "Uh-huh, I love him. I love Ronny. He's good for me too. We're good for one another."

Slowly nodding his head, a strange expression on his face, Dad finishes the wine in his wine glass and pours another, then says, "Well, as you said, time will tell. So, dare I ask, what are you guys up to tonight?"

I lie, "We're going to the movies. It's another Spiderman movie."

Mom's been nodding her head too, and now forcing a smile, staring at, fascinated apparently by Ronny, as Dad says, "Too bad they don't have drive-in movies anymore. Back in the day, they were a lot of fun."

Ronny goes, "Ah, I've got my motorbike with me tonight."

Dad chugs some wine and mutters, "Well, ha-ha, yeah, that wouldn't work."

Looking at my phone, I mumble, "Omigod, we're going to be late, Ronny."

As the reality of it all sinks in, Mom seems to have sunk a little bit into shock, but Dad is like Ronny's dad, not too surprised. He says, "Nice meeting you, Ronny. Enjoy the movie, guys."

Mom says, "Pour me some wine, Richard."

Then, getting up, she says, "Yes, it was nice meeting you, Ronny. Um, Gary, why don't you take my car tonight, honey? Ronny can park his motorcycle in the driveway."

I look at Ronny for a decision about that as my Mom steps toward us. She hugs Ronny, then me. Ronny handled the unexpected hug amazingly well, while I didn't know what she was up to, so it was more like wrestling than a hug...

Ronny mumbles, "What do you think, Gary? Use your Mom's car?"

Neither of us is especially good at making decisions, obviously. I go, "I don't know. Um, do you want to leave your bike here?"

Finally, with my Mom's car's fob in my hand, Ronny and I are mercifully on our way out the front door. Getting in the driver's side of Mom's car, I'm like, "Why did you come inside, Ronny? I was just about to go outside to meet you."

He goes, "Why not come inside? Anyway, I wanted to meet my future in-laws and make sure you did what you said you'd do. Um, not that I doubted you, but..."

Driving away, I glance at him, smile and say, "Oh. So you didn't trust me, huh?"

Shrugging, "Yeah, of course, I trust you, but I wouldn't have blamed you if you put it off. I certainly didn't plan on coming out when I did."

I'm still a little shaken about my talk with Mom and Dad, so sidestepping the coming-out topic, I say, "Whatever the fuck, you look wicked good in your glasses, Ronny. You're cute, and I want to kiss you so badly it hurts."

He says, "Thanks, but keep your eyes on the road. Hey, my parents were like... since when are you back wearing glasses? Haha, I told them, since my boyfriend said I look cute in glasses."

Incredulous, I'm like, "You didn't really say 'boyfriend,' did you?"

"Yeah, I did. Hell, you told your parents you loved me, so what's gutsier, calling you my boyfriend or you telling your parents you love me? That made me feel so good! I was so fucking proud of you too. So brave of you."

Nodding my head, "Well, yeah, I had the balls to come out to my parents, so why not say I love you? Actually, I held back some because I could have said, I love you with a passion, and told them my dick gets hard just being near you."

We laugh a little, but my eyes are tearing up, too, as I mumble, "I'm very emotional right now, Ronny. Telling my parents I'm gay is something I never thought I'd do, but I did it for you and because I want us to be open about being in love."

He pats my shoulder as I mutter, "And, everything considered, it wasn't all that hard. I didn't want to let you down. Seriously, I'm helplessly in love with you, and I put myself in your hands, so you, Goddammit, need to look out for me. Take care of me."

"No, I don't need to take care of you, Wallingford! I love you too, and I'll always back you up, but you need to look out for yourself; take care of yourself. We'll both look out for ourselves and support each other in every way we can... the way lovers do."

"Oou, that was sooo bossy-sounding! I liked that, Ronny. My boss!"

He laughs, "I can't be your boss! Forget about that. If anything, we're co-bosses! We're co-lovers and co-leaders and co-everything."

Pulling into the entrance to the Sears parking lot, I glance at him, "But you're always going to be our top guy, so that's kind of the dominant guy between us, right?"

"If you say so. I admit I'm looking forward to fucking you a few times tonight, so make of that what you will. I hadn't done much sex before Underwood fixed me up with you, and now I can't get enough of doing it with you. It's like a dream fantasy come true for me. I mean, the way you swoon over me and compliment me makes me feel confident I'm doing my job as the top correctly."

Putting the car in park, then turning the engine off, I take off my seat belt, then lean over, "That makes me feel so good goo, Ronny. You're doing everything in the most excellent ways. How about giving your submissive bottom boy a sloppy kiss, Lynch."

He grins, "Don't call me by my last name. That's my thing."

Smiling and nodding, I mutter, "Uh-huh, there you go with more bossy-sounding shit," and our arms go around one another, and then we have a glorious kiss. A two-minute glorious kiss until I'm like, "Oomph, Ronny, ahh," and I rub my junk and suck on my tongue. He grins and licks my lips, then kisses me again as I moan, "Ah, no, Ronny... I'm gonna..." then hump my hips and cum in my pants.

Startled, he pulls his head back, "Oh man, did you just climax?"

Nodding, I sit back, "Yeah, I came in my pants. You don't realize the power of your love over me. I was just thinking that it was so brave of you to confront my parents, who you've never met, and..." Then I look at him, "I feel weak, Ronny. I love you so much..." and our heads come together, and we kiss, lick, and suck mouths for another minute or so. Why not? I already came in my pants.

A minute later, gasping in a lungful of oxygen, Ronny asks, "Should we get in the backseat?" I nod, "Uh-huh," and we get out, then meet in the back seat, our arms going around one another as soon as we close the doors. I murmur, "It's squishy in my pants."

"Hee hee, Jesus, Wallingford, I cannot believe you got aroused enough to shoot off in your pants from me kissing you. It's un-fucking-real how flattering that is. You make me feel like a hot, sexy stud!"

Rubbing my face against his, I murmur, "You are a hot sexy stud, Ronny. You obviously don't realize what you do to me and for me. The power of love, Ronny! The power of your love, bro!"

He grunts, "Ah, damn, now I've got a wicked hard boner! Um, would it be wicked rude of me to beg you to suck me off? It's a bit of an emergency, Wallingford, and you already blew a load because of me kissing you, so how about helping me out now..."

My face is pressed against his, "You smell good, Ronny. Sure, I'll blow you. I'd do anything and everything for you," and my fingers fumble with the zipper on his jeans. He pushes my hand away and unzips his fly. I unbutton his jeans, then reach a finger into the fly of his boxer shorts and flick out his hard, almost flour-inch-long boner.

Dropping my head onto his lap, I hold his smallish boner at the root with my thumb and forefinger, then suck the whole thing into my mouth, half the head going into my throat. Ronny groans and humps his hips, his crotch flat against my face, pubic hair around my mouth and nose, the pointy hard head of his cock now fully in my throat. I make a gagging sound, pull my head back until the head rests on my tongue, then bob my head forward, taking the whole head in my throat again.

Ronny moans, bouncing his ass off the seat a few times, rubbing back through my short, bristly hair. Bobbing up and down on his hard cock, the hard pointy head going in and out of my throat with precum lubing the way. Bob up and down, bob, bob, bob until, with a screeching groan from Ronny, he blows his load down my throat.

My cock is hard again, moving in what's become the wet gooey watery cum in my underpants. Gawd, blowing him was so sexy and hot, though, and simultaneously too cool for words! Moving my mouth off of his softening dick, swallowing a few times, I grin and murmur, "That was a nuclear hot blowjob, Ronny. Boyfriend, I love your dick!"

I'm unbuttoning my jeans, then pulling them down. Stretching the waistband of my underpants, I look at the mess in there and mutter, "I need to take off my underpants."

We snicker, then he says, "Let me see," and he looks, muttering, "That's not a lot of cum. I thought it would be messier." I shrug, then grin as he tells me, "Never mind that 'cause you just gave me the best blowjob anyone has ever given anybody. Thanks, Wallingford! God, that felt good!"

"Yeah, well, your semen tastes good too! Hell, I'll blow you anytime you want and as many times as you want; you're my man!"

He hands me a handkerchief, "Use this to wipe inside your underpants."

Taking off my sneakers so I can get my jeans off and then my cum-soaked underpants, I sound incredulous, frowning and asking, "You carry a handkerchief with you? That's something my grandfather does."

Then, pulling my pants down, "But I'm glad you had this with you." I take off my underpants to wipe my dick and balls with the handkerchief. After doing that, I toss the underpants out the window.

Ronny laughs, then says, "That is so gross, Wallingford. Shouldn't you at least throw them in the dumpster? Christ, a pair of men's cum stained underpants in the Sears parking lot. The police will start patrolling this place."

Using his handkerchief, I wipe my crotch again, muttering, "You're right. We don't want the cops checking this place out."

Ronny zips up his fly and gets out of the car, "I'll do it for you," and he tosses my underpants into the dumpster. Getting back inside, he says, "Do you know what?"

Looking up, shaking my head, "No, what?"

He says, "I liked doing that for you. There isn't anything I can think of, except maybe murder, that I wouldn't do for you, Wallingford. That's a scary commitment, but it also feels so special to be that dedicated to someone."

Holding up his handkerchief, "Should I throw this out, Ronny?"

He takes it from me, "No, why would you throw it out? Um, don't you have anything to say about me being scarily dedicated to you?"

"Well, I don't feel it's scary. I think it's the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me, and I feel the same about you. We're going to be old men together."

He folds the handkerchief so the wet part is inside, then puts it in his back pocket, muttering. "Not for a while, I hope."

We snicker as I button my jeans, my junk feeling funny, unused to not having boxer shorts softening things in there. Unable to keep my hands off him, I grab a fistful of Ronny's unevenly chopped hair and murmur, "Goddamn, I'd like to crawl inside your skin, Ronny, and live there for a few weeks and maybe read your mind while I'm at it."

He grins and mutters, "Good, go ahead and do it."

Ignoring that, I take my phone out and snap three pictures of him, then look at the pictures and say, "Yep, you look cute in your glasses, boyfriend."

Ronny takes my phone and looks at the pictures I just took of him. "Huh, I look okay, don't I?" Then, smiling at me, he goes, "You make me so happy, Wallingford, and I actually don't look too bad. Thanks for suggesting I go back to wearing glasses."

He passes the phone back to me, and I look at his pictures again, murmuring, "Ronny, you're beautiful. I absolutely love how you look." Then looking at him, I add, "I love how you smell too."

We wrap our arms around each other's necks, our faces rubbing together again, my slightly oily skin smearing his glasses. Then we do some hot making out until I moan, "Fuck me, Ronny. Please! You fuck me so good."

"Okay! Ah, get your pants down, Wallingford, and I'll fuck you hard!"

My dick is a steel spike as I do what he said. Ronny pulls his pants down, then he puts his glasses in the pouch hanging off the back of the shotgun seat. I grin at him. "You're so special, Ronny."

He nods, murmuring, "You make me fucking horny but happy, Wallingford."

Squeezing my junk, I'm lying across the seats on my stomach, looking back at Ronny while pushing my ass up. He's getting on his knees between my legs, and with a gulping gasp, he jams his boner inside me. I go, "OW! Ahh! Ooh!"

His stone-hard boner is not large, but without lubricant or precum, I had to cry out in pain. Well, it was more a grunt than crying out, then I gasped when his short boner was pulled back, then roughly jammed into my ass again.

Ronny goes, "I'm sorry for hurting you, and, damn, that hurt my pecker a little too." He pulls his almost four-inch boner out of my ass, then leans his head down and carefully drools a long bubbly string of saliva onto my quivering anus lips. Then some more spit, and he pushes his finger into my rectum, murmuring, "I'm sorry. Wallingford. I was wicked anxious," and another drool of saliva hits my asshole.

"This will be much better," and it is as his cock goes back inside me. I sigh and reach my right hand back for Ronny to hold. He holds my hand and does a few gentle thrusts, asking, "Better?"

I nod, "Much better. Um, I mean, it feels fabulous," and he squeezes my hand, continuing to slowly thrust his boner, all of his almost four inches of boner goes in and out every time, and right from the start, it's feeling amazingly good. We both grunt, "Umm, nice..." and I push my ass up more. Still holding hands, Ronny picks up the pace, and his thrusting soon includes the slapping sounds of his crotch smacking against my buttocks.

I drift off into a world of sexual wonderment and pleasure. Adding to the wonder is knowing we've 'outed' ourselves as gay boyfriends and lovers with nothing to hide, our hearts bursting with love and happiness. Billy Underwood taught me so many things, starting with acceptance of my gayness, and my acceptance quickly became a devotion. I owe him so much!

I'll always love Billy, but that love, as special to me as it is, turns out NOT to be true love. Ronny's and my love is perfect true love. Our love is both giving and receiving unconditional love without a whisper of doubt of its authenticity. No, we don't know how it happened, not really, but we're reveling in it, and we're never letting go of it!

"Slap, slap, slap," as I moan, "Um, um, um. Oh, Ronny..." and he squeezes my hand again. Soon he begins making desperate breathy sounds, thrusting faster and harder. My eyes open wide as climax vibrations sizzle in my balls and up and down my iron boner.

The unique pleasure sensations build and build to almost frightening levels, my body tense, every muscle clenched as Ronny gasps, "I'm gonna... Ahhhh!" and I feel my rectum get warmer for a second, then it's very slippery and gooey inside me.

He thrusts in his gooey semen as I inhale, gasps, then squeal like a girl seeing a ghost as I blow my load onto the backseat with spray flying up to wet my belly. I shudder with pleasure as Ronny thrusts wildly in my cum-filled rectum; then his thrusting slows down, and, with a moan, he stops completely and collapses onto my back.

Letting go of my hand, he wrapped his arms around my waist, his face against the back of my neck, his tongue doing little licks there, then murmuring, "God Almighty, Wallingford, I almost had a heart attack. That sex was unbelievable."

I murmur, "Right back at you," and he mumbles, "I never knew sex could be this good or knew what real love could be like. I mean, well, I don't know what I mean..."

Billy could never say anything like that to me because he didn't love me like Ronny does, and Billy isn't a liar, so he wouldn't say it. Ronny isn't a liar, either, so we're experiencing the power of love... true love for one another, and it's more precious than gold!

"Let me turn over, Ronny."

We wrestle around until I'm on my back, Ronny on top of me, face-to-face, kissing passionately. It's kissing and licking, quiet low moans of sexual arousal until our dicks are hard again. Ronny murmurs, "Lift your legs," and when I do, he slides his hard cock back up my ass and fucks me steadily, the sides of our faces together, both of us taking short, gasping breaths.

Joined together sexually, our eyes closed, we float in each other's arms into an abyss of space and time, experiencing endless love, and it does go on for an amazingly delicious long time.

Another climax very slowly builds and builds and then bursts out into the world. I make a short girlie squeal, my climax so hot and thrilling it almost feels like a religious experience. Shivering with sexual pleasure, I moan, "Ronny, oh God, Ronny..."

He murmurs, "Shh," and then, "Ahh, ahh... Oooh!"

Ha, I can't help but grin because my boyfriend just climaxed inside me again. Yeah, he said, 'Shh," and then blew his load. I snicker, then mumble, "You shushed me again. Why did I need to be quiet while you filled me up with your creamy cum?"

Snickering, he mutters, "I don't know."

As soon as he pulled his now flaccid dick from my ass, I put my legs around him and connected my ankles together to hold him here. He grins and asks, "Did I actually tell you, 'Shh'?"

I smile and nod, "Uh-huh. See, Ronny; you're naturally bossy. You're always telling me what to do. You're our boss, our leader!"

He lies on my stomach, his face coming down to mine, "I've never been bossy in my life," and we kiss as I drop my legs. Snuggling after the kiss, we don't say anything for a few minutes. Then I murmur, "I know I keep telling you this, but I can't believe how wonderful you smell. It's insane and dumb, but the way your skin smells makes me dizzy with desire for you."

"Well, you've got all of me, Wallingford. Everything I am belongs to you now?" I murmur, "That's what I'll need, Ronny, all of you, and then I'll probably want more."

Lifting his head, he looks serious as he traces around my lips with the tip of his finger, murmuring, "I keep wondering the petrifying thought of what if Underwood hadn't gotten you and me together? How in the hell could we have met some other way?"

"I don't know, and I don't want to think about that."

Lying his head back down next to mine, he mumbles, "I don't want to think about it either."

We lie in each other's arms without talking for maybe fifteen minutes before I mumble, "I want to be with you all the time, Ronny," and then I deliberately and slowly lick across his lips and pull his hair. He mutters, "Ow, don't, Wallingford."

I pull his hair again, and as my eyes tear up, I murmur, "You can never leave me... never."

To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com

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