Nudist Camp Vacation

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Nudist Camp Vacation Chapter 37 -- Sidekicks

"No, no, NO!" I babbled, as I ran back into the house.

Quickly I threw on a shirt, pants and loafers; I didn't bother with anything else. I ran back out onto the deck and down the stairs, a second or two behind a still-nude Tim, yelling at Paul and Mike to go back inside and stay there! Tim's nudity was the least of my worries at that point.

We worked our way to the side of the yard and saw four of our guards huddled a short distance away, so Tim and I hopped over the barbed wire fence (I cringed, thinking of what could happen to Tim if he didn't clear the fence, but he vaulted it like an Olympian) and ran toward them.

"STEVEY!" Tim screamed.

The men looked up at us, then stood and moved away from a quivering mass of flesh on the ground. As we drew nearer, I could hear Stevey, huddled in a fetal ball with his hands over his head, hysterically screaming into the ground.

Tim was first to throw himself on the ground next to Stevey, landing hard on his knees and wrapping his arms around his brother. I fell to the other side of Stevey and put my hand on his back, trying to see where he'd been hurt. That's when I looked around and saw the bloody carcass of a bull about thirty feet away. It was still slightly convulsing in the last throes of dying.

"Stevey," I whispered hoarsely into his ear, "are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"

He calmed slightly and looked at me, blinking rapidly. His face was distorted, tears continued to run down his cheeks, and snot from his nose. He tried to speak, but only unintelligible gibberish came from his lips. He shook his head slightly as he looked into my eyes, wiping at his eyes and nose.

Lunging at me, he grabbed my neck and bowled me over backwards into the field, landing on top of me.

"D -- don't hate me!" he sobbed. "P -- please don't h -- hate me. I -- I love you! I -- I love you!"

He kept repeating the same thing over and over again as I tried to shush him. I hadn't realized what an effect I might have had by running away from him and leaving him in the hot tub by himself!

"Shhh, Stevey," I whispered, "It's okay. I love you, too. No one hates you."

I kept up a steady prattle to try to calm him as I worked to put my feet under me and stood, trying to get him to stand as well. When I found that he couldn't, or wouldn't stand, I picked him up, cradling him in my arms. Tim was there as well, touching him, half trying to carry him.

The men around us watched in bewildered silence.

"What happened?" I asked Hank, who was standing the closest.

"I saw the boy walkin' round the back yard bare ass naked, then he jumped the fence and started runnin' at that bull like he'd lost his mind. When the bull started to charge at him, I shot at it, but my Berretta wasn't enough to stop im. A couple of the others got bigger guns, so when they saw what was up, they brung it down."

I nodded, "Thanks. Go talk to the rancher and tell him I'll pay for the loss of his bull, or I'll find one to replace it. Let me know what he says."

I turned and carried Stevey back to the fence, where Tim was already waiting. I handed Stevey over the fence to Tim and climbed over, myself. Tim carried Stevey back through the garden, up the stairs and into the house, laying him on our bed. I picked up an afghan and threw it over him, then sat next to him; Tim was already sitting on his other side. Stevey had his hands over his face, still gently sobbing.

Paul and Mike peeked into the room and Paul asked, "Is Stevey okay? Did he get shot?"

"No, he's okay," I whispered. "We need some time alone with Stevey, okay?"

Paul nodded, but hesitated before he guided Mike out of the bedroom and down the hall.

Stevey had slowly worked his way back onto his side and into a fetal position, still crying.

"Stevey?" I whispered while I ran my hand over his back. I leaned over and kissed his forehead for good measure.

He scared me when he lunged at me again, wrapping his arms around my neck! He pulled my face to his and began to kiss me, passionately. My first reaction was to give him what he seemed to want; anything to get him back to normal. "Normal" being a relative term at that point.

After several minutes of heavy petting where I didn't really respond, Stevey let go of my neck and rubbed the tears from his eyes and cheeks then wiped his nose with his arm. I grabbed a small towel from the nightstand and handed it to him.

I shared a glance with Tim, who slowly smiled at me, knowingly. I sighed and looked at him with resignation. He mouthed the words, "I love you" then he stood, grabbed a shirt and a pair of shorts, and left the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Stevey still had his eyes covered with the towel, softly crying into it, so he didn't see Tim leave.

Several truths came to mind: I knew what Tim had in mind when he left me alone with Stevey, but I wasn't about to give in and ignore my good sense. However, this time Stevey needed better, more careful handling on my part. Like it or not, it was up to me to decide what to do and how to go about it. Tim had accepted that Stevey needed lovemaking from me, and had given me his blessing. I just hadn't given myself that same blessing, nor was I about to.

I cleared my throat and gently caressed Stevey's bare shoulder.

Stevey slowly took the towel from his face and looked deeply into my eyes. The sadness there touched my soul.

"Stevey," I whispered, "I know I've said that I'd do anything for you. When I said that, I meant that I'd do anything to keep you safe. I told you that I love you, and I meant that, too. It's unconditional; I love you no matter what happens."

I brought both my hands up and gently cradled his head. "I love you enough that I want only what's best for you. Anything that makes you happy will make me happy, too, but what makes you happy for the moment won't necessarily be what's best for you in the long run. Do you understand what that means?"

His eyes widened, but he remained silent.

"It means that even if you want something and even though it's all you can think about, it still might not be what you need. It might also be something that could harm you." I hesitated for a moment then asked, "I need to know something. When you went over the fence and ran toward the bull, what were you thinking?"

Sniffing, loudly, he lowered his eyes and whispered so lightly and fitfully, I had a hard time understanding him. "I . . . wanted him . .. . to kill me. . . . I wanted him . . . to stomp . . . life . . . out of me."

Lifting his chin so he could see me, I nodded and said, "Was that because I refused to make love to you?"

"Yes. . . . No. . . . I don't know. It's complicated. I want us to . . . you know . . . but I got to thinking that those men, they all got what they wanted from me, even though I didn't want them to do those things. But I can't have what I want, even though I know you want it, too."

I moved to where I could lean against the headboard next to him and put my arm around his shoulders, and Stevey leaned into me, resting his head on my chest. We lay and held each other as Stevey calmed.

"Stevey," I whispered, "Wanting something and needing something are two very different things. You want to make love with me, but you don't need it as much as you think. I love you, Stevey, and that's why I won't make love to you."

He sniffed and held me tighter.

"I realize that right now it's probably the only thing you can think about, but that's because you've been exposed to sex too early in your life; that and your hormones are raging out of control. People usually build up to the point of having sex with someone slowly, first by dating, then having a first, timid, embarrassing kiss. Then they work up to kissing more passionately, and then they do a little tentative groping. After that, someone touches you for the first time and you touch them. By then, it's almost always something that you want so badly you think you'll die if it doesn't happen. The moment when someone first touches you should be magical and full of mystery. What you usually do after that is work up to more and more involved sex and lovemaking, gradually learning that the longer you draw out the experience, the more satisfying it is."

Craning my neck, I looked down into his swollen, red eyes, but he hid his eyes in my chest.

Continuing in a whisper, I said, "But you weren't allowed that series of growing experiences. Your innocence was yanked from you in one violent act by an extremely sick and selfish man. It's something that is one of the worst things a person can do to another. In some ways, I think it's even worse than taking someone's life from them. It's like killing your soul. But you've been very strong about it, at least on the outside. I can't imagine what's going on in your mind, but I'll do whatever I can to help you. There's just one thing I won't do. I won't have sex or make love to you. If I did that, Stevey, I'd be just as bad as those men."

Stevey slowly looked up at me and said, "You could never be like them. You love me, and they didn't. I didn't love them, but I love you."

He rose to his knees and looked hard into my eyes. "Alan," he whispered, "I feel it in here!" As he spoke, his face distorted and he placed his hand over his chest.

I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "What you're describing sounds like what I know to be love, because that's the way I've always felt when I truly loved someone." I smiled at him and said, "It's an unreasonable thing that sometimes makes us do things that we don't want and that don't make sense to us."

He smiled and wiped at his eyes again. "Then, . . ."

I slowly shook my head and held his hand. "Even though we both love each other, it would still be wrong to cross the line. I'll always be here, you can discuss anything you want with me, you can ask me any question and I'll give you as honest an answer as I can, but I won't cross that line with you. We can't make love, Stevey, at least not again."

We both knew I was referring to the morning Stevey "raped" me.

He looked down at my hand in his and said, "Yeah, but you thought I was Tim. You were making love to Tim, even though it was me."

I hadn't thought he could so completely understand that.

"Yes, I know. So, you're saying that you still don't know what it's like to have someone make love to you?"

He nodded, sadly.

"Actually, you do."

His eyes met mine with confusion.

"You know a little about what it's like when Tim and I make love, right?"

I could detect a little smile and blush on his face. I waited until he whispered, "Yeah."

"Okay, then."

He curled up next to me again, and rested his head back on my chest. I held him and gently stroked his hair. It seemed as if he were finally coming to the conclusion that I knew he must: that loving was okay, but lovemaking wasn't.

He sighed then said, "Alan?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think Paul likes me?"

I was glad he couldn't see me smile at such an innocent question. As strikingly beautiful as Stevey was, he was still concerned about what Paul might think of him.

"Yes, I think he likes you very much."

"Do you think he loves me?"

"The kind of love you're talking about usually takes a little longer to develop, but I think all the seeds are there. Stevey, you're very attractive. That's usually the first thing that makes people want to get to know you, but then it's what's behind your looks that keeps them interested, and creates an atmosphere for love to develop. You're very intelligent and caring, and those are valuable in a successful, loving relationship. I don't know if he loves you, yet, but give it time. I wouldn't be at all surprised if the two of you fall in love."

He squeezed me, hard, and then moved his face just inches from mine. Looking into my eyes with an intensity that was almost frightening, he said, "I'll always love you."

Before I could respond, he pressed into a passionate kiss, and even ran his tongue around the inside of my lips. I tried not to respond, but, as I said, I did love him! Thankfully, he didn't hold the kiss for longer than I could stand, and we held each other in a firm embrace for several minutes. That was when we both heard his stomach growl.

First Stevey giggled then I joined him.

"What do you say we go find out if Tim found some food for the guys to eat?"

Stevey looked up at me with a sad smile and nodded.

"Put some clothes on, though. We're still not officially nudists here, and we don't know who'll come to the door."

Smiling at me, he said, "We could always have the guards shoot anyone who comes close enough to see us."

"Yeah, but that wouldn't be very hospitable, would it?"

He shrugged. I followed him to his room and watched him dress. When he pulled on a pair of baggy board shorts without under shorts, I said, "Commando, huh?"

"Yeah. I don't like wearing any more clothes than I have to. Only, I don't like that I always get a boner."

"When you're not used to wearing clothes, the constant friction on your dick will do that to you."

He giggled. "You said `dick.'"

Laughing, I said, "Yes, I did."

He pulled on a loose t-shirt and put his arm around my waist as we walked down the stairs. I had my arm around his shoulders.

Whispering, I said, "You look even sexier with clothes on."

Giving a short whimper, he rearranged the hardness in his shorts. Ah, the problems of youth!

We could smell pizza when we got to the bottom of the stairs. Stevey didn't let go of me until we were at the dining room table. There were three open pizza boxes on the table, and a lot of the pizza was missing. Looking around, I was glad to see they were all wearing clothes.

Paul's wide eyes followed Stevey as he walked around the table and sat next to him.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Paul asked in a stage whisper.

Stevey glanced across the table at Mike and me, then turned back to him and said, "Tell you later."

I thought I could tell that Stevey reached over and squeezed Paul's thigh, because Paul expressed surprise and jumped slightly, then looked directly at me.

Smiling at Paul, I tried to hide my amusement, but made a mental note to talk with Stevey about subtleties and appropriate behavior. Tim caught my eye and gave me a look of curiosity. I showed him a quick shake of my head and he expressed what I thought might be relief. I'd have to ask him about that later.

The pizza was a bit cold, but at least it was enough to satisfy my hunger, and Stevey seemed to need it, too. When the boys finished, there wasn't anything left but cheesy cardboard.

Just as the mess was about cleaned up, the doorbell rang. I was actually relieved that a visitor made it all the way to the front door without the sound of gunfire.

Opening the door I was at first surprised to see Amy Gonzales, the boys' case worker, and then I was extremely relieved that the boys were all wearing clothes!

"Mrs. Gonzales!" I said as I moved to let her enter the house. "Please, come in. To what do we owe the honor of your visit?"

"Thank you, Mister Stewart. I have been very negligent. I should have been here to visit your home before I ever allowed the boys to come live here, but now I'm killing the two birds with one stone, like they say. This will be your initial visit and your surprise visit, too."

"Oh! I didn't know there were such things as surprise visits, but you're welcome any time," I lied. I made a mental note to be more careful about running around nude, at least until we could get something permanent arranged. "Please, come this way, and I'll give you a tour. The boys are all in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner. I'm sorry you missed it, but it was just pizza. My housekeeper has the day off."

"Oh, thank you, but I had dinner already with my family."

She followed me into the kitchen, where the boys were being a bit rowdy. We stepped in and watched them for a moment as they splashed water and snapped dish towels at each other, laughing and squealing, running around trying to avoid begin splashed or snapped. As soon as they saw Amy and me standing in the doorway, all four of them froze. I introduced Amy as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Boys, this is Amy Gonzales, Paul and Mike's CPS case worker. She came by for a surprise visit. You boys may remember her from the night you first came here. Amy, the ring leader over there is Tim, my partner."

Tim stepped closer to her, wiping his wet hands on the towel he was carrying then taking her offered hand to shake. "I'm very pleased to meet you, ma'am. Sorry about the mess. It isn't usually like this."

Amy had a wide grin on her face. "Please, don't apologize! It isn't often I get to see my children having so much fun. I see that they are quite happy here, and that's the most important thing there is. Usually when I come for a visit, all I see is the children sitting quietly and frightened. This tells me that there is no mistake for them to be here."

I breathed a silent sigh of relief, once again glad that we hadn't committed a faux pas.

She continued, "After I see your rooms, I would like to speak with the boys, alone."

"Certainly," I said. "Boys, why don't you lead the way and show Mrs. Gonzales your rooms?"

Paul's room was the first stop; I had only thought at the last minute about the broken bed. I quickly prepared an explanation about the furniture being too flimsy for a boy's room and that I thought we'd replace it, but my worry wasn't necessary. Neatly covered by the bed's dust ruffle was some sort of temporary support for the end of the bed, and the loose footboard was somehow propped securely in place.

Amy seemed to be impressed that each boy had such a large bedroom as well as his own bathroom.

I explained, "We still need to do some decorating. It just doesn't seem right that the walls of the boys' rooms are so plain. I've told Paul that he should try to find posters and whatever else he wants to put on the walls. I think we may need to see about getting them bookcases as well."

Amy sensed my nervousness. She turned to me and put her hand on my arm saying, "Don't worry. It will come with time."

The reassurance that there would be "time" lightened my heart.

Paul stepped up to me and put his arms around my waist then turned his head toward Amy while he rested his cheek against my chest and said, "Dad said we could have our own televisions and stuff, too."

I stroked his hair and swallowed hard. Amy beamed at me as I cleared my throat. "They've already been such a blessing," I whispered.

Smiling, she turned and glanced into the closet, and then said, "Let's see the other room, now."

I looked at Mike and said, "Is it okay if we see your room, now?"

He nodded and took my hand, leading the way to his room. When we got there, he jumped to the middle of his bed and sat up, announcing, "This is my room. It's just like Paul's."

She glanced into the bathroom and closet then asked Mike, "How is it having your own room?"

He thought for a moment. "It was kinda scary at first, but Papa let me have a light on, and then he kissed me on the forehead," he said, touching his forehead where I'd kissed him. "Then he let me kiss his forehead." He shyly glanced at me as he squeezed his hands between his knees. Softly he continued, "That's when I knew it was okay."

"It was okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. It's okay, now, and no one's gonna hurt us, Paul and me. Papa Alan even told me I needed to jump on the bed," he giggled. "But when I jumped on Paul's bed, it broke."

"It broke? Did anyone get hurt?" she asked with concern.

"I bumped my head when I fell off, but Papa kissed it!" he laughed. "No one ever kissed me on the head before. Ever."

He jumped off the bed and ran at me, hitting me in the gut, full force and wrapped his arms around my waist.

I uttered, "Oof!" but held him, tight, amused at his antics, but with a lump in my throat.

Amy wiped moisture from her eyes and cleared her throat. "I think I've seen everything I need to see. Can we go somewhere so I can interview the boys?"

"Yes! I think the library would be best. It's next to the living room."

I led the brigade downstairs into the living room and indicated my library office.

"I think you'll be comfortable in there."

Amy looked in, saw the couch and stuffed chairs and said, "Oh, yes. This will do nicely."

She took both boys into the room and I closed the door behind them.

Nervously, I looked at Tim and Stevey. They both came to me and each touched an arm.

"What do we do now?" Tim asked.

"We wait. Let's sit and talk."

We took seats on the couch in the living room, within sight of the door to my study. Tim was on one side of me holding my hand, and Stevey was on the other side of me, close, but not touching me. It appeared that he was still self-conscious about all that had happened earlier.

"I think it's going to be okay," I whispered with more hope than conviction.

"I hope you're right," Tim said, squeezing my hand.

"I'm glad she didn't come a couple of hours ago," Stevey said, biting a fingernail.

I smiled at him, sadly.

"Yeah," Tim said, "when we were all running around here, nude!"

Glad that they were referring to our state of undress and not Stevey's attempt at bull fighting, I added, "That could have been disastrous. I hope the boys don't mention it."

The door opened and Amy stepped out, followed by two smiling boys.

Amy announced, "Mister Stewart, I would like to speak with you, now . .. . . Alone."

As I followed her into my office, I discovered that the pizza was not sitting well on my stomach. Sitting on the couch where she indicated, I tried to will my stomach to calm.

"Mister Stewart, in the short time the boys have been with you, they have settled in, nicely. They are much happier than when I first saw them."

"Tim and I have done everything we could to help them to understand that they're safe, here."

"Yes, they know they are safe, now."

She hesitated for a moment and fidgeted.

"Mister Stewart, there is something you should know. The director of my office is very angry with me for placing these boys with a single man. If she knew that you were a gay man, she would demand that I remove them from your home immediately, and she would probably fire me, too."

I took a deep breath and said, "I wouldn't want to see you fired over this, but these boys have become very important to Tim and me. I'll do anything I have to do to keep them and adopt them."

"Adopt? I think it would take a lot to convince the judge to let you adopt them. In Texas . . ."

"Yes, I know. In Texas it's rare for a single man to adopt a boy not related to him. As a gay man, I know it's almost impossible, but I intend to be one of those rare cases. With the boys' physical abuse, they must have a home where they feel safe, and if you could see how Mike has come out of his shell, you'd agree that both of them must live here."

"Mister Stewart, I agree with you, but I am not the only one you have to convince. If it was up to me, well, you would have no problem adopting them. They are so happy here. But, as I say, I am not the only one."

I sighed loudly. "Can you help us?"

"I will do everything I can, but I can only do so much. If you really want to adopt them, I suggest you get a very good lawyer and see what you can do."

I nodded. "I'll get the best lawyer available."

"That Mister Winston? Your lawyer? He knows who you should have to help you."

I nodded. "Yes, he'll make sure we're well represented."

"No, Mister Stewart, it must be you and only you. Please don't forget this is Texas. You and your partner cannot be married, and you both can't adopt the boys. It has to be only one of you."

"Yes, I know."

"And it would also be good to have a woman in the house. You mentioned your housekeeper?"

"Nell. Yes, she's a very strong presence in the house."

"Good. That is very good. Make sure you mention her to the judge and have her in the court when you appear. That will help."

"Thanks, Amy, and please call me Alan."

"Thank you, Alan. Good luck. I'm afraid you will need it."

I sighed. "I'm sure you're right, but I'm determined not to fail."

She smiled and stood. When I came close enough, she reached for my hand and patted it. "You are a good man. These boys already love you. I hope they never have to know how much they need you, too."

I nodded, silently, thinking that it would be difficult to keep the boys from losing some of their innocence in the process of the inevitable court fight for their adoption.

Without further explanation, she walked out of my office and said good-bye to Tim, Stevey and the boys. I walked her to the door, and for the first time she commented on our security.

"By the way, Alan, your guards are . . . very impressive."

Not knowing whether she meant that to be positive or negative, I said, "Oh, I'm sorry if they bothered you."

She laughed and said, "No, no, Mister Alan! One of them is my nephew! I am very happy to see he is working!" She changed her demeanor to serious and said, "Our family has been very worried about him. The family will all be very happy to know he is working."

"Oh," I said, still concerned whether it was a good thing and stumbling over my words. "I'm . . . always glad . . . to be a good employer."

She laughed again. "No, please Mister Alan, don't worry. He was married to a very good woman, but they could not get along. I'm afraid my nephew is not easy to live with. He got behind in his support payments and we were afraid he would go to jail. Now he can pay off his debts and support his little girl and boy."

It suddenly occurred to me that he must have been the one who was behind in his child-support when the group was arrested after they rescued Stevey and Paul.

"Oh, yes, I seem to remember something about that. What's his name?"

"Carlos. Carlos Gonzales. He is my husband's nephew."

I nodded as if I recognized the name. "I'll have to make sure he stays employed."

She laughed, "Mister Alan, you are so funny! I must go now. You have a very nice home and the boys are very happy. That will go into my report. I will see you sometime next month. Next time, I will call first."

"Thanks, Amy. As I said, you're welcome any time. Next time, maybe we can invite you for dinner."

"Thank you Mister Alan. I would enjoy that. Good-bye."

"'Bye, Amy."

I watched while she got into her car and drove part way down the drive. She stopped and one of the guards stopped her and spoke with her for a few minutes. He motioned toward the house a couple of times then he leaned in and seemed to give her a peck on the cheek. I continued to watch until she was out of sight and the guard met Hank and spoke with him. I thought that exchange a bit odd, but dismissed it and went back into the living room to talk with my family.

They all stopped talking in hushed tones when I walked in.

"Well, were you all as nervous as I was?" I asked. I smiled at them as they seemed to visibly relax. The doorbell ring and we all tensed again.

When I answered the door, I greeted Hank, "Hi! Anything wrong?"

He had a very serious look on his face and said, "What's the deal with the naked boy?"

I bristled a bit and defensively said, "What do you mean?"

Hank only stared at me, but we both knew he was talking about Stevey.

"Come in," I said and stood back holding the door open.

He hesitantly entered and looked around at the inside of the house.

Closing the door behind him, I said, "Hank, I know that you're a lot more than just our guards, so an explanation is probably in order. Come in here." I led him into the living room.

I introduced him to the group, saying, "Guys, this is Hank Armstrong. He's the leader of our guards. Hank, this is Paul and Mike. They're brothers and are my foster sons. Stevey is visiting, he's Paul's friend and Tim's brother. Tim, here, is my partner."

I turned to Hank and saw the surprise in his face.

"Yes, Hank, I said `partner.' Tim is my mate, or spouse, or whatever you're comfortable calling him."

Hank looked around the room at the boys, appraising them. He pointed at Stevey and said, "He said he loved you."

"Yes. As you know, Stevey and Paul were kidnapped recently, and Stevey was going through a lot even before that happened, but I already told you about that. What you saw outside a few hours ago was a suicide attempt. We've been working with Stevey to deal with what he's been through."

Hank gave me a harsh look, but Stevey got up, walked up to him and stood in front of him. He seemed to be challenging the big man.

Stevey looked up into his eyes with a scowl. "Hank, you need to know something." He pointed at me, making me very afraid of what he was about to say. "That man is the best, kindest, most understanding man I ever met." Tears came to his eyes as he continued, ". . . And he's saved my life more times than you can ever guess. I love him because of all he's done for me. Don't you ever try to hurt him!" He wiped at his eyes and said, "If you ever hurt him, I'll make you sorry!"

Hank tried to stifle a smile then turned to me and softly said, "Mister Stewart, I owe y'all an apology. We didn't know what was goin' on, and then when we saw the naked boy, and then the other naked kid . . . your partner, well, we thought . . . Well, never mind what we thought. Now I know it was all wrong -- a misunderstanding. Sorry, sir."

"Hank, it's okay; no apology is necessary. Something else you may need to know is that Tim and Stevey grew up as nudists. That's the reason they were running around without caring that they were nude. After things settle down a bit, you'll probably see us all running around here in the raw."

He raised his eyebrows and looked around the room. "Oh! I'm glad you told me. That's okay, then."

Before he could turn, Stevey, bless his heart, grabbed Hank's arm and locked gazes with him. Stevey then grabbed Hank into a hug. Startled, Hank held his arms up, apparently not knowing what to do. Gradually, his arms dropped and embraced Stevey. As Stevey continued to hold him, Hank began to rub Stevey's back and smile.

Hank cleared his throat and said, "I, uh . . ."

Stevey looked up at him and wiped at his eyes. "See?" he said. "That's what Alan does for us. He loves us. And we all love him."

Clearing his throat, Hank said, "I'm not sure I understand, but I'm glad it's not what we thought it was." He nodded at me and said, "Sir, I'll be gettin' back outside now. Don't worry `bout a thing."

"I never did. Thanks, Hank. I'm glad you said something rather than just assuming the wrong thing."

He nodded. "I'll pass the word along."

I could only imagine that they could have been thinking that something very strange . . . and wrong . . . was going on.

Hank made his exit, and I peeked out the window. The others gathered around him and they seemed to have a lengthy discussion, listening intently at what Hank had to say. The Hispanic man I assumed was Carlos looked intently at the house for a long moment. He then gave a long, respectful nod toward the house then turned away.

I had been completely unaware of the drama that must have been unfolding among the guards. From Frank's description of them, they had all been in the military. As such, they might not all approve of our unusual situation, as well as our "gay nature." I know that "servants" are supposed to accept whatever happens around them without question, but these were not the type of men who were likely to accept such refinements, nor were they servants. It would be a challenge to find a way to see how to get them to understand us.

Sighing loudly, I wondered what other challenges would confront us. As I tensed, a pair of hands rested on my shoulders and began to massage my muscles. Melting into what I thought were Tim's ministrations, I moaned. Imagining what it would feel like if we were lying in bed with his naked butt resting on mine, my erection began to build. I opened my eyes into Tim's. Only then did I realize that the hands on my shoulders weren't Tim's. I whispered, "Damn, he did it again."

Turning around, I looked at Stevey and smiled. "You do that well."

He chuckled, smiling at me wickedly. "I know," he said.

Suddenly feeling very weary, I said, "It's time for all good boys to get to bed."

The other boys heard me and began to complain about the early hour.

Tim whispered into my ear and said, "Go on ahead. I'll stay up with the boys a while longer."

I looked at my watch and saw that it was only eight o'clock and sighed. "Okay, I'll stay up, too, but I won't promise I'll stay awake."

I remember sitting down in the overstuffed couch in the entertainment room and seeing that the boys had begun to play a video game. The next thing I knew, I felt a tickle on my eyebrow and had slapped myself in the face with a hand full of foam. Licking at it, I discovered that it was whipped cream.

"You know," I said to four pairs of laughing eyes, "that's not bad. However, you should also know that paybacks are hell."

As they laughed and high-fived each other, I licked at the creamy foam. That's when I realized that Tim was helping lick my face clean.

"You just might be forgiven," I moaned as I felt his tongue reach my neck. "The others won't be so lucky." That's when I felt a mouth on my fingers then another tongue began to lick my hand and wrist. When I felt myself approaching sensory overload, I said, "Enough!" I climbed out of the couch and announced, "I'm going to take a shower! As for the rest of you . . ." I began to say as Tim pulled more foam from my hair and put his white finger in his mouth, suggestively. "Um, the rest of you get ready for bed," I said with distraction.

They all laughed and ran for the stairs.

Tim came to me and whispered, "Go on upstairs. I'll turn the lights off."

I leaned into him and kissed him, and then slid my face against his, depositing some remaining whipped cream on him. I winked at him.

"I'll lick that off upstairs," I whispered.