This is a work of pure fiction, but based on the author's feelings, beliefs, and in some cases, experience. Come to think of it -- it might not be all that pure! There may be graphic sexual encounters at times between men, so if this offends you, you are invited to retreat. If you are too young or it is otherwise illegal for you to be reading this kind if story, shame on you for reading it - - please stop here. If not, - - ENJOY!
Cast of characters:
Brian Weber -- That's me! Deena -- my wife (Deceased) Ronny -- my son. Gary Foosdorf -- My Sweetheart Dmitri Polczek-- Neighbor Ericka -- Dmitri's wife Alexandra -- Dmitri's daughter Muhammad Zarindast -- Friend Stan -- Muhammad's Afghan hound. Mick Azerov -- 26 year old American Freedom Contender Keyvan & Sohrab -- Persian wards.
From Chapter 15:
As we were drying off, Gary said, "I don't know if I'll ever get used to your kid!"
"Sounded to me like you already are! You kept up with him just fine!"
"It was a bit out of my zone. But it was fun. It's funny -- he really is like a little brother, but at the same time -- like -- my son. I really love him."
"I know he loves you too."
"Mostly because he knows I love his dad to pieces." Gary said.
"No more than his dad loves you!" I replied. We kissed again, got dressed and went to the kitchen, where my boy -- erm -- I mean -- OUR boy -- had tuna sandwiches made for our lunch.
Chapter 16
"You want me to do WHAT?" I said to Mo.
With the completion of the house, Gary and I moved into our new quarters downstairs. Mo's architect made sure it was sound insulated with the latest technology. Both ours and the Polczec's new stables were full of fine Arabian steeds. Each of the boys had his own room, and Ronny and Mick opted to turn their two rooms into one bedroom and a study. They were both back into the dating scene -- girls were definitely their choice -- and they have enough class not to bring anyone home -- for the night - - though they don't always come home themselves. As open as my relationship is with my son, he is not so open about his relationships with girls. We don't press him.
We see a lot more of Mo, with Michele and her mother living across the street. It was at one of those visits that he told me of his latest request.
"Mo, you have asked me to do some pretty bizarre things, but -- I'm not sure this is a good idea." I said, wide eyed. "Don't you want someone in your church -- or whatever you call it -- to marry you?"
"I cannot. I would have to lie to him about how I met Michele, and keep silent as to how she and her mother came here. What I did was against Sharia law, wherein a man is the law in his own house."
"Do you mean you are giving up your faith?"
"My faith is in Allah. I am not sure that anyone has any authority to administer the tenets of my religion any more. I will always serve Allah and -- cherish the Quran. I don't need a mullah telling me what it means. But you are changing the subject. Will you marry us?"
"I don't have any authority to do that!"
"You can. I have visited sites on the Internet -- where you can get this authority -- via mail."
"Would you feel properly married? And what about Michele -- and her mother? Don't they want you to be married in a mosque?"
"Brian -- my friend -- you will not dissuade me this time. I consider you my dearest friend -- and certainly the one in whom I place my deepest trust and also -- you are one of the wisest men I know -- but on this thing I will not be dissuaded. Will you deny me this one thing -- after all I have - " He started then stopped. "No -- I will not resort to that kind of persuasion. Please consent to do this for your humble friend."
"Too late! You HAVE resorted to arm twisting -- just by bringing up all you have done for me.."
"For this I ask your forgiveness, but it is that important to me. I would rather be married in your beautiful and new front yard -- with the magnificent trees and the landscaping that you have personalized, with none attending, other than our closest friends. This would be closer to heaven than any mosque."
"I must agree with that sentiment. Deena and I were married in her parents' back yard -- and it was simple and homey. You're right. It was more memorable than in any church."
"So -- for once you will allow me to be right?" Mo grinned wider than at any other time. "And also - - do me this great honor?"
Mo had more friends than he let on. Directly in front of the house we have a canopy of tall scrub oak, under which Mo had placed new sod. Grass will not survive under the oaks with little sun, but for the afternoon wedding, it looked plush and beautiful, with potted rose plants flanking a white lattice, raised dais for the ceremony directly across the driveway (which provided a buffer from the "gallery" where the attendees sat.)
There were 150 chairs set up under the trees, which faced west. The ceremony was set to end as the sun disappeared behind the hill. Michele looked like a Persian princess. When she walked out of the house, over the bridge-like front porch, all turned to look, after her mother's example. There was an audible gasp heard from many of the guests, as Michele, dressed in several layers of pure white robes that are typical of a Persian wedding, with wreaths of flowers on her neck, walked down from the porch and up the path to -- and through the guests to the dais, and to her waiting groom.
There was white linen cloth spread on the grass through the chairs, all of which were filled, with many others standing to the sides. The linen walkway proceeded across the driveway to the circle where the dais was set up, and up to the dais itself.
Mo met her at the base of the dais, and escorted her up to meet - - me and Ronny. Mick, Gary and of course Michele's brothers, all dressed in simple black tux's, flanked the aisle, at the foot of the steps leading on to the dais. The dais was also under another large oak tree, and Ronny and I also were in black. Mo was clad in an all white tux, also with flowered wreaths around his neck. His handsomely dark and swarthy complexion stood out against the white clothing and pastel of the flowers.
Sadly missing were the female attendants that should be at a wedding of this type, but there was a lone woman -- dressed in black robes -- standing next to Michele. Mo told me later that she was his parents' servant, and pretty much his nanny growing up. His parents were absent, but they had had "given" this lady to Mo.
Mo gave her "employment" in the home across the street from us -- which meant that she retired there, to spend her remaining days in comfort among people that she loved. She grew to love this special young lady who was to marry her "little" Mo, during the time before the wedding -- about six weeks -- that Michele and her mother lived across the street. No doubt she would also serve -- unofficially -- as a nanny to Mo's children.
"Dearly beloved," I started. That got curious looks from the Persian attendees (which were most in attendance) but it was all I knew. I performed a rather bland and predictable wedding ceremony -- which of course concluded with my pronouncing them man and wife. They both wanted this traditionally "American" wedding, but it was rather overshadowed by the events that led up to it.
Before the actual ceremony, the attendees all congregated at the rear of the house, where was set up -- again under a great oak tree - a large white linen cloth. In the middle of the cloth was Michele, dressed in -- again many layers, but these were all pastels. She had a veil which could not be seen through -- so her face was hidden. This side of the house faces east which also has significance.
All around Michele -- to a distance of about 10 feet in every direction - were many gifts and -- mostly --foods which were to symbolize abundance. Michele's mother sat behind her and to the right. While everyone watched, the groom appeared and offered a gift to the mother -- which she accepts and then whispers something to the bride. The bride shakes her head no and the groom is sent away to return "another day."
But of course in this setting he comes back while everyone waits and this occurs several times until he either wears down the bride -- or offers a gift worthy of her approval -- I'm not sure which!
In actual Persian tradition, this can last several days, during which time the guests return each day (or stay the entire time) and feast on an abundance of food, wines, rahadlakum, and other delights.
When the bride finally accepts the groom, he sits with her and a few of designated guests hold a white canopy of transparent cloth over them as they are showered with powdered sugar. (I think!) The wedding gifts often are placed around them at this time, by the very patient wedding guests.
This is an ancient Persian tradition which has been all but done away with in present-day-Iran, with their strict Islamist theocracy, but is still practiced in other Persian states -- and by Persians living in other countries, including the USA.
"I wouldn't mind practicing that tradition!" Said Gary.
"Yeah," quipped my ever astute (if wise-assed) son -- "You'd look good in a veil, Mom!" That got a laugh from the entire crowd, and got Ronny a good-natured noogie by my sweetheart. Ronny was wise enough not to object any more than, "I'll get even later."
"I can hardly wait!" answered Gary.
I saw Keyvan and Sohrab grin at each other. They were hoping for a wrestling contest on the grass. I was hoping it would not go that far. I got my wish.
After my bland ceremony in the front yard, Sohrab and Keyvan quietly slipped over to the stables while The bride and groom performed a glass breaking ceremony. This surprised me, and I was told afterward that this was indeed not exclusive to Jewish tradition.
The boys came back with two matched Arabian steeds, draped in the same flowers that the bride and groom were wearing around their necks. Flowers were also woven into the tails and manes. Mo helped his bride up onto one of the Arabians and he swung himself easily up onto the other, whereupon Michele snapped her whip on the flank of Mo's horse, which caused him to leap out, almost leaving Mo behind.
Michele then turned and rode at full gallop over the hill, followed by a grinning Mo. Of course "over the hill" was directly to the house they would now be living in. Sohrab and Keyvan ran to catch up with them, but I called them back. "I think they want to be left alone to - - change for the reception." Most everyone laughed at that.
I don't know if these young men understood that "changing" might mean a number of things to a newly wedded couple.
Champaign was broken out and everyone drank a toast to the newly absent couple after which the party broke up only to reconvene at an elegant hall down in Sacramento, where a six course meal was served and where there were two bands -- one that played traditional Persian music and the other, contemporary dance music.
The bride and groom did a dance wherein the other young members in the room lifted them onto chairs and danced with them held high on the chairs. Then another couple did a wild traditional Persian dance, while the happy couple looked on. The party lasted well in to the morning, where at some time it was noticed that the bride and groom were no longer present.
Mick had taken them to the airport, where they left for a honeymoon in an undisclosed destination. Gary and I went home, followed soon after by Mick, who had returned and brought Ronny, the boys and their mother back up the hill. He dropped off Sohrab and Keyvan and their mother across the street and then we heard Ronny and Mick coming in. The boys were to stay with their mother until the honeymooners returned.
"You can't go to sleep until he gets in, can you, Bri?" Said my sweetheart.
"Not if I know he's coming home. Old habits are hard to break. That's why he always calls when he won't be coming. He knows my habits!"
As it was 3:30 in the morning, and as we had been up since 5:30 the morning before -- we opted to go to sleep. We fell asleep in each others' arms in a matter of minutes.
I woke up before Gary's alarm went off. He has to commute further than I do and be there earlier, so he gets up earlier. My back was to him, but we were not touching. I turned and looked at him. In the early morning light, his face looked like a child's.
The alarm went off. His eyes sprang open and he looked disoriented and stunned for a split second, then he saw me looking at him. He smiled and touched my face. I turned my head and sucked on his fingers for a moment. He closed his eyes and smiled. I closed my own and drifted back to sleep, sucking on his fingers.
I awoke again with a start of my own as I felt his moist warm mouth on my semi-hard wood. It sprang to attention, once it knew what was happening. I grabbed his head and helped him bob by thrusting. He choked a little, but took it all, and I quickly came to my full head, and I started to pull out, but he grabbed me and sucked with all his might, as I shot a healthy load into his mouth.
He swallowed as fast as he could, and then kissed me. The combination of his morning mouth and my cummy taste, was strong and heady -- and not exactly sweet, but - - sweet nonetheless. I squeezed him with all my might, his butt cheeks soft and smooth.
"I love you Bri!"
"I know. Me too, Babe."
He came in before he left and told me that there was breakfast on the table for me, Ronny and Mick. Sohrab had an 8:00 AM class, so both boys had to go early. We usually ate breakfast together -- me, Ronny, Mick, Keyvan and Sohrab - on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. There were no more altercations between the boys -- other than typical sibling rivalry. I wondered if they had worked out some kind of deal between them -- something that would satisfy Keyvans urges, but did not violate Sohrab's will. I didn't have to wonder long.
"Poppy?" Said Keyvan, in a moment alone one evening.
"Yes, Son?" That was calculated. I know he likes to be called that.
"I have a question. I don't want to hurt anyone, and I am wondering if what we are doing is okay."
I waited for him to continue. "Poppy, I still like to taste my brothers seed. But he doesn't like mine any more." I started to say something, but was interrupted, "But that's okay! I just like doing it. And that seems to satisfy -- me. With all of our work and our homework and studies, there is not time for dating anyone else -- for either of us."
"How -- do -- you get your seed out, Sweetheart?" I asked.
"Sohrab does it for me -- with his hand. I don't think he likes it, but he is grateful for my -- service -- to him. Poppy, I love my brother so much. It hurts that he doesn't love me back." I started to say something again, and he interrupted again, "But that's not my question. I know that this is something that I must live with. But -- is it wrong -- what we are doing?"
"I know that a lot of guys your age experiment - "
"we are not experimenting, Poppy."
"I know -- but I don't know if what you are doing is any different. You are gay and Sohrab seems to be straight. I dunno -- maybe if he was -- um -- satisfying himself in your -- um -- bum -- you anus -- that could be a prob -- um -- has he ever done that?"
"No. We've done it the other way a lot. But I was always the top."
"Did he not want to be the - "
"Never. And I don't do that to him any more, either. But is what we do okay?"
"Some would say no. I would say that if either of you was not okay with it, then it`s not okay. Are you sure that Sohrab is okay with what you are doing?"
"I -- I -- think so. He does not object."
"Are you sure he is not afraid to complain?"
"Will you -- ask him -- for me? I am not sure he would tell me. Poppy, I love my brother. I do not want to hurt him. I am fearful that he does this for me -- just because he loves me. Is that enough?"
I considered it for a moment then said, "I'll talk to Sohrab. Do you know where he is?"
"He tarried in the stable -- to curry Sunset."
"Sunset?"
"Yes. Our brother-in-law has given us horses of our own. He gave the chestnut mare to Sohrab. Mine is "Night Sky" -- the one with the star on his forehead. We gave them their names. Mo has changed them on their pedigree records."
"I see. Which horse is the fastest?"
"They both run like the night wind."
"You haven't raced them?"
"We will on a track someday. Mo says they could break a leg here."
"He's right. Chip and Dale have many holes to trip them."
"Yes, the ground squirrels are treacherous." Said Sohrab, who had entered through the side door.
"How much have you heard?" I asked.
"Only that."
"Go comb your Night Sky, Kev."
Keyvan hopped up and went to the door, then came back and hugged me. "I love you, Poppy." He got almost to the door and returned again. "I love you too, Saab." He told his brother. He hugged him and kissed his cheek. Sohrab kissed his cheek in return.
"What's up, Dad?" Said Sohrab as soon as the door was closed.
"Your brother is concerned, Saab."
"About what?"
"Something he doesn't feel he can ask you."
"He can ask me anything. He knows that."
"Well, he asked me to talk to you. Saaby, Kev is worried that -- well -- let me tell you first -- he has told me everything that you boys do -- when your room door is closed."
"Oh." Said Sohrab, turning deep red.
"Saaby -- it's okay. What Kev is worried about is -- he thinks maybe you do this for him -- only because you love him."
"He has not forced -- um -- what? Love him? Of course I love him!"
"He knows that. He feels you do -- those things -- for him -- only because you love him."
"So -- I do!"
"Is that the only reason?" I asked.
"What else? I mean -- my brother would do anything for me. And I would not do this for anyone else -- so -- of course I do it because I love him."
"I think he is worried that you are doing it against your will. That if you had more choice -- you would not -- DO -- those things."
"I DO have my choice, Dad! Kev would not force me -- I would not let - "
"Saaby -- I think he is worried that you don't like doing it, but will not tell him. That you do it ONLY because you don't want to hurt his feelings."
"I -- I -- don't mind it. I mean -- how many guys get -- um -- get -- um -- their dick (is that the word? I nodded) Don't you think that most guys would accept another guy to suck his dick? I mean, we don't speak of this to anyone else, Dad. But I don't turn down this service. Would you?"
"I would if I was dating someone -- or in love with someone else."
"Well -- I'm not. And he's not. And -- Dad -- did he tell you that I also do the masturbate for him?"
"Um -- yes -- he did."
"I don't mind doing that for him either. I would not touch any other guy, but this is my brother!"
"Maybe you can tell him this?" I said. "It would mean a lot to Kev to know that you don't hate what you let him do -- or what you do for him."
"Can I ask you something, Dad?"
"Of course." I said, expecting some hard to answer question about something that Gary and I do. I determined that I could answer his question directly.
"I see you kiss Ronny -- on his lips. Is this okay for a father to do?"
"I -- well -- I think most fathers DON'T do that, Saab. But yes it's okay. It's not sexual."
"I know that. But -- do you think -- that -- it would be okay -- for me to do that with my brother?"
"Do -- um -- what, Son?" I was getting a little confused.
"Kiss him."
I nodded and said, "I think that as long as both of you is okay with it -- and it's not really sexual -- why not?"
"How about making out -- you know -- deep kisses?"
"You mean long french kisses?"
"Yes -- that. Is that okay?"
"Well, that's a hard one." I said. Is it sexual to you?"
"No!" He said. "But -- I -- I mean -- well -- it probably is -- to Kev."
"As long as he knows how you feel - "
"Thank you, Dad. I really don't want to hurt his feelings. And -- I do like kissing my brother. I do love him!"
"And Saaby -- you are right to not to speak of it to anyone else. And when either of you finds someone else -- it should stop."
"I know, Dad. Thanks. I think I will go see my brother now."
I had the feeling this was not the last time we might be dealing with this subject.
Sohrab walked out to the stable. It was near dark, but I could see them come together in a close embrace -- then a long, lingering kiss -- on the lips. Then they came back to the house. They went directly to their room, but came back out and to me.
"Thanks Dad."
"Thanks Poppy."
"Are you two ready for some rahadlakum?
"Yes!" Said the boys in chorus.
"I think it is Kismet that we were born to the same family." Said Sohrab.
"What is this -- kismet -- Saaby?"
"It is Persian for -- `meant to be', my brother."
"Funny you should mention that when you are eating rahadlakum." I said.
"Why is that?"
"There is a song about this in a play called `Kismet'."
"A song about -- what?" Asked Sohrab.
"Rahadlakum."
"Haha! A song about a silly candy?"
"Would you like to hear it?" I said.
"You can sing this song?"
"Yes, I learned it some years ago -- singing along with the music we have. But better yet, I will play it for you."
I got out the cd and put it into the cd player.
"On days when my lord feeleth restlessAnd bored with his sword and his plumeHis handmaiden hath what he needethAnd what doth he need?Rahadlakume!On nights when my lord looketh listlessAnd black is the hue of his gloomHis handmaiden hath what he lackethAnd what doth he lack?Rahadlakume!Tis sweet with the meat of a lichee nutCombined with a kumquat rindThe kind of confection to drive a man out of his Mesopotamian mindAnd lo, if my lord feeleth faithless And wanders by night from his roomHis handmaiden fanneth her firesAnd out of the pan rises a tantalizing perfumeHe scenteth the scentHe turneth his faceHis previous place, in her embraceHe does resumeAnd love is in bloomThe while they consumeRahadlakume!"
"Rahadlakum is so good someone made a song!" Laughed Sohrab.
Sohrab understands things intellectual faster than Keyvan, but Kev got this gist.
"I don't think this song is about candy, brother!" Said Keyvan. "I think it is about sex."
"I think that it is compared to sex -- that this candy is this good." Said Sohrab.
The boys looked at me for the answer. I shrugged.
"It's not THAT good!" Said Keyvan, laughing.
"I think it would be good to eat while doing it!" Laughed Sohrab. "Have you done this?" He looked at me.
"Haha! No -- but -- I have eaten strawberries!"
"While having sex?" Said Sohrab. "Hahaha! With yourself?"
"Saaby!" Said Keyvan sharply. "This is not a question that we ask our dad!" Sohrab looked extremely embarrassed -- and cowed.
"Look, Kev, it's not his fault. I shouldn't have let it go that far." I said to Keyvan. Then I turned to Sohrab, "Keyvan's right, Saaby. But it's not your fault. I'm sorry that you were put in that position. So -- I will not answer that question."
Sohrab brightened back up. He came to me and hugged me, snatched another piece of rahadlakum and went to his room. Keyvan did the same but he grabbed two pieces. I wondered if they were going to be doing some more experimenting - - with the candy!
" -- and so, they went to their room and closed the door." I said.
"You're right about not going too far, stimulating a teen -- I guess maybe I need to be more careful about engaging Ronny too. He is still a teen, as well."
Gary and I were discussing the day, before going to sleep. We were both exhausted by another long day.
"Well, I don't think you can group him with the boys. Ronny may be impulsive -- like most teens, but he isn't as impressionable as the boys are.
"So, Keyvan and Sohrab are a couple again?" Asked Gary."
"I don't think that's gonna happen, Babe. Sohrab seems pretty adamant that he prefers girls."
"Is that normal?" Asked my lover.
"What -- to experiment with guys?"
"Yeah. I never did it."
"I did when I was very young, but -- I was too afraid of being accused of being gay later on. I didn't think I WAS gay -- but I was deathly afraid of anyone accusing me."
"Well, I was too! But then I KNEW that I was gay -- from about the 7th grade. Once I figured out that it was okay for me to be gay -- I was out of high school and away from all those people. That made me bolder."
"Bolder?"
"Oh gosh, Bri -- you know -- I slept with anything with a dick! It's a wonder I didn't have more disease than I did. Oh my gosh! I just don't know when to shut up! I'm sorry Bri. You don't need to be reminded what a slut I was."
"What you were -- is -- what you were. You had your justification for it. Some would tell me that I wasn't being true to myself, and/or that what I did was unfair to Deena. But Sweetheart, you can't look back that way. We both did what we needed to do to cope with what we were dealt. And look what I have for it. Can anyone tell me that what Ronny and I have is a bad thing?
"And also -- my Sweet Gary -- look what WE have! I thank God every day that you are in my life -- and if you had done anything different -- we wouldn't have gotten together. I loved Deena -- there is no doubt about that. She was my best friend. But Gary -- sweetheart -- you are -- are -- what -- completes me. You are what I always needed, but never knew it. You are my soul mate! I can't imagine anyone else loving someone as much as I love you. How can that happen in such a short time?"
In the dark, I could see tears glistening on Gary's cheek. I kissed them away. "I love you to, Bri. G'night."
"Just like that, huh?" I said.
"Huh?"
"Were you just going to turn around and go to sleep?"
"No -- I was going to hold you until we both fell asleep." He said.
"Oh. Okay. But if you hold me -- I am not responsible for what that may start."
"I thought you said you were tired."
"I am -- but that doesn't mean I'm dead. I can still react to you." I caressed his face, and put my finger in his mouth. He sucked it and that gave me a good start on my wood. I climbed on top of him and kissed him -- and I could feel that he was coming alive too.
"I really am exhausted, Bri. Mind if we make it a quick fuck?'
"Fill my dreams, Sweetheart. Fill me with your love." I said, getting off him and onto my back.
He mounted me and I swung my legs over his shoulders and he took me gently - - at first.
Notes: Fathers have to be careful not to over-stimulate their young sons. Comments are welcome to Steve at stevethomas535@hotmail.com.
thanks and - - love, Steve