skysthelimitchapt1

skysthelimitchapt1

Disclaimer: This story contains descriptions of teenage boys engaging in sexual activity. If it is illegal to read or download this material where you are, THEN DON'T.

All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

© 2006 by CaptainRick, all rights reserved.

Sky's the Limit

Chapter I

"Damn, damn, damn, damn!" I said cursing myself and beating the steering wheel as I drove down the interstate. Why didn't I check the damn door when I went over and turned on that damn CD player? What the fuck were you thinking Skyler? I was thinking with my damn dick again, that's what I was thinking. Just like my fucking father, except he fucks anything in a skirt, the damn sonovabitch. What's he going to do to me? I was caught in bed with his business partner's son. He's going to fuckin' kill me. At the very least, I've lost the privilege of using this damn Explorer. Dammit.

Jonah, I know I've lost Jonah. His dad'll never let me near him again. Damn. Why do I always fuck up? I'll never find another guy like Jonah. He's so smart, so damn sexy, he plays that piano so beautifully, and sings like an angel, he's funny, and my God what a lover. He's insatiable. He's so passionate, but so gentle -- yet, he's damn lethal with that karate'. What an enigma of a person. Those gorgeous eyes of his absolutely melt my heart. Oh God, Jonah, I miss you already.

Damn. Poor Jonah, my beautiful, beautiful boy, he must be going through hell. That bitch of a stepmom was going off on me the whole time I was waiting for his dad to come home. God, the things she said. She must of called me a damn faggot at least ten times, that is when she wasn't insulting Jonah with the same bullshit. Talk about a homophobe! Jonah's gonna catch pure hell, if not from his dad, then from that bitch. I so wish there was something more I could do. I thought about just loading some of his clothes and the two of us just getting the hell out of there and hitting the road. The road to where? Dad would just report this damn truck stolen and the cops would get us. Besides, where would a couple of gay sixteen and seventeen year old kids go? How would we live? We're both poor rich kids with no appreciable skills.

My mom is really going to freak. Oh, man, I don't even want to think about it. She's going to have me prayin' with her for hours, no days, or worse. She might even tell that preacher. Oh crap, my life is going to be miserable either way. Ever since she walked in and caught Dad fucking that damn bitch from his office and got that divorce she's been fuckin' nuts. She joined that crazy church and turned into a Jesus freak. I know they take half of her money. She's always calling Dad and asking for more. All they do at that church is rag on gays, liberals, and other sinners.

It was a long drive back to Mississippi. I really hated to leave Jonah like that, but when you're literally thrown out of the house . . . I had all these damn thoughts going through my head. I tried to calm myself thinking of better times, like the first time I saw him. He was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. He was just sitting on the beach watching me play with Schultzie. I had to find a way to meet him, but I didn't mean for Schultzie to damn near clobber him. Damn, he was so cute, and the expression on his face when I mentioned his woody, priceless. That sweet sound he makes just before he comes, it's almost like a whimper. Mmmm, his smell, his taste, especially that spot on his neck, just below his ear, it's soooo sweet. Oh my God, I love him so much. I never knew it was possible to love someone so much, at least not the way it happened so fast. He's just so . . . so perfect. What the hell am I going to do? What are we going to do? What's going to happen to us?

I finally got to my Dad's house, it was late afternoon, but he wasn't home yet. I had to wait. Damn it was going to be a long horrible wait, full of dread. What was I gonna say?

I remember where all this started. I remember feeling like someone had just kicked me in the gut, and kicked me hard. I couldn't breathe. Maybe someone just sucked all the air out the room. You know, like that airlock scene in Aliens. That made as much sense as what Dad had just said. No, he didn't say that. It still seems like a dream, no, a nightmare. I still wake up in a sweat and suffocating at night when I hear those words and re-live those god-awful few minutes. Those horrible words, "Jonah, Sarah, your mom has cancer."

I should have known something was wrong when my parents flew my sister in from New York. She had only been there a couple months this time and wasn't due home again till Thanksgiving. They wanted to have "a family weekend together" they said.

My sister, Sarah, is five years older than me. I remember looking over at her when those evil words slithered out of Dad's mouth and bit me in the ass. Sarah is gorgeous. She is a melding of my parents with the best features of both. She is tall and slim, with an incredibly straight regal posture, long shimmery dark hair, an olive complexion, and large gorgeous dark brown almost black eyes with my mother's petite nose, and rich full lips. She's a professional model living in New York. She had been modeling locally in Birmingham and Huntsville since she was twelve. She moved to New York as soon as she finished high school. They say she could be the next supermodel. Mom and Dad didn't want her to do it, but her contract was so impressive, they relented if she promised to start college by the time she was twenty-five. Since the useful life of a model is generally between the ages of sixteen to thirty, tops, and if the super-model thing didn't work she could have something else "to fall back on." I so envy her for getting out of this damn two-horse Alabama shithole town.

"Jonah, do you understand? Did you hear me?" I vaguely acknowledge my sister and mother hugging and crying. My dad saying something directed at me. I think I'm in shock. "Yeah, Dad, I heard. What does this mean? I mean, is she . . . I mean how long . . .???... I mean what are we talking about?"

What if I lost my mom? I wouldn't have anyone I could go to. Dad is so distant and just doesn't connect with me. I know I'm just one big disappointment to him. The son who won't ever cut it in football. If he ever found out the real truth about me and my secret he would kick my ass out on the street, or worse. Why am I being so selfish? I'm worrying about me when mom might be dying.

My dad interrupted my thoughts, "Son, we just don't know. There are treatments. They say surgery is not an option because of the degree of damage and involvement, but she will start chemo and radiation therapy next week."

Damn, why did this happen? Why would God let this happen? I could feel the tears welling up, but I didn't want dad to see me cry. I couldn't look at them. I just put my hands in my blonde spiked up hair and just put my head down. I was barely fourteen for Christs' sake. I had just figured out my deepest, darkest secret that I can never tell anyone, and now they drop this on me.

"Son, are you alright?" my dad asked as he put his hand on my shoulder.

I couldn't let him see my cry, though. That would be weak, like those girly-boys or fags he's always bitching about. How could he be so calm? Oh, right, it makes sense now. They've known this for a while. I mean they had to plan this little thing to get Sarah home. I'm such an idiot. They could have been hiding this for weeks. I remember I had to stay with my grandfather a couple of weeks ago while they went out of town on "a business trip".

"I'll be ok. I just need to go to my room for a while" I said, still looking down at the floor. I got up and quickly left for my room. I closed the door and collapsed in a heap on my bed and buried my face in a pillow so he wouldn't hear the sobs. After a few minutes, there was a knock. "Jonah, honey, are you ok? Can I come in?"

My mom's voice was calm, and it helped calm me some. I sat up and grabbed some tissue, dried my face and blew my nose. "Yeah, come in." I said.

"Jonah, we need to talk about this." Mom said as she came over to my bed, sat, and put her arm around me. "Jonah, I'm going to fight this thing. I have too much to live for. I've got the most wonderful son and daughter a woman could ask for and a supportive husband. I'm not going to let this thing take all that away from me. Not yet."

"Mom, it's just not fair" I squeaked as the tears were coming back.

She held me close. She put hands around the back of my head and pulled me into her. "Jonah, I love you, and I will always love you no matter what. Life isn't always fair, but I want you to know that I'm here for you now, and we're going to face this together as family. As long as I have my family, I can face anything." I just sat there with her holding me like that for several minutes. I couldn't say anything without breaking down again.

I loved my Mom, more than anyone in the whole world. She was my world. She was usually the only person I could talk to when I had problems. I had been thinking about telling her my secret. In fact, just the other day I was so close, but I just couldn't get it out. I can't tell her now. She has too many other problems to worry about. She's so pretty too. She's short and small-boned --"Petite" she calls it. She has big blue eyes, a small nose, and really full rich lips. I'm told I look just like her. I have the same blonde hair, her big blue eyes, rich full lips, delicate features, and small size, -- everything.

"Jonah," mom almost whispered in my ear after several minutes. "Jonah I want you to know we're going to get through this together, but I'm going to need your help. I'm going to have a lot to do the next few days before I start these treatments. I'm going to be very busy in my office here and Sarah has to go right back to New York to do some magazine layout or something. Of course you know your Dad is always busy at work, and I'm going to have to count on you to help out around here."

"OK, mom, I'll try, but I need you, you can't leave me." I said as the tears came back.

"Jonah, I don't ever want to leave you. Believe me, baby." And she held me till I finally stopped crying.

Mom had always been there for me, for me and Sarah. I don't remember my mom ever working at a real job, but it seemed as though she never needed to. In fact, it was mom who bought Sarah a car when she turned sixteen. I know she had a small home office set up in a converted storage room at our house. She said she did some stuff to help out with her dad's estate. I think her family was really well off, but I don't much about it and she never talked about it much. Her mom died of cancer before I was born and her dad passed away when I was around six or seven years old or so. I don't remember much about it other than we went to the funeral near Memphis. I do remember meeting one of her two younger brothers at the funeral. Like Sarah and me, there was a pretty big age difference between her and her brothers. The one I met at the funeral was almost eight years younger than her, and the youngest is only ten years older than me. Doing the math on that, I figured that they are kind of like Sarah and me, but about seven or eight years apart. The oldest' name is Charles, or Chip, and the younger whom I've never met is William, but my mom referred to him as Billy. They never came to visit us but I know my mom talked to them on the phone fairly regularly. I never remember my dad even mentioning them, which I always thought a little odd. They would always send Sarah and me a card and money on Christmas and our birthdays, though.

Mom had the treatments and we thought she was doing well for almost a year till one day she started coughing up blood. The doctors said the cancer had won and apparently got into her lymph system and then was virtually all over. She fought hard to stay with us, but the cancer was too far advanced. Dad set up a hospital bed at home and hired nurses. There was a home hospice service that operated out of UAB Hospital in Birmingham that came by almost every day. This went on for over three months. It was a hellish existence. I hated to see her like this. She was once so beautiful, but now she was like this pitiful creature that was in pain and just wanted release. She was so thin, almost like a living skeleton. Her beautiful skin was like ash. Her beautiful long, blonde hair had long ago fallen out from the radiation and chemo. Her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes, became like hollow pieces of glass. I wanted to cry every time I went in her room. It hurt so much to see her like that. I didn't even have Sarah for support. She was back in New York. I couldn't cry in front of Dad. It was hell, this must be hell. My only escape was my music. Sometimes I would sit at the piano for hours. I wouldn't even let my friends come over. It wasn't that I was embarrassed, it was just so painful. I didn't want their pity.

We were able to be with her all the way to the end and Dad and I were holding her hands when she died. Sarah almost made it back in time, but was on her way from the airport in Birmingham. Sarah was crushed that she didn't get a final farewell. I don't know if she will ever reconcile herself with that. She cried for days. Me, I was just numb. I had already cried myself to sleep every night for weeks. Dexter, Dex, my best friend, was there for me too. He was a great friend and support, and tried his best to help me cheer up. He would talk about the things we had done growing up, camp-outs, and dumb stuff we did as little kids. I think he was really worried about me. Dad was so self-absorbed in his own grief, I don't think he even noticed me.

The funeral was rough, even my strong jock war-hero dad was sobbing. My grandfather, a retired minister, conducted the service assisted by the current pastor from the church. The whole church choir showed up to sing some of her favorite hymns, although now, I can only remember one, Abide with Me. It's the one she would have me play for her over and over.

Mom's brother, Chip, came to the funeral, but I still had never met or spoken with Billy. Uncle Chip said Billy had to stay home and run his business, whatever that was. On the day after the funeral, Uncle Chip came by the house. He and my Dad had a long conversation and Uncle Chip loaded some storage boxes with files from my mom's office and her computer.

OK, so here I was. A fifteen-year-old, straight-acting, closeted, gay kid living in a redneck, homophobic, bible belt small town alone with a father whom I thought I could never please or impress if I wanted to. I guess I need to explain a little about this chicken-shit Alabama town and the friends I have here. We moved here when I was about to start kindergarten. The first kid I met here was our next door neighbor, Dexter McGee. Dex was several months older than me, but because of how our birthdays fell, he and I would always be in the same grade. Dex also had a younger sister, Lisa, that was a couple of years younger than us and was an obnoxious, bratty pest and tattletale. Any time Dex or I got into any kind of mischief, we could count on the little bitch squealing to one of our parents. My other close friend is Lori. Her real name is Loretta, but she hates that. She's the same age as Dex and me and lives a few doors down the street. She's always been sort of a tomboy and we've always kind of treated her like "one of the guys." Even she's better at most sports than I am.

One thing about a small town is that the schools are also generally small, so Dex and I were often in the same classroom from Kindergarten till Junior High, and even then we wound up in a lot of the same classes. Dex and his family also went to our church, and our parents became close friends too. We spent so much time at each other's houses, it was kind of like we both had two sets of parents. We were more like brothers than best friends or maybe somewhere in between. I know there was no one I was closer too outside of my Mom.

When we turned twelve though, Dex was girl crazy. Every conversation was like which actress or female singer or whatever do you think has the biggest tits. Either that or he was trying to decide which girl in our class or whatever that he would like to get naked and screw. I of course couldn't let on that I would rather look at a guy's package or ass than a pair of tits any day. Oh no, that would never do. Not only would I be condemned to hell and back by the good Christians, I would be forever the outcast and even more susceptible to teasing and fights that I already got because of my small size and almost feminine features. I would do the macho act and talk about tits and screwing this girl or that, and join in on the queer and fag jokes.

After Mom's funeral, my relationship with Dad only got more distant. He was hardly ever around the house, and when he was, he rarely spoke to me other than to be polite or ask about school, or if we needed things from the store. It somehow became my responsibility to make sure the kitchen was stocked with enough groceries for the few times we ate at home. I was becoming a pretty good cook, though. I spent a lot of time next door over at the McGee's with Dex. Dad had hired a housekeeper when mom got sick. She still came three mornings a week, and took care of laundry and general housekeeping.

Our existence droned on like that for several months, until one day that following June dad came in said we were going on a road trip.

"Jonah, I've got to go to some meetings with other insurance people next week down in Gulf Shores and I want you to come with me. I think it'll do us both good to get away from here for a week or so." He said smiling in an obvious attempt to be sincere.

"Sounds like fun, Dad. Can I ask Dex to go?"

"Well, I was hoping to have some time alone with you, but yeah, that might be good for you, I'm going to be gone a lot of the time to meetings and other events, so that would probably be good."

I called Dex, but his parents were taking him and his sister to visit his mom's parents somewhere up in North Carolina and since they hadn't seen them in over a year, his coming with me wasn't really an option. Damn, now I was going to be stuck alone on this trip with my Dad who barely spoke to me and with nothing to do while he was at his damn meetings.

I think I was always a disappointment to my father. First, I was small, and looked like a girl. I guess that's the main reason I wear my hair short and spiked now. I didn't act sissy or feminine, I just looked like my mom. I was just not into team sports that much. I enjoyed watching and talking sports, but it wasn't my talent. I wasn't big enough for football, tall enough for basketball, our little town really didn't have much of a soccer league, but I did play baseball. All through little league, Dex and I were on the same team that my dad sponsored and occasionally coached. My dad did know about the teasing and fights I would get into almost as soon as I started school and decided that I needed lessons in self-defense. He managed to find a karate instructor that had actually studied Kenpo under Master Parker in Pasadena, California, and who was also former army ranger officer, and now a cop with the state police. I've been taking for almost eight years and have a third degree black belt. I don't have much trouble with fights now. Oh yeah, and there's golf, my dad is nuts about it and insisted I learn the game. Well, I started when I was twelve, and after a couple of years, I was pretty decent at it, and I really enjoyed it, there were several kids my age playing and Dex took it up too. I finally got good enough Dad started taking me with him when he couldn't find anyone else to play.

Dad is 6'3" dark hair, olive complexion, dark eyes, and very athletic -- your basic good-looking jock type. In fact, he was a high school football star, and even played two years of college ball at Bama in one of the legendary Bear Bryant's last teams till dad messed up his knee. He and my mom met at Bama, she was a one of the dancers that performed with the band, but she was also a 4.0 student in business and marketing. They married right after he graduated and just before he started the military thing.

Oh, right, we haven't talked about that. Apparently the knee wasn't bad enough to keep him out of the military, because after he finished college he served several years as an officer in army intelligence until the end of the first Iraq thing. My sister and I were army brats and both born overseas during my dad's military service. He retired as a Lt. Colonel with a decent pension and decided to move back to his old home town in the middle-of-nowhere north central Alabama where he was the high school football star. His mom had died a few years earlier of a heart attack or something and his dad was a retired minister of one the most hard core conservative, close-minded, bible-thumping churches you can imagine. That sort of explains the biblical names of my sister and me.

My dad is also very religious and serves as a deacon in that same church. He also owns a local insurance and real estate agency. My mom was a bit more laid back. After I was old enough to understand a little about religion and politics, I think mom must have been a closet liberal.

Despite the fact that I made good grades, did ok in baseball, and I did very well in Karate, I didn't think it was never good enough for Dad. I think he wanted me to be the big jock hero he was, and it just wasn't going to happen. I was more interested in things like reading and my music. My mom started me on the piano when I eight and I fell in love with making music. I still try to practice my piano every day. She also made sure I was in the children and youth choirs in church where I discovered I had a natural singing ability. As I got older and was starting Junior High and now High School, Dad was disappointed that I would rather join the school chorus and that I took up the trumpet to join the school band, rather than play a sport. I guess that was why I had always been much closer to Mom than Dad. Only fair I guess because Sarah was closer to Dad than Mom. When I was little, Mom and Sarah were constantly fighting about something, usually boys or her curfew, and she could always bat those big dark eyes at dad and get whatever she wanted.

That weekend before the trip, Dad actually took me to nearest town with a mall. We went shopping for new swimwear, shorts, polo-type shirts, and other stuff one would need for a trip to the beach. It was actually kind of fun and he was unusually cheerful and even helpful. He also said he wanted me to pack my golf stuff and we might even have a chance to do some fishing. Cool, this might not be so bad after all.

The following Wednesday, we loaded Dad's Escalade and took off. We chatted off and on about different trivial things on the long drive until we reached Mobile and dad pulled into this seafood place just off the interstate that was built up on piers out in the middle of Mobile Bay. You had to walk up a series of ramps from the parking lot to get to the door. We walked in and were shown to a table. The place was done in a fishing pier motif kind of thing, with nets and different kind of game fish hanging on the interior walls. All of the exterior walls, except the one facing the interstate, were windows looking out on the bay. There were several really neat ship steering-wheel chandeliers with old-fashioned ship lanterns attached to them hanging from the ceiling. It was really a nice place with linen tablecloths and linen napkins wrapped around the silverware and an enclosed glass candle-holder on each table. The overly-friendly waitress came to the table and we ordered our food and then he dropped his bombshell.

"Son, I've been waiting a while to tell you this and I just don't know any other way other than to just spit it out. I'm seeing someone."

WHAT?!! Did I just hear what I thought he just said?

"Huh?"

"Look" his eyes were looking directly into mine and his face had a dead serious expression on it. "I know this is something you weren't expecting, and neither was I. It just sort of happened. But I want you to be okay with this."

"Okay?" I said somewhat too loudly to be in the middle of a nice restaurant. "Mom's only been gone for a few months. What's your problem? Didn't she mean anything to you?"

He looked at me sternly for a few seconds, but waited `til he was sure I was finished. I began to realize I was making a spectacle of myself and just shut up and sort of looked away.

"Look" he said quietly "Your mother was the love of my life. She made me complete. We were soul mates. I don't expect you to understand this, but when she knew she was dying, she made me promise to go on with my life and not waste it mourning over her. She hoped I would find someone to help take care of both of us, and most importantly she wanted both of us to be happy. I'm not telling you I'm getting married or anything. I'm just telling you that I am seeing someone before you hear it somewhere else. You know how gossip flows in a small town."

I had to process that for just a few moments. There was a long awkward silence for several minutes. I just looked down at the empty table in front of me for a few minutes. The silence was broken by the waitress bringing our salads.

After she left, I looked up at him and said "Dad, I'm sorry, it was just a surprise, I mean, I just didn't expect, I mean, I just didn't think you ... dammit, I don't know what I mean."

He then did something else that surprised me. He reached over and put his hand on mine. "Son, the past few months have been very hard for me. I felt totally lost without your mom. To make it worse, every time I look at you, I see her face. I have to move on. I want you to understand. I loved your mom and I love you."

For the second time in my life I saw a tear forming in Dad's eye. I hadn't seen him emotional since the funeral. I knew he was sincere, and I felt like crap for my little outburst. "Dad, I'm sorry. I mean it. I shouldn't have reacted like that. I was just a little surprised. But I have to say my peace. I miss mom too. Maybe I'm not ready to just move on, I don't know. If you do get serious about this or decide to get married just don't expect me to call her mom or anything."

He looked at me again, but with a softer expression and he was still watery-eyed. "Son, I don't expect anything other than your support or understanding, and I wouldn't do anything without telling you first. BUT, don't misunderstand and think you will have to approve of what I decide or that you have some sort of veto, however, I do want you to understand that I will never do anything to hurt you or something that is not in the best interest of you or our family."

"I understand," I said somewhat meekly, "Who is she?"

"Jessica Greene, Jessie, the real estate agent that works in my office. You've met her on several occasions."

"Yeah, but I thought she was married."

"She was, she's had a bad time. Her husband was very physically abusive. He beat her and their kids. She got a divorce just before your mom died."

"Oh, kids?"

"Yeah, two. A boy, Jason, two or three years younger than you, and a daughter, Tammy, around eight years old. They live with her."

"Oh." About that time the waitress brought our food and the conversation changed to more talk about the trip. I think we both had said everything we needed to about that subject for now and were relieved to find a break and change of topic. I hope he gave that waitress a nice tip. Her timing was perfect.

We left the restaurant and were pulling up to the condo complex over an hour later. Dad's meetings were in a convention center a few miles further away, but he wanted the condo so we could have more space and privacy. We had also brought an ice chest and some basic food staples so we could eat whenever. Damn thoughtful of him I thought.

He was really making an effort on this. This was a first class condo overlooking the gulf. As you walked in, there was a small hallway that I guess was supposed to be a foyer. As you walked through the foyer, maybe ten feet or so, it opened up into a living area. It even had one of those new big plasma TV's hanging on a wall. To the left was a bar which separated the well-equipped kitchen area from the living area. There were four modern-looking bar stools done in black `pleather' with chrome trim in front of the bar. At the far end of the living area was a glass wall with a sliding glass door in the center opening onto a balcony where there was wrought-iron table and two chairs and an ocean view. It also had two separate bedrooms and baths.

The complex had two pools, tennis courts, a jacuzzi, exercise room, and shuttles to two golf courses. Nice. When we got there, we started unpacking. After a few minutes, he came into my room and handed me a box. "This is a cell phone. It is one of those pre-paid things I picked up when we were at the mall last weekend. If you leave the complex area or meet someone and want to go somewhere I want you to call me. I have programmed my cell number in your phone and vice versa. If I don't answer leave a message. I check them regularly. It'll also text message. You have no excuse for not telling me where you are. You can also call Dex or your sister if you like. The McGee's gave me the number you can call. If you call your sister, though, don't drop the bomb on her. I'm going to tell her on her next visit."

"Thanks, Dad. I promise I'll call you if I wander off anywhere, and I won't say a word to Sarah."

"Good," he said smiling at me. "I know I can depend on you. You've always been the responsible one." I was beginning to think aliens had kidnapped my dad, and left this pod person or whatever it was, behind.