Date: Fri, 14 Dec 2001 21:46:36 +0000 From: Java Biscuit <email@example.com> Subject: boy in a pink box, chapter nine This is a story involving teen/boy, male/male graphic sex and not intended for reading by minors. If you are underage, or this type of material is illegal where you live, please stop now, and go read something else! This is a completely fantasized story meant only for the purpose of pleasurable reading. Feedback to firstname.lastname@example.org Boy in a Pink Box ~ chapter nine by Biscuit It wasn't my dad who found us out, it was Spano. And it wasn't us he found first, it was Terry. Technically, I guess it was Terry that found him. Oh Jesus. I can't believe how the world crumbled. The way Terry told it to me, he was out in the dunes. He was doing what he apparently always did, combing through the stretch of trails where guys congregated to do stuff. He told me he'd let them see him if he liked how they looked. And if they were interested, he'd let them blow him and he'd jerk them off. Some of them did give him money, some didn't. That's not what he really did it for. "It's okay," he said. "I've met some okay guys. Some jerks. But I can kind of tell what they're like and I'm quicker than them and I know my way around out there. I can always get away if I want to." Oh God. None of the details hit me like they would have before. All the things he'd never told me, it didn't matter any more, because the big thing made all the rest of it just more junk. We were at my house. It was pouring rain and didn't it just figure it would be. August, and even though there would be plenty of warm days left, we were getting hit with a blast of what was around the bend at the end of summer, cold and rain from the northeast. Terry and I were huddled at opposite ends of the couch. Alone in the house. Terry hadn't recognized Spano at first. "I see this guy getting it, I mean he was getting fucked. I didn't see who was doing it to him. They were on their knees and the guy saw me watching." I cringed, pulling the knitted cover up over my knees. I'd known it had to be something like that, but Christ, he'd actually seen Spano fucking somebody! "You okay, Joe?" "Yeah," I said. Lying. I didn't think I was ever going to be okay again as long as I lived. "Anyway," Terry said, dragging the other end of the cover over his bare feet. "I had my dick out and the guy was about to do me when the guy behind him looked up and I just about died. Spano, right there in front of me pounding the shit out of this guy's ass." "Jesus, Terry!" I guess I was wrong when I said the details didn't matter. "Sorry," he said, "you want me to stop?" "No, but leave out the pounding and stuff." "I'll try. I keep forgetting I'm talking about your dad's boyfriend. Fuck, I better just shut up." Oh God, my dad's boyfriend. I felt like I was going to heave my breakfast and then a thought crossed my mind, that it could have been worse. So much worse. It could have been my dad instead of Spano. "Just tell it, without all that shit," I said. "The thing was, he couldn't stop, even though he saw me. He was shooting his load and I was frozen there staring at him, like a jerk, thinking how he couldn't be who he was. It was so fucked up! He pulled his dick out of the guy and got up, stuffing it into his pants, looking at me the whole time. I was standing there, like an idiot, with my dick in my hand. And he says to me, 'Zip it up.'" I knew what happened next. Or at least I knew enough. Spano had marched him out of there and straight to my dad, throwing Terry's bike in the back of his truck and calling my dad on his cell. "The two of them sat me down here and I was so freaked out, I just told them everything. Man, your dad and Spano. I never would have thought it in a million years. God, Joe, it was like the fucking twilight zone." Unfortunately, I'd been there for the rest. My dad and Spano. Jesus. My poor dad. Poor me, fuck. My dad had left them to go get me and Gareth at the movies. He was waiting for us in the lobby, looking like somebody had died. "Guys," he'd said, before we could even speak, not even to say some bullshit about the movie, right off the bat, "we've got some serious talking to do. Terry's out at the house with Spano." And we'd followed him out to the truck like a fucking funeral procession, knowing that some how or other we'd been found out. Less than a day had passed since I'd learned that my dad was gay, that the guy I thought was his best friend had been his boyfriend since before I was born. And he was still my dad and royally pissed at me for doing what I'd done to Gareth. Twilight Zone. Right, Terry, tell me something I didn't know. Terry was relieved that my dad wasn't going to tell his parents about the dunes and all. He'd promised he wouldn't go out there anymore. My dad made us all listen to a lecture about it was all right to be gay and about safe sex and minors, and how boys could get hurt. I'd just wanted to die. Gareth cried. Not that he was a baby about it, I mean he sat there and took it, like me and Terry through most of the lecture. Even the dreaded I'm-so-disappointed-in-you part, where my dad made us feel like the lowest scum of the earth. But when my dad said that Gareth wouldn't be allowed to spend the night any more and we couldn't see each other alone, he lost it. He'd been sitting there with his head hanging, but he started rubbing his face and the tears starting rolling out from between his fingers. My dad had had the three of us lined up on the couch. He'd paced as he'd talked, sometimes sitting down briefly then up like a shot again, pacing. Spano sat the whole time, listening. I kept looking at him, hating him. I hated him for being my dad's boyfriend, for being out in the dunes, for finding Terry. I guess it was easier to look at him and hate him, than look at my dad. My dad looked at him too, turning to him when he'd hit a hard part in what he was saying. Spano didn't say anything until Gareth started crying. Then he said, "Chief," his name for my dad, like he was questioning what my dad had said and my dad whipped around and glared at him. I thought for a minute he was going to yell at him. It was in his face, the anger. But it broke without him yelling. He just kind of deflated, his hands on his hips, his head down. Gareth was trying not to make a sound but we all knew he was crying. My throat burned with it, I wanted so bad to put my arms around him, do something, but I was scared to death that my dad would freak out if I touched him. God, it was so horrible to hear him choking it back, see him wiping at his face and not be able to comfort him. Then he suddenly jumped up from the couch and lunged at my dad, like he was going to hit him or something. And I jumped after him and grabbed him from behind before I even knew what I was doing. He busted out crying for real. Big, awful wails, pulling against my arms like he just wanted to reach my dad and starting beating the crap out of him. For a few seconds it was like trying to hold back a tornado. My dad looked so stunned. Spano was up out of his chair and across to us like he'd levitated there and I hated him for a whole new reason when he picked Gareth up and the kid hugged his neck, crying his eyes out. Spano turned to my dad, holding Gareth and rubbing his back. "Chief," he said. "Think. If he can't come here and be with Joe, where's he gonna go?" God, I felt so ashamed of myself. There was the guy I was so busy hating, being the one who was really looking out for Gareth, thinking about things that I didn't. "And you think this is better for him?" my dad said. He sounded exasperated, but like he might give in. So weird to see them talk to each other, knowing what I knew. Like I'd had a mom and dad and didn't know it. Two dads. Jesus Christ. "Fuck," my dad said, and we all looked at him. He covered his face with his hands. Just like I do, only I guess it's really that I do it like him. Then he shook his head, his hands coming down to his sides again, with all of us staring at him. He sat down. He nodded at Spano and held his hands out. "Come here, slugger," he said. Spano put Gareth down and the kid melted onto my dad's lap. My dad hugged him and held him, and he even kissed the side of Gareth's face. "It's okay," he told him. "You come here whenever you want to, just like before. But when you and Joe are by yourselves I want you guys to be careful. It's grown up guy stuff you've been fooling around with and it could hurt you. I don't want you to get hurt, that's why I'm upset. You understand?" The little redhead nodded on his shoulder. I don't know how long we all watched him rocking Gareth on his lap. I felt better that he wasn't being banished from our house, but my heart and my head were aching. "All right," Spano said, looking at me. "Who's man enough in this crowd to order the pizza?" That was my job. I felt like I'd puke if I had to put a bite of food in my mouth but I was relieved to be given something half way normal to do. Mostly, I was relieved that he was looking at me, like I was still me, and life could go on even if it felt like it shouldn't. Maybe I didn't hate him so much. Hearing Terry say what he'd seen Spano doing out in the dunes was bad. I didn't understand, in the mess of it all, why Spano would do something like that if he really was my dad's boyfriend. Why wasn't my dad mad at him? Why wasn't he jealous? Oh God, nothing made sense. They'd made me and Gareth sleep in separate rooms. And they had slept together! For the first time ever, Spano stayed at our house and didn't spend the night downstairs on his bed in the office. He actually slept in my dad's room! How weird was that? Now they'd gone up Cape to shop for hardware and taken Gareth with them, like we couldn't be trusted, which, I guess, we couldn't. Terry had gotten quiet, then he made a little sound, like "ungh." I looked over at him and saw he had his eyes closed and his hand was moving between his legs, under the cover. Jesus! "You are so sick!" His eyes opened to slits and he grinned at me. "Sorry, Joe. I was thinking about Spano." "Oh God, now you're making me sick." "Just kidding," he laughed, but he didn't stop rubbing at his crotch. His hand was flat out so I didn't think he had it out, he was just rubbing it in his pants. "Well, whatever you're thinking about, cut it out." He didn't. He kept looking at me, stroking his dick, and I didn't look away even though I knew I should. I think he knew the second I started getting hard because he said, "Come here, Joey," just as I boned up. "No way, man." "Way," he said. He started up the couch, on his hands and knees. He grabbed my ankles and pulled me toward him, so I was flat on the cushions, and climbed over me. "Just a little bit, Joe," he said, pushing the cover off me. I didn't say another word. Because I wanted him to do it. I couldn't say that I wanted it, but my dick was saying it for me; a big fat 'yes' pointing straight up the belly of my jeans. Terry got on me and his mouth covered mine at the same time his dick started humping away at me, rubbing my dick. I don't know why I wanted it then, when I hadn't before, but I did. The weight of him on me felt so good, like it pushed everything that was bothering me away. He was heavy and hard and his mouth was soft and hot, and when he put his hands around my head, I started sucking his tongue like a hungry baby.