“When you love someone you leave every possibility open to them and in spite of all of the memories of the past you are ready to be surprised, again and again, surprised, at how different they are, not a finished image. ”
Bent over, hands on my knees, gasping for breath, trying to regain some sort of equilibrium to my system after finishing the course, realizing never had we been pushed this hard, to this extent of reaching our limits, and then pushed over those limits, past the barriers we’d imposed on ourselves and beyond, all as a result of the pace Jamie and Chief Kraft set for us! I finally stood, looked around and noticed, other than the other three Horsemen and the cops who stayed with us, our teammates were running in, collapsing on the ground, groaning, trying to regain their strength as well!
Chief Kraft released Jamie from his embrace as we, the Horsemen and me, started to approach them while Coach Schroeder was talking to the other boys, encouraging them, giving suggestions, pats on the back or butt, and welcoming smiles. That’s what we liked about Coach Schroeder, he never saw any of us as a failure or loser, but always a winner, no matter how well or poorly we did! He said he figured we each would know if we slipped and didn’t need to be reminded of it, but encouraged us to do the best we could and that’d be just fine with him. Because of it, we all knew we’d bust our ass for him, and now, Chief Kraft and the law enforcement officers who were our mentors and heroes, as well!
“What did I hear Scotty call you,” I heard Chief Kraft ask Jamie, “just before the race?” while keeping his arm affectionately around him, holding him close.
“Yeah, Daddy; a winged horse; the most splendid, magnificent, beautiful creature ever created, Whit says, and showed me pictures and read me stories about it.”
Jamie hesitated, looked at his step-father and at me, adding shyly, “That’s what Whit says about me, but,” he confessed, “I think he’s more beautiful than me!”
Now I was embarrassed! Chief Kraft just laughed and hugged Jamie even closer. Jamie said quickly, proudly pointing his finger at Chris, Scotty, Derrick, and me, “These guys are the Four Horsemen of Ham Hocks High and my friends!”
“Pegasus and the Four Horsemen,” Coach Schroeder repeated, overhearing Jamie’s remarks. “It should be a great cross country track season for this team if we all run like we did today,” pointing at the rest of the tired, but happy, team. “These fellows ran faster today than ever before, thanks to the pace you set!”
Scotty spoke up at this point, “That may be true Coach, but if it wasn’t for the challenge Chief Kraft and the officers set by pushing us, we wouldn’t have!”
With that we all cheered – sort of- we still didn’t have a lot of wind!
Our team learned a great deal that day and it wasn’t all about running! We became a team, a team who could and would work together to help each other win with humility and lose with honor!
The final two days of practice before the invitational downtown were good hard workouts with several of the officers, along with Chief Kraft, working with small groups of runners helping them develop or improve their running and racing skills and techniques. Coach Schroeder was pretty darned clever, we thought, in getting help from others. Without a student teacher (good riddance to bad rubbish) finding Chief Kraft and the officers who were runners was a god-send to him and to us. Of course, having Chief Kraft’s step-son on the team helped. I did wonder, however, how he knew Chief Kraft was a runner!
The race on Saturday was attended by six schools with freshman teams and there seemed to be a real shit pot full of runners all over the place! Members of our junior varsity and varsity teams were there to cheer us on as well as parents, and classmates of all three teams. The other schools had just as many spectators and fans in attendance so there were large numbers of people lining the route. Having so many people cheering, shouting, would be a new experience for us; I only hoped the crowds and the noise didn’t distract or frighten Jamie – it didn’t!
It was a shot-gun start with our team being assigned the middle of the pack. There were fifteen of us (the entire squad out for cross country track) and fourteen of us fell in behind Jamie as he began leading us through the phalanx of flailing arms and pumping legs around us. It was easy to run into someone, stumble, and fall, but we held our own, staying on our feet.
Halfway through the course, he had us toward the front and not long after, he was leading, with Scotty and me tight on his tail, as he pumped his legs, determination and concentration on his face. We weren’t alone, several boys from other schools were in there with us, along with several of our teammates. Jamie didn’t look to see who was alongside of him or glance over his shoulder to see who was behind him, he was focused on running the race, giving it his all, assured in his mind I wasn’t far behind him, and that was enough for him! At one point in the race, I watched him take a deep breath, stretch out his legs, throw his shoulders back a little, all signs, from what we knew of him, he was going to pick up the pace and kick ass! Soon, runners from the other schools were falling back, unable to sustain the pace, and it was Jamie, Scotty, and me leading the pack with Derrick, Chris, and two of our teammates right on our ass!
Nearing the finish line, we could hear our officer coaches yelling, encouraging us, but Jamie heard only one voice; Chief Kraft’s!
“Run, son, run like the wind!”
And he did!
All the members of our squad finished in the top thirty, garnering enough points for us to place first in the invitational. In celebration, after the race, we were treated to a pizza party at Pete’s Pizza Parlor in “Dog Town,” the small business district adjacent to campus. Don’t ask me why it’s called “Dog Town,” because I don’t have a fucking clue! The treat was provided by Chief Kraft and the other law enforcement officers who’d been our coaches and running companions. To top the day off, Derrick had a sleepover at his house for just the five of us.
Jamie didn’t have a sleeping bag so I brought an extra along we had at home when I walked over to pick him up. Chief Kraft made it point to tell us not to run around campus in our undies and we laughed; but I don’t think he was joking!
We just watched movies, ate popcorn, and re-ran the race. When we rolled out the sleeping bags, I opened mine clear out, laid it flat, and did the same with the one for Jamie. He was delighted to see we were going to sleep together and not trundled up in separate bags. I did have to whisper in his ear, “no sex stuff, okay?” He gave me that, “you don’t think I’m stupid?” look he does every now and then. Well, I just had to be certain, more for my sake than his because one look at him in his undies (we all slept that way at Derricks) made me horny has hell and I took on that “Unicorn” look, only the horn was not on the head on my shoulders!
Jamie settled in next to me, covered with our sleeping bag, head resting on my stomach, watching a movie on television. We were all tired and before long, he was sound asleep, arm across my middle and his head moved up to my chest. I held him in place, putting my arm around him, securing him to me. He looked so peaceful as he slept, feeling safe and secure in my arms, snuggling in for the close contact he loved so well!
Scotty, in a sleeping bag right next to us, looked at the two of us, remarking softly, “He really loves you, you know!”
I just nodded.
Scotty sighed, a deep, sort of longing or one of resignation, settled down in his bag, and said, sadly, I thought, “You guys are so lucky!”
I didn’t think much of it at the time, only acknowledging what I felt as well.
The school week went well; Jamie didn’t have any revelations about various foods or things Chris thought was disgusting at lunch, so, as far as Chris was concerned, it was really a good week, although I think he secretly waited for the stories, but also felt he didn’t want them because they might make him urp!
The meet this week was on Thursday afternoon, so we were excused from school. It was an invitational also, about fifty miles away. There was to be three separate races; our freshman race, the junior varsity, and the varsity. We all rode the same bus; it was really crowded with three in a seat. The five of us and the rest of the freshman squad sat in the front seats of the bus. It was one of our first introductions to “upper class privileges;” varsity runners sat in the back of the bus.
Our freshman team, led by Jamie and the Four Horsemen, finished in the front of the pack and garnered enough points to take first place. Chief Kraft and a couple of the officers were there to cheer us on as well as some of the parents. My folks, Derrick’s, Chris’s, and Scotty’s dads all had classes to teach and couldn’t make it. After the meet, on the way home, Jamie fell asleep, resting his head on my shoulder, sitting between Scotty and me.
“He sure looks comfortable and happy laying like that,” Scotty remarked.
I just nodded, adding softly, “Jamie’s always comfortable using me as a pillow.” He sometimes just didn’t seem he could get close enough to me!
Our third match, a week later on Saturday morning, was another invitational at our school this time, but a really big one! There were ten schools invited to send squads and they all did! Coach Schroeder had volunteers lined up to register runners, provide water, first aid, and run the big concession stand. It was one of our big fund raisers with the money used for uniforms and extra things the school didn’t or couldn’t furnish. Chief Kraft assigned several officers to help with parking and security. There were hundreds of people there when you included parents and spectators.
The races were run in three heats; freshmen first, junior varsity next, and finally the varsity. By the time it was done it was well into the afternoon. Our freshman squad did really well, winning a first, but the junior varsity and varsity came in third and fourth, not quite what Coach hoped for. Our cheering section was loud and encouraging, filled with our parents, the law enforcement officers who weren’t on duty, and tons of our classmates. Most of them, Dad said, came to watch Pegasus and the Four Horsemen run; it appeared we were getting a reputation!
There was no school on Monday of the next week because of Parent-teacher Conferences. Jamie wanted me to sleepover on Saturday night, but his folks had other plans, so we agreed on Sunday. I hoped he was looking forward to it as much as I was. As many times as I’d been to his house, I’d never been upstairs to his bedroom!
His bedroom was really not much different than mine, in some ways, but different in other ways, each room reflected our differences, yet at the same time, our similarities. Both of our rooms had a double bed, study desk, night stand, computer desk or table, but instead of an electric keyboard, such as in my room, Jamie’s had an artists or architects table; wide, wooden, with an adjustable tilt top for height and angle, sketch pads and paper tucked neatly, efficiently in containers on shelves beneath the top, various pencils, boxes of charcoal, containers of brushes, water color paints, and other artists supplies stored just as neatly and conveniently.
In the corner of the room stood an artist’s easel, again, paper in place at the ready should there be the desire. The easel stood where it’d capture the natural light from the two bedroom windows as he worked or, positioned above and on stands to the sides, electric lights to illuminate when natural light was either too faint or non-existent. The real difference, however, between his room and mine, was what was on the walls!
In my room I had a few poster of some classical artists and some (more than the classical artists) of boy-band groups, I thought looked especially sexy, but Jamie had none of that! No, his walls were decorated with drawings and painting, some framed and some not. Most were pencil/charcoal or just pencil or just charcoal depicting all sorts of still life, people, landscapes, and scenery. They were outstanding to say the least, exhibiting a talent and artistic ability I didn’t know Jamie had!
“Wow!” was all I could say as my eyes tried to view the works before me and my mind tried to absorb the talent it took to create them .
“Wow, what?” Jamie asked cautiously almost fearful, it seemed, of my answer, wondering if I liked what I saw or thought it distasteful or mundane.
“Like, I mean – wow! These are fantastic, Jamie;” waving my hand toward all of the pictures, “I had no idea!”
I really didn’t! He always sat by himself in art class, rarely interacting with anyone other than the teacher, even me, near the window and worked so intently, concentrating on what was in front of him, rendering on paper what was in his mind through the use what I now fully realized and respected, were very talented hands and fingers! I should correct that somewhat, because I knew what talented, agile fingers and hands his hands were, but didn’t realize how talented they were with artists tools, only with my own tool.
“Are these yours?” I asked, amazed and awed by their beauty, their detail, and the life seeming to jump out at the viewer portrayed in those of people.
Jamie nodded his head shyly and said, face red with embarrassment, “They’re not very good, are they!”
I turned my attention from the drawings, looked at him, seeing those tiny tears begin forming in the corner of his eyes as they seem to when he becomes embarrassed, ashamed, self-conscious, frightened, or happy! Quickly pulling his close to me, I kissed him deeply; a kiss full of love, admiration, and desire for his happiness, transmitting my intense respect and appreciation for his talent and my love for him!
Tipping my head back, releasing his lips, with a finger, I gently swiped away the tears in his eyes, smiled, and responded, “Jamie, they’re beautiful, perfect, created by someone just as perfect and beautiful- you!”
Jamie opened his mouth and accepted my kiss as I again engaged soft, warm lips with mine, allowing my tongue to enter, engage with his, and feel him gently nurse on it just a moment, bringing on raging erections on both of us. Slipping my hand around his back, sliding it down beneath his belt and into his boxer briefs, I fondled his smooth, pert, firm buttocks before wiggling my middle finger down between those delicious mounds, encountering his wrinkled entrance and tracing around it causing it twitch in anticipation!
“I love your ass!” I whispered in his ear, bringing a soft sigh of desire from him.
Clutching my crotch, he snickered in return, “You’re hard!”
Our tryst was interrupted when we heard the front door close. Since it was his mom who welcomed me, I quickly assumed it had to be Chief Kraft coming home. I really wasn’t certain how happy he would be seeing me standing in Jamie’s bedroom with my finger up Jamie’s ass, so I stepped back, separating us. Good thing we did too, because we could hear footsteps coming up the stairs!
A soft rap was heard on the door frame, followed by “Okay for me to come in?”
“Come in, Daddy,” Jamie giggled, looking at my crotch and the kind of guilty look on my face.
Chief Kraft stepped into the room, saw us standing there looking at a wall, quite obviously almost caught in some compromising situation by the look on my face, and just laughed softly to himself. He said nothing other than “Hi, Whit!” and stepped up next to us and joined us.
Spotting a detailed pencil drawing of a farm house, he asked, “Isn’t that a new one, Jamie? I haven’t seen it before!”
My overnight bag was still at my feet from where I dropped it when I gave in to my passion, so Jamie picked it up and put it on his bed before walking back to stand in front of the pencil and charcoal drawing.
“Isn’t it Grandma and Grandpa Long’s house?” Chief Kraft asked, leading the discussion, trying to open Jamie up to conversation and his feelings toward the drawing.
Jamie is basically shy, except around me and most times with the Horsemen, but it seems he is really shy, almost reluctant when it comes to discussing or showing his art work. Art expresses the inner soul, the very heart of the artist, bares it to the world, creating a vulnerability, exposing not only the work, but the very character, talent, and deep, deep feelings the artist had when creating his or her work and displaying it for the pleasure, displeasure, discommode, or ignorance of the world’s population, as well as the esthetic pleasures and appreciation of the more cultured and educated in the fine arts, those who appreciate beauty and detail for what is it – art!
The three of us stepped closer, seeking a closer view a very detailed, graphite (pencil) drawing of a wooden, two story, frame home situated in a very rural setting. The detail was so intricate I could discern, with close inspection; the clarity of a pull cord on window shade half drawn in an upper story, corner room window; the horizontal lines of each board of siding on the house breaking only for additional lengths and laps so designed to shelter the underlayment and the interior from the elements; a broken rail in one section of the right side of the porch fronting the house and; a mid-sized rose bush near the front steps, the petals, leaves, stems in exquisite, skillful rendition, if in color, would lead one to almost see it as real instead of drawn!
“Yeah,” Jamie finally responded, smiling in remembrance, “I drew this last spring when the roses were in full bloom. You and Momma decided to marry each other after summer and I wanted something to remember where I lived, ‘cause you said we’d move to here afterward.”
Chief Kraft cleared his throat uneasily, thinking, I’m certain, a degree of guilt for removing Jamie from a very comfortable, familiar environment to a new town, new school, and a new daddy.
“What room was yours, Jamie?” I asked quickly, diverting the conversation to something totally different.
“Here,” he answered pointing to the corner room with the window shade half drawn. “I could look out and see up and down the lane coming to the house or out the other side and see the sun come up or the big garden where Grandma worked in the mornings after breakfast.”
Pointing off to the left of the picture, “Here, where you can’t see, is the chicken yard. Part of my chores were to feed and water the chickens and gather up the eggs.”
“Over here, further, where you really can’t see,” he exclaimed, this time pointing almost at the wall alongside of the picture, “is the big barn and the hog yard. Grandpa taught me how to milk the cows in the barn.”
“Really?” I asked somewhat amazed. “How do you do that?”
“Yeah,” Jamie answered, “it’s kind of like squeezing your c……”
“Finger?” Chief Kraft interrupted, quickly substituting what he knew was about to either be said or to reduce any embarrassment to Jamie!
“Yeah!” Jamie responded with a grin and a wink at me.
There were many, many other drawings posted on the walls, all of portrait quality, done in pencil and charcoal; realism to a detail in each one. As we moved along, Chief Kraft excused himself, claiming to have some things to catch up on, but really, I think, to give Jamie and me time alone.
“Who’s this good looking stud?” I asked pointing to a particular exquisite, drawing.
“That’s my cousin, Zach,” Jamie responded proudly.
“He’s my momma’s older brothers oldest. He graduated from high school last spring.”
Cousin Zach was indeed a handsome young man, if the drawing was any indication and, from what I’d seen on the walls, it was entirely accurate. After graduating from high school, Zach was working trying to earn enough money to attend college, according to Jamie. Moving along, each picture we viewed garnered remarks and explanation from Jamie; a hen and a half dozen chicks all scratching in the dirt drawn one day after he’d fed and watered the chickens.
“I thought it just looked so neat,” was his narration on that one.
The drawing of a man on a tractor, drew the comment from him, “That’s my Grandpa Long on his Farmall® B tractor.”
There was a portrait of a solitary flower, one of the barn with a cow in the fenced in area, and one which really sparked my interest, a drawing of a several boys swimming and one, bare ass exposed, swinging from a rope, ready to let loose, and cascade into the water amongst the rest of boys.
“That’s Zach on the rope,” Jamie explained. “I didn’t draw his front; I didn’t think he’d want me to,” pausing a moment reflectively, “and I don’t think Grandma Long would either! Those other boys are my cousins.”
I wanted to ask Scotty’s question “the big cocked ones?” but I just smiled instead.
On his drawing table I noticed a drawing, perhaps not yet complete, of four very familiar cross country runners in their track togs.
“It’s not done yet,” Jamie said apologetically when he noticed me stop and look at it.
Done or not, the very identifiable facial likenesses of the Four Horsemen of Ham Hocks High were spot on, as well as the pumping, flexing legs, arms in various positions as we ran, all frozen in time and place by Jamie’s artistry. It was almost black and white photo perfect.
“Done or not,” I said, “it’s beautiful,” and kissed him. I felt the warmth of his embarrassment and feeling of humbleness as I did. He hadn’t come to full realization of the talent he had, so eager wanted to please others with his drawings. There were more drawings, of that I’m certain, but his mom called us to dinner.
“We had pot roast for dinner,” she explained as we sat at the table, “so we’re having hot beef sandwiches for supper.”
The hot beef sandwich was absolutely delectable! Jamie’s mom was a good cook.
I wasn’t certain how comfortable I’d be sitting at the table or visiting with Chief Kraft; after all, he was head of campus security and my first introduction to him was under rather auspicious circumstances and I was not fully clothed at the time. He was no different, I found as we visited, than Derrick’s, Chris’s, or Scotty’s dad. At home, Chief Kraft was Jamie’s step-dad, relaxed, friendly, welcoming, and very fond of Jamie and his mom.
Dinner over, Jamie and I wandered down to the family room. I expected television or a game or something but instead Jamie wanted me to read to him. I hadn’t brought any books with me so I was somewhat flummoxed until he produced a box full of Hardy Boys mysteries.
“These are my favorites,” he explained, picking one out and handing it to me. Hey, who am I to deny my boyfriend?
We cuddled up on the couch, I opened the book, Jamie rested his head on my shoulder, and I began to read. Certain he could read, albeit with difficulty, as I read, coming upon a word here or there, I’d ask what it was and if he struggled, wait patiently while he sounded it out.
“I learned how to do that from Mr. Simon, my teacher at school,” he said proudly. “I didn’t know how to do that before. Isn’t it neat?”
I agreed, it was a small, but important technique which would help open up another world for Jamie.
Every now and then, he’d stop me, eyes big (especially if it was an exciting part) and tell me what he understood was happening. His mom and step-dad came into the family room, sat down, and began to read themselves; Chief Kraft a newspaper and his mom a magazine.
Chief Kraft, looking up from his newspaper when I stopped to turn a page, commented, “Jamie loves to be read to.”
Jamie looked up at him, grinned, saying, “You read to me a lot too, Daddy!” and gave me a nudge to continue.
I finished about half a chapter, looked up at Jamie, and said, “Why don’t you read Jamie, so I can rest my eyes a minute?”
He never hesitated, taking the book from my hands, laid it in his lap, and with one finger guiding him, began reading where I left off. Where he stumbled on a word, I’d help him sound it out, if he needed help, and explain what the word meant if he wasn’t certain. Granted, it took some time since he is a very slow reader, but read to me he did!
Every now and then I’d look up and notice his parents quickly avert their attention back to their own reading material, seemingly engrossed in it. I doubted that since I never heard a page turn in the magazine or the newspaper rustle like they do when dad reads his paper.
Chapter complete, Jamie announced he wanted to shower before bed and I agreed, probably for different reasons however. I really wanted to scrub some special places anticipating what I hoped would happen once we crawled into bed together.
Jamie got me a towel and washcloth, showed me the bathroom, apologizing he was sorry the shower was too small for us to take one together, but qualified it by looking toward his bedroom, waggled his eyebrows lasciviously, and cast me a grin which left no doubt what he wanted to do in bed.
Dried, naked as the day I was born, waiting under the covers for Jamie to finish his shower and join me, I checked to make certain everything I needed was I handy in my overnight bag. One thing about having the internet handy (despite all of the warnings “do not read if you’re under 18” or “NSFW, if under 18 leave” which none of us do) and an older brother who is a doctor and you’re not bashful talking to, I procured an item or two at the drug store he recommended. Although, I must confess, I didn’t buy condoms as my brother instructed me to. I’d never had sex with anyone and I was certain Jamie hadn’t either, from the way he talked; besides I wanted to feel him skin on skin and breed him as I wanted to be bred by him!
Jamie locked his bedroom door after he came in from showering. Turning around, naked as I was, the sight of his svelte body standing before me almost took my breath away! He was a male of my species to equal no others in my eyes, of the most alluring qualities, unequaled by all descriptions, statutes, or portraits of Adonis or any of the Greek or Roman, real or mythological characters. Graceful, comely in appearance, bewitching me with his smile and flashing eyes, walking toward me, his very aroused and twitching large male appendage, rooted in the small thatch of black pubic hair adorning it’s base, and hanging low between his legs, his scrotum containing two large almost walnut-sized testicles which produced, from previous contact with his prurient instrument, copious amounts of his special man seed, swung back and forth with each step he took, Jamie approached me in the bed, desire on his face, much like a new husband about to consummate the marriage!
Lifting the covers, Jamie glided into bed, making the most intimate of contacts with me, our hardness’ engaging as he rolled on top of me, and secured his lips to mine. Neither of us thrust, even though our cocks were twitching with desire, satisfied, for the moment, in the kiss; relishing the intimacy and enchantment we were experiencing. His lips, warm, moist, gentle, caressed mine with a willowy erotic tenderness, encouraging me to respond with equal passion!
God, Jamie could kiss! A kiss from him brought me to rigid steeliness, almost orgasmic in response. Still atop me, he moved his lips and with his face resting high on my shoulder, the tip of his moist, warm, curled tongue dipped into my ear, sending crashing sensations of lust from my ear to my cock!
“Jamie,” I whispered almost breathlessly, “I’d like to make love to you and for you to make love to me. Do you know what that means, you know, between two boys?”
I heard and also felt him giggle softly as he reached down and carefully grasped my turgid penis, saying, “Yeah, you’re going to put this,” wiggling and jacking it a little, “into my butt and I’m going to put mine in yours when you’re done! I used to watch my cousins when they thought I was asleep when I was little. They called it ‘corn-holing;’ the boys at school said it was ‘butt-fucking,’ and when I asked Cousin Zach, he said, ‘call it anything you wish, do it any way you want, but I call it fucking fantastic!’”
“Well, Jamie,” I whispered, twisting to put myself on top and beginning to kiss, nip, and gently suck his soft skin as I worked my way south down his smooth, elegant front, “we’re going to fuck, but for us it will be making love and involves much more than just plain fucking!”
Reaching that point of his body wherein resided the instrument of my delight, his long, thick, and hard shaft, I licked the pre-cum from his slit, nibbled lightly on his glans, swiped my tongue around the crown as I slid his foreskin back below it, and slipped the bulbous head into my mouth and gently sucked it like a newborn on a teat!
“Yes!” he exclaimed, raising his hips to insert more of himself into me.
However, I released him, much to his immediate dismay, and continued working my way south, lapping at his magnificent balls before raising his legs and holding them up and apart with my hands, buried my face below his perineum, and probed his puckered rosebud with the point of my tongue!
My tactile approach to that very sensitive part of his body, brought not only a soft squeal of delight, but a moan of submission and desire!
“Please, Whit!” he pleaded.
“In just a minute,” I answered quietly, rose from the bed to retrieve a large towel and some KY lubricating gel from my overnight bag.
Jamie looked at the towel, frowned, and asked, “Why?”
“In case we dribble, it won’t stain the sheets.”
It’s a good thing I read a lot and knowing how much Jamie came, I figured we’d need it! After arranging the Turkish towel beneath him, I lubed up my cock, put a healthy dollop on my middle finger, inserted it into his waiting orifice, ignoring his complaint it was cold, and began to smear it around inside, using one finger, then two to stretch him in preparation for my cock.
Kneeling between his outstretch legs, lifting them to straddle my hips, lining my rigid cock up with his anal opening, I leaned forward, carefully easing into him. The head of my dick enter, popped past the muscled outer barrier, Jamie’s eyes flashed open and mouth gaped wide, but any audible reaction was muffled by my mouth on his, taking his mind off of something going in where something else usually came out!
I kept pressing forward, watching his reaction turn from minor pain to pleasure, until my balls were tightly snugged up against him and I was fully embedded! Waiting for his signal it was okay to begin, once received through a slow nod of his head, I began the age old rocking in and out, pleasurable motion to both, known to man as “fucking!”
I didn’t last long, especially when Jamie begged, “Fuck me harder, Whit!”
With each strong ejaculation of my semen into him, I realized how much one person can love another and how precious it is to give that intimate, deep, and sexually satisfying love to one another! It is more, I thought at the time, than I deserve, and all I can offer in return is myself back to him. Expended, I lay relaxed on him, my softening prick still twitching. Feeling his legs loosen their grip on my thighs, his hands, those soft, artistically talented hands, stroked my back from buttocks to shoulder.
“I love you, Whit,” he sighed.
“And I love you, Jamie!”
Lifting my sated body from his, I indicated it was now his turn. Jamie seemed uncertain why I’d want to assume the belly down, butt up position when I made love to him face to face. I explained it was because he was larger in the cock department and should be easier for both of us since it was the first time. Jamie thought it was absolutely hilarious when I mentioned he was “larger in the cock department,” but quickly added, “So that’s why some of my cousins do it that way.”
It sounded to me as if some of his cousins were a rather horny bunch! I hoped Jamie was just like them! Assuming the position, on my knees, butt up, and head down resting on my arms, Jamie dutifully and carefully lubricated his turgid man-staff and my sensitive pucker in preparation for our union. He found it somewhat fascinating, stuffing a dollop of lube up into my rectum with his middle finger, how my sphincter muscles reacted, contracting and squeezing his finger as he worked it in and out.
Jamie positioned himself, cock at the ready, nudging my rear entrance (or exit, however you care to look at it), saying with considerable doubt, “I don’t know if it will fit, Whit; your butt-hole looks pretty small!”
I assured him it would, but he had to go slow.
“Okay,” he answered, again with trepidation and concern, “but you tell me if I hurt you!”
With a little push, the head of his cock entered me, slipped past the constricting ring of my ass, and lodged there with my muscles contracting just behind the flared crown, securing him within me. I was happy I was face down so he couldn’t see my reaction to this intrusion of something much bigger and hotter going in than ever went out! We rested a minute, but I soon adjusted to his girth.
“Move in some more,” I encouraged and he did! I’d rest and he’d move; I’d rest and he’d move! It felt as though my entire insides were being rearranged, but in a most delightful way, I might add.
“Whit;” a lusty, deep-throated, almost sigh, a wisp of delight came from the depths of Jamie’s pleasure pit, as he rested balls deep, pubic hair tickling by butt cheeks, “you’re so warm, tight, so fucking awesome on my cock!” and shuddered with erotic pleasure; his words entering my ear, as his moist lips brushed it, traveled to my neck; resting his chin on my shoulder as he, with tender affection and love, began a slow enchanting fuck! I moved, slowly lowering my body until I rested on my stomach, butt slightly elevated to give him better access and me maneuverability, yet linking Jamie and me as one! Jamie’s arms were looped under my arm pits and over my shoulders, locking us together, not only in love, but life, two as one!
Moving his head slightly, engaging my lips with his, he whispered how much he loved me, how wonderful it felt as he stimulated my insides and his generous endowment with each rocking, deliberate, and stimulating motion of his hips. As the sensations on his cock became more intense, rocketing to his brain, back to his balls, zipping to the end of his dick, his actions became faster, more urgent, more intense, his balls slapping against mine with each thrust, and with a groan, a hard push forward in an attempt, it felt, to push his whole body into mine, his release began! Jamie’s butt cheeks clenched and his long hard cock, inserted in me as far as he could push it, began to swell and spurt, subside, swell again, as each powerful orgasmic blast of his ejaculate, registering on the sensitive, but stretched anal ring of mine, so delightfully stimulated, traveled up the pulsing tube on the underside of his cock, spurting out the end through the slit or the swollen, throbbing head, becoming one with me!
Slowing, he lay on my back, his belly resting in the curve of it, hard cock maintaining its tumescence, still buried deep inside my tunnel of passion, head resting on my shoulder, recovering from the intensity of his orgasm, sighed softly, “Cousin Zach was right; it’s fucking fantastic!”
I thought he might roll off, once his penis softened and disengage me as I had him, but no, not Jamie!
Catching his breath, regaining his energy, he asked with a soft laugh,
“Whit, while I’m here, can I do it again?”
You bet and he did, several more times before day broke! In the morning, before we showered, Jamie rolled onto me, reach down and fondled my morning stiffy; “Do me again, Whit; this time when I’m on my tummy!”
Resting my crotch on those sweet buns of his after expending my load, again quoting Zach, “fucking fantastic;” Jamie agreed, no matter what position.
Our early November birthdays were only five days apart, mine first and then Jamie’s. We each had our own, separate, family celebrations, evidently everyone pleased we made it to our fifteenth birthday relatively unscathed, but Jamie and I also wanted a “together” birthday party; a dinner celebration with our parents. I suggested it to Mom and, rather than dinner at a pizza parlor or restaurant, she and Ellen Kraft (Jamie’s Mom), decided on steaks at the Kraft home. If the weather was decent, Dad and Chief Kraft would grill outside; if not, Mom and Mrs. Kraft would put them under the broiler in the kitchen range.
I wanted to get Jamie something special for his birthday, something uniquely linking him to me and me to him. Mom suggested a friendship bracelet, which I thought was super fantastic! When she further suggested having it engraved, “Jamie; my forever friend – Whit,” I almost wept with joy; he would so like it!
Mom and Dad gave me a new electronic keyboard, replacing my older one, with more features on it. Jamie called me on his birthday, using his new I-phone®.
“It has a camera, Whit,” he spouted excitedly. “Daddy says now I can take a picture of what I want to draw and look at it any time to help me and,” he added proudly, “I can take a picture of you and see you anytime I want!”
The weather was perfect, the steaks grilled to a gourmet delight, and the dinner party was fun! Jamie and I opened our gifts to each other at the same time. His gift to me was a friendship bracelet identical to the one I gave him but the engraving read, “Whit; my forever friend – Jamie.” Our mothers smiled conspiratorially. We couldn’t wait to try the bracelets on, on we did - on each other!
We sat, laughed, and helped clear the table before going to the family room for birthday cake. Enjoying our sweet treat, all of us seated on the large horseshoe sectional, Jamie and I began talking about our cross country season, how much fun we had, commiserated why coach wouldn’t enter us in any “open” competitions where all boys in each school out for cross country could race, and the races Jamie and the Four Horsemen won. Everything was going well until Jamie said,
“I wish my real Daddy could have seen me run; Momma always said he ran like the wind!”
We hadn’t really thought the adults in the room were paying any attention to our conversation, but the minute he said that, the adults in the room became unusually quiet! I looked around the room, focused my attention on Chief Kraft, watching closely to judge his reaction! He stared back at me and I saw in his eyes, a knowing of a secret; a secret known by me; one he really thought I’d not know.
Still looking at me, he cleared his throat, saying somewhat hoarsely, “He was Jamie;” looked at his wife before continuing, “I suppose this is as good as a time as any!”
Mom and Dad suddenly made those subtle motions indicating they were going to “exit stage left” and take me with them. The look on their faces told me volumes; they already knew what was coming and didn’t tell me! Angered, yet understanding, I held up my free hand, since I had hold of Jamie’s with the other, speaking softly, but with determination, almost challenging,
“I think Chief and Mrs. Kraft would want us to stay, especially me – right?”
At first Jamie looked perplexed, but when he heard my voice, the seriousness of it, the look of concern and sadness on his mother’s face, and the anguish faces of my own parents, he was more than just befuddled, he was suddenly frightened, scooted closer to me, and began to quiver slightly, manifesting his fear, just before his tears would flow!
Knowing he needed me for security and reassurance to help keep the “bad boys” away he envisioned coming to haunt him, I wrapped an arm around him, pulled him even closer, whispering, “Don’t worry, Jamie, nothing bad is going to happen; all will be well,” and smiled at him.
Jamie let out a deep breath, relaxed some, but still, a couple of tear drops began a snail like pace down each cheek.
Chief Kraft rose, left the room, and returned momentarily with a photo album and a cardboard box. Setting them both on the coffee table in front of the sectional, he smiled, looked directly at Jamie and said,
“Jamie, honey, please know your Momma and I love you so very much and wouldn’t want to harm you in any way. We intended to have this conversation before Grandpa and Grandma Long arrived for Thanksgiving, but now is a great time with your best friend Whit by your side!”
Chief Kraft opened the box and pulled an envelope from it, opened it, and laid the piece of paper it contained on the coffee table in front of us, motioning for Jamie to pick it up.
Jamie looked at it, puzzled a moment, before asking me, “Whit, what is it and what does it say?”
I picked it up, smiled, hugged him again, before answering carefully, “It’s your birth certificate, Jamie. On it is your name, the place and date you were born, who your momma is,” pointing it out to him, “Ellen Long and who your real daddy is,” pointing to the line with the father’s name on it.
I swallowed hard when I asked him whose name appeared on that line because it was just as I thought, he never realized, and now wondered how he would react!
Jamie looked at it, choked back a sob, looked at it again, finally looking up at Chief Kraft, answering with a choked sob of joy, “James Arthur Kraft!”
The first time I saw Jamie with Chief Kraft, standing next to each other, my curiosity was instantly stirred, however, I dismissed the urge to snoop, deciding my imagination was running amok! However, as time moved on, overhearing Coach Schroeder talking to an unseen individual named “Jack,” telling him how Jamie ran just like him while he was in college, and Mrs. Kraft referring to Chief Kraft as “Jack,” my curiosity resurfaced, bringing me to a closer observation of both Jamie and Chief Kraft. Their facial expressions, smiles, color of their eyes, skin color, hair color, and overall mannerisms were similar.
Looking at Chief Kraft’s name plate he wore while on duty, carefully noting it was “J. Arthur Kraft,” led me to ask my dad one time what his first name really was.
“James,” he answered after pondering for a moment, “but he goes by Art on campus.”
The real clincher, confirming what I suspected, came when I saw Chief Kraft and Jamie running side by side during cross country practice. There was no doubt in my mind, watching their stride, their close observation of other runners, the way they maneuvered, positioning themselves to take maximum advantage toward the end of the race, whose son Jamie Long was. The puzzle for me was what to do about it! I decided to do nothing; it was their family and I loved Jamie no matter who his father is!
Jamie, seemingly stunned and temporarily immobilized by what was written and he’d spoken aloud, sobbed, gave me a hug, recovered, and jumped up and away from me, careening around the coffee table, and, almost leaping into Chief Kraft’s outstretched arms, choking and crying, “You’re my really real Daddy!”
The only other time I saw an adult man cry was when my Dad’s younger brother, Lee, was killed in an auto accident, but today, I saw a man, who I thought was tougher than shoe leather, cry, hug, and cry some more as father and son embraced, secrets revealed and wishes fulfilled! Chief Kraft acknowledging the son he’d fathered many years before and Jamie’s hopes and dreams of a “real” father he’d heard could “run fast as the wind” came to fruition. In the midst of all of this, Ellen Kraft joined her husband and son in their celebration, her eyes full of tears of joy as well!
It took some time for everyone to settle down and when it did, Jamie seated himself between his mother and dad on the sectional and we listened to Chief Kraft.
“Where to begin?” he questioned, scratching his head and finally decided just to begin.
“Your Momma, Jamie, and I were high school sweethearts; not unlike you and Whit, but without the commitment you two seem to have.”
Ellen Long and Art (since his dad’s name was Jim as well) Kraft, as he was referred to at home but called “Jack” at school by his classmates because of his initials (J.A.K.), started dating in their junior year of high school. Art, naturally tan, black hair, hazel eyes, inherited his good looks and skin coloration from his mother’s side of the family. Art’s grandmother was Mexican and came to this country, initially, as a migrant field worker; met and married a white farm boy and they had several children, one of whom was Maria, Art’s mother. Maria married another white boy, they moved to Caudry, Missouri where Art’s dad, Jim, took a job with the county. They had no other children.
Art was an excellent scholar and a state champion cross country track runner. Because of it, after high school graduation, he won a scholarship to a university, where he intended studying law. Ellen went to work, after high school, in a local law office. Promises to love each other forever quickly fell to the wayside when Art, during his sophomore year, succumbed to the wiles of Rebecca DeWitt, the daughter of a very wealthy lawyer in Georgia. She was determined to capture the brown-skinned stud, come hell or high water! Six months after they were married, their first son, John (named after Art’s good friend and college cross country teammate, John Schroeder) was born.
During law school, son Jeffery was added to the family, and son Jacob came along when Art was with the U.S. Border Patrol after his graduation from the university with a law degree. It was a more than just a disappointment for Rebecca when Art took the position, but for him he felt it was a natural. He spoke Spanish with the fluency of someone raised with it as a second household language and he felt comfortable dealing with migrants, illegal or legal. Rebecca insisted he join her father’s law firm where the pay would be better, the living conditions decent, cultural advantages better, and she wouldn’t have to associate with “those” people!
His friend, John Schroeder, teaching and coaching at Central States University Laboratory School, knowing Art’s current situation and the hell he was going through with Rebecca, notified him of the opening for Head of Security at the University and encouraged Art to apply. Art’s law degree, law enforcement experience, and bilingualism made him more than qualified for the position and was offered it and he accepted the position as Head of Security and Chief of Campus Protective Services. He hoped this would placate his wife and bring some peace to his household. It was not to be!
Art and Rebecca’s marriage was long heading for the rocks as is a ship in a storm tossed sea, before he entered his new position. After their move, to what she considered still inferior housing compared to what they could have in Georgia if he’d only relent and take a position with her father’s firm, things did not improve. As far as she was concerned, he was still a cop, title or no title! It’d become a sexless marriage after Jacob was born (Jacob was barely two when they moved to Central States University) and the situation didn’t really seem to improve with time.
When his father passed away, approximately fifteen years ago, Art went to the funeral alone. Rebecca refused to attend with him and insisted the boys stay with her. The loss of his father was traumatic enough, but when she refused to attend the funeral with the boys, he was devastated, then determined he’d had about enough of this bullshit!
After the funeral, he accompanied his mother to the lawyer’s office to review the will and settle the estate. His father and mother appointed him executor for both of them because of his law degree, but had a local attorney draw up the will. Working in the office was Ellen Long, divorced and retaining her maiden name. Those long lost feelings for each other seemed to surface, temporarily, at least long enough for them to enjoy more than one passionate coupling, before Art returned to Jefferson.
Within six months of his father’s death, his mother decided to sell the house and accept an invitation, from her sister, to return to a community near the Texas/Louisiana border, and live with her. In addition to her sister, she also had two brothers and other family nearby.
Confessing to Art, “I never really felt welcome here,” he understood her desire to be near family.
It wasn’t until her death eighteen months ago, Art, now divorced and living alone, had any reason to return to Caudry and then only to bury his mother’s ashes next to his father. He stopped in the law office to check on her will and hopes of seeing Ellen again. Low and behold, she was there and he invited her out to dinner. During dinner they found there was still the intensity of affection present they’d felt years before. On their second date, after extending his leave from the university, he discovered Ellen had a son. After being introduced to Jamie, noticing the strong resemblance to him, one question led to another, until Ellen confided to him Jamie was indeed his son!
A short courtship, mostly long distance, followed; marriage and the dilemma how to break the news to Jamie. He was a special boy, slow in development, especially reading and mathematics, mentally developed about two or so years behind his chronological age, but a sweet boy, completely happy living as James Arthur Long, living with his Grandpa and Grandma Long and all of his cousins.
“And so, Jamie,” Art concluded, “I thought you and I needed to know each other better before I broke the news to you. I wasn’t certain you’d want me as your real daddy since I’d not been with you while you were growing up.”
He hugged Jamie closely, saying emotionally, “I do know I really, really, want you to be my real son!”
Jamie reached up, returned the hug, and as typical Jamie, kissed Art on the cheek, saying, “I was so happy when Momma said she was going to marry you and you’d be my new daddy ‘cause I never had one before. Now, I’ve got you as my real daddy and Momma too!”
Jamie was happy and thus, we were happy. Jamie had his Momma take a picture of the two of us with his the camera on his new cell phone, and the Friday night birthday party came to a wonderful end!
Thank you for reading “Jamie’s Gift” Chapter Five.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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