I didn't watch Tom go down the hall when he left. I just sat on my bed and watched the door. Part of me thought he would come back and kiss me one more time. That part of me was wrong. He was gone. It's amazing how quickly someone becomes a part of you. I had never seen Tom four months ago and now I thought being apart from him was going to kill me. I already hurt and he couldn't even have been out of the dorm yet. Merry fuckin' Christmas.

Finally, it was time for me to catch my ride home. A guy I knew had to go through my hometown on his way home and offered to drop me off. It beat taking the bus, so I took him up on it. He was one of those guys who never shut up, and I knew that I wouldn't have time to think about Tom because I would be planning different ways to kill the son-of-a-bitch.

The town looked the same. I don't know what I expected. Nothing had changed there in the last fifty years. Why would something change in the last four months? Still, I felt obligated to look. Peterson's fence had fallen down. That was it, but it was a change. I felt better. It kind of proved that I had been gone and that everything that had happened to me was true. There was a Tom and he was beautiful and he was my love. I was happy.

Mom looked the same...four months, remember? So did the house, and my room. There was a surprise though. My brother Jim was home. He was the next brother up from me. He was ten years older and was kind of considered the family loser. People always said how it was too bad he hadn't "amounted to much, considering all that potential." I guess that was true. Jimmy was the smartest one of us. Mom said he was a genius and that that was his problem. She said he just thought too much and too deep. I liked Jimmy. He always took time to explain things to me. Yeah, he was a nerd, but he was a nice nerd. He also was the only dark one in the family. The rest of us were really blonde with blue eyes, but Jimmy had almost black hair and deep brown eyes. In every picture, there were the four of us and Jimmy, sticking out like a sore thumb. We always joked that Mom had really liked the milkman a lot. Jimmy didn't think that was very funny. Come to think of it, Sammy the milkman was pretty dark. Maybe I should ask Mom about that some time.

Jimmy heard me come in and came down the stairs to see me. I didn't see him, and just heard a loud, "Willie" and someone grabbed me from behind, hugged me and gave me a wet kiss on the cheek. Yuck. Brothers do not kiss brothers on the cheek...at least not big ole wet kisses. That wasn't like Jimmy at all. I'd let it pass this time.

"Willie, you look great! Look at you. You're all grown up."

True, Jimmy hadn't seen me in about three years, but I was exactly this big the last time he saw me. Maybe I had filled out a little, but basically, I was the same kid. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. I would have made some sort of joke, but it would have only seemed sarcastic. Truthfully, Jimmy had "grown up" since I'd seen him last. I had always thought of him as a total nerd, but this was no total nerd that I saw before me now. Jimmy was buff. Jimmy, buff? Jimmy? His arms were huge and he had a really nice tight.... Wait a minute, Bill; you're talking about your brother here. You're gay, but you're not like that. Yeah, but I can still appreciate beauty when I see it, and this is beauty standing before me. Damn, he was beautiful!

"How's college?"

"Just college, I guess."

"You got a girlfriend?"

"Not exactly."

"Not exactly?"

"I've dated some, but haven't found one I'm really interested in." Really, Jimmy I've fallen in love with this guy, see, and he's beautiful. He's even prettier than you, and he loves me back, and I never want to be without him, and no offense, but I wish I were with him right now instead of talking to you.

"Oh, too bad."

"Yeah."

At that point Mom came bounding in and did the kissing and hugging and the "my baby is back" thing and my conversation with Jimmy was over. It's a good thing, too, because I was in the mood to spill the beans about being gay. I might do it, but I should think the whole thing over before I just blurted it out to someone. I had had some time to get used to it. I'd need to let Mom down easy. We went into the kitchen and had some coffee and some of Mom's Christmas cookies. While Jimmy and I scarfed down the cookies, Mom caught me up on all of the gossip I didn't give a shit about. I pretended that what Brenda Gooch was doing was interesting to me. I didn't care what Brenda Gooch was doing. When I lived next door to her and could watch her getting dressed every morning, she had really ugly tits. Why would I care what she was doing now?

Finally, after a really good dinner and an evening of conversation about things just as interesting as the life of Brenda Gooch, it was time for bed. I was tired and anxious to get to bed, so I could stroke my meat thinking about how neat it was to see Tom bending over and to watch his balls swing between his legs. I never got tired of seeing that. It was so sexy, seeing them dangle there. I always had to go over and reach under there, cup them in my hand and hold them while I kissed his back and made moaning sounds. It made him mad sometimes, but sometimes he'd just stand there and let me do it. When he let me, he'd get hard slowly in my hand. Talk about a turn on. If he had time and was in the mood, he'd let me give him a slow, sweet blowjob. God, I loved those dangling balls.

I got a nice surprise on my way to bed. Jimmy was just going into his bedroom as I got to the top of the steps, and he was naked. I didn't get a look at his dick, but I got to see those biceps and he had an ass that was about an 8 out of 10. I know, I know, it's sick to look at your brother like that, but beauty is beauty and horny is horny and well, it was there and I looked at it. Give me a break. You'd look too. I wasn't going to beat off to it or anything. It was just nice that's all. Real nice. I had to get some sleep. Mom would wake us up for mass early in the morning, and I was really tired. My session of quality masturbation wouldn't be long, but I didn't want to hurry through it, either. I loved to beat off. I considered it to be one of the world's great pleasures, and I considered myself to be one of its greatest practitioners.

Mom got us up at the crack of dawn. I had forgotten how awful that felt. Nothing in my body thought that this was the right thing to do. My body parts had all just voted to go back to sleep, when she came back into the room with a nice cup of coffee and such a sweet smile that I had to take a recount. We caved. I got up and got dressed in my church clothes. I hadn't been dressed up in a long time. I looked pretty good if do say so myself. I had a nice blue blazer on and black pants and a tie that brought out the blue in my eyes. If Tommy could see me now. There'd be no mass, just a flash of flying clothes and two guys landing on a vibrating bed making all sorts of obscene guttural sounds. Ah, sweet love. Boy, did I wish Tommy were here. Shit, I was hard. Quick! Think about Brenda Gooch's tits. Whew, that worked. Now down to breakfast.

The church was just as I remembered it. Four months, chowder head. Well, it seemed like a long time. All of the men had that distant look of someone who was awakened unexpectedly, dressed without realizing it, and led somewhere they didn't want to go. All of the women had those sweet, churchy smiles, and I swear they were wearing the same dresses they were wearing the last time I was here. I thought if one more lady pinched my cheek and told me how cute I had become, I was going to belt her right in the fake smile and say, "Thank you, Mrs. Harrington, my lover thinks I'm cute, too. He also likes to pinch my cheek. He always pinches it right before he fucks me in the ass."

Thank God, really, that the service was going to start. I sat between Mom and Jimmy for protection. I noticed that my wonderful older brother had deliberately not come to my aid during the pinching session. I saw him standing off to the side snickering every time another man-eating, flowered-dress-wearing cheek pincher headed my way. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was selling tickets. The old priest, Father William, would be in charge of the service, but Father Fred would assist him. Ah, yes, Father Fred.

Father Fred had always been my favorite. He was the youngest priest in the parish as I was growing up, so naturally he was the favorite of all the kids. He was young, fun, full of life, and in charge of the youth group. There was always something great going on at the church and we all spent a lot of time there. He wasn't a father figure because he wasn't old enough, and I had plenty of big brothers, so, I guess you'd have to say he was an uncle figure. Anyway, if I had a big problem to discuss, I always went to Father Fred. He always seemed to understand.

Now I was looking at Father Fred in a much different way. What a hunk he was. Who knew? Sure, I knew that he was good looking, but Father Fred a hunk? You bet.

He had one of those dark Italian looks, and you know I'm drawn to dark men. The eyebrows were thick and the eyes were dark and looked out at the world, almost piercing through everything they saw. I couldn't tell much about the body under the robe, but he was about 6' 2", and I couldn't take my eyes off him. I knew I was going to hell for sure now. Last night, my brother's ass, and today lusting after the parish priest. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned... and I'd like to do it again as soon as possible.

The service was long and I tried not to sleep. No, change that. The service was long and I tried not to get caught sleeping. After it was over I told Mom and Jimmy to go on home, that I wanted to say hello to Father Fred. Really, I wanted to do more than say hello, but that was a college boy's fantasy. He was standing outside the church near a bench talking to one of the "cheek ladies". I kept my distance for safety. When she left and I knew it was safe, I approached him.

"Father Fred?"

"Yes? Willie? Is that you?"

"Yes, Father Fred, it's me."

"Willie!"

He grabbed me and gave me one of the best hugs of my life. I hugged him back.

"Let me get a look at you. College has done well by you. You look great."

"Father Fred, it's only been four months."

"Is that all? I'd swear it's been longer. Well, you sure do look older, Willie. How are things?"

"Great. I am different, though, Father Fred." I was going to do it. I knew I would. I knew all along I was going to tell him. I had to tell someone and he was the only one I could trust who wouldn't be hurt by it.

"What do you mean, Willie?"

"Well...." I was chickening out. I couldn't. I'd make up something out. I had become an atheist. That would do it. He'd go for that.

"What, Willie? I've known you a long time. You can tell me anything."

OK, here goes. It's the Tom thing all over again. "I'm gay, Father Fred." And then I cried. Shit. What a wuss. Every time I talk about it, I cry. I didn't do the big ole crying thing this time, though. Just a couple of tears rolled out of my eyes and down my cheeks. They stung a little because of the ladies.

"Oh."

That's all he said. Then he took my hand, held it, looked into my eyes, and he said, "So am I."

I knew what he had just done. He had just laid his career on the line. If I had told anyone, he would have been out of there in a second. I couldn't believe it. I could believe he was gay. In retrospect, it all seemed obvious. But, to just say it like that, so calmly, without hesitation, without any embarrassment whatsoever. That one moment did so much for me. If a man like Father Fred was gay and the way he was and wasn't ashamed of it. Well, you know. It wasn't like it is today. That was huge for me.

I couldn't say anything. I just sat there with him holding my hand and tears running down my cheeks.

"Come with me, Willie. People might ask why you're crying."

We went to his rooms. We sat down in his office. He asked me if I was sure I was gay and I said that I was. He asked me how I knew and I told him all about Tom and how much I loved him. He said that he assumed we had sex together and I assured him that we did and that I liked it. I tried to keep from sounding too excited about Tom and how much I loved him, but I could see by the slight smile that hiding it was impossible. He asked me if I understood the ramifications of all of this and what my life would probably be like, and I said that I did. And most importantly he said:

"You know, Willie, you are just as good and just as normal and just as loved by God as anyone else. Don't ever let anyone tell you you're not. Lots of people will try and it's going to be a difficult life. But you've got Tom, and you've got me, and there will be others. You won't be alone. I love you, Willie."

Now, he didn't mean "that" kind of I love you. All of this stuff about priests lately makes people jump to conclusions really fast. Father Fred wasn't like that. He was gay, not a pedophile. No, I didn't know he was gay while I was growing up, but I knew I was safe with him. And, I was safe with him. I could have draped myself naked over his body and I would have been safe with him. He would have given me something to wear, something to eat, taken me home, and told me not to do that ever again because it was dangerous and could get me into a lot of trouble. That's how he was. He was a priest. That was his calling, and that's how he would live his life.

But, he was also human. I was about to find that out. Don't hold this against him. Remember, I'm not a kid anymore. I'm old enough to know what I'm doing and old enough to be legal while I'm doing it. I'm responsible for what happened next, not Father Fred.

I don't know exactly why, or what came over me, but I stood up then, and I started to undress. It was so very strange. I knew exactly what I was doing, and I knew exactly why, I also knew he was going to let me, and I knew it was going to be wonderful. I also knew that it would happen only once and that it would never be spoken of again. It was a gift and I was the giver. I went to the door and locked it. Then I continued to slowly remove my clothes, fold them and lay them on Father Fred's desk. He seemed entranced. I expected him to tell me to stop at any moment, but he didn't. He let me go on.

When I was completely naked, and hard, I walked over to him and brought him up from his chair to a standing position. Then I kissed him as tenderly as I possibly could on the lips. A sigh escaped from deep within him. Father Fred was not a virgin. I knew that, but I knew also that it had been a long time since he had touched or been touched in this way. I would make this as good for him as I knew how. I waited for him to undress, but he seemed not to be able to. He just looked at me with those beautiful eyes, apparently frozen, not wanting to continue and yet, not able to stop. I knew I would have to do it for him. Slowly I removed his clothing. I did not make this more sensual than it was on its own. I simply went about it slowly and carefully. The eroticism of it nearly killed me. By the time Father Fred was naked, I was nearly crazy with lust, but still in control.

Let me tell you about this man's body. He was perfectly muscled. Every muscle of his body had just enough definition, but not overly so. I suppose you would call him a "bear," and I'm not overly turned on by most of those, but, even though he was covered with hair, on him it was perfect and it was beautiful. I have already told you about his face. His chest was wonderful and his nipples were very dark and larger than I expected, and by the time we got his shirt off, quite hard. His very muscular legs had nestled at the top one of the most beautiful dicks I have ever seen. It was about five inches soft and laid softly over two large and very low hanging balls, which were now moving slightly in anticipation of what was to come. His ass was perfect. It was small and just a little poppy, just perfect. My mission was to give this perfect man, perfect pleasure, and I would do that.

Now, I would go from sensual to erotic. I leaned in and kissed him, being careful not to let our bodies touch. Slowly I pushed my tongue into his mouth. Our tongues intertwined, he sighed, and a tear rolled down his cheek. He needed me, he needed this, and I needed to give it to him. I then reached for his hand, took it tenderly and placed it on my genitals. It just lay there with no movement. Our eyes met. I said only, "Please?" His hand began to move as it explored all of my dick and my balls, not missing a single part. So gentle were the strong hands. This was not the love making that Tom and I shared. We were boys. This was the tender and wonderful love making of a man. As he was fondling my balls and my penis, I sensed that the love making changed. I was no longer making love to Father Fred. He had decided that he would make love to me.

He pulled me close now, and returned my kiss. His tongue was thrust into my mouth with more urgency, but still tenderly and lovingly. His hands moved down my back to cup my ass cheeks and to hold them there as our dicks touched and intertwined as we moved back and forth slowly in our kiss. I loved the feeling of our balls touching and of the hair on his body gently rubbing against the smoothness of my own. We were both hard now, very hard. I was so in love with Father Fred at this point that I could hardly contain myself. I wanted to be part of this wonderful man. I wanted him to take me inside and hold me there. We stood that way for quite sometime, drinking in the feeling. I'm sure he wanted to remember it. He did love me. Maybe not in that way, but he loved me, and I was beautiful in my youth, and he knew how much I loved him. Standing there and holding one another would have almost been enough for both of us.

But it would not be all.

He was in charge, but I needed badly to make love to him. He let me. I worked my way down to his hard nipples. I sucked and bit and twirled. I can't describe the feeling as I felt his body react to each movement of my mouth on each one. I moved my hand down to his dick to feel the hardness. It was huge. I hadn't looked at it since we started, but I could hardly get my hand around it. I would pay the price this afternoon. Slowly I worked my way down that hairy body, savoring every inch of it until I reached that massive dick. It was beautiful and wonderful. I spread his legs apart slightly and went instead to his balls, taking each in my mouth separately and twirling them around with my tongue. He groaned softly and ran his fingers through my hair. I knew I was loved. Then I began giving one of the most sensuous, loving blowjobs of my entire life. I was not hurried in any way, but took my time enjoying all of my senses. His taste, his sweet manly smell, his hardness. He had a huge mushroom head, and I loved the way it felt as my mouth would move up his shaft and over the top of it, lingering just briefly to tickle the slit with my tongue. When he could stand no more, it was his turn.

He led me to the desk, cleared it and gently laid me down. For a while, he just stood and looked at me. It wasn't a stare exactly. He was just drinking me in. He was no longer hard and a drop of pre-cum dripped from the end of his penis. Then he moved only his hand, lightly feeling my body from top to bottom. I can't describe to you the sensations that went through me as his hand gently touched me. Each place seemed more sensitive than the last, until finally he reached my genitals. When he finally reached my penis, gently taking it between two fingers and rolling it softly, I thought I would cum right then, but was able to hold off.

He was hard again and bent over me and kissed me softly on the lips. Then he kissed my penis and drew it into his mouth. His tongue was amazing as he explored every inch of my hard dick, seeming to savor every inch of it. I could tell that he was drinking in my smell, my taste, and the feel of me. Nothing else existed but my body. I was the giver, my body was the gift, and he understood and cherished what was happening for both of us. This was a rite of passage for me. His gift to me was complete acceptance of who I was and showing me that the love and the means of sharing it that I had been given were every bit as wonderful and sacred as any love on earth could be. There was nothing sordid here. This was not an old priest taking advantage of a young boy. This was the act of two souls meeting and intertwining.

I was ready. And so was he. He gently turned me over and pulled me towards him, my feet now resting on the floor. I was bent over his desk. I was now to be made love to in a way that Tom and I would not learn for several years. We were boys. This was the love making of a man. We had no lubrication. Saliva and pre-cum would have to do. He spit on his hand rubbing it on his hard penis, mixing it with the ample amount of pre-cum already there. This was to be painful. I knew that. Father Fred was so much bigger than Tom that the pain was bound to be intense. I knew that I could show none of it, because at the slightest hint of discomfort, Father Fred would stop. He would refuse to hurt me in any way. He rubbed me gently and then kissed me there. Then I felt his dick touch me. I winced. He pulled back. I turned to look at him, my eyes pleading for him to continue. He did. He pushed gently, but firmly and began to enter me. I was doing this for him. I waited for the pain and I was not to be disappointed. The searing pain as his huge penis entered me was unlike any I had experienced before. I gripped the desk and my teeth clamped down on my lip. I could make no sound. God, how it hurt. I thought he would rip me apart. I closed my eyes as tightly as I could and hoped the pain would subside before I had to cry out and ruin everything.

It did, slowly. Finally, he was in. He stopped. He sighed. I had a minute to get my bearings, to feel him inside me, and to feel the pain ease slightly. I did not regret this in any way. This is what I wanted. He then began to move slowly, in and out. As he did so, my pain began to turn to pleasure. I seemed to open to accommodate his huge size. I started to become lost in the act of lovemaking. Father Fred knew what he was doing, and I knew that I would experience lovemaking like I had never experienced before. Slowly he built his momentum. He was loving me, not just fucking me, and I knew it. He would bend to kiss my back or my neck and was constantly rubbing his hands over my body, showing me how much he loved me.

The sensations began to build, and it was no longer an act of love, but became what it had to be. It became an act of wanton lust. Slowly, but surely, we both became wild animals after only one thing, driven to only one thing. We were in perfect synchronization in our thrusting. Each time he drove inside of me, I pushed back to drive him deeper and deeper. I wanted him there. I needed him there. Faster and faster. Harder and harder. Father Fred was taking me to a place I had never been before. I sensed where it would be and I had to get there. I had to be there now. Oh, god, Father Fred, fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

When it was over and we lay together breathing heavily each in time with the other, I thought that I had never felt such peace. He was still inside me and we lay there until he was completely soft. Slowly we both got up. He held me in his arms for a time and kissed me. Then, he let me go. He sat down in the chair behind the desk and watched me as I dressed, making no attempt to do so himself.

I turned and looked at him before I opened the door to leave. Nothing was said. Words were not necessary. We both knew that this would be the only time that we would make love. We both knew what it had been and why it had been and that we would be in some way forever linked in some special kind of way. I was forever changed.

We would see each other many times over the years. It was never mentioned. There was never any uneasiness between us. Neither of us ever shared the moment with anyone else. I knew that about him. But, it was not as though it had never happened. It had happened. There was a strong bond between us. He was a part of me now and I, of him. My gift to him had been all the love I had to give. He had given me his love, but in addition, Father Fred's gift to me had been in a very real way, myself.