A Life Well-Loved

"There you are!" I exclaimed as I put an arm around him, "What kept you?"

His eyes went wide as he fumbled for words, never quite finding any.

"It's okay...he's my nephew!" I loudly announced as I whisked him on in and guided him to our table.

"Stop looking so surprised and start acting like my nephew," I told him under my breath, "a hand on my shoulder or something...and smile, for Pete's sake."

He quickly took my direction and fell in with my scam as we made our way back to my party.

"Thanks, mist...Unc...I mean," he said, trying to get the hang of it.

We got to the table and I took a spare chair from the one next to us for him to sit in. My tablemates were all in shock.

"You never told us you have a nephew, Pat," said Bret, a huge grizzly bear of a man.

"I don't," I quietly replied, "play along, please, or we could all be in big trouble here."

I saw their eyebrows nervously lift in alarm as I quietly asked Chik for his name.

"Chris," he responded in my same hushed tone.

"Everyone, allow me to introduce my nephew, Chris!" I proclaimed to them, but really for the benefit of anyone who could hear me as I tried my best to play the proud uncle.

There was a brief pause before the round of handshakes and introductions I'd expected ensued. Chik was a little agog at the flurry of hands and names coming at him but everyone did a fine job of playing along until he'd been there long enough to blend in with the scenery.

I had the bartender put him on my tab but, much to his chagrin, insisted that he drink soft drinks to be on the safe side since he had no ID on him.

"I'm twenty one, I swear!" he protested.

"Not if you can't prove it," I firmly stood my ground.

He bent to my will.

"Thanks, Uncle Pat," he demurely acknowledged for our server's benefit as the man set my Manhattan and his cola down in front of us.

"You're good!" I quietly said with a wink as the gentleman walked away.

My friends all had a good laugh at that. Chik smiled and sipped his soda as he looked around at the collection of men who had taken him in, of whom I was the youngest at forty. He seemed taken with the view, though his eyes seemed to linger the longest on Bret and me.

As we began to break up for the night I turned to Chik and cautioned him, "Since you're my nephew tonight you have to leave with me. Please remember to remain my nephew until we're well out of eyesight and earshot of anybody who works here."

"Yes, sir," he said, assuring me of his cooperation.

At the door I paused and said, "Oh...and this fellow who nearly preempted our reunion is Tom. He's a great guy, really."

"Pleased to meet you, Tom," Chik said.

"Same here, young man," replied Tom, grasping his hand in a firm shake, "Hope you enjoyed our little watering hole."

"Very much!" Chik enthused as I quickly ushered him out the door.

I assumed from the look of him that he was without transportation and, once outside, asked him where I could drop him off. He was clumsily evasive and kept insisting that he should walk home.

After a good deal more prodding he finally owned up that three days prior his dad had discovered that he was gay when he burst into his bedroom unannounced and found him jacking off to a porn rag featuring mature men. He promptly blew his top and kicked him out of the house. He'd slept on a bench in the town park the last two nights.

"He didn't even give you time to collect your essentials...like your wallet?" I asked.

"He took away the keys to the car he bought me, but he did give me time to put a small bag together...and my mom had $36 in cash she sneaked into my pocket on the way out," he meekly replied.

"So why didn't you have your ID with you to get into the bar?" I pressed him.

He hemmed and hawed some more. I convinced him that I wanted to help him, but that I needed him to be honest with me in order to know how best to do that.

"I'm so ashamed," he finally said, his eyes beginning to edge with tears, "A man came up to me in the park earlier tonight and..."

"And what?" I asked after more silence.

"And...he asked if I gave blow jobs...stupid me!" he said, sounding bitter.

"What happened, Chris? Why 'stupid you'?" I calmly encouraged him to continue.

"I thought he meant he wanted to pay me for one...and...I'm down to $22 of that money my mom slipped me...I was so desperate...I did it...I sucked his ugly, stinky dick and he..." Chris choked up again and couldn't continue.

"He what? What did he do?" I coaxed him.

There was another lengthy pause, but once the dam broke the truth of his circumstance came spilling out in a torrent of halting phrases.

"He...shot his nasty wad in my mouth," he sobbed, "and then...when I asked him how much he was going to pay me...he started slapping me...slapped me to the ground...and...told me I was going to pay him...stole my wallet...and my bag...said the money was his but he would give me back the wallet and bag for $100."

Tears began to stream down his cheeks as he continued, "I told him what had happened to me...some of it anyway...and said I'd never be able to get my hands on that kind of money...he just laughed...said a mouth like mine could make that easy at a bar for old queers called The Ivory Tower...gave me directions here."

His sobbing then became so fierce it began to make his breathing sound jerky, "then I almost didn't get in...and...when I did...thanks to you...you guys were so nice to me...I couldn't go through with it...never been a whore...don't even know how to go about it...SHIT...I'll never get them back now! What am I going to do, Mr...I don't even know your last name!"

What I suspected to be bruises in the dim light of the Tower turned out to be just that.

"Benton," I said, "but call me Pat. The first thing we're going to do is go to the park and get your things back."

"I can't!" he exclaimed wide-eyed, "He's big...like you!"

"Then let me handle it," I said, "Just get us to where your things are and I'll take it from there. Once we've got them we're going to my house where you can eat a proper meal...take a proper bath...and...sleep in a proper bed."

He cut me a suspicious look.

"In my spare bedroom," I assured him, the idea of sex with someone like him never entering my mind, "Then tomorrow you're going to call your mom and let her know you're alright. She must be worried sick about you. After that we'll play it by ear. You're going to be fine from here on, I can promise you that."

I put an arm around his trembling shoulders and walked him to my car, wondering how any man could toss someone so slight of build from his home to weather the storm of life on the street. I knew it was a fairly common occurrence for gay kids when I was his age but I assumed, incorrectly it appeared, that parents of his generation had learned from the mistakes of the parents of mine.

He directed me to the side of the park where his bench was located. I parked the car and we quietly approached until we could make out the back of a man sitting on a park bench.

"That's him!" he whispered as he clutched at my sleeve in fear.

"Wait here," I said and then made my way to the paved pathway out of the man's view, casually strolling toward the bench.

I sat down at the other end from him and saw a bag tucked behind his feet. He was as Chik had described, big and grizzly looking, maybe in his fifties. I didn't like the idea that I might have to fight him for Chik's belongings, but I wasn't frightened by the prospect either.

"Beautiful night," I said.

He cut me an impatient glare and then peeled an eye for his prey once again without responding.

"Looking for someone?" I asked after a brief silence.

"Yeah," he grunted, sounding unpleasant and annoyed.

"What does he look like? Maybe I've seen him," I said.

"I doubt it," he shot back.

I sat in silence again, letting the tension build.

"Pardon me for saying but you don't look the type to pack a bag for a place like this," I finally observed.

"Is that so...looks can be deceiving," he flatly replied without looking at me.

"Maybe," I said, "but a friend of mine says he lost one here earlier tonight. Didn't happen to find a wallet with it did you?"

At that point he turned toward me and leaned in trying to menace me as he said, "Look, ya fat fuck...ya need to getcher ass outa here before somebody gets hurt...I'm busy!"

"No problem," I said as I stood up, "If you'll just hand me that bag..."

He stood too as if preparing to defend his territory and sized me up, clearly observing that I had a good twenty pounds on him and might not be quite the "fat fuck" he had first pegged me for. He clenched his jaw and tried to stare me down.

"Listen," I calmly said, "I was raised not to kick a man when he's down on his luck, pal, but if you don't hand me that bag...and quick...the 'somebody' who gets hurt here tonight is definitely going to be you."

He took a minute to assess my threat and decided to kick the bag out from under the bench.

"I said hand it to me," I insisted.

He sized me up some more, then picked it up and held it out to me. I took it from him and quickly eyed the tag. It said Chris Henderson.

"And the wallet," I pressed him.

He further tested my intent with a steely glare.

"AND the wallet...I'm losing my patience with you!" I growled after some stalling.

He reached into the pocket of his baggy pants and pulled out a wallet.

"Keep your distance and hand it over," I instructed him, my heart beginning to race.

He complied. I quickly flipped it open and saw Chik's picture on the driver's license. His story was panning out. Just as quickly prying the bill compartment open, I saw that it was empty.

"There should be $22 in here," I accused him through gritted teeth, "Where's the money?"

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT MONEY YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT, ASSHOLE!" he shouted.

"THE MONEY YOU TOOK FROM THIS!" I yelled back at him as I shook the wallet in his face.

After another brief but tense stand-off he heaved an exasperated sigh and stuffed his right hand back down into his pocket. All that came out, however, was a doubled up fist headed for my face.

I managed to deflect the blow enough that it only glanced off my chin. My adrenaline was pumping so hard I wasn't even aware of countering with a roundhouse right that connected with his jaw until I saw him go flailing over the back of the bench. I scrambled around to be at the ready by the time he got back to his feet.

"Give me the money," I calmly said.

"Look, buddy, there wasn't any money in it," he replied, feigning contrition.

"Yes, there was...$22...every other part of the kid's story has checked out so far so I imagine the slapping he said you gave him was real too. Now hand it over or I'm going to 'slap' you with my fist again...out cold...and go through your pockets myself. What's it going to be?" I coldly delivered the ultimatum.

He didn't have to think too long before he backed down and fished it from his pocket, making sure to display it in the fingertips of his unclenched hand. I took it.

"Don't move," I warned him and counted it.

It was all there.

"Okay...I'll be on my way," I told him as I went back around the bench to pick up Chik's bag from where I'd dropped it as he swung at me.

He nodded and stood stock still until I was far enough away that he felt free to run.

"Quick...let's get to the car," I said, my heart still thumping in my chest as I handed Chik his wallet complete with the $22 and then his bag.

We briskly walked in silence until we reached it and got in. I hit the lock button.

"You were amazing!" he beamed in admiration, "Absolutely amazing!"

I rubbed my sore chin and tested my jaw with a side to side motion. It hurt but had sustained no real damage that I could tell.

"Thanks, Chris...but do me a favor...don't put me in this situation again," I replied.

"I promise," he assured me as his new reality began to sink in and he relaxed a bit.

"You ready for some food?" I asked.

"Sounds great, Mr. Benton," he confirmed as he checked his bag, "It's all here...thank you SO MUCH!"

At that point I didn't feel like preparing a meal so we hit a drive through and got him a jumbo burger on the way to my house. Once inside I offered him a beer to go with it, his age having checked out as well, and he chowed down like a guy who hadn't eaten in a week. As he wadded up the wrapper upon finishing his eyes started to flutter as though he couldn't hold them open.

"Let me show you the bathroom," I told him, "You can grab a quick shower and get a good night's sleep."

"Thanks, Mr. Benton," he said sounding tired and still a little disbelieving at his good fortune.

I showed him the hallway and said, "Second door on your right. First one is your bedroom...and call me Pat."

"Sure thing...Pat...and thanks again," he said, pausing as though he wanted to give me a hug then thinking better of it before turning and walking down the hall.

"You're welcome," I told him, "That's a fresh towel and wash rag on the rod."

*****

"Coffee's ready!" I heard Chik call out, jarring me from my memories of that harrowing experience exactly a year before, "You going to join me or should I bring you a cup?"

"Be there in a minute, babe," I told him as I walked to the bureau and quickly ran a brush through my rowdy hair and beard.

I went to the kitchen and saw him sitting naked at the bar at end of the counter. My coffee was waiting and he'd pulled my bar stool back to make it easy for me to slip in next to him. I've never been one to wear clothes around the house if I have no company to require it, and that was a custom Chik took to from the very beginning.

As I took my seat he immediately began roaming my naked torso with his hands. He sighed.

"I'll never get over finding a man like you," he said almost to himself.

I put my arm around him and tucked him under it as I took my first sip, "Same here...good coffee."

"Thanks," he responded as he nestled into my grasp, "Where will we celebrate?"

I cupped my hand over his upper arm, no bigger around than my wrist, and rubbed it up and down as I said, "The Tower seems like the logical choice to me."

"I was hoping you'd say that," he replied and then jokingly asked, "Will we go as lovers? Or do I have to be your nephew again?"

"I think that cover is blown by now," I said with a laugh.

The phone rang. Chik got up and answered it.

"Hello?...Oh, hi Mom!...Not today, I'm afraid...No, nothing like that...No, today is our first anniversary, can you believe it?...Aww, thank you!...Yes, next weekend, I promise...Okay, will do...Bye, Mom...love you too," and he hung up.

"Mom said to tell you happy anniversary," he said as he slipped back under my arm.

I liked his mom. I had her undying gratitude for making Chik call her that morning after his first night here, and she clearly liked that he'd ended up with someone she could at least trust to keep him safe...even if she couldn't quite understand his attraction to a man my age and size.

His father was another story, but I still held out hope that he would eventually come around. At least he had come as far as welcoming Chik back into their home, even if he only squeamishly tolerated my occasional presence in it.

Every time he looked at me his expression gave away the visions that plagued him of the 'big ape' he saw stuffing his boy full of dick. It gave me the creeps, but I tried not to let it show. I thought it was important that Chik had my support when he told me he needed it.

"Let me cook breakfast," he offered.

"Sounds good," I agreed.

"Will you be lifting today?" he asked.

"Not after yesterday," I said, "I doubled up so we could have today uninterrupted."

"Okay," he said, rubbing my belly with the happiest of grins, "Then I'll only fix enough for three."

I watched, still feeling the effects of the previous day's workout and the marathon sex that had bookended our night's sleep. He'd learned his way around the kitchen until I could tell no difference between his cooking and mine. Soon we were sitting down to two steaming plates of eggs, grits, bacon, biscuits and gravy and two glasses of whole milk...my portions heaping to approximately twice his as he'd promised.

He was turning into something of a diet coach where my weightlifting was concerned. He took it very seriously and always made sure that my substantial food intake, which grew the belly he loved, was the highest octane for growing the muscle mass he adored even more.

I managed to finish before he did and pushed back from the table, scratching my balls as I rocked my chair back on its hind legs to watch him polish off his comparatively meager helping. His eyes were glued to my display as he ate.

He stood to clear the table when he was done and his cock was jutting out rock hard. At a respectable five-plus inches in length and probably close to five in girth, I thought his looked somehow more impressive against the backdrop of his slight build than my much bigger one looked on me.

His aroused condition and intact status caused mine to plump a bit in response. I got up and helped him.

"I've got room for dessert," I said with a wink when we finished, slowly working his foreskin over his cock head with my thumb and index finger.

"Then have a seat," he said with a sly grin.

I turned my dining chair out and sat down at its edge with my hands folded and my elbows on my knees. He stepped in and let me tease his hood with my teeth and tongue.

When he could stand it no longer he took my head in both his hands and pushed his dick in my mouth until my nose was pressed to his lean lower abdomen. I slowly increased my suction on it until I'm sure he thought I might suck him inside out.

He then began humping my face. He had just enough length to trigger my gag reflex occasionally, but I had conditioned him not to worry about it and gave him free rein to power into my fierce oral grip.

I consciously noted the event and the confident manner in which he was trying to satisfy my desire to be taken that time. These were indeed the fluid roles that I found most sexually rewarding.

"Oh, Papa!" he sang out as he drilled my mouth.

I groaned in lust as I savored his tart taste, completely relaxing my neck and the mounds of trapezius muscle that surrounded it while he used me. I could feel my hardening cock and sagging balls swaying in perfect rhythm with his powerful thrusts as they dangled below my belly from between my thighs. I was in heaven.

"Your...whiskers...feel...so...good!" he panted.

"Mmmmmmmhhhh," I moaned in response as he squeezed my head between his slight hands.

Time meant nothing as I gave myself to his pleasure. Had he been holding me at his groin like that for two minutes or two hours? I couldn't remember and frankly didn't care. His hardness felt so good ramming into me that it flat didn't matter. His assertive behavior along with the unique taste of his uncut cock and morning musk combined to fully revive my erection.

"Gonna...come!" he warned as he held me tight and humped away.

A few more vigorous thrusts and then he announced, "Here it...IS!"

He pressed himself to my face and his salty ejaculate permeated my taste buds. I took his buttocks, one in each of my sinewy hands, and dug my fingers into them as I pressed the loins of his slender body to my face, greedily gulping down his deposit.

The rigid posture he'd taken in the throes of orgasm suddenly relaxed and I kept him in my mouth to suck out the remnants of his load. When he was done coming I let him slip out and pecked his flat tummy with a kiss.

"Wow! Thanks, baby," I said, happily grinning as I fell back in my chair.

"I love you so much!" he exclaimed as he dropped to his knees between my legs and wrapped a hand around my hard-on, which was lewdly looming up at him from beneath my mound of a belly.