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Lolita Paysites

(2011-11-22 02:28:24)





Related article: From: Harry_Schultznycnet.com (Harry Schultz) Subject: 1964 Organization: NYC NET Date: Sun, 9 Feb 1997 17:05:13 GMT********************************************************* WARNING * WARNING * WARNING * WARNING * WARNING ********************************************************* The content of this work is essentially angled toward an adult male homosexual readership. If you're a person not yet past eighteen years of age please read no further and be advised that your reading or perusal of this material is expressly prohibited by law.A NOTE TO THE READER: All characters and incidents within this work of fiction Lolita Paysites are purely of my invention. Any resemblance herein to actual events or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. Throughout this story Lolita Paysites the character's dialogue may contain language, distinct and obvious relations of alternate lifestyles and attitudes that may prove offensive to some. Verbal depictions of sexual acts are intentionally quite graphic. If you're of the sort that's easily offended or disturbed by literature of such nature read no further. Additionally, I've written nothing herein without reason as regards the shaping of this piece, however no slights are intended toward any race, gender or group through the manner of this tales unfolding.Thanks. All comment will be happily received by: Harry_Schultznycnet.com,Internet*********************************************************1964 - Part 1The crowded city bus that ran downtown into South Philly along Twenty-third Street, whined and hissed its way to a halt at Bainbridge not long past four that freezing Wednesday afternoon. Harlan Creely, standing first in line, planted a foot on the first of the little set of steps that automatically opened the bus's rear door. Hesitantly descending, he finally set one foot, then the next onto the curb.Moving much like the brown leaves following the chase the November wind's fancy led that day, the other passengers exiting the bus swirled impatiently all around the tall, walnut skinned youth. He'd abruptly come to a dead halt in their midst.The whole of the little throng of shoppers and workers hastening downtown to their homes after tending to business on Market Street manufactured a swift changing, nearly kaleidoscopic pattern on the sidewalk as they scattered all around the handsome yet strangely expressionless and immobile boy. Clad and bundled up to satisfy individual requirement for thwarting cold, each on deciding his or her own path hurriedly disappeared from Harlan's sight Lolita Paysites either up, or down, or across the street.Although the largest part of his attention had been set off-hinge by preoccupation of the deepest kind, Harlan's gaze slowly swung this way and that as people moved off. The plaintive sigh that followed the tall youth's survey of the street bloomed like a cloud of cotton in the chill air. The crowd's dissipation painfully accentuated the greatness of the distance Harlan already perceived there to be between himself and the rest of the human race.Despite its growling roar, Harlan was barely aware that the bus behind him was pulling away. He dully shook his head to roust his memory from the leisure it had suddenly elected with respect to his whereabouts. Somehow the street and every house in view along it all at once seemed foreign and unfamiliar even though this Lolita Paysites was a neighborhood the teenage boy knew very very well. Widening in minor alarm over this sudden loss of his wits, the anxious youth's butterscotch eyes snapped hard right, then left, as he attempted to get his bearings. Yet unsure of what move he should be making although the surrounding scene slowly was taking on clarity again, Harlan remained stock still in the last of the dissolving crowd.It took a rough shove from the cold wind to move the tall, long-limbed boy on. But not before he'd made a more comfortable arrangement of the several textbooks he toted under an arm. His free hand quickly hoisted the fleece collar of his tan leather jacket higher about his long neck. Then came but a second or two more of blank-eyed self-counsel and Harlan resolutely commenced the walk, four blocks east, to the church he and his family had attended for as long as he'd owned memory.Step by step, the fall of his feet landed on cement soldierlike; brisk and steady-paced. No matter how even the meter of his gait, within, Harlan faltered round and round a circuitous route of travel inside a dank and dim cenotaph of perturbation. Troublesome visions hung across his path of thought like cobwebs.In the dull light of this gloomy mood, he'd groped his way about the inside of anguish the entire day. Harlan still continued attempting to struggle out on his own but all sides of the thing engulfing him appeared to remain far too high for climbing.The same as since that morning when Harlan had begun to fumble his way through the day, all the gears in his thought processes continued to gum up, to refuse to mesh. Likewise, every check and balance which might have held his perspective in better calibration remained inoperative.He stood helplessly at the cliff edge of fright as bewilderment rolled in all round him like thick, encroaching fog. As he walked, the anxious nineteen-year-old took to repeatedly hounding himself all over again; meaning to prompt his hasty orchestration of some final solution to the the thing on his mind. The tonic note on the staff of change had yet to ring out clear through the haze in his head.Considering all things possible, the leggy youth none too lightly courted notions that, maybe, through some unintended slight on his part an unknown but significant force with a hand in the forging of the bigger plan of things had angled an eyeful of vengeance expressly his way. As he covered the next block, Harlan speculated this possibility as an explanation for the curse that seemingly had brought to bear the sealing off of all ends of every avenue of reasoning which might well have permitted the easy commerce of solutions to his problem.Frustrated, he'd quickly come to find as he knew he would, more silliness than sense in such a thought. His full lips tightened. "Damn," he swore softly into the stiff breeze coming at him as his plight yet stood seemingly unsolvable. Though most of his elders would have right off assumed him far too young to hold an appreciation of what real pain was, the pain the sad-eyed youth bore that day had a bite as hard and deep as the chill wind.One thing was sure. Harlan intended to begin, as best he could, to learn how to put an end to the ache inside him. He'd made up his mind, from that day on it must surely be he and only he who stamped the deeper concerns of his life with the final word as to how they'd be resolved. This decision had been settled by the unanimous vote of one he'd cast early that morning. He'd elected himself sole chooser of his paths on his walk through life. He'd choose for himself what to take, how to give -- and where to leave his love. For a moment as Harlan again thought on the decision he'd made, the flicker and glow of slight hope again struck him as he briskly kept walking on. The Dark Ages were long past, he realized. After all, this was the Twentieth Century wasn't it ... it was Nineteen-sixty-four.Though the weight of it had been carried with quiet resignation until this certain day, the youth's quandary over the specifics of right flavors of the mind continually nagged him. All the questions that the weighing of things wrought had rested heavily on Harlan's shoulders well before they'd grown anywhere near as broad or strong as then. Thus, worry had unfailingly lingered as near him as his adolescent awareness of himself. It continued disconcertingly tolling like a great bell in his ear.The truth which the oval-eyed teenager kept hidden had become adamant for his overt recognition and uncompromised final reconciliation with it. Strong as the need for food or the urge for sex, that Wednesday, an inner need to feel free had set to haunting Harlan the strongest it ever had.The presence of longing this giant-sized was quite an overwhelming thing for Harlan whom had never been told any more of life by his parents than they believed fit for a child to know. And childlike the broad-shouldered youth was with respect to the feelings going on inside himself. He was ravenous from curiosity. Nonetheless, as though the frighteningly overpowering impact of a scene's suspenseful unfolding might somehow be lessened, just as a kid front row at a scary movie furtively peeks at the action taking place on screen through gaps in tiny powerless fingers, oft times Harlan found himself barely able to glimpse at the full face Lolita Paysites of his need.However, Harlan somehow had come through all right. He'd made the passage from boyhood, to where he stood ripe and on the verge of full manhood, unwarped despite the experience of living with fact he often found unnerving.He'd come all the way from birth to nineteen going on twenty the bearer of a warm heart and an extremely kind and even nature. This nature had seldom been deemed overly adverse when authority that governed his upbringing made its usual requirement of his immediate and unquestioning obedience.At high school and around his neighborhood in West Philly, Harlan had developed no friendships conspicuous enough to have been looked on as particularly intimate even by his watchful mother. Notwithstanding, the soft-spoken, devastatingly good-looking youth was well liked. As well, inside of the beehive of the very carefully organized adolescent existence which sequestered him -- planned church and school functions, chaperoned parties and outings -- he'd always been one of the gang and accepted by both his male and female peers. Thus, Harlan bore little wisdom of what it meant to make one's own way other than how he'd been told. Early on he acquired the strong belief that life was indeed a very hard thing to live. This was because the young man's self-conscious preoccupation with desires and emotions he deliberately endeavored to leave undefined prevailed and grew.But that didn't matter anymore, that Wednesday all aspects of his life were to undergo great change. Harlan Creely had without doubt got it in Lolita Paysites his mind that a turnabout was to come because at last he'd made the decision to not turn his face from anything, great or small, that lay inside himself ever again.Of course, making a decision's much easier than acting on one. The youth's fears often towered over him in sporadic flare-ups as the day of near wintry cold slowly poured itself out. However, since morning, over and over he'd recited under his breath, "The truth shall set you free ... nothin' but truth ..." It would indeed be the telling Lolita Paysites of the truth that opened a door the handsome brown-skinned youth had thought would be forever closed to him.******************************************** ********************************************Singular, anxious deliberation over where to seek enlightenment regarding the stirrings inside he'd come to know well but didn't understand, had been prevalent in the light-eyed youth's troubled thinking for several weeks prior. From the very first, Harlan had pondered whether his purpose could be served by putting his confidence in the young minister heading his church, the Reverend Clay Adderly. Then again through a sizable caution heavily tinctured with foreboding by way of all the adamance with which his father had instilled the code of family in him, Harlan thought for a long time on whether to break or conform to the rule. He was eldest son and heir and had even more so been made to know, coming to his parents was to his first action toward the remedy of any predicament he might occasion; his duty no less.Yet Harlan knew seeking counsel inside the Creely family's framework bore sure odds of a hellish approach with his father Frank. even to the outskirts of the matter. Carefully rethinking the worth in that alternative, Harlan came to an alternate answer. `Go someplace where there's real understanding to be found,' he'd heard himself say. Thus, he took a course opposite the one he knew his father would highly prefer. It fostered his motivation for the walk crosstown in South Philly that was to come that cold afternoon.For Harlan, the apprehensiveness he felt was a mosaic of fragments of fear and doubt strewn on that day's face. The youth's picture of his troubles was redrawn every time his recall of time and place returned like a disturbing wind. It never let him claim a sense of calm for long but he walked on. Nonetheless, Harlan was determined to prove himself man enough to face, boyish desperation gusted about the heart of him like the stiff winds that whipped round the cold streets.********************************************The boy's first solution's inception hadn't jelled until Harlan had exiled himself to a removed corner of Edmund E. Gerard High's cafeteria. It became clear to Harlan that his only chance to gain any peace inside lay in finally relinquishing the secret he kept to the wisest and most willing ear he could find. He believed his fears would be stripped of their power over him once he at last heard himself speak of the thing out loud.Chair set back from the table as if making a study of the worn oak planks on the old school cafeteria's floor, Harlan had sat there quite some time gazing past the dark knot his clasped hands formed in his lap. But, his countenance somehow connoted a completeness of focus; as though in his head he might be carefully summing up of a column of large figures.The true mathematics of Harlan's mental exercise were meant to adduce the mean of his chances through the counting and figuring of plus/minus comparisons ... his ironhanded father's all too familiar rigid mettle and, on the other hand, the charity of spirit he believed made up his minister's. It took but a little time before Harlan rationalized his best chance as being a talk with the one person he yearned to speak with most all along -- Clay Adderly. "Him ... it has to be ... him," he'd resolved at last. "How could it be anybody else but him?"The large electric bell above the cafeteria's swinging doors loudly clanged and called for the next period's commencement. Without thought Harlan had risen, collected his books, and his barely touched tray of food. Merely a look attested to the teenager's deeper interest in the taste of the fare off his contemplation's menu than the fish sticks, peas and potatoes lying cold on his plate. Once he'd returned the tray, Harlan determinedly put forth an effort to bury worry beneath a look of steely calm as he started for his next class. For a while he drove off the doubt he felt wafting in the air all around as he went ...********************************************Long-legged and athletic, the youth easily sprinted across Twenty-first Street hurrying on though still quite preoccupied. A horn blasted and a large truck rumbled past with its haul just as he leapt onto the curb. The sounding horn blasted a fanfare for the sudden return of Harlan's father's stoic visage as it once more loomed large inside his head for what seemed the hundredth time that day.Harlan halted, then scanned the greying sky thoughtfully. For a moment, as he'd found cause to do many times over the last few years, he seriously pondered the depth of what he felt for his father, Frank Creely.In the aftermath of some out-and-out conflict between them, if feeling especially wronged and therefore seeing himself set in a right enough place from which to indulge his contained resentment, Harlan would fashion rough inventions with which to probe his soul and the raw hate he'd feel begin to bloom.All his life he'd been given good food, warm clothes, but no right to anger. "Honor thy father," he'd always been lectured. The smooth field of his high forehead would crease when he'd sometimes jam shut those tan-colored eyes of his and out of darkness form a luminous picture of his father lying flat on his back, stone cold and dead. With this vision in mind, he'd put himself to the test. "How bad would it hurt me if he up and died tomorrow?" he'd ask himself. "Would I break down cry about it? Would it make me feel like I was all busted up inside? Would it be like I couldn't see some way to keep on livin' `cause somebody real important was lost forever ... the way it's supposed to?"Employing the like for many such examinations of the rickety relationship his father and he dwelled inside generally left Harlan feeling confused and guilty. He'd lived his life in Sunday school and never before had seriously made an attempt to fit his hand to rebellion's guiding wheel. That a father was to be honored and obeyed but not questioned was all Harlan knew. So when "Of course," the obvious answer he'd assumed any father's child would give to such a self-query didn't instantly come to mind, Harlan first felt himself a derelict son.Harlan's surely industrious father was head deacon and trustee in charge of Greater Thesselonian First Baptist's financial affairs as well. Once the reaping and counting of the offerings and tithes gathered up from the congregation in the collection plates and baskets was done and set aside, Deacon Creely displayed a most visible stern piety and apparent abandonment of worldly things. At least that was so full-time on Sundays and part-time come week-night prayer meetings.However, day by day with the use of the remainder of his time, the uncannily shrewd businessman was quite content to reroute the energy he applied to his devotions to works more beneficial to his own gain than that he anticipated as heavenly. The management of his insurance business was one.No one would ever deny Frank Anderson Creely was and had always been, a hard working, self-declared no-nonsense man. A "pull yourself up by your own bootstraps brand of a man," he'd often say of himself none too shyly. Therefore, no more than this tall, wiry man's nature allowed him to ignore for a moment the strategical value of his placement in a crowd, would it let him lay aside part or parcel of a narrow philosophy.Frank would have absolutely nothing to do with anything that missed the mark in jibing with the stringent logic he'd learned by rote off his own father's slate or that opposed any judgements his forebear had bestowed as to proper living.It was this same manner of sentiment that brought to bear Frank Creely's choke-hold frugality as regarded his allowance for latitude in his toleration of fooling around in life's grey areas. That applied not only to himself but to all under his dominion. "You either do or you don't, boys. You hear what I'm tellin' you? It's no more simple than that!" Words to live by...In the ministering of this his gospel, "You either do or you don't," was likely the most presented of the not necessarily luminous pearls of wisdom the deacon constantly sermonized to both his sons. Although his delivery of the message never qualified as charismatic even in essence, neither Harlan nor Buddy, Frank's youngest, had much difficulty remembering. In the course of any given day, Frank without fail would minister this phrase either to one of his sons or an unlucky employee at the insurance office he owned and ran on his detection of some dereliction of duty.About to turn twenty, two days past the coming Christmas, Harlan was even more keenly aware of the expanding void between himself and his father. He was a ship about to drift away from the dock. Little remained of the fast fraying family ties strung across the chasm between himself and his father. Only a few last taut threads of connection sometimes quite naive Harlan himself had spun out of sentimental, wishful inventions remained in the teenage boy's sheer embroidering on the bands of the shared familial existence he very much needed to believe in.With graceful quiet the age of twelve or so Harlan, quite a handsome boy, met the onset of his metamorphosis from child to adult. Since then not only had his body markedly showed all the expected but surprising signs of change, the concerns that led his thinking proved entirely new manifestations as well. Along with the deepened timbre of his voice, his mind experienced a change of depth all its own. His questions changed formed, growing more of size and like his body adopted secondary traits of a man. By circumstance quite as natural in its occurrence as his physical transfiguration, Harlan grew less and less a complaisant believer in his father's truths.Harlan's fertile mind was a vast field for the new feelings, desires and curiosities that sprouted in him as swift in speed as the upspring of the patch of kinky, black hairs that came to thickly cloud the very base of his smooth brown belly like an oasis all around the newly veined and thickened length of man-flesh rooted in the meeting of his thighs. All of it was so normal -- so usual as became any boy becoming a man.But as with all processes, mysterious turns are made in the making as they push on toward completion. Harlan's arrival at the limbo that prefaces manhood sometimes struck him as more a backward step toward infancy. Overly simplistic juvenile queries, "Why? ... Why not? ... How? ... What if ...?" all embarrassingly continued coming into play whenever he sought to take a position of weight when in discussion with his elders. It wasn't often the innately bright youth considered himself speaking with knowing confidence.In earlier times, the son had been quick to come running to call upon his father in the pursuit of the elusive final word on life, living, and the meaning and placement of manly emotion. Sadly, it wasn't long in his listening and later comparison that Harlan found Frank's theories on any issue, other than propagation of money unenlightening and, quite often ... useless."No! ... no! ....Daddy's just about the worst one to go talkin' to. There's nothin' I've got to tell him that he's ready to listen to anyway .... When could anybody ever talk to him? Dag man" The wind's cold, open hand wiped his face, smudging the resolute color of that soft utterance as Harlan's step speeded up as he covered the last block to the church ..."Who? ... Come on ... Come on!" A little bit annoyed at hearing the faint knock at the door of his study as he hurriedly made ready to leave for home, the Reverend Clay M. Adderly wheeled about in response as he extracted his heavy overcoat from a rather old and scratched enameled wardrobe just beside the closed door to the pastor's study. Lolita Paysites Nonetheless, the tall, young, square-jawed preacher's face abruptly bloomed bright as day on his instant recognition of the light brown eyes peering shyly just past the squeaky office door's edge as being Harlan Creely's. The young minister chucked the tweed coat he clutched in his large hand onto the leather armchair near his desk and went to pull the door open, wide as it would go. His strong hand flew to Harlan's shoulder as he ushered the youth just inside his small office's doorway.Clay's broad smile proved the instant progenitor of Harlan's. Although he was all at once pressed hard under the thumb of his shyness, all the worry the youth had been traveling with suddenly withered. Harlan brightly beamed back a smile at the husky, bull-necked young preacher who'd come to lead the large church almost three years before. For a moment, the aura of this warm, most approachable man he'd long thought much of was more than enough of a source of protection to proffer him escape from the urgency that had compelled him to come."Hey there man, how you doin'?" The thin dark line of Clay Adderly's well-kept mustache traced his broad smile. It continued shining on Harlan as the strikingly handsome young preacher reached forward and sandwiched one of the teenager's cold hands firmly within the warmth of his two."Well sir," Clay said cheerily, "looks like the good Lord sure `nough does move in manners mysterious. Don't he?. Can't call this nothin' less than a welcome surprise. Since goin' on ten o'clock this mornin' all I've heard is a plumber cryin' to me, `Rev, that thing over there ain't so good, this one's worse, and the one over there ain't good as either one.' Got to be plain to just about anybody, I've been in line for some kind of uplift Lolita Paysites to head my way all day. And right here it is -- you've just done the trick. Really man ..."Clay Adderly's light line of conversation was abruptly severed on a keen edge of the anxiety sighted coming into view on his young parishioner's face. Subtle and politely cautious, the broad-shouldered young preacher folded his arms and leaned back a little to look Harlan up and down with a gentle eye. "Just where is it you're comin' from -- West Philly?" he inquired quietly."No, down from North. I ... I came straight from school." The last remnant of the smile Clay's exuberant greeting had elicited from Harlan somberly faded from sight.Clay hadn't been sure of it at first but within moments it was impossible for him to mistake the heavy pall of significant sadness on Harlan's face for the flimsier trappings of simple teenage worry . "Harlan, what is this? Tell me what is it that's got hold of you? ...Tell me. For the life of me, you look like you've been tusslin' with the very Devil himself man ... and pretty hard too." The handsome man with skin as rich a color as honey paused a second to gently bring the troubled youth's chin aloft with the top of his slow rising big balled-up hand.For a long moment mercifully unburdened by voiced questions, the preacher painstakingly explored Harlan's eyes for signs of his particular affliction as his other broad hand reassuringly squeezed the boy's shoulder. Clay resumed his offer of comfort in a gentle, earnest tone. "Now, youngblood, come on out with it and tell me what it is you need. It don't matter what it is `cause nobody's set me down here to be your judge. It positively ain't a hill of beans to me what the problem is. All that really matters is how I can help -- that's the thing I'm here for."Harlan, silent and anxious, still hadn't come all the way into the office. He stood before the puzzled clergyman, head hung down again as he shifted his weight foot to foot. An amalgam of disparate emotions -- need, fear, and guilt -- laid on him from behind like a heavy weight that rendered the youth incapable of doing that which he wished most; to simply look up into the tall and strong preacher's eyes and somehow know everything could surely be set right.Harlan's proud chin trembled. "I ... I ... I want to talk with you Rev," he stammered on the verge of tears. "I mean I've got to. It's real important."A look of concern that bespoke an unfathomable depth of feeling, flooded over the confused young preacher's face swift as a river. "Well sir ... I sure can see that ... yeah ... I can see it's some kind of serious."Harlan trembled, frightened that an attempt to say more would not only unleash a landslide of words but also precipitate a torrential fall of the stinging tears he fought to hold in abeyance. He tightly clamped his lips together and stiffly nodded in confirmation.Just about to fall completely away, Clay's big hand reversed its downward drift and ascended once more. That hand, warm and strong, tenderly caught and cupped Harlan's trembling chin. "Come on now youngblood, don't you worry none," he said gently. "All of it's gonna work itself out." Some of Harlan's sorrow exited his eyes.Very next moment, Clay shot a glance up at the round black clock that hung on the wall adjacent the place of a gold-framed white Jesus who wore a rainbow for a halo. "Look here my man, best thing to do is get ourselves out of here and go somewhere," the handsome preacher suggested in a tone so light its lift immediately furthered the revival of Harlan's confidence. "Matter of fact," Clay said without waiting for Harlan's reply, "why don't you head up to the house with me. We can talk this whole thing out up there ... just you and me; won't be another soul nowhere `round. We'll have all the time in the world and ...," he chuckled, "might even feed you -- if you feel like eatin'. Although I'm not known to be much of a hand in the kitchen, I believe I can find somethin' I can fix for us that I can't burn up. Okay with you?"Harlan looked up. His eyes met Clay's and his smile slowly resurrected. "Okay," Harlan consented with the soft, willing finality of one who truly trusts."By the way, do Deacon Creely and your mother Lolita Paysites know you've come down this way?" Clay asked cautious but quite scrutinous."Uh-uh.""Well then, wouldn't be too bad an idea to ring home so somebody knows where you're at," Clay said, pointing to the old phone on his desk. The telephone had weathered many years and many preachers and their trials there in the old churches study. Its black casing had no shine left at all.A call home was indeed in order. It was the middle of the week -- a school night. A quick nod of Harlan's head indicated his immediate understanding of that. Yet, his snail-paced approach to the preacher's cluttered desk, heaped high with books and Bibles and papers, suggested the greatest reluctance. The slender youth steadily gazed at his slim fingers while, painstaking and slow, he dialed seven digits one after the other.There was only a few seconds' wait. Harlan turned his back to Clay and leaned over the desk -- "Mom?...Yeah, I'm okay. I'm all right I said. I just called `cause there's somethin' special I've got to do and I'll be home kind of late. ... Well, I can't say exactly what time ... Anyway, it's nothin' really; just somethin' I need to see about, that's all ... Just somethin' Mom ... No -- no homework tonight ... I won't forget ... Huh? ... The thing off the TV? ... I don't have it. Buddy's probably gone and put it someplace again and forgot where ... Yes ma'am, I've got my key with me ... Yeah ... Yeah ... See you later..."Harlan found Clay sitting on the arm of the chair as he slowly straightened and turned from the phone.The clergyman had used the time just passed for a tactful inspection of the slightly worn edge of one of his only winter coat's lapels. However, the big man had shot glances toward his desk, now and then, from the corner of an eye. Supported by the one long arm he'd braced himself, he'd seen Harlan all the while wearily lean over the large desk as he'd conversed with his mother. By Clay's immediate impression the youth seemed surely a soldier too long on the battlefield.Young Reverend Adderly's ear had been put to as keen use as his eye. He'd listened as his young parishioner had ever so carefully maintained his guard on the telephone. Clay searched the vacant expression that had wiped Harlan's countenance clear of any telling emotion once the phone's receiver was back in its cradle."Harlan, is it all right to ask you somethin'?""Yeah, Rev. What?""I'm not tryin' to press you `bout your business but why didn't you just straight out tell your mother you're comin' up to Germantown with me?"Harlan's reasoning, in reply, was of too painfully honest a weight to allow his voice to rise above the whisper that forced out, "It would mean a whole lot of questions later."Clay, turning inward himself as he hastily resumed donning his coat and hat, neither asked nor said anything else until a minute later to end the trespass of the hindering silence that came. Giving Harlan a firm pat on the shoulder, "Well, youngblood, let's say we get in the wind," he said and they exited the church through the dimmed sanctuary.*********************************************"Come on man hurry up, the cold out here's a killer. Right now's time for some quick steppin' `cause it's a mite too chilly for strollin' like it's still summertime," the Reverend Adderly shouted as he hurriedly headed on to his car with Harlan in tow. Outside in the street, laughing as they put distance between themselves and the locked up church, the hardy, well-built minister and his athletic young congregation member raced on foot two blocks north to where the minister's conservative black Buick sat shining in the last of the afternoon sun.Clay's sides shook with laughter as he stood beside his car catching his breath. "Good God, youngblood, wonder what's goin' on with me. Maybe I need to see about shapin' myself up a little. Little bit of a run like that used to be nothin' for me back in college."Harlan's smile was quizzical but he withheld his opinion in regard to Clay's state of fitness. He knew the muscular young preacher's college days hadn't been that long past because he'd seen Clay's diploma on the wall behind his desk. There was no one he saw as more strong or vital than Clay.Collected and ready to be on the move an instant later, Clay quickly unlocked the passenger side of the car for Harlan and commented loudly about how brisk the wind was as he trotted around to the opposite side of Lolita Paysites the large sedan he drove ."I never was a man with a likin' for cars plain lookin' as this but folks -- `specially church-goin' folk -- seem to see this kind of car as more dignified for a preacher." Slamming the car door hard once he'd pulled the tail of his heavy coat all the way inside and settled himself into the leather nest behind the steering wheel, the big man continued thoughtfully. ""Maybe -- maybe not ... I'll never like `em but lookin' dignified and lookin' proper seems to be what this world is all about lately; yep, means everything to whole lot of folks."As Clay leaned forward to slip the key into the ignition, the young preacher said almost absentmindedly, "Like always -- I go right along with the program."As the big black car rolled northward to Germantown, Clay tried to keep the subject of conversation light despite all the concern Harlan's troubled face was rousing in him. "I'm a bachelor again. Been left on my own for the next ten days -- maybe two weeks. The wife's gone down to Memphis for that women's conference at Reverend Haley's church. Brought her down to the Greyhound station late last night. Means to see some of her people too.""I know," Harlan informed him. "Mom mentioned. She had it in her mind to go too but there wasn't time enough to change up any of her vacation days." Lolita Paysites Harlan hesitated cautiously though he knew what he'd say was not news. "Besides, you know by now how Lolita Paysites Daddy is -- `Best service anybody can give is the service he renders for those at home.' "Clay nodded empathetically but did not want to appear other than neutral where a son's criticism of his father was concerned. He shrugged his broad shoulders, uneasy at even a slight acknowledgment of Deacon Creely's overbearing ways, and refrained from verbal comment."So tell me now, how Sister Creely feels about her boost up in the business world," the preacher inquired, changing the subject."Can't say I know for sure. You never hear Mom say all that much about work once she's in the house. Seems pretty happy about it though.""And rightly so. Penn Industrial's not a bad-sized company. Bein' made a department supervisor certainly can't be said to be too bad a thing for somebody colored in Philadelphia ... especially these days."Of course I know you've got to see there's a bigger meanin' inside it, young man," the preacher chided the youth with a gentle shove on the shoulder from across the car. "It's a sure `nough a beginnin' -- enough of a beginnin' of somethin' to feed us folks some hope with a dream or two piled on top. Not so much for ourselves but for you young'un ... for you," Clay said quite seriously. "It's a hard world out there and your gonna need every dream you can get."Optimism came back to warm every inflection of the young preacher's deep voice and bloomed wide as his grin. "We've all got our eyes set on a great day when we'll be lookin' to see you sittin' at the head of any table you want -- anywhere."Harlan's pondering glance toward the driver's side of the car housed silent, questioning doubt."I know, Harlan ... yeah I know," Clay quickly conceded the immediate look of relations between black and white in respect to current events. "Lord alone knows how bad things seem from all the mess that turns up on the TV news -- all them sheriff's and dogs; firemen turnin' their hoses on folk. Sure must look, to anybody young as you, as if we'll never be able to just sit down and say we're satisfied. Like we'll always be out there fightin' ... and waitin' ... then havin' to fight some more but ... but ..."This time it was Clay's turn to glance, sidelong, across the car. The caramel-colored eyes that every Sunday without fail sent him the reassuring comfort of unconditional trust from the front pews as he preached weren't focused his way. Instead, they gazed steadily through the windshield off into the darkening sky above. The curious preacher hastily brought his own eyes back to the street ahead and guided the black Buick farther on, devoid of the vaguest notion of the answer that Harlan sought out on the horizon.Oblivious to everything beyond the borders of a his spontaneous deliberation, Clay Adderly's young companion slipped quietly away to some other place.Tempted to take just one more stab at making benign patter, it struck Clay Adderly bottom line, "Common sense'll tell you, nobody speaks on a thing until he feels good and ready. Keepin' up nothin' but a whole lot of useless talk ain't about to do any doggone good."That duly considered, the minister instead opted for the resumption of his own hushed speculation. Though clueless, Clay continued endeavoring all on his own to divine the root of what it was that was going on with Harlan. Then, rethinking this pursuit too he brought himself up short with a silent reprimand. "Cool it! Just cool it and leave Einstein to bein' Einstein. Let it all rest a spell. `To everything there is a season ...,' " the young theologian dutifully reminded himself.Clay quietly mulled over a few events in the more than three years that had gone by since his arrival in Philadelphia as a newly ordained, young minister with his wife, Joyce.*********************************************Greater Thesselonian's edifice, a huge, regal stone structure, was one of the city's oldest and most venerated black churches. The intricacies of its protocol, Lolita Paysites no less in mass and importance than the edifice itself, had it that the responsibility for an incoming minister's briefing in regard to the management of church business could only be entrusted to either the church's head deacon or trustee. Frank Creely haughtily sported both hats.Clay Adderly and Frank Creely met, for the first time, at the church to discuss preliminaries the very same Tuesday afternoon Clay had driven in from Lancaster with the remainder of his and Joyce Adderly's belongings.Joyce, Clay's wife of two years by then had already preceded him to Philadelphia nearly a week prior, to put the renovated and properly tuck-pointed red brick house they'd rented in order. The ensuing constant shuttling of essential details and questions via telephone as well as in person since Clay's arrival soon brought him, and Joyce too, into close ongoing contact with the deacon and his family.Cleotha Creely, Frank's wife, was a short, soft-spoken woman with a body nearly as stout as her spirit. In her free time, she tended to much of the church's secondary affairs and clerical matters. She kept them set to right with steady-handed and dutiful thoroughness.From the start, she'd much impressed the church's new preacher, in contrast to her vociferously fussy husband, by the quiet, unassuming fashion in which she moved around the church, task to task.As earnest a parent as church member, at that point in time it was never uncommon to find Cleotha and Frank's brood of two in close proximity to any site where their mother's hand was being applied. And so, domino effect, common events led to a string of circumstantial first meetings that eventually brought about the new preacher's introduction to Harlan a week after his arrival. It was late morning the Saturday abutted against the day he'd deliver his premier sermon. Even then, first handshake, each had taken a liking to the other ...Clay remembered well the quiet, beautiful unassuming boy he'd met who even then had stood nearly as tall as he.*********************************************Waiting for the yellow cab just ahead to move on, Clay reflected on how he and Harlan had seen the other grow; each from his respective side of the pulpit. In quiet undefined friendship each had given to and taken from the other in unacknowledged, respectful ways of the spirit ...Just the year before with his gentle assurance of good things to come, it had been the young preacher's strong arms that had cradled Harlan's head and broad shoulders and gently let the lean youth down into the baptismal pool and borne him up again into the world, clean.In turn as Clay, himself young in age and the ministry would opine of faith and angels before the church's large congregation, from the corner of an eye the preacher often drew much needed assurance and inspiration from the well of silent support and admiration that always lay in Harlan's attentive gaze.At the next stoplight Clay curiously thought on that -- the full meaning of Harlan's apparent admiration of him -- and then thought again. "Man, don't go jivin' yourself ... ain't no such thing ... can't be. Got to be losin' your mind," he cautioned himself suddenly uneasy with his own meditations. "Anyhow, don't let foolish thinkin' get in the way of providin' what he needs most-- real help."As far away as he seemed, Harlan was only removed from the big man beside him by his silence. At that moment, Clay Adderly was the axis of all his doubtful thoughts' orbits. Though he'd come to know the busy minister as well as anyone else in a congregation so large might have the chance to, Harlan had yet to learn there's no earthly difference between a preacher and an everyday man."If I ask him to, he'll keep it to himself. Mom or Daddy won't have to know. But what am I doin'? He's a man with a wife; what in the world would he know to tell me about somethin' like this?" Harlan considered, anxious and skeptical all over again. "There's no way on Earth he understands a damn thing I feel. He's probably not even interested in hearin' it I bet." Harlan's long, soft sigh was not heard above the drone of the Buick's engine."Good God, sweet God ... please ..." inaugurated a silent and desperate teenage prayer. Harlan felt fear start to crawl all over himself again. "I need to have him somehow understand ... got to," he prayed. "So no matter what else, don't let openin' my mouth go and mess up this one thing on me. Please, let just a little bit of somethin' stay the same. Let me tell him the truth and at least have the man still look at me with that smile ... like always ..."A visitation of no less reverently beheld vivid images, holy to some and not to others, broke Harlan's train of thought when he envisioned Clay's wonderful smile. Harlan's thinking shortly plummeted from the lofty place from where he'd lifted his prayer. "Wonder just what he'd say if I told him how he stays on my mind at night," he asked himself.*********************************************Late into the prior night as thought and fantasy forestalled sleep, Harlan had lain restless in bed across the room from his sleeping younger brother. The long-limbed youth had turned from his back to his belly, to his side to no avail. Though he'd tried hard to allow the veil of sleep to fall down about himself, Harlan continued to lie there wide awake and aware of his agitated body. His closed eyes were crammed full of what seemed the count of a thousand brilliant pictures of Clay; all from a continually unfolding collage inside his head.That night the door of Harlan's imagination was well-oiled and open wide. It was easy for him Lolita Paysites to usher Clay, in naked phantom form, inside the still, darkened house to his room. An open-eyed dreamer, Harlan used every shred of precious recollections to weave the sorcery that drew the object of his passion to the stairs and into his bed. Recall of the contours of Clay's muscular form, the bass register of the young preacher's kindly voice, his scent, put no hard demands to the youth in the effort.And so, the lean young dreamer lay close with Clay's mirage as his dick slowly firmed and grew. His scrotum lay loose and slack couched on his intermittently tensing thighs feeling as if it was a storehouse for fire. For what seemed hours, he made drowsy pledges of love to his invisible companion.Side by side in the darkness, young Harlan and his lover lay in the twilight where dreams come out to play saying things. Things -- such wonderful things -- they'd alternately whispered one to the other. The same bewitchment of anticipation that foretold to Harlan what he'd hear his preacher man someday say added a preciousness to his dreaming that was as priceless as the gold of Clay's skin.From the core of his musing's rapidly mushrooming inventions, a very malleable passion had burst upon Harlan. Body thoroughly kindled by it, he lay acutely conscious of all parts of his lean, strong body. His ex need, stirred up and more and more real than the ghost he lay in bed with, instigated Harlan's barter of bedroom assumptions for the greater comfort to be had in a self-surrogate tactile communication of the moment's meaning.Harlan slowly submerged his hands into the sea of heavy covers that had lain over him through the wintry night. Once against his bare burning teak-brown skin he'd set them free, quite willingly giving them their leave for a slow and familiar migratory descent past his waist.On the way there the tips of his slim dark fingers gently brushed the taut, velvet smooth skin on his chest and the ridged plain of his abdomen. His hands, like blackbirds gliding low, moved on and at last took roost where the young man's want had made itself obvious as it throbbed fully alive and aching for touch between his legs.Emitting a boyish gossamer grunt, Harlan arched his supple back and wiggled his slim hips as he quickly pushed down his white cotton briefs, all he wore. He then began to make his fantasy real, in the only way young men left to solitary longing know how ...*********************************************Traffic in the narrow street before them grew heavier. The going was slow light to light. Harlan rode along only half-cognizant of the activity going on in the world outside the warm cocoon of the moving car. His mind would not let go of the hand of the remembrance he courted from the prior night and the overpowering arousal that had been spawned by Clay's seductive apparition.Car horns and other realities persistently delivered light tugs at the hem of the reverie robing Harlan, bringing about the preemption of his daydream. It was his own silent question that drew him back toward current reality. Harlan, curious, wondered at its answer. Had Buddy been roused by the frenzied creaking of his bed's springs or the shuddering groan he'd been unable to rein when his fantasy had grown too great and unruly to be controlled and at last had overwhelmed him?Just at that point of thought, full-force reality yanked Harlan all the way clear of dreams' and pondering's reflecting pool. Ruminations of the past night's solitary climb to satiation had, with quick success, produced physical evidence of how real they'd been.A large hill loomed between his long legs. The accompanying sweet and specific ache that emanated from the site, though definitely not similar in type, was equal in strength to the ache he'd felt inside. A rush of hot blood gushed up to Harlan's face as, sprawled in his seat, he returned fully to his senses. With awkward haste he jammed his knees together, then drew one leg across the other. The embarrassed youth bit his lip and grunted when he banged his knee against the car's dash in the process.Harlan nervously snatched one of his books off the seat and pressed it into his lap just as Clay turned his way in response to the sound. Desperately ashamed, he hoped the preacher hadn't noticed."Harlan."Harlan quickly straightened up and shook himself, deciding to turn no more of the pages of his daydream."Yeah, Rev?""Turn the radio on -- go ahead -- I mean, if you feel like it. Pick out any station you want."Relaxing a little in relief that no discovery of his hard-on had occurred, Harlan quickly leaned in the driver's direction to reach for the silver knob at the middle of the dash panel. He turned it and a click set the small numbered rectangle on the radio's face flashing like a smile in the dimming light inside the car as dusk continued to deepen. Keeping in mind that after all he was riding with a preacher, in polite deference, the teenager's wary first intention was to turn straight to the local gospel station. Then again remembering his pledge to truth and to honesty, Harlan changed his mind and searched the dial for music that better suited how he felt about the moment.The ends of the youth's slim fingers danced quick-step along the row of silver buttons just beneath the radio's lit dial until ... "Yes, I know it looks all wrong." The singer repeated herself twice more and ended phrasing, "But my loneliness is gone ... And I feel for sure ... that tonight this love is right."*********************************************The music played on as Clay braked for another a red light. Mindful of the traffic in the street ahead, Clay caught a glimpse of dreamy-eyed Harlan as he appeared to be once again slipping away; this time sinking into the peaceful sea the soulful song provided.The young cleric jerked his gaze from the street and back again. He listened a little more carefully, then gave the steering wheel a light tap with the heel of his hand. Clay felt he'd finally comprehended. "So that's what it is! Youngblood's a man in love," he thought, grinning to himself, "Well, well, well."Though reluctantly revealed, a look at a time not all that long passed flooded the young preacher's mind in a surging rush too great to allow him time to open himself to its pleasure or steel himself against its pain. His days of tutelage at the seminary came into view, and so did Dan and all of it ... all over again. Frowning, Clay Lolita Paysites shook his head and shooed the invading past away...The remainder of the ride was silent save for the radio's soft playing. It came to an end a few minutes later as Clay swung the shiny black Buick off the street and into the common drive at the rear of his house. 1964 - Part 2"In you go," Clay enjoined his guest and once more cheerily snatched up the reins of conversation. "We'll get ourselves in out of this cold air right quick and see what's good for eatin' in my kitchen cupboards." The tall preacher hurriedly locked the car on Harlan's exit. He led Harlan along a short flagstone walkway to the backsteps of the house, then quickly ushered the youth in once he'd dredged his overcoat pocket for his house keys and swung the back door open.The click of the light switch on the wall just beside the back door initiated a clean and warm kitchen's bright exhibition as the fluorescent ring centered in the ceiling flickered on. Familiar to Harlan by its strong resemblance to his mother's, the large kitchen smelled of fresh made bread, pepper and sage and sweet spice. The resulting sense of safety he gained in such a benign environ naturally alleviated some of Harlan's nervousness as he silently took a longer look around the preacher's kitchen."Hey, it just came to me; this has got be the first time you've been out this way," Clay realized as he rested a yet gloved hand on Harlan's shoulder. "The deacon stops by here every now and then as need arises you know -- even Sister Creely's been by two or three times." Pulling off his gloves to stuff them in the pocket of his heavy coat, the minister paused his speaking."Well then," he began again affably, "if that indeed's the case, Mr. Creely sir, I bid you welcome to my humble home." The tall man's quick salutary nod accompanied his offering of hospitality. Smiling reassuringly at his visitor as though no matters for concern existed, the young preacher's strong right hand shot out equally as quick in welcome and he gave the warm nape of Harlan's neck a firm squeeze."Put your books any place you feel like over there," the preacher said, pointing to a round white dining table ringed by four high-backed chairs at the kitchen's opposite end, "and let me get hold of that jacket. I'll take it up and hang it with my stuff."Harlan momentarily stacked his books on the floor between his feet and, quickly removing it, handed his fondest possession, his leather jacket over to Clay. The preacher disappeared from the kitchen it and his own coat. Taking a seat, Harlan settled himself at the table and stretched out his long legs, not wanting to think.The young minister returned to his guest and again broke into friendly banter as through a series of little inspections, he began to select and transfer a few foil wrapped items from inside the refrigerator to the kitchen's countertop. Looking up as he searched , Clay eyed the clock over the stove. "Say buddy," he asked, "feel like givin me a hand? I sure could use one if you don't mind. Plates are in this cabinet just by me and the silverware's right over there in that drawer left of the sink."Harlan had been sitting anxious at what to say in his anticipation of the advent of some serious talking. The far braver side of himself, ready to see a change made, eagerly awaited the coming discussion while his more fearful half tried to blind itself, meaning to void his mind of the thought. Thus, any task offered him would have proved a relief.Immediately, the tall and comely youth rose from his seat and began gathering together the table's necessaries. He set his books aside in a corner and carefully laid places for two. Though himself never known to be an eager hand in a kitchen, this seemed a very special time; the tw them alone together. Harlan left the table for Clay's side at the stove asking anyway, "Anything I can do over here?"Clay gave Harlan the same wide grin he always easily granted him. "Youngblood, thank you kindly for askin' but when it comes to shufflin' pots and pans it's probably best you let me get myself in trouble alone. Besides, everything's just about ready anyhow."Quite true. Within the next few minutes, Clay was quickly setting out a pan of hot, aromatic baked chicken wings along side a bowl of steaming greens, some rice and store-bought bread at the center of the table Automatic in their response, once seated, both Harlan and Clay's heads solemnly lowered as, aloud, the young minister thanked his God for bounteous goodness. The blessing said, Clay then jabbed his fork in the direction of the hot food waiting on the table. "Dig in," he generously encouraged Harlan.Straight off, it appeared each had found a perfect companion in the other. Both ate heartily and contentedly followed as table conversation roamed whim's free and easy paths. Harlan sat happily far removed from his worries, for a time.It wasn't until they were standing side by side at the kitchen sink, cleaning up the last of the dishes, that Clay gently informed Harlan, "You know youngblood, nowadays there's every kind of sadness imaginable in this world -- whole lot of it too. Yet sometimes a problem's not the uncrossable river we might make it out to be. Then again sometimes it may well be but usually you'll find you can begin to see your way around it Lolita Paysites if --""I can't see how I'm gonna find a way past this ... ain't none," Harlan suddenly blurted out. "Rev, right now I feel like I might as well lay down and die.""Why is that? Tell me," Clay gently demanded to know but no explanation came. The minister thought on it and then asked, "Harlan did you get yourself in some kind of trouble with a girl? Is that what's got you so upset?""Huh?" Harlan's face momentarily masked the alterations his woe had made upon it as he almost raucously snorted out a laugh. But all it took was a second's worth of his own thinking to cause the teenage boy to turn his beautiful face from Clay as his cheeks began to burn red hot. He searched for strength as he replied with a quavering voice, "No Rev, that's my whole problem. I'll never be in trouble with girls." The dinner plate he'd just washed slipped from his soapy fingers back into the dishwater.All at once, the handsome arrangement of Harlan's fine, winsome features was twisted awry by an overwhelming rush of pain. The dam that had held back the vastness of his pent-up tears and emotions until just that moment crumbled and collapsed. All his sorrows began to cascade down his burning cheeks in a flood.The young preacher instantly enfolded this young member of his flock's slim, shuddering frame within both his strong arms and pulled him tight against himself. Holding the weeping youth close as a baby despite his size, the tall, muscular preacher rocked the youth side to side in the gentlest way as he stood leaned against the sink cabinet. "Go `head, let it out ... let all of it out," he softly whispered in Harlan's ear.Harlan, helpless to throttle his tears, hid his weeping eyes away at the warm junction of Clay's thick neck and broad shoulder. He cried for quite some time as Clay held him close, a big Lolita Paysites hand cradling his bowed head.Eventually, the more the sorrowful rain of the youth's tears gradually abated, the more obvious it became to Harlan just how near they stood. Despite all the hurt he felt inside, sensory pleasures invoked by their bodies closeness as he drew on the tall man's solace all at once set its spur to his volatile teenage sensuality. The requirements respecting the remedy of his distress were sudden and decisively being reprioritized by rapid degrees.The comforting strength of the young preacher's arms was imbuing a feeling of security in youth again the same as they had that day he'd been baptized. It seemed just then to Harlan, no meanness, no misunderstanding lying beyond the cozy realm of Clay's kitchen could ever touch him as long as he was there bound up and sheltered in the young preacher's arms. The youth sensed his healing beginning.Nonetheless, it was in strange, surprising manner that his anguish commenced to turn itself inside out.This deft execution of acrobatics by emotion despite the great girth of his misery was as amazing to Harlan as it was frightening. All in one involuntary convolution, the feeling in him kept its size but changed its face. Harlan was no longer yearning to be free of pain but, instead, wanting to be quickly taught how to express love.Hot-cheeked and shaken, every muscle of Harlan's lean, hard frame suddenly stiffened near as rigid as the rip-roaring erection that ached like all hell as it strained full-blown against his pant leg. Though there was no doubt that his each and every dream, daytime ... nighttime, often put forth for display brightly painted depictions of moments exactly like this in Harlan's head, the youth stood completely stunned and surprised at how self-control had become so slippery in his grasp. Long and strong as it had grown, he was certain his hard-on had to be obvious to Clay because of the tight press of their bodies.Fear of the rawest and most elementary kind goaded the bewildered teenager to break free and run before an avalanche of the preacher's scorn and scathing judgment could begin to fall upon him. However, his legs suddenly felt devoid of strength and way too weak to support him.Trembling and too terrified to peer into the frame of outrage he believed he'd find about Clay's face, Harlan let his own remain hidden away since the big man had yet rescind the shelter he provided and push him off. It was with the greatest fear that he slowly raised his gathered brow off the young preacher's shoulder. His glistening oval eyes were wide with horror and his young, gentle countenance was marred by ribbons formed from the salt trails his tears left behind. With some effort, Harlan at last brought his eyes to Clay's and stammered piteously, "Oh my God! I'm so sorry Rev. Real sorry ... I didn't mean to -- but I --"Clay slowly let him go but made no move to break the close contact of their bodies. Instead he gently clasped Harlan's face betwixt his big hands and said, "Hold steady youngblood. It's okay." With fatherly tenderness the big man deftly whisked away the track of a tear's wet sheen off Harlan's cheek with his thumb. "It's somethin' that's understandable. Just about every young man's Lolita Paysites full of nature bustin' to be let out. Every now and then that nature'll boil up on him and --" Clay cut his counsel short.As though a sentinel alerted by some sound faint and distant, Clay Adderly's brow lifted as he stopped to consider a peculiar scent riding the wind just that moment as he kept Harlan close. And all in that moment, the handsome preacher's broad chest abruptly swelled even wider as he gasped. "Wait!" His voice swooped to a low disbelieving whisper. "Youngblood; is that what you Lolita Paysites been tryin' to tell me all along -- that you're --"Harlan's chin quivered once more as he nodded an affirmative to Clay's unfinished question.Suddenly, Clay hugged the youth hard himself and his sides shook as he began to laugh out loud. "Aw man come on," he chuckled at the absurdity he assumed to be inside the silent admission as he began to rock the teenage boy side to side again and rub his back with the comfortingly firm press of his hand. "You think you're that way; young as you are? You can't know nothin' `bout no such a thing. What makes you think so?"" `Cause I feel it all the time, Rev! I feel it right now for you," the Harlan cried out desperately, seeming almost ready to surrender to tears once more as he confessed, "and I always did."Though taken by surprise again, Clay continued to hold onto Harlan but tilted his own head back for a deeper, more serious gaze into Harlan's eyes. "Me?" he asked. A hazy cast was lain on his voice by pure amazement. "You've got feelin's for me youngblood ... somethin' like sex?""Uh-uh, more than that Rev -- somethin' like love," Harlan heard himself whisper before he could detour his words.It was then that Harlan Creely came to make the greatest decision of the day; the one that would effect him for all his life. Despite the youth's amateur rank with respect to matters of the heart, he willingly gave in to the inevitable belief in miracles that beguilement leads those seeking love to count on. Suddenly made brave, in a headlong rush Harlan mashed his full mouth against Clay's. And so, the handsome youth gained his very first exposure to the sugar sweet contagion of the madness that inherently infects a lover's kiss. Awed and hungry from this first experience of the electric velvet of Clay's lips, Harlan compacted his mouth harder against the young preacher's and kissed him as deep as he knew how.A flash flood of fire swept all through Harlan's veins. Swollen stout and seemingly about to burst, the lean youth's manhood twitched and ached, its considerable length agonizingly bent askew inside the confines of his pants. Accordingly, the heat of sex came to gain a height of degree for Harlan beyond any test by the virgin youth's previous imaginings once he began to see it wasn't just the walls of his own reserve that were being ripped down from the inside. He hadn't, after all, found himself forsaken in light of the rash manner of his revelation of himself. There he was still tightly gathered up in the handsome preacher's hard arm's.His own emotions gone renegade too, Clay had begun to seriously invest himself in the urgent kiss, ardently reciprocating Harlan's soft, full lips' offering of pleasure as his hold on him grew all the more fast.Merely an Earthly man, the preacher had never known a time in his thirty-two going on thirty-three years when any of the inner components that made the whole of him had ever come into alignment. That proved never more true than just that instant. Due to the separate nature and pursuit of each, the young minister's reason, faith, heart, and the compelling, electrifying arousal of his body chose up sides leaving it to some unkown sector of the man he was to decided where he'd stand.Clay Adderly found it impossible to pull his mouth from the salted sweetness of the lips of the slim, hard-bodied youth he clutched so hard against himself as he meant to. With every rise and fall of the wide span of his heaving chest, jet blasts of breath raced through the tall man's flared nostrils as though he were a stud bull suddenly in full run toward the nirvana of a mounting. Yet all the while, reason and faith naggingly prompted the handsome minister to let go of his desire and Harlan. seek and accept a pious victory by a leap to thoroughfares higher than the common supply road for pleasures of the flesh.However, such protest to his actions was proved of no avail. The desperate ache in his heart and the burning of his man parts straining to rise up from between his hard, muscular thighs were undoubtedly fostering an easy win for the temptation he was fighting. It became obvious that, as a man, Clay would not be able to resist one more press of Harlan's stumbling lips.Invisible forces made a free-style game of ping-pong with the tossing of torturesome feelings. In volleys coming swift and continuous, the young minister's affection for the youth he somehow couldn't seem to release, his fear for his soul and the ball of carnal fire smoldering hot at his loins were lobbed back and forth across the table of his awareness. Despite the fire storm of passion his fevered mind was caught in, the young preacher knew full well that everything respecting the moment and both their lives rested on the same high table of decision.From the very onset of his ministerial training, it had been ingrained in Clay Adderly that a man of the cloth was bound to his work by vows even more sacred than those he'd, one day, make to a woman when he took her for a wife. As the young cleric himself would be expected to teach, he'd been taught that the prescribed recourse in the face of trial and temptation was the remedy of strict obedience abetted by prayer that was bolstered by careful propriety. The well-trained soldier in himself adherent to that teaching, loudly wailed out cautions of ruin and recompense's closeness at hand should he leave his lips on Harlan's a moment longer. But, Clay had waited too long.In love, sexually aroused, and thoroughly confused all at once, the virile young preacher found his gut a mass of knots. In truth, as any man engulfed by an earthly need, Clay harbored no immaculately conceived desire to have either his heart or body's outcry pass Harlan unheeded. Alternate to everything the calling of the church demanded of him, this side of himself was willing to hazard just about anything for that one small opportunity to take a taste of a happiness he'd always wanted.Yet ... love proves itself in the strangest ways ...It was all in one a fell swoop that the preacher broke the lock on the kiss that had melded their mouths for the last several minutes. Furious with himself for not immediately resisting but gasping like a drowning man fighting the undertow of Harlan's kiss, Clay abruptly shoved Harlan away; forcefully enough to leave the Lolita Paysites bewildered teenager suddenly standing on his own, startled."Harlan ... baby ... I want you to think about this. You've got to," Clay panted. "Are you sure -- really sure? How in Lolita Paysites the world do you know you really want somethin' like this? Who's been with you?""Nobody -- ever," Harlan replied, his own muscular chest heaving wildly as Clay's eyes, gone stern, painstakingly traversed his face for signs of the truth."Well then seems to me, the best I could do for either one of us right this minute is lie. Yeah, lie ... and lie big time," the suddenly wild-eyed, good-looking man mumbled as he stood half-dazed just outside the gates of a hellish confusion. "I ought to come right out and say ain't no way on Earth I'd have a doggone thing to do with messin' with you. Think about what I'm tryin' to say youngblood."The tone of Clay's voice rang frighteningly resolute in Harlan's unwilling ear as the young preacher arched an eyebrow and leaned forward to put forth a question that apparently already bore an answer. "Ain't that right? Shouldn't it be me tellin' you it's one hundred percent wrong to have this happen; that it's wrong for you whether it's with me -- or with any other man? Boy, shouldn't I be smackin' you cross your lean behind and sendin' you home?""Good God almighty, youngblood. One day, somebody's goin' to look me straight in the eye and say plain and clear, if not for my own sake then surely for yours -- you bein' nowhere near grown -- that that's exactly the thing I should have done if you wouldn't show sense enough to get up and get out of here on your own. Come that day, they'll be right. Yes, they will. And, guess what else; after all's said and done, they're goin' to say the weight of the sin in this rests on me `cause, in spite my havin' a knowledge of the Word, I helped you break laws set above any of those of man's.""But...""But nothin! Please ... please! Just you hold your peace and hear me out." Clay ordered as his thick, splayed fingers flew up to Harlan's lips, nervously fluttering there as if his hand was a great bird seeking a to roost. Though gentle, the press of his fingertips did weigh down the protestations just about to rise from Harlan's lips.Mystified as the panorama of all there was to be considered grew wider to him, the befuddled young preacher sighed heavily and then went on. Eyes all at once full of helplessness he said, "Lookin' at the thing the other way, at least now I know what the feelin' of bein' really close with you's like. Most of the wonderin' I felt no right to come to you with is over. You were right here inside these two arms," the big man said as he hoisted his big arms and dreamily gazed between them genuinely mystified at what they'd just known. "Yeah, -- I've found it out for myself now and never another moment in my life'll seem as sweet and I don't want to have to let you go," he continued with a sigh as he let his arms fall to his sides once more. "I want it to be for forever just like all those Motown love songs and the TV stories you young'uns pay so much attention to. Wrong or right, youngblood, that's the genuine truth; I swear.""And worst thing ... I can't do a durn thing about it. It's almost like I can step outside my skin and see me here just like ol' Sampson, gone and got his hair cut. That's how it is. I feel no strength in me at all as far as you're concerned, youngblood ... not a whit's worth of strength." The big man's strong broad hand trembled leaflike as he slowly lifted it to allow the tips of his fingers to longingly trail along Harlan's smooth cheek. "Sweet, sweet youngblood," he murmured fervently, "there's not even enough power in me to hand you your jacket and those schoolbooks on that table over like real love's supposed to make me do."Yet endeavoring to master his desire, the muscular, gold-skinned young preacher shook his head, rallying himself for another round. "Exactly where you go for comparisons of such situations I can't say, `cause it's been a long time gone since I came `cross anybody sharin' this same kind of feelin' `cept you and me. Even so, there's a significant difference between us you see. For whatever there appears to be to me sizewise," his open hands demonstratively swooping from his head and down his broad upper frame, "I don't think in all my life I've ever been as brave as you just now Harlan -- save for one livin' man -- I've yet to let a single soul know.'"Not that I didn't want to, I've always known what was in my heart, what I'd have liked to have, what my real nature was. Then again, it was always plain to me, without needin' it drummed in my head, just how much the world's willingly going to give me permission to own."Won't claim I've been standin' down here long enough to consider myself a voice of deep wisdom but I've seen enough to know a man can end up payin' serious consequences if he reaches out meanin' to take more off the table than this nasty, low down ol' world we're livin' in feels he's ought to have.Thoughtful, Clay shrugged his broad shoulders. "Who knows my man, might be that's my problem," his sigh tellingly rueful. Maybe I'm runnin' scared; too scared to take a long shot chance on somethin' wonderful. But, my oh my, look at you," Clay added as he took the Harlan by the shoulders and began to grin at the youth as with pride. "You're full enough of a hot-blooded spirit to come right out and say you think you love me. Dead in front of me I see the risin' nature a young black warrior's surely got to have if he's of a mind to conquer. You've showed me all that just now in a kiss and for all the rest of my natural days I'll not forget it.""But you're so young;" the handsome preacher stated with a sad groan, "way too young to have the scarcest idea of what it is you're askin' to be allowed to snatch off that table I'm talkin' about. Hold on now, don't you go shakin' your head -- You think I'm standin' here sayin' all this just to here myself talk? Listen to what I say."Clay once again sternly cut off another protest. "Shh! Listen! Right now, let me try my level best to guide you to a way out. Let me do the right thing and boost you up to higher ground before we end up swamped in somethin' there'll be no way to Lolita Paysites climb out of."Believe me, everything I feel for you inside here --" he said, turning a big, thick finger to his broad chest's center, "burns as big as any fire my wantin' to lay down with you could ever set ablaze in me. The very same way I burnin' for you in my body, I need you for my heart. It's because I do care that there's still that little bit of right left in me that's makin' me say, `Think it over one more time.' ""Youngblood, you can go home. We can stop the whole show right here, right now, before we commence dancin' to this music ringin' sweet in our ears. No denyin' the tune I hear playin' is the same you do. Sure sounds real pretty too but don't you be deceived. Uh-uh! Even though it's mighty, mighty sweet to us -- kissin', touchin' like we've just been I mean, -- more than likely, we'll soon see a fiddler at the door lookin' for his pay, my friend. Then what? You startin' to understand what I'm sayin' Harlan?"Go ask somebody else to pick a name for that tune playin' for us now. They'll give you names aplenty. And I guarantee you, not a one's gonna sound nice. There's no doubt in my mind you want to call all this sweet romance ... true love ... somethin' like that. But, that's you," the young preacher chuckled dryly. "They'll tell you ain't but one name for this song -- wrong," Clay said flat voiced and earnest. "That's why I'm askin' you if you're really sure you want to own what you say you feel?"Harlan refused to keep silent any longer. "Yes! Yes, I'm sure," was his first blast of fiery insistence. Yet, for all the brave appearance of the bold, soldierly face he'd put on, suddenly fearing he was about to be sent off forever, the anxious young lover desperately grabbed two handfuls of Clay's shirtfront like a little boy frightened of falling. With all his might, he slowly drew his lean body against the rocklike, reassuring firmness of the preacher's once more. Meaning to make a convincing demonstration of reasons for Clay to let him remain, Harlan mashed and nuzzled his smooth cheek against the thrillingly rough stubble on Clay's. He held on as he rubbed his smooth temple against the young preacher's thick neck with relish as he sucked in the scent of the man and remnants of that morning's splash of aftershave eagerly into his nostrils. "I don't want to go ... don't send me home now," the youth whispered in his hero's ear.Like a novice attempting to learn the attitudes of a ritual dance', eagerly the tall, lean youth awkwardly coiled his own strong arms about Clay's thick neck and, clearly pronouncing each word, told him, "I don't care. Do you hear me? I don't care."Huh?" the minister asked without attempting to push his young parishioner from his body."No matter what name anybody else gives it and even if I've never had a chance to hear it turned up loud before, the music I hear is the music I like and it's sweet to me -- every note ..." Harlan peered deep into Clay's eyes. "It makes me want to dance to it and I don't feel like waitin' ... no ... not now. So, whatever the cost comes to, I'll pay up if and when the time comes -- if that's the way it's just got to be."The little radio on the windowsill at the back of the kitchen was unplugged. No music at all drifted into the kitchen save for the one note drone of the refrigerator. Nonetheless, pulling Clay along as he showed him how, Harlan began to lead a clumsy, comic waltz. "Doesn't make a bit of difference to me Rev, long as ... one-two-three ... one-two-three ...," their feet slowly shuffled on the kitchen floor, "long as I'm dancin' with you."In time their dance slowly came to an end but the enchantment of it did not. The two reluctantly parted themselves to sit face-to-face across the table."Can you tell me why it seems everybody thinks you've got nothin' but air between your ears just `cause you're young?" Harlan quizzed Clay once he'd judged his thoughts sufficiently ordered. "You know, just `cause I'm not some old man with false teeth for a badge of merit, doesn't mean I'm so young I can't make out the way the pieces sit on the board. I do."Curious at what he had to say, Clay sat back."Even though the picture doesn't look too pretty, there's still this feelin' in me and I don't mean to fight it anymore. Love this, love that. Love your fellow man and your neighbor, love your father, love your mother, love your brother, love your sister," Harlan recited. "Then it's all about love, ain't it?" he asked of the young minister a second later. "Well then that's why I want to look at this love I feel to find out for myself what it really is; to see if I can enjoy it -- even live with it ... live with this love. I just have to Rev."Harlan sighed and straightened in his chair. "You know, I've never even tried seriously discussin' sex and stuff with my father; especially anything about this. Even so, it won't matter whether I tell him or not. Daddy never leaves anybody else's business alone for long. He always goes nosin' round in every darn thing, makin' your plans for you without askin' first; settin' everything the way he thinks it ought to go. It's a sure thing one day he's going to find out I'm a --"Hesitant, Harlan first frowned and caught his lip between his pearly teeth. Then, the handsome youth suddenly drew his wide shoulders all the way back and sucked in a chest full of the kitchen's spice scented air the instant before he made himself describe himself with the only serviceable word he knew, "... faggot," for the very first time.All in the turnover of the next moment Harlan, greatly relieved at this small step forward, smiled shyly, suddenly feeling warm inside as his thinking happily led him back to the kiss. He set that thought aside to continue"Maybe I'm goin' crazy but just this minute I don't feel afraid of what my father might say or do `cause, same as you, at least one thing I've wanted to be has happened and Lolita Paysites it's turned out to be even better than I'd dreamed." In transient silence, the teak-hued youth sat quite thoughtful as he lightly traced the edge of his bottom lip with two fingertips. "No -- I almost can't believe it myself," Harlan said, his eyes bursting with light."That's where my problem starts, huh?" Harlan quickly added not wanting his golden man to, after all, take him for a dreamy-eyed boy. "Hmm, if I can hardly believe it, how could anybody else understand it?"Harlan's full mouth abruptly thinned and stretched into an uncharitable slash across his handsome face. "All my life, Daddy's done nothin' but preach, `Boy, your duty plain and clear is to listen and obey,' " the son, bitterly contemptuous mimicked his southern born father's pompous manner of speech."No matter Lolita Paysites how hard I've tried, Rev, I can't get him to recognize me, to see me, to know me. Even in simple stuff.""For months now I've been tryin' to make him see I'm no way interested in his tight-assed way of livin' or the plans he's got for me and his insurance business. I've been tellin' him over and over I don't like it, I don't want it. But does he hear me? No. He just keeps on pushin' me along anyway, like I'd never said a word to him.""You Lolita Paysites can bet your last money, if the man even had had a half-idea of what's in my head he'd have hauled off busted my back in two by now. I know without even guessin' how my father's gonna take it, if and when it comes to light."It'll be somethin' like the atomic bomb bein' set off in West Philly. Deacon Frank Creely's never goin' for leavin' me to be with who I want to -- or leavin' me to anything else I intend doin' my way and not his. Not now, not in the next thousand years -- meanin', my father will be first on the list of people I'll have to ... How do those big business guys say it? ... oh yeah ... I'll have to rack him up as a loss.""As for my mom ... what she'll do ... what she'll say ... I don't know." Worry again registered on Harlan's face. "She loves me I know but with Mom and me it's been nineteen years of her pushin' me in back of her while she stands back and lets Daddy always have his way. Whatever I've wanted to do, whatever I've felt I should have, with her it's always been, `Ask your daddy.'"She's not goin' to like any of this one bit and won't be able to understand it either, but maybe she'll still love me anyway ... maybe ... she's my mom."And friends -- Shoot no sense in studyin' about them either. Who could I run to? Not one. None of them could get a handle on somethin' that's this out of sight. It hardly even crosses their minds. I ought to know, I've been around `em all through school.""Every other guy I've grown up with can't be beat if you're looking to learn how to Lolita Paysites set up a jump shot or fake out somebody on a basketball court. And every one's got more than a page worth of lines to get girls to let you mess around feelin' on `em and stuff. But, for anything serious -- they know nothin'; especially if it comes around to somethin' as way out as a guy havin' feelin's for another guy. And they don't want to know either."You don't hear stuff like that come up until all of a sudden somebody gets a dirty story goin'. Probably, it would be easier to tell one of my good friends I'd come down with some kind of bad disease than to come out and say, `Hey man, I'm sweet'. No way," the youth shook his head resolutely decided he was right. "As far as friendship goes I pretty much expect I'll be left on my own in that department too.""And ... if everything ends up fallin' apart at home and my friends won't stick by me," he leaned forward drawing Clay's eyes up from his folded hands as the pain of knowledge cast clouds on his own, "I can't look to you. Where can we go beyond tonight, beyond just now?. You've got a special life all your own and -- you're married. See, I've got the picture real clear.""But at least we could have tonight -- couldn't we?" Harlan asked guardedly, though as his face Lolita Paysites brightened like a boy in hope of convincing his father to take him for a ride on a ferris wheel. "I admit all this is somethin' that's finally got its chance to breath just tonight but it didn't just come from out of nowhere. I know it and so do you. It's been there all the time, right between us, waitin' to be born and owned up to. Hasn't it? Can't you tell it?""So, even if it's got to live and die all in this one night, I'll never be sorry. Wrong or right -- I'm glad the feeling's alive? Can't you see it on my face? You can't tell I really do believe this thing I'm feelin' inside is good, that it's okay? Uh-uh Rev," he continued, soft but stubborn, "no matter how rough it comes down on me I won't run. I'll stand and take my licks but, swear to God, you'll never once hear me say it was for nothin' because there'll have been this special thing that happened with you. But it can't be with just any old body -- It's got to be with you!"Stammering as he began, Harlan spoke more deeply of his secret. "I ... I get so scared ... just can't help it sometimes. I feel as if I don't find myself somebody to be with I'm ... I'll... oh, I don't know. I've thought about tryin' it with somebody for a long time but I never have. No one else would do anyway."Since the very first time I saw you, seems all the dreams I dreamed have been about what touchin' you would be like, what it would be like to feel you touchin' me. To know if it feels the same to you ... you know when you ...," Harlan blushed, not finishing what he wanted to say. "Honest, I can't help it," he said with finality. "I wonder about you all the time."Putting truth to the test emboldened Harlan in speech yet, skittish, his light eyes often avoided Clay's direct gaze. "Day and night I keep on thinkin' and thinkin', " he continued, turning his face away, "even though I've heard a truck load of dirty jokes and stories `bout guys --gettin' on each other -- about some of `em even actin' like they're supposed to be girls. But, I don't want to be no girl, Rev. I just want to be me and be like a man even though I want to be with you. I know now you can show me what I want to know. Do it. Please? Do it."Solemn and deep as the darkness that escorts midnight yet as soft and fine on Harlan's ear as velvet to a finger's touch, Clay's deep voice issued consent to his wish, "Come upstairs then, youngblood. Come on up now."In a dream state the pair, Clay leading, rose from their seats at the table and exited the kitchen. All the house was silent except for the refrigerator's hum which faded behind them each step farther away. The musical tinkle of the glassware on the polished shelves inside the china cabinet in the small darkened dining Lolita Paysites room chimed a brief tiny chorus as the two of them crossed the middle of the house to ascend into the light at the top of the narrow stairs.They were halfway up when Clay reached back for Harlan's hand. Once they'd reached the upper landing he led the way and they put the few paces of the upstairs hall's length behind them as they slipped into the quiet, unlit front bedroom.The closing of the bedroom's door banished the radiance of the cluster of small bright bulbs screwed into the tentacled brass fixture hanging high in the hallway outside the largest of the brick rowhouse's three upper rooms. It's door firmly shut behind the two, the front bedroom was dark again save for silver slivers of light being Lolita Paysites forced in through the spaces in the closed Venetian blinds as a street lamp vigilantly burned out front. There was no brighter beacon's rays to guide them in the dark that night but without any difficulty, they found each others mouths again.Without a look downward at the world they'd begun to put behind themselves, the handsome man and the comely youth embraced once more, alone at last, there upstairs in the dark.So moved by the wonder of the moment that he had to speak his heart, Clay briefly interrupted their feverish kiss. "I swear nobody ... absolutely nobody ... should ever kiss this mouth but me," his baritone shuddered with passionate conviction. "Nobody."Uttering no verbal reply, Harlan declared his full agreement by hungrily hurrying his mouth back home to Clay's. All his prior ravenous appetite for words with which to express himself and the best of his dreams, had flown from him.The highly combustible composite of volatile essence which constitutes beginnings for lovers -- the taste of lips, the sense of speciality in a certain touch, the particularly seductive natural scent of someone's skin or hair -- ignited. So fueled, his first rocket ride on the sensations of first real intimacy inebriated Harlan, bestowing upon him a sense of elevation he couldn't in a million years explain. He was close to Clay but far beyond the dense atmosphere of practical thought.Only someone else who'd already made a like journey could have readily grasped the reasons for virgin Harlan's uncomfortable squirming within the aggravating bind of the heavy winter clothing he wore. The flannel shirt he wore, his woolen sweater, the heavy corduroy pants all felt suddenly itchy and ill-fitting. His heaving belly and groin were rigidly bound by his cotton briefs. Harlan's cock was arrow straight and hard as a rock inside them, aching for freedom. Pushed against Clay's groin with needful insistence, Harlan's sex throbbed out the same intermittent code matching the pulse Harlan had first felt against the inside of his own hard thigh when Clay and he'd stood pressed together downstairs.Passion prodded them as Lolita Paysites their trembling hands explored, tested flesh, and spoke in signs.Harlan snatched a breath of air. An odd sensation made him gasp as it set his legs to trembling. No one's, no other man's fingers had ever trailed the tight divide of his backside. Like a low lying cloud of mist, Clay's fingers came tenderly creeping across the seat of his pants and upward with light-handed stealth, through the narrow valley just above the backs of his jittery thighs.With equal deftness upon discovery, each new treasure of Harlan's maleness bore Clay's tender discovery, as on route to the climax of this meeting, it fell into the path of his large, hard hands. In the darkness, Clay surveyed the firm rounds of muscle cupped in his hand by touch. Keen as a razor, the combined sensation of awe at the coming to pass of the thing that he'd refused to even let himself dream of for the past three years, plus raw want, slashed at him as his trembling hands traveled on.The elder delighted in the broken songs of assent to be heard in the younger's ragged breaths. His full lips stopped and started as they made their way along the smooth brown skin on Harlan's neck. The young preacher gently sucked an earlobe into the moist warmth between his lips and flicked the tip of his tongue against it.The tall lean youth moaned and pushed his crotch harder into the meat of the young preacher's thick thigh.Overcome and trembling, head to foot, Clay roughly shoved a broad hand underneath Harlan's woolen sweater and jerked the tails of the heavy plaid shirt free from the waist of his pants. That same hand pressed flat against Harlan's heaving belly. It was left to linger only a short while before Clay reversed its downward course and slid it slowly upward and halted. His fingers raised and he let their tips delicately drift to and fro over the breadth of one nipple as if lazily sounding a guitar. His young love's next moan echoed the note struck.Clay groaned louder in answer. More than just a sympathetic resonance signifying attunement or the mutuality of his desire, it warned of the rise of the fire raging below in his groin. Through the material of his black trousers, for the first time Harlan's quivering hand reached and took hold of the young preacher's hardened dick.Gently, Clay disengaged Harlan's hand and backed away in the dark, hurriedly feeling for the light switch on the wall. With it's click, a small lamp at bedside came on. "It's time, youngblood. I mean to try my best not to cause you much pain but Lolita Paysites I can't wait any more," Clay whispered earnestly. "Get on the bed."Harlan turned his back to Clay. Beside the big unmade bed on the far side of the room, his usually nimble fingers trembled but swift and solemn, nonetheless, he unhooked the catch at the waist of his pants. With awkward decisiveness he pushed them and his briefs past his slim hips and his sex sprang out of confinement, long, hard and angled upward. For a moment the youth stood studying his erection as if examining the meaning of the need in him but then forsook the test. In a hurry to know love's ultimate end, the teenager gave no thought to removing any of his clothing and hastily laid himself, face down and ass bared, across the rumpled field of patchwork covering the bed to wait for his golden man to come.A zipper's brief shrill wasplike buzz brought Harlan's head up from the quilt. He gazed past his shoulder, beyond the anxiously flexing hills of his ass toward Clay.Clay stood before the mirror of the large dresser with his back to Harlan as he pushed the tan suspenders attached to his trousers off his powerful shoulders. The wide suspenders fell away from the big man's broad back and the waist of his black dress pants' fell open and draped at the top of his muscular hips. Hastily stepping out of them, he laid them over the back of an old wooden chair. Seemingly in the depths of thought, the big-boned man hesitated for several moments before he caught the waistband of his boxer shorts with his hooked thumbs and shoved them down his hard thighs until they fell, on their own, past his thick-muscled, hairy calves to the floor. The dangling tail of his white shirt accentuated every roll of the muscular honey-gold swells of his ass as he stepped free of his underthings. Clay turned his head to look back where Harlan lay.Harlan's turgid dick was mashed between his flat belly and the mattress beneath. Incredibly hard, it felt hot as steel from the forge against the smooth skin on his abdomen. It leapt the same as Harlan's heart leapt as he caught first sight of the exposed lower hemispheres of the hairy orbs of Clay's bared rear. Clay's shirt prohibited the full view he lay there eagerly wanting to take in but the young preacher abruptly turned about and Harlan forgot for a moment. The youth's trim frame shuddered, head to foot, when he saw and his sex throbbed, imprisoned beneath himself.The youth's beautiful eyes, electrically alight, grew more hungry by the second for sight of any bared part of the partially dressed broad-chested man standing across the room from him. Thus, Harlan's gaze plummeted from Clay's broad jaw to the wedge shaped thicket of kinky hair at the top of his long, heavy legs.Clay's cock rose thick and strong out from the preponderance of hair growing at the base of his belly at an angle, Lolita Paysites bending upward a little like a saber. Pronouncedly darker in tone than the rest of its owner's honey-colored flesh, the foreskin of the thick and sturdy man-staff had drawn back on its own to display its deep lavender hued tip, flared like a plowshare in readiness for the task at hand.Clay started for the bed but then abruptly stepped backward to take a round plastic container off the end of the dresser. His conscience spoke again as he surveyed the various items in his wife's collection cosmetics situated around the little jar of Vaseline but he shut his ear to it. Again about to go to Harlan, Clay halted once more to softly ask, "Youngblood ... do you want the light on?""...Yeah -- leave Lolita Paysites it."Between Clay's legs, the brown, soft and wrinkled purse seemingly heavily laden with an abundance of his seed, bullishly swung side to side as he came straight Harlan's way.Expectant, Harlan laid his head on the pillow he'd fashioned for himself by gathering up some of the quilt as he heard the sound of Clay's approaching footsteps cease just behind him.The preacher slowly squatted on the throw rug beside the bed and set the small, lidless jar of lubricant on the bed next to Harlan's prone form. He extended his quivering hands and gently pushed the tail of Harlan's shirt and his sweater higher off the warm, pliant mounds of exposed flesh framed by the eager youth's hastily undone clothing. As though meant for Clay's hands alone, he marveled at how they fit his grasp so well as his big thumbs began to pry them apart. Under his eyes within a thin wreath of shiny coal black hairs, the narrow portal promising rare pleasures lay nestled in the central depths of the spread flesh in his hands. "What a mighty long time ago that was," echoed in Clay's mind as pictorial thoughts of things he'd all too briefly shared with someone else flashed by. Bringing his knees all the way to the floor, the preacher leaned farther forward, shivering with want. Obeisantly lowering his head, the preacher applied a tender kiss to each side of Harlan's warm ass.Eyes opened by a taste of the fruits of genuine passion, Clay lifted his head to peek at the gates of Paradise once more. A moment later, he straightened a little, pulling a hand away. With the middle finger of his right hand, he dug out a little of the jar's greasy contents as the thumb and forefinger of the left held Harlan's ass divided. Clay generously daubed the thick lubricant onto the small puckered orifice then, immediately afterward, reached down to take his rigid dick in hand and hastily apply the Vaseline to himself.Clay made no attempt to push his finger into the tight channel beyond Harlan's sphincter. Instead, he maintained a gently pressured rubbing at its outside until Harlan's feverish sighs and whimpers beseeched that the mysteries lying beyond the borders of virginity soon be shown to him.The springs of the big bed gave and groaned as Clay's weight combined with Harlan's. Supporting himself on his knees and an extended arm, Clay began to insinuate the wide head of his lengthy cock into the narrow gap of Harlan's ass. Submerging so deep into a pleasurable and sudden sense of safety as Clay's body began to press down on him, Harlan didn't realize that the faint, far away moan he'd heard had come from himself.Clay was eager to mount and at last make a complete connection with the youth lying underneath him. He pushed downward more firmly. Harlan, more determined by the second that the barriers of this ignorance he sought to end be torn down then and there, in turn, pushed his tail back against the slippery lance between his asscheeks as its downward force increased. Ardent for ultimate knowledge of Harlan, the preacher used more pressure which evoked a series of short, all at once doubtful whimpered doubts from Harlan. Clay's hefty manhood, priorly a welcome arrival at Harlan's gate began insisting upon entry. Minute beads of sweat formed a crystal chain along the narrow bridge of the youth's nose as the muscle along the backs of his thighs tightened rock hard."Ungh!" A pained grunt wrenched its way out of Harlan's gut. He grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut, as if blindness would diminish the pain. A vein rose his long neck on the tensed muscle there as it arched backward and drew his head from the bed. Harlan loudly ate up air by the lungful and spat out subsequent outward blasts of it through tightly clenched teeth as, unrelenting, Clay proceeded to maneuver his thick dick farther into his backside.His sex securely wedged within the tight cleft in Harlan's slim ass, the motion of Clay's brawny form set the bed gently rocking as he probed deeper increasingly insistent. Though the youth never once cried out for the bull of a man on his back to stop, he thrashed wildly in the depths of cacophonous fright pain brought. He grabbed at handfuls of the bunched up quilt as though a lifeline might be discovered hidden somewhere in its folds. This occurred the instant the thick bronze bludgeon between the legs of the moaning man laying over him suddenly rammed open the gate.Harlan's sudden agitation by the pain inside himself, proved his prior stalwart resolve not an easy faith to keep but Clay held him secure. Only a moment before, the teasing dick jabs the young preacher had used to test the give of the tight split in his rear with his dick had fueled the fires of the young virgin's ardor, making him ready to surrender all of himself. Now, the gasping youth felt as though the broad spike of male flesh being driven up his ass would soon split even the very fabric of his being along with his tail.Clay, lodged halfway inside him, bore down more and if it had not been for his mass hunkering over him, holding him down and holding him to his word, the willowy brown youth lying speared on his sex might well have tried to bolt and run.But, it was too late for rising or walking away and Harlan knew even if he could he'd only want to come back to try again."Stay loose. Keep yourself just as loose as you can," Clay gasped in Harlan's ear as one last thrust brought him all the way inside Harlan's tensed body and held himself still for a while.Minute by minute, the scorching ache in Harlan's entrails began succumbing by degrees. In it's dying, the burning sensation modified to a feeling of warmth and fullness that led to his allusions of its possible lineage from potential satiation. Harlan, quieted, laid more still and relaxed beneath the husky frame of the man who'd begun to move again on his back ... thrusting deep, nearly withdrawing all the way, and then driving in again.The voicings of the guide and his charge's shared passion and pain, and the cricket chirp of the bed's springs intermingled and rose and fell moment to moment. The issue of sounds contingent on the love they'd begun to make randomly balanced against the noise outside in the street.Over and over, sounds of early evening in North Philadelphia swelled and ebbed. Cars slowly passed. A huckster's loud call kept repeating, "I got winter squash. I got yams here -- sweet as honey." The intermittent stop and go clip-clop of the hooves of the peddler's horse as it bore its master wagon house to house played off the steady tap of running feet at play in the cold just before suppertime. The tiny feet of the bundle-up children scurrying up and down the block danced in counterpoint to the staccato of their flutelike laughter while the feet of neighborhood elders shuffled on and off white marble stoops. Drumming out the time for the march toward home and hearth, doors shut and opened all along the narrow street.Equally as intense upstairs and inside, one most of life's common expressions was heard only by them. It sounded in the urgent breaths of the handsome preacher and the comely youth lying with him. The sing-song their moans began to hang more prominent inside the room than the patchwork curtain of exterior sound.Harlan and Clay came to hear nothing at all but each other; saw nothing at all except each other. By then wrinkled and dampened by the rain of sweat off their squirming hard bodies, that the remainder of their clothing still had yet to be shed had become a thing inconsequential. All that mattered to either one was that they were lying across the wide bed, at last completely joined.Underneath the back of the heavy shirt and sweater, Clay's fingers followed the finite etching of every muscle atop Harlan's back and along his sides as he lay over him. As he gyrated his hairy groin pressed flush against the smooth, burning rounds of Harlan's ass, the young preacher grabbed at his young love's wide shoulders as though a famished man about to break a loaf.Yet, Clay's thoughts were not merely focused on his own taking of pleasure. Snaking a strong arm around Harlan's hard chest, Clay pulled the youth along with himself as he slowly rolled onto his side to spare themselves separation. Quickly, he grabbed for the open jar that still lay just beyond them on the bed and scooped out a bit of its contents with tips of two fingers. Harlan's flaccid dick, instantly leaped alive in the clutch of Clay's palm as oil was gently spread from tip to base.At first slow and tantalizing, Clay slid his big fist up and down the length of the youth's greased, dark scepter. Glistening in the low lamplight, its throbbing denoted the extreme state of Harlan's desire. Deliberate, gradual increases in the speed of the ministerings of the brawny man's oiled hand caused the novice, who's newly opened ass was spasmodically seizing around his cock, to cry out involuntarily. With all his might Harlan began to rock his slim hips as he awkwardly pumped his dick into the tight clutch of the fisted hand cradling it. Clay became all the more incensed by sensation.Like a tiny eye the slit in the tip of Harlan's dick began to joyfully weep a thin stream of sticky, clear fluid in preparation of the release that must come. The plunging fist surrounding it reached lightning speed as it traveled from head to root of the stiff, twitching rod it grasped."Ooh! I'm gonna jizz soon! I'm gonna --""That's only natural for a man, youngblood. Go `head ... let it go ... give it up to me," Clay urged him on with a rumbling groan as his thrusts from behind stepped up in pace. Harlan's athletic form suddenly jerked straight and quivered against the body of the big man spearing him. As Clay felt the burning shaft of the lean youth's swollen cock pulse in his grasp, he jammed himself all the way in as a squeal from Harlan pealed out like a bell tone. Cometlike, the first volley of Harlan's semen jetted across the quilt.Clay too, suddenly a helpless pawn of the passion he'd long kept his face turned from, hugged Harlan close and lay there doggedly driving his dick into a vein of sweet sensation as he zealously prospected the full depth of the long-legged youth's tight, lean tail. The young preacher's flared nostrils grew as tantalizingly filled up with the heady perfume of Harlan's seed and sweat as his rapidly pistoning fist was with the youth's erect sex. Clay jammed his encircling hand all the way down to Harlan's groin as the youth squealed once more from pure pleasure and his firm belly jerked in response to the second orgasmic pulse that coursed his stiff rod from his tight balls to its throbbing fleshy helmet. Shaded dark as night, the long thick ram looming out from Harlan's flat, smooth belly spurted another thick lob of his sperm into the folds of the quilt, then spat out seed again for a third and fourth time as the no longer virgin teenage boy lay triumphantly moaning out the news that he'd come across the line.The centrifugal force in the powerful swing of the sublimely delicious agony of first connection caused Clay's brow to knit as he traveled with it, all the while hearing Harlan's pleasured whimpering bejewel his own excitement. "Got a sure `nough good feelin' comin' down on me too youngblood!" Clay groaned, tiny sweat beads blooming wild all across the golden field of his forehead. "Good God, it's comin' down just like rain!"The grip of the muscles along the narrow channel cut deep below the proud rise of teenage boy's ass tightened then loosened again and again and involuntarily set a sea of heat churning all about the young preacher's hypersensitized cock as the youth continued let go of his load. All in an instant, a bomb blast of sensual fire exploded and rapidly amplified and spread from low in Clay's gut. The taut musculature of the big man's hard, hairy belly seized up and, eyes squeezed shut and groaning like a bear through his clenched even teeth, the young preacher began to spill out his essence inside Harlan's clenched ass.Learning to sing in an angel voice, Harlan uttered a long moan of amazement as he felt Clay's dick pulsate and spurt jets of sticky seed that made him feel mysteriously warm far up inside. Greedy to grab up every scrap this new moment offered any way he could, with a loud whimper, Harlan impulsively ground his lean brown butt hard into Clay's heaving belly....As both at last became quiet, the preacher's panting and thrusts ceased along with Harlan's groans for more of him, the repetitions of a car horn's blast sounded off in the distance, somewhere seemingly far, far beyond the mere second-story room where they lay. Secure and sheltered in the novitiate of Clay's strong arms as they continued to surround him from behind, Harlan ate up each passing second of a new contentment with mute relish as the preacher's thick cock, still lodged inside his ass, gradually softened ... 1964 - Part 3From behind the wheel of his car, Clay warily looked about the periphery of the idling Buick to be sure that passers-by were nowhere near. It was past eleven and the side street under his eye, from where he and Harlan sat, proved empty. Despite any misgivings the somewhat nervous young minister may have had as to the possible suspicions of others should the two of them be seen parked that late at night, joy, shyly kept but too pervasive to remain hidden burnished the dark timbre of his low voice. "Hold up youngblood ... kiss me one time before you go," he said.Harlan and Clay slid slowly toward the center of the big car's front seat from their respective sides. As if in their slow approach they'd come to find each other all over again, their hearts pounded in their high rising chests like drums. Both the handsome young preacher and his incredibly comely passenger leaned across the little hill Harlan's heaped textbooks had formed between them. Clay reverently framed Harlan's face with his fingertips and guided the willing youth's mouth to his as if a connoisseur about to rest the rim of a glass brim-full of the rarest of wines on his lips. Passionately wishing he could lay the youth down again right there on the seat, the young preacher tested Harlan's lips to learn the weight of their welcome and then mashed his lips against the youth's. He held them in his keeping for a long moment. "Quick now," he said, his breaths deep and ragged after letting go of the taste of love with great hesitance, "better get yourself home."But, dreamy-eyed, Harlan didn't make ready to leave the car. Instead, he leaned back in the seat once more and his long neck arched as his head tilted backward once Clay let him go. Pensively cherishing Clay's kiss, he traced the tip of his tongue lightly across his bottom lip to savor any lingering taste of the preacher's mouth that might be left there. Then, suddenly overcome with reckless excitement, the beautiful, starry-eyed boy sat straight up on the seat and enthusiastically suggested, "Let's spend the whole day together tomorrow. Yeah, I'd have to be at school for roll-call by eight-thirty but right after that I could cut out man and be back on a bus just like that!" he hypothesized, all exuberance as he snapped his fingers to sketch his speed of travel. "Nobody would -- "Clay, frowning his strong disapproval, cut him off. "No, that's a thing that ain't about to be." The young preacher's bottom lip all at once set as sternly as carved stone. He gave the steering car's steering wheel a hard knock with his big fist and ordered Harlan to, "Listen," in a firm tone clearly defining that his absolute attention was in demand. "There'll be no such excursion tomorrow or any other day. You're not about to start doin' junk like that -- not on my account anyway.""It was good -- I swear it to you -- every last bit of what you made me feel tonight I mean, but that ain't all there is to life. Lovin's somethin' we'll just have Lolita Paysites to tend to as best we can -- when we can -- `cause your makin' somethin' of yourself's a heck of a lot more important." Pausing, the big man looked out his side window seemingly not about to say more.The sudden irritation that had darkened the tone of the young preacher's already deep brown eyes began lifting as the register of their hue segued to a tender entreatment that Harlan look to logic. Clay sighed, "Enough meddlin' with what most likely should have been left alone already's been done."This time, Harlan frowned.Empathetic, the handsome young preacher reached over and gave the impatient youth sitting beside him a gentle squeeze on his nearer thigh. "God only knows, youngblood, how I'd like to just up and do anything I feel like myself. Why right this minute, I'd put this car in gear and you and me would ride off and leave everything else behind us. You wouldn't see me study stop light or stop sign. I'd just jam my foot down on the gas and go. Funny ... always did want to let this ol' Buick show me what she can do," Clay said wistfully.The brawn of the musing man made itself evident despite the way his heavy winter garb masked his muscular frame as Clay, chuckling mildly, pushed himself deep as he could sink into the car's upholstery and allowed himself a moment's free withdrawal of luxury from a bounteous balance of his unacted upon fantasies."It would be just you and me buddy; nobody but us two. We'd head out for someplace where there'd be not a soul who'd be eyin' us and wonderin', or lookin' to have their little say."I'm talkin' `bout somewhere so far past Philadelphia that we'd never be found. Yeah youngblood, I sure `nough would fly away to be some place like that. Problem is," the young preacher said as the wistful look that had lit his handsome face began to fade, "for the likes of us, I can't rightly say I know of any such place. Sounds way too much like Heaven for it to ever be found anywhere here on Earth."There's no denyin' how I feel. It's got to be all over my face, plain as day by now," Clay continued, "but I can't let you start dodgin' your responsibility to yourself no more than I can start settin' aside my own. Talkin' love's one thing, doin' it's another. How could encouragin' you to skip class show I care about you?""Don't worry, bet your bottom dollar, you'll find me right there at the house waitin' on you when you're done with what you've got to do tomorrow." Suddenly smiling again on seeing his say carried some weight, the young preacher quietly asked, "How is there a way on Earth I could forget you now after what you've given me baby?"All at once mindful of nothing else but his closeness to Harlan, Clay lent no concern over the further possible need for his reconnaissance of the dark street. He roughly grabbed Harlan by the nape of the neck and snatched another kiss. "Now, get yourself goin'," he softly ordered as he pulled his mouth away....Euphoric and feeling wild, all due to one night's revelations, Harlan scrambled out of the big black car a block away from his home at around eleven-thirty. The handsome young romantic who'd been made, inside a few brief hours, unbelievably exuberant of spirit and giddy ran homeward unaware of and untouched by the freezing cold that ruled the dark street. The long-legged youth's head was too overflowing with naive and rash contemplations of innumerable tomorrows for him to hear the drumlike rumble of wind in his ears as his running feet chewed up the distance between the corner where the preacher sat waiting in his car to assure himself that he'd made it up the sandstone steps of the brick house on Walnut Street where he lived and was safely inside.Harlan stopped only for a second to search his jacket pocket for his key before taking the front steps two at a time. Turning about just prior to pushing open his front door, he hoisted an arm and waved exuberantly at the headlights gleaming down the street ....Inside, hearing the insertion of a key at the front of the house, Harlan's mother came to meet him at the living room side of the vestibule just as the heavy oak front door swung open.Quietly cautious, Harlan offered her a simple greeting, "Hi Mom," but no explanation for his late arrival. He instinctively made an instant though timid search of Cleotha Creely's inquisitive visage for signs of real trouble."Well mister man, I was beginnin' to wonder what time you'd figured you felt about ready to come in. You know you've got school in the mornin'," Cleotha tersely informed him as she crossed her heavy dark arms. Without missing a beat, the stout woman executed one quick pace to the left; the next step of the dance countering her son's evasions and deliberately positioned herself in his path before he could pass. Mother's intuition had already told her he'd try to. She asked, "Now Harlan, just what was so important that it kept you in the street this time of night?"Harlan hesitated guiltily before molding the frontispiece of the first lie he'd felt it necessary to tell his mother in a long, long while. The jolt he felt inside his chest with each heavy thump of his racing heart added to his unnerving. He was sure his mother would soon begin to notice its leaping even though hidden so deep beneath winter clothes and a jacket. Nonetheless Harlan steeled himself to answer, "There's this science project that's on for school. It's got to be all done right away. So tonight, I really needed to go in town and look through some books and stuff at the main library. Lolita Paysites That's all.""Harlan, that couldn't take `til this time of night. And on top of that, Center City Library closes at seven-thirty," Cleotha matter-of-factly informed her son with suspiciously narrowed eyes."Uh ... uh ... yeah, I know," Harlan replied, suddenly nervous and not helping himself one bit. Clumsily sided on the defensive, the teenage boy was growing more scared. However, even though he frantically wondered whether or not his face was betraying him, the new young man in love was desperate and somehow all at once rallied. His heart had come to hold greater sway over him than his mother would ever again and just then its mandate called for the preservation of his secret -- by any means.This reason in its requirement of his rebellion simultaneously oiled the doing of the deed by rendering within Harlan a reaction quite similar to the release of endorphines upon the body's suffering a wound. Quite thoroughly, his justifications for lying brought on a welcome anesthetization of the customarily forthright youth's conscience. So numbed by his need to by all means protect the special thing that had just come into his hands, painful twinges of the youth's conscience were near completely allayed as more falsehoods were about to spill from his lips.Remorselessly ready, yet not quite so numbed to be more than a bit ashamed of himself, Harlan set to the hasty further weaving of his explanation. He knew if he was slow about it his wary mother would begin to press him hard for more detailed answers as to his whereabouts. "But on the way to the bus I passed by this movie theater on Market Street --" he began to add but was gratefully spared the relation of the rest his invention for a moment more."A movie?" his mother sharply inquired. "And on a school night? Harlan Creely where is your mind? Lord have mercy! If your daddy heard tell of you comin' in here near midnight after some movie, why you, me, and Buddy would all have to leave out of here because not a one of us would be able to stay up in here once that man's mouth got to runnin'. Boy if --""It's okay Mom -- it's okay! I mean, come on just take a look at the time," Harlan interrupted, quickly drawing Cleotha's still suspicious gaze from his anxious eyes with a nervous jab of his finger toward the large banjo clock hanging on the living room wall. "Daddy's not here to know it and Lolita Paysites it's really not that late. All I wanted to do was be out for a little while. Gee," he shrugged, "this is about the time I always go up to bed, isn't it?""Anyway, there's still a lot more to do." Harlan said, taking a plunge deeper into deception before his mother could get the chance to counter with logic inevitably better than his. "I'll have to go back tomorrow night. It's okay isn't it? I mean, shoot Mom, it's not like I'm a kid anymore. I am nineteen-years-old now; up for college next year. That's way more than old enough to stay out a little late -- at least now and then and --"Harlan had grown up. He cut himself short, realizing if he said more he'd negate the point and his argument by merely appearing a sulking, whining boy.Harlan's story was far too vague and loose for someone as intuitively on the money as his mother. Being quite aware of that, on general principle alone Cleotha had already set before herself several very sensible reasons that should have immediately prompted her refusal. There'd been all sorts of reports of teenage boys and Lolita Paysites young men in West Philly streets looking for trouble and hanging in gangs. But thinking on that, she felt assured only the most dedicated of hoodlums would brave the freezing weather they'd been having lately for the sake of folly. "Praise God, can't be that many fools around," she thought.Then again something disquieting but hard to define in the back of Cleotha's mind almost did bring about her flat denial of Harlan's request. Yet unable to put her finger on the exact reason, the frowning woman consented with a reluctant nod upon a moment more of thought and abandoned motherly interrogation. "But you be sure you have your mannish self inside this house no later than this time tomorrow night. You hear?""Yes, ma'am," Harlan answered not surmising that something in his smile set his mother to wondering again. Impulsively, he saluted her and then gratefully gave her a quick peck on the cheek.Recurring thoughts of Harlan's miserliness in relating his itinerary that evening kept Cleotha curious. However, knowing her son to usually be as good as his word, she decided to let this one incident pass and leave the rest trust. She thought to herself in an offhanded fashion, "I wonder if that boy's gone and met up with some little girl somewhere," but shook it off. Since she hadn't been aware of him showing any particular interest in any among the gaggle of young girls his age at church she couldn't, that moment, imagine who it might be.Still thinking Cleotha turned and gazed toward the foyer. "Well Lord, my baby's just about grown," she thought. Melancholy flitted across her eyes as she remembered not that many years before it had seemed that neither of her young sons could wait to rush through that door up front to share every minute detail of a day's yield of deed and accomplishment. Present times seemed to show that the maintenance of a grasp on what was going on with her two sons' time, spent more and more away from her, literally required all the arts of alchemy. She glanced at the little brass perpetual calendar by the lamp on the side table for no reason. "Nineteen sixty-four ... Lord, how fast things can change," she blandly marveled to herself. Then considering boys' transitions to men with slightly sardonic amusement, "How they do change too."With a grunt the portly woman wheeled about-face and started for her kitchen. "Come on then," she said, looking past her shoulder impatiently. "Get your butt out here in the kitchen and let me fix you somethin' to eat. Probably haven't had a thing tonight except some junk."Although his belly was already near full, Harlan Lolita Paysites wisely thought better of begging off this second dinner and obediently trailed after his mother to the rear of the house and into the kitchen ...Relieved that the road to back Clay had been paved quickly and with relative ease, an hour later Harlan lay groggily ebullient upstairs in his bed. Stomach stuffed with his mother's cooking, he was ecstatic and most deliciously awed by every circumstance that had forged the clandestine happiness he struggled to quietly harbor.Lying in the dark, Harlan turned his ear on hearing a sudden rustle of bed things nearby. At first he thought his younger brother Buddy might be waking, possibly in need of a trip down the hall to the bath. Lolita Paysites However, though the nine-year-old stirred in his bed just across the room he did not rise but incoherently mumbled something. The utterance was brief but seemingly of great importance and imparted to an unknown compatriot who must have been traveling at his side while he dreamed. In another moment, the youngest of the Creely household snuggled deeper into the covers, sighed deeply, then became quiet again. The second youngest Creely was lost in a dream equally as deep but he was wide awake.Harlan lay reliving every moment that had come to pass after his first real kiss just hours before. The youth eagerly harvested every mindful he could grow of every line, ridge and rise of Clay's body. The heat of his cheeks intensified as he lasciviously dredged up his very last recall of the bullishly virile preacher's readied implement of connection just as Clay had stood over him as he lay waiting to have the lance put it to his ass sure and true.Inside Harlan's head the beautiful panorama of retrospect was wide. Some of sex's mystery dissolved and wildly aroused again by mulling over all the worldly knowledge he'd seen strewn about outside his virginity's exit door, the firm-limbed youth uttered a luxurious sigh. Its own brand of reactionary to fancies of sex, the black shaft of his limp dick began to broaden and grow as he re-eyed every turn of scene in the evening he'd passed with Clay. Blotted out by the span of such an awesome view, any previous consideration on his part of any pain suffered in the accomplishment of rending the seal on naivet fell from his mind.He reminisced, with feverish delight, at how he'd lain securely locked inside the band of one of Clay's big hard arms as the slippery diligence of the preacher's hand on him, unequivocally proved no touch was like a lover's touch -- not even his own.The youth continued piecing the total picture of the time they'd shared back together. It reoccurred to Harlan the wide bed in Clay's bedroom had rocked under them as though they'd been rafting a wild river's white water. The springs had groaned near as loud as he and Clay at the culmination of their frenzied melee. Jammed ass to belly they'd been; close as any two men could be as Harlan received the warm spill of the moaning young preacher's healing unction inside himself....Harlan kept on lying there in his bed, lazily toying with his hardened dick and thinking how wonderful all of it had felt. Strangely content, he required no more erudite a realm of comprehension respecting what they'd experienced than came with his rudimentary visualizations. Simple recaptures of the significant bliss he'd found in giving himself up to Clay to be held, to be opened, proved enough for just then.Harlan Lolita Paysites abruptly shifted beneath the covers and felt a slight, curiously ambiguous residual soreness deep in the cleft his backside. Whether this part of the harvest of his surrender was in actuality less a pain than a bittersweet and integral component of afterglow he'd yet to decide. He remembered that Clay's thick, soapy fingers had made him wince, first touch there, as they'd helped each other hurriedly clean up shortly before leaving Germantown. That strange dull ache was the only actual physical reality left of their lovemaking that night and the youth lay dreamily aware of it.Whatever its interpretation, the odd sensation's presence prompted even more of his recall of the man he'd longed for to assume as fully an upright stand as his dick.Mind well-fueled with voluptuous recollections, Harlan relit with passion. The heady muskiness of male arousal was leaking from every pore of the smooth, teak brown skin all over his lean, hard body again. Maddened by the nagging itch in his cock that called for fondling, the youth brashly snatched his tumescent sex from where it lay cached inside his briefs as though believing as great and dominant an urge as sexual need could be reined in merely with the motion of a hand. "Better hurry," Harlan whispered to himself advisedly.A following and very brief application of his fist, tight and frenzied in motion once he seized hold of himself, brought about a reflex flutter of the muscle in the comely youth's thighs. His splayed long legs jerked as he hooked his heels into his mattress's sides. Lending strange harmony to his hard grunts, Harlan's narrow bed creaked as his fist kept pumping his cock. His sinewy body strained like a young bird meaning to fly away toward some high place that for an instant had appeared unreachable from where he lay. And Harlan did touch upon it.The lean youth's broad chest lifted high each time he sucked at the air through his clenched teeth. An all consuming sensation that radially spread in its rising from the root of his cock took possession of him. Had his taut belly been a drum it surely would have toned loud; booming out a message of his nearness to coming as his fist at work banged on the bone in his crotch.In the dark Harlan hastily corralled his feather pillow in the crook of his free arm and turned his face into it just as he uttered a loud involuntary gasp. The beautifully formed halves of his lean ass bunched and clamped together rock hard as his pelvis thrust high. Burning pleasure seething at his cock root and helpless to hide it, Harlan gave up his frenzied groans and cries to his pillow and a fresh, profuse delivery of his sticky essence to his fist.No time or clarity of mind was afforded him to fling off the bed things or yank the bottom of his tee-shirt past his heaving belly, clear of the spurts of semen that gushed out onto himself with each pulse of his dick. Once the rainstorm of seed going on inside the cotton and wool cocoon of the bed things wrapped all about him had passed Harlan, dazed and sweating, lay still longingly moaning Clay's name into his pillow.In a while the last of the colored tinsel stars he'd seen falling behind his clenched eyelids as he came had evaporated, the tall youth lay completely quiet in mind and body once more. Noiselessly, he planted his feet on the his room's bare floor and rose.Standing beside his bed, Harlan quietly stripped in the dark, taking great pains to find all the gluey remnants of solitarily expressed passion that clung to his flat belly and firm brown thighs. As he found sticky patches of his come on his smooth skin he wiped them away with his wadded up tee shirt.Light from the street was sieved through the curtains at the window as the tall youth stood carefully cleaning himself. In the dark, here and there on his beautiful bared frame the etchings of young man's muscle was highlighted through the loose wrapping of the deep shadows inside his room. Harlan's smooth cheeks suddenly ballooned as he blew out a breath of air and shuddered, head to foot, when he applied the wadded up shirt to his still highly sensitive dickhead to clean his come away .Buddy, not far away, continued to lay peaceful and quiet. Harlan satisfied himself that his often inquisitive nine-year-old brother had been asleep the whole time and hastily shoved his soiled underthings beneath the mattress. He laid down naked to sleep.It was nearing one o'clock and morning was coming. He and Clay would meet again that coming afternoon .... 1964 - Part 4On the other side of the city, the handsome young preacher lay by himself too. A haze of mingled but conflicting odors drifted all round the darkened master bedroom distracting him, already in a confused tangle of thoughts. Scent wafting from his absent wife's perfume atomizer, across the room on the dresser, sang out in disturbing, disharmonious concert with the leavings of the stirring masculine aroma generated from the love he'd made with Harlan.Agonized by the haunting, the handsome, worried man yet lay awake and aware in the limbo of his want. As well, his cognizance of every line he'd gone lunging across headfirst -- and all in an evening -- grew acute. Knowing himself, the clergyman realized he'd never be allowed the simple ease of merely blocking off the sad side of his thoughts.Nothing was ever to be the same again. Clay knew it. There existed no quick and convenient fixative for the broken clay of his vows Lolita Paysites to church and spouse, both not long before dashed to the ground. Then again, undeniably, there was nothing and no one that he knew of who could erase the unchained devotion he then even more gladly bore for Harlan. He didn't want to lose Harlan or anything he had but he knew that couldn't be. From the troubled young clergyman's position at the prow as time gradually became a moving thing for him again those several hours later, he saw clearly a cautionary beacon warning of perilous shallows for those plotting courses while bearing cargo as heavy as falsehood. "Truth or lies?" the young preacher asked himself as he considered how he'd greet the morning.The coming of morning brought to mind, the preacher anxiously shot a glance at the clock. One a.m. already. But a moment passed and he remembered it would be all right to sleep a little later if he wanted. There'd be a few calls to make and a drain in the bath that it wouldn't hurt to looked at but nothing required early attention. He was sure to have the time to sleep in.The big honey-colored man turned on his side, simply meaning to lie himself down to sleep but recollections of Harlan would not abandon him. Lying there befuddled and feverish as he was, Clay couldn't let them go. Exiting the car with him when he'd returned late that night, his newborn memories rushed ahead of him, barging into his house like sweet but rambunctious children.It was clear to him they'd come to stay for, there alone in the dark he discovered himself supplied with ease, perfect visions of Harlan's handsome face. "He is mighty like a warrior, ain't he?" Clay asked an unknown ear with whispered awe. "So much like Africa --," he marveled, thinking back to his brief stay as a missionary on the continent one summer just after his senior year in high school. "Especially the rise of his cheekbones all smooth and brown like teak, that lift to his chin. Somethin' about that nose too ... right blunt and proud with a flare to it -- so much like the noblest in the tribe."The preacher, meditations deepening, also recalled well the youth's mystifying, light eyes and the thickness of the black lashes rowed along their border lines. He remembered not only the look of them but the feel of them too when they'd swept his cheek as, man to man, he'd helped the inexperienced youth in his arms begin to gain a mastery of touch. Clay's heart set to rumbling Lolita Paysites in his wide chest. All at once crazily needing something ... anything ... to hold he pulled the bed covers closer, thinking how every wet kiss he'd sucked from Harlan's full lips had borne a taste of salt and sweet. As the two of them had lain close, that mixture of flavors had been as much a tonic for the young preacher's denied condition Lolita Paysites of the heart as the musky scent of man that Harlan's young, hard body had exuded as the warmth of his skin spiked synchronously with his urgency of his need for Clay's hands to be upon him."Mercy ... mercy," rumbled softly in Clay Adderly's throat as a tidal rush of sexual feeling took hold of him and sent an electric charge streaking one-way straight through the heart of the bone rowed down the middle of his broad back. More of the marvel that had transpired was tumbling over and over in his mind. How maddeningly wonderful it had felt to at last have handsome, brown-skinned manhood not only alive and impetuously squirming in his arms but also coming awake to grow long and hard inside his hand. Dogging the trail of that thought came his distinct recollection of the incensing grab the close interiors of Harlan's slim backside had placed on his sex. Feeling bullishly hot from the mere thought of it, the suddenly glassy-eyed young preacher vividly recalled how the strong, virginal squeeze Harlan's ass exerted on his swollen cock had robbed him of manners and compelled him to jam himself all the way home over and over.All of it -- everything -- had come back to Clay but unlike the visitation of lesser recollections in frustrating times past, this night, he would not for a moment resist their approach.Clay abruptly threw the sheets and blanket off his naked, roused body and rose from his bed into the dark room's comfortable warmth. He swiftly made his way to the dresser as his sex thickened and stood, boldly wagging to and fro before him. At the dresser, the young preacher hastily reached for the light, switched it on and then retrieved the same jar of Vaseline he'd earlier used to oil Harlan's ass.While Clay stood eying the little translucent plastic vessel, almost lost in his big hand, he thought more broadly on the secret union that had come to be in his bed that night. Unable to see any blasphemy in the opinion, the handsome young preacher somehow sensed that a profound blessing had been rested upon him through the true specialness of the intimacy he and Harlan had shared.About to reach for the light, out of the blue, "No," Clay muttered most decisively as, deeply wistful, the preacher determined that to lie down among shadows again would be a real defilement of the memory of his first and possibly only time to love. Feeling so, he left the lamp burning and returned to bed, ready. His cock was throbbing and risen to full stand.Plumping a couple of pillows and propping up his head with them, Clay's brown eyes sparkled brightly in the light. He lay stretched out on the bed with his legs splayed wide, scrutinizing his slow maneuverings of the hand he employed to dress his thick standing member with petroleum jelly. Lazily, his other hand lay at rest on the broad rolling plain of hard muscle beneath the taut honey-gold skin spanning his hairy chest. Its thumb casually traipsed, boundary to boundary, the breadth of one of the nipples that lay there much resembling a bright copper penny. Much farther down the broad-chested man's body deep his bronze hued erection acquired a gleam all its own in the light after a thorough application of lubricant.More and more of Clay's rather unwillingly entertained apprehensions over what was to come with morning fell in temporary collapse. They fell asunder as other thoughts erected themselves once he'd set his big, firmly clasped hand traveling up and down the length of the well-oiled root of his manhood.As that same unrelenting hand's sweep shepherded a loud gaggle of anxious meditations elsewhere, every new smear of pleasure that its movement wrought issued a souvenir of the short time prior within which he and Harlan had at last truly found one another. Each piece of that memory was laid on a stockpile already a hundred dreams high.A deep moan softly slipped from Clay's parted lips. The lids of his eyes had become heavily weighted down by carnal inebriation. Distant in his mind, Joyce lived nowhere in his remembrance that night as he continued gaze between his fidgety legs, mesmerized by the motion of his hand and the past ....*********************************************Without a doubt, Clay Adderly was internally built every bit as much a man of virile inclination and drive as the underlying fleshly prowess his robust and athletic physique hinted at. Be that as it may, should he want to stray, ordainment allowed the young minister none of the excuses other men might employ to set aside their failings. Through holy rite he'd been sworn a soldier and pressed into the service of an army which wielded Bibles, not guns, on the battlefield.He genuinely strove to prove faithful in all things per the code of that calling even if it meant the denial of his flesh. In sincere accordance with aims as honorable as this, Clay forged an earnest battle. Although full-faced self-confrontations made him uneasily conscious of himself and his hidden longings, the diligent young preacher skirmished honestly against the draw of anything that might cause him to give in to indisputably real urges and stray from the path of conduct that befitted his calling.Meaning to seek refuge from a life of solitary burning per Good Book recommendation, Clay had even gone so far as to choose marriage. Not so much because he wanted to but at least because he believed he could. Yet the awful truth was that even if he'd left himself to burn alone it would never have been for a woman.Through the years since college, until Harlan and that fateful night, Clay had resolutely forced the vigorous exercise of the rituals of belief before himself, like blinders, to screen the outer edges of his easily drawn vision. Most determinedly, he'd endeavored to prohibit the line of his sight from straying off the narrow way he'd been commanded to walk. It was a grave misstep to Lolita Paysites wander into the mire of longing and set aside the faith for other fulfillment. Quite some time before, while a student at divinity school, Clay had struggled to harden himself to unsuppressible voices.Just barely twenty during his first days of religious study, if Clay's heart could have been laid open like a book no one perusing its pages would have found dark turns in the story written there. Through his faith, a true kind, there was no epic inscribing of vengeful contemplation there; no unfoldings of desire that inclined him to lay hold of anything not rightfully his own; no vignettes of his delight in the crafting of falsehood.Yet a man's actions with respect to other matters, especially those of the heart, he found weren't as easy to decide upon. In his private deliberations of one specific grey area of morality Clay's personal opinion challenged the wrong perceived in it and it's unacceptability by those in the church and in the street although he'd been strictly taught the physical expression of homosexuality was sin.Not only had he been wrestling with the matter of physical expressions of the heart's desire. Even though a minister, for quite some time and of course for his own reasons, Clay had yet to reconcile in his mind the genuine fairness of it. His faith, a method of living which encouraged honesty denied an honest man, no matter how unsatisfied, the freedom to heed basic and simple yearnings of the heart. At any rate, in spite of his feeling on the issue, he conceded to doctrine and to what he longed to trust were wiser, higher minds. Though he could not bridle his thoughts, the young minister kept his silence and forced the yoke of obedience to church upon his shoulders of his own volition. Far more perfunctorily, Clay set a like example as a husband.Meaning to keep himself centered in the right lane of the straight and narrow way, Clay Adderly forsook temptations for adventure and plodded through acts of sexual congress solely with his wife. Until Harlan, Clay had wholeheartedly managed to follow all that had been ingrained in him as right and good -- and to believe himself content in the doing....There wasn't a thing at all boyish or masculine about Joyce Adderly's slender, small-breasted body. It was merely that her practical, unaffected demeanor's expression made it appear not imposingly feminine in kind. On their wedding night, it was mostly this saving grace that had enabled Clay, an anxious but reluctant twenty-four-year-old bridegroom who'd never been with a woman before, to tether his mind somewhere else and go about taking on the physical and ritual duties of a husband.Yet sex had never become an issue in the marriage. Joyce was to all appearance quite contentedly given to wifely concerns as regarded Clay's ministry and their home. Before and since their marriage she'd never communicated a need for -- or for that matter -- an interest in things of sensual substance. Clay had sensed this early on. For reasons that might have made another man reconsider had he felt aware of the same, it had made it easy for the young minister to ask her to marry.After their wedding, with time, the green preacher and husband grew used to having a female form at his side through his nights and days despite his underlying but unarticulated contrary desires. And with time it came to amaze him how the pretty woman he'd wed for all the wrong reasons had turned out to be his friend. She'd proved it most by being his shoulder to lean on when both his parents lost their lives in a car crash barely a year after they'd married. She went on to prove it even more so by willingly working with him and looking to his interests.An essentially bright woman, as well as being his sounding board, she also provided him with the best of her counsel which he often took. But never in the four years since their wedding day had it been within Clay to come to Joyce in the night for fulfillment in a romantic sense....As an aside ... not every female member of Clay's large Philadelphia congregation maintained a fixed focus on Bible study and prayer. In moments of distraction by the warm, somewhat brooding brown eyes set like shining gems in their pastor's handsome face, the minds of many women wandered. Intent female eyes often noted the potent appearance of his large frame and the assured, seductively bullish manner with which he moved about in their midst.With knowing little laughs, the more vociferous church gossips among these women whispered veiled speculative commentary regarding the good-looking young preacher's sexual talents. They ultimately were led to presume, by what they saw, that the sex life he and his pretty wife shared must have somehow been well above the norm. Speaking but not knowing, they gave no consideration at all to good lovemaking's dependence on the soundness of the desire found on both sides of the bed.Fact was that for all his virility, the young preacher only slid his muscular body to his wife's side of the bed when the basic, functional urge to jettison seed he'd carried too long would coax his sex alive and no longer allow itself either to be set aside or afford him sleep. Though never intentionally rough with Joyce by manner or method, Clay was clumsy by way of being so practical in purpose. Always mannered, he'd wait in the dark to determine Joyce's disposition to the gentle placement of his hand on her slim thigh. Once aware of a gentle nudge of her elbow, her unspoken issue of consent, he'd modestly undo the fly of his night things, lay on her and fit himself in her quickly then pull away once he'd achieved the aim of the swift, rabbitlike jabs he made between her legs -- an ejaculation.In her own way, prim Joyce was offhandedly just as utilitarian in sexual matters. She'd feel Clay turn her way in the dark and in anticipation of his intention she'd cooperatively draw up her nightgown's hem and spread herself open with her fingers to facilitate his entry. Then, she'd lie quiet beneath her man's ramming bulk with wifely patience, demanding neither kisses nor fondling as Clay sought to satisfy his need. She never once questioned her husband's stops and starts, as he'd go soft inside her or the several times it would require the jerky motion of his hand on himself to help him finish. Once done, certainly ladylike and efficient in matters of hygiene, she'd immediately flit away to wash herself.Clay invariably would quietly exit to the bath directly on her return to bed, not so much with the intention to make himself clean. Never fully satisfied in mind or body, he'd search his soul almost as routinely as he'd soaped his groin and pendulous genitals. Standing at the ancient pedestaled sink in the bath, as always Clay was forced to confront his replicate, opposite himself. Perpetually hungering for more than Clay had so far found, the man in the mirror never stopped sending an intent gaze the young preacher's way from inside the mirror beyond the hot running water's rising fog.Clay was a black man and after all it was Nineteen-sixty-four. Wanting a rightful allowance of Lolita Paysites equal privilege that duly demonstrated the insignificance of a skin's hue was an imperative sought by everyone of color at the time. But there was the rub. Clay was covetous of something even bigger -- real freedom. He didn't want to be doled out just the liberty to ride buses or run banks, buy houses in the suburbs. He hankered for freedom that swept a clear path for honesty; freedom tailored so as to allow honest men free choice to live their lives without reprimand or worry from others ignorant of their ways. Yet for all the shine his idealism might have put on this private picture of freedom, despite his formidable size and stature, the man of muscle and bone standing on the mirror's real side had little liking for trouble.This seemed odd even to himself sometimes, there being no match-up in his force of conviction about the issue despite the confrontation it might mean. He'd taken on other other issues just as unacceptable to some -- race and religion as a start. Yet on the other hand, Clay saw it as understandable. It was better to be a black man that at least some small part of the world would be willing to know than be a man of any color wanted to be known by none at all because of where he was known to sleep.Accordingly, the young preacher found himself strongly disinclined to relinquish the safety of a Lolita Paysites potentially easier ride through life on the currents within the straits of conventionality. All things considered, it seemed to him that he and Joyce had a happy enough unspoken arrangement. Neither had yet put qualitative questions or requirements to the other. Maybe that wasn't half bad he'd thought ....As Clay lay alone as the slow rise and fall of his hand trailed his greasy fingers the impressive length of his rigid dick. Exasperation almost crept in on his enjoyment of this small pleasure. He'd begun to wondering what it would be like to be on his own, to be free to avail himself of touch when he pleased, with whom he pleased. It being his first time to be alone in four years, he realize what a long, long time had passed since the last time he lay alone as he did then, exploring the possibilities of touch in solitude.Masturbation, such a simple thing, had always been a surreptitiously administered regimen for allaying the recurring fevers of Lolita Paysites youth that rose in him during adolescence. Through privacy having become even more a rarefied gift once he'd left home and set up lodging within one of the small dorms at college, he'd generally found himself forced to curtail the exercise during his nights and days ....Anxious to succeed in fulfilling his devout parents' expectations of him from the start after he'd enrolled as a freshman at the Bible college he'd attended in the heart of the mid-west, nineteen-year-old Clay Adderly had immersed himself solely in the study of theology -- per duty, and football -- per allowable pleasure.During his first three years there, the good-looking and bright student excelled as he worked diligently and without great problem toward a degree with lofty hopes of making both his parents proud by ultimately following in his father William's footsteps. When at last there lay just a year and half ahead of him, confusion fell in beside him and matched his every stride. The home stretch of his race suddenly began to be piled high with obstacles.Quite a healthy, physically normal young man, none of the accouterments of a male nature had been excluded Clay. Though he'd staunchly tried to apply himself only to study, his young mind proved extremely fertile ground for thoughts of sex and naturally love. In just a little time, Clay began to be robbed of the ease with which he'd previously run the academic gamut. Although he'd gotten on quite well with the other young students attending the all male seminary, he'd constantly experienced an underlying sense of loneliness and the want of a good friend. Someone who could be a confidant -- someone special.Despite having generally kept his eyes forced front and center in and out of class, attraction and arousal were difficult thing to quash in the gymnasium's locker room after football practice. In the showers varied views on the spectrum of masculinity in its prime were presented daily by his unclothed, unwitting academic associates. Never farther away than the corner of an eye, there was too much male attraction about to be avoided without making himself obvious.Some of the noisy drove of other young men he so often found himself in the midst of were tall, some short. Some were slender built, then again, others husky, some quite hairy. All were as varyingly attractive and different one from the other in personal makeup as the sizes and weights of their contrastingly dissimilar limbs and sexual parts.Clay's taste in men, as far as which ones aroused him were concerned, was naturally diverse since he'd never slept with one despite his conscious awareness of where his feelings drew him. He secretly enjoyed all men, long-legged or short, lean and narrow-assed or husky and wide. Sometimes Clay found stirring evoked in himself merely by the set of one man's chin, the posture of another's mouth as he paused for serious Lolita Paysites thought, the charming manner in which some young man's nose might crinkle when he'd laughed. On occasion, all it took was the heft of a man's hand to peak Clay's curiosity and cause heat to rise inside him and set him wondering about the manner of its touch.In any case, Clay had all along been content with just being one of Lolita Paysites the guys. Such revealing sights as found in the locker room could have proved particularly menacing to the sense of security of one who was naturally drawn by them yet never once had his cock rose to betray him during those first three years. But eventually, a door to knowledge was opened to him.Clay's severance of his ties to his ignorance of men came about very late one night, around two in the morning, just a week or so prior to the third year student's return home for spring break. Occasional snores and murmurings of the other men asleep around him could be heard in the dorm. Attempting to lie as quiet as possible, Clay had been restlessly squirming in a lower bunk. By then, some time had passed since he'd, at first almost absentmindedly, begun to toy with his dick. He hadn't specifically intended to, but initially finding he rather enjoyed the mildly titillating sensations that the easy, hedonistic play of his hand had evoked he began a private little game beneath the blanket to offset his boredom. He'd wondered if he could keep himself on the knife edge of the pleasure he felt and not come.Although the warning had been posed as a suggestion and veiled in generalities when put to them by their counselors, the issue of masturbation had been a matter the school's young male alumni had quite quickly and intentionally been led to understand as being a practice not particularly acceptable for those seeking to bear the Word. Yet, that night Clay had thought that, "As long as nobody knows, maybe just this one time...," there'd be no harm in what he was doing, that it would be all right as long as Lolita Paysites he stuck to his intention to stop before he shot. Having forgotten because he'd abstained so long, the muscular young student marveled at how every motion of his hand supplied stoked the fire low in his belly. But, in time, he'd lain frowning and full of silent self-chastisements when fully ablaze with heat he'd become unable to leave off the game.A resultant brawl between angels and demons unfolded in the young theologian's head. In a schizoid sortie with guilt, his own lustful thoughts came under assault by the stern haunting dictum of theological mentors. Their imprint on his conscience magnified the viewing screen for his thought while reflecting Lolita Paysites stilted regard for human exercises, even acts in final analysis seemingly as harmless and simple of sorts as Onan's. The young confused student, suddenly feeling ashamed, attempted a leap to the high road to thus leave his seed and his purity unspent.When he'd begun to touch himself Clay had believed abandonment of the prolonged self-subjected teasing of his sex along with all thoughts accompanying it would be no problem. Another erroneous thought on his part had been that a final capitulation to sleep also simply meant the withdrawal of his hand from the crux his hard, sweaty thighs. At last, stop Clay did but his loins, stressed and sore, would allow no such simple recourse -- or sleep -- for long. Nagging insidiously, an ache emanated from Clay's sweaty groin and tight, sore nuts and plagued the tense-bodied young student to hastily apply the remedy he knew well. But valiantly, he'd forced his attention and his hand away from its call for a time.When the insistent itch for release had become absolutely unbearable Clay gave in to his body. He'd snatched a towel off the back of a wooden chair kept close at bedside. Draping it on his arm, before himself, to hide the lift in one loose leg of his pajamas once he'd risen, he stealthily exited the dorm for the showers meaning, wrong or right, to finish what he'd started. But, once again relenting in intention with a sudden burst of zealot's will after he'd gotten there, Clay swiftly stripped off his pajamas and entered one of the double stalls. Resolutely, he turned the shower head's single valve to the cold position with a hard twist of his wrist and thrust himself beneath the spray.... 1964 - Part 5Solemnly whispered, came the wise insight, "If only that was the way to get beyond it," from someone standing directly behind Clay just as the rush of ice cold cascading water had begun pummeling his broad back. Startled and embarrassed, Clay spun around. His hard-on, which had yet to be dampened by the cold rush of water, swung into full view. Mortified yet agile of foot, he found a handhold before nearly slipping on the stall floor's wet white tiles and quickly found his balance though not his composure."Easy, Adderly -- easy," Dan Coleman whispered. There was something so obviously unjudgmental in the face of the newly arrived ruddy-cheeked freshman who stood there facing him that Clay instantaneously lost some of his chagrin. Dan, a sandy-haired young Iowan, had moved into the seminary dorm at the beginning of the semester. "There's not a soul here but me and you." Trying to comfort the flustered, good-looking burly young black man before him, the short, easygoing youth smiled understandingly at the nervous look Clay shot his way. "Don't worry," he said, "I'm not the kind to run around with stories.""I was just --," Clay began."Look, I said you don't have to worry about it. There's nothing to explain." The square-shouldered young man's head all at once dropped shyly bringing Clay's attention to the protrusion at the front of the thick towel wrapped around his hips. Then, timid himself in the admission, "You can see that I know exactly how it is," he said.Yet bravely enough, Dan looked up at Clay again. Lolita Paysites This time directly into the deep brown eyes of the muscular young black man still standing naked and aroused inside the shower stall. Slowly, Dan undid the towel and let it fall off the ends of his fingers to the floor completely leaving unmasked his own emblem of like need before he entered too.Dan moved forward; just close enough for cold droplets of the spray deflected by Clay's broad shoulders to begin spattering like the flecks of copper on the pale white rise of his chest. "Come on," he said, solicitous of his fellow student's common sense, when he plunged all the way into the chilly spray. His hard dick, a short pink spike, grazed Clay's thick hairy thigh as gingerly, he reached around Clay's large shivering form and gave the control valve a quick twist in the opposite direction, well past the warm mark. "Go a little easy on yourself. There's enough out there to beat you down that nothing can be done about," he'd continued. "Even though we're to set our minds to rise to the heights of angels, my God man remember, all we are is flesh and bone."Dan, seemingly speaking as much to himself as to Clay, fell silent as though closely considering the thing he'd just said. But quite abruptly, he took a bold step forward that brought the upraised head of Clay's swollen sex against the heavy frost of pale, wiry hair covering his groin. Clay, just as abruptly, backed away. The chance he'd yearned for had just jumped out at him like a jack-in-the-box and left him too unnerved to avail himself of it.There was powerful mesmerism in Dan's whispered assurance, "It's okay." The farm boy from Iowa understood what Clay needed as well as his fear to ask for it.Momentarily the young black novice theologian conjectured that "it's okay" might well have been the literal translation of the very words the serpent uttered at man's beginning in Eden. Somehow Clay couldn't focus on that or any notion for long. In an instant the sum total of his already scant resistance had given way. He bestowed no more thought to serpents or judgment once Dan's slowly extended hand had gently taken hold of his cockhead.In turn Clay reciprocated, offering no resistance, when his dormmate's free hand clasped his wrist and drew his hand toward the dripping wet wedge of sand-gold pubic hair in his own crotch. Willingly, he received the glowing pink staff that jutted out stiff at the apex of the freshman's short, sturdy slightly bowed legs as it slipped into the loose circle of his finger. Clay made no comparisons of their dick sizes but marveled at how warmly Lolita Paysites Dan's cock burned in his grasp."Yeah -- like that -- do it just like that," Dan gasped in a broken up whisper. His flint grey eyes closed as Clay's big fist churned about the head of his sex . Standing in the warm rain of spray that fell on them from the nozzle overhead, he let his flushed cheek fall on the warm gold skin of Clay's wide chest. With slow, unison motions, each continued stroking the other's cock.The requirements of passion rose, demanding more than Clay knew how to ask for. In a short time it was the gleamy-eyed freshman who mused out loud, "Wow, it's kind of big but --" Lolita Paysites Scrapping the remainder of the comment, he at once let go of Clay's cock and snatched a bar of soap from a chrome holder on the wall. "We'll have to be quick," he whispered urgently. "Here, go ahead but soap me up good first."Clay hadn't comprehended until Dan had firmly pressed the bar of soap into his palm and turned his back toward him. The Iowan's smaller hand instructively guided Clay's fingers into the warm cleft of his small smooth-skinned and milk white rear. Dan bent deeply at the waist to allow Clay better access for applying the lather.Clay's closer inspection of the split in Dan's ass, caused his sex to leap for his belly all of its own volition, . For the first time in his life, with absolute fascination, he found himself beholding the wrinkled pout of another man's fundament. In time to come, while laboring to visualize the key for release as he lay over his wife, he'd use repetitions of it's recall to bring him to the boiling point. He'd come to remember, unfailingly, how beautiful he'd thought that sight and how incensing the feel of it had been to him under first scrutiny by his curious fingers.Nervously poised on tiptoe like a dancer awaiting his cue, Dan somewhat less tall than Clay, had leaned back against the husky youth's bigger body for partial support. His short, thick legs strained and trembled as much as the hand he'd used to reach between his backside and Clay's belly. It trembled as he'd grasped Clay's dick mid-shaft to properly seat the dark, swollen head within the thoroughly soaped divide of his tail. As willing as he'd been eager, the young freshman had set his jaw and clamped his lips tight to stave off the natural reactionary gasp he knew was bound to burst forth from himself when the big man at his back, seeking sanctuary inside him, would begin pushing up into the tight envelopment of his ass.From the start, the hurtful stretching of the seductive Iowan's pale ass had made itself unmistakable to Clay through Dan's rapid, ragged breaths although he'd fought hard to render his pain voiceless. "I'm sorry," Clay whispered hotly into Dan's ear. His acknowledgment had been sincere but he was overcome with need. "... so sorry," he'd again moaned apologetically to the trembling freshman. "I can't seem to help myself ... just can't stop now."The warm coil of Clay's big arms tightened viselike about Dan's chest. Then, with a deep grunt he'd hoisted Dan clear of the floor, burning to penetrate him more deeply. Suspended in the air, the freshman's feet no longer made contact with the wet, white tile below and his splayed, muscular legs dangled puppetlike, flailing with urgency when Clay, holding him fast, had suddenly begun faster and deeper upward drives into his ass.It wouldn't be long before Clay's claim on the comely freshman's pale ass would to end. Not many hurried, deep thrusts into the sweet grip of the tight channel in Dan's backside would be needed to swing open the floodgates inside the man desperately lunging into him. Clay staggered backward, holding Dan's burning body against himself with all his strength as his ass mashed against the cold tile on the wall. Gasping for breath, the ardently ambitious freshman in his arms by then was totally speared on the thick dark column of his sex and awkwardly churning his ivory pale backside to add to his taker's pleasure.The press of one big hand against Dan's hard midriff kept the sandy-haired youth's pale ass jammed into Clay's groin. Incredulous at the high sensation each spike of his dark, unbending rod into the cream-colored orbs reaped and powerless to hold his peace in awe of it, Clay's mouth fell agape. Just in the nick of time he pressed his lips hard against the side of Dan's neck. He muted the keen howl that expressed the extreme of his sensation as he began free fall from Lolita Paysites the height his voracious lust for more and more of the clutch of Dan's tail had led him to. Bending Dan's trembling body with his, Clay slammed his thick sex into the sheathing of the freshman's tight ass one last time as an orgiastic sledgehammer blows knocked him nearly to his knees. Hunched and bent over Dan, the smooth contours of Clay's deep gold body resembled a large block of dark polished stone as he urgently embraced the willing young white man impaled on his sex. His powerful frame lurched each instant his distended member throbbed out a new cannon blast of his seed high up Dan's insides.Fighting to control his gasping, Clay, half-dazed continued to tightly hold onto Dan until his penis finally went soft and was grudgingly expelled from the freshman's tail. Shakily, the large youth slowly lowered Dan to the floor.The young freshman spun about panting, eyes on fire. His strong chest was rising and falling just as hard Clay's. "Now me ... turn around for me," he whispered urgently.No questions outstanding in his glistening eyes, Clay mutely obeyed. Dan rested his hands on Clay's waist and he at once acquiesced to their guidance by slowly turning around. Subsequently, the gentle slide of the bar of soap up and down the divide of his heavily muscled buttocks began.Dan tutored Clay in whispers, "Lean forward and bend your Lolita Paysites knees some." Then, pressing firmly downward on his tall pupil's broad shoulders from behind, "Yeah that's it ... that's it ...," the eager freshman said, "Squat down some more ...."It being that throughout his upbringing his religious parent's had been a closemouthed sort as to the subject, Clay knew little of sex of any kind, in any form, other than his own childishly askew assumptions regarding the matter while a boy.That accrual of his sexual knowledge had been garnered by the same manner of osmosis as most children's -- inadvertently from television and movies, surreptitiously from fragments of adult conversations. Of course, the lion's share was erroneously gathered from just as misinformed young friends, especially other boys, who could only properly school him in all the wrong words for male and female anatomy.Though somewhat better advised during his teens, the like of such sketchy secondhand detail remained all he'd had to fill in the gaps for himself once the mechanics of the issue became better established. All his acquired data of course referred to the usually known history and workings of sex -- boy meets girl -- more or less.Yet, the thing which provoked Clay's deepest though most sensibly undeclared interest was the innocent enough inquiry regarding what happened if a boy happened to meet boy. He remembered only one in-depth mention of this issue which had at last given him an inkling that it was indeed possible for men to be together.During a summer holiday gathering, a couple of his uncle's relived escapades from their army days in a far corner of the Adderly's backyard. Each of the grey-haired brothers stood sipping whiskey from a paper cup as one puffed on a fat cigar, assuming all the while their twelve-year-old nephew and the rest of the young ones at the family picnic to be off at play and out of earshot.Clay passing on the opposite side of a high fence had heard familiar voices near. Traditional in regard to time and place, the rural south, "grown folks talk" was something strictly forbidden to children's scrutiny. Clay knew this but stopped to listen even though he knew a whipping would be coming if he was caught. Grown-up voices, cautiously lowered in tone, those of Clay's uncles Gilbert and John, were the irresistible lure that had drawn the boy to creep near. Initially at some distance, he'd no clue as to what they were actually talking about."Well sir, seems they went and sent the lot of us from where they had us stationed to someplace way out in the pine woods to bivouac for ten days or so. Now, Murphy was our platoon leader. We used to call him Bulldog behind his back," the boy had heard when he'd crept nearer. "Great big ol' burly man too believe you me. I'd have sworn that big bruiser was damn near tough as nails and would have called anybody a liar said he wasn't. Tough, I say. When he spoke there was no doubt about whether you'd be listenin' or not."Then first night out, lookin' for a spot to take a leak right quick, I heard a funny sound, like a bear or somethin' gruntin and rootin' round out there in the dark. ... Well sir, that's just how I came up on `em. There was both of `em in the moonlight, naked as jay birds Gilbert. Murphy was on his back with his big ol' self laid on the ground, legs drawed up and heels Lolita Paysites just dancin' in the air. This new recruit was hunched over him and buckin' like a horse. Fella had his root all the way up Sarge's rump and was puttin' it to him somethin' crazy out there in the tall grass not ten yards outside the camp ... and then ..."Gasps accompanied the nasty snickering between them as the elder of the two brothers, Uncle John, sneeringly continued his narration of a certain young Corporal Dinwitty's and Drill Sergeant Murphy's unfortunate discovery while out on maneuvers. Young Clay, who'd been privy to the tale's relation merely by advantage of his hiding place on the opposite side of a high redwood fence, had been swiftly and thoroughly taught the general low appraisal of such a thing.Nonetheless, despite the Lolita Paysites apparently negative view in the telling of it, this seemingly vast body of knowledge which had accidentally been spilled into Clay's awareness through that gap in the fence stoked the boy's privately kept wondering further. As he'd continued to grow, seen and unseen manifestations of normal male libido made him more and more aware of himself and as well, other boys. Wondering still, he'd been full of unanswered questions by the time he'd arrived at college. He'd neither known nor been fully able to imagine the familiarity of the design of the comfort found in another man's arms nor the like of lying abed with a male as though a compatriot, close and ardent ... but he'd begun to learn ...Using a shower rail as his handhold for support, Clay assumed a hunkered stance as Dan moved in on him from behind.Eager for his turn at pleasure, the eager young freshman anxiously ground his firm, pale belly against the gold and tremulous rise of Clay's tail.Clay steadied himself further to accept Dan's weight as he felt him begin to fold his body over his. Unsure of what degree of pain or pleasure was about to come, the athlete's heart inside the virgin theologian was racing full throttle.Dan lifted himself a little on the balls of his feet. His hurried and fumbling fingers slipped the hot, swollen head of his short fat dick into the rift in broad-backed Clay's rear and brought it in line.Clay's big body shuddered as he uncontrollably uttered a soft, low whimper at the rhythmical nudges he felt against the small opening in his tail.Expeditiously, Dan gripped Clay's shoulders tightly and himself trembled when the muscular youth bent before him again shuddered violently as the tight ring of Lolita Paysites muscle buried in the rise of his ass was first pierced. The freshman sighed ecstatically for want of more of the feeling, stilling himself to bask in the tantalizing warmth that was suddenly all around the tumid head of his manhood. Dan's respite lasted for merely a short chain of elapsing seconds. He quickly abandoned his lingering and proceeded all the way inside Clay with a steady, slow push of his groin.As far in as he could get in the depths of the bigger man's tail, the young Iowan didn't allow rare pleasures to rest as his alone. He snaked a pale arm under Clay's bent body and reached with spread fingers for his sex. Soft and dangling, Clay's cock swung into Dan's open, searching hand as the two of them began to move together. As warm water continued falling over their stooped forms pumping forms, Dan tantalizingly rolled the head of it tenderly in his soapy fingertips once he'd made the capture. Quickly, it began stiffening in response to his touch. Dan's fingers left off teasing and he seriously set to energetically pumping the thick, elongated mass with his small fist once it was fully erect. Fast falling in synch, his jabs into Clay's backside caught the cadence of his plunging hand.Despite the high and dizzying elevation to which they and their passion had climbed, the coupled novitiates maintained the commitment to silence and clamped their mouths shut. Knowing the grave danger in discovery, they still endeavored to minimize their disruption of the quiet inside the empty shower room. Except for the reverberated fiery blasts of hastily coursing air in and out of their nostrils, the only noticeable sound to be heard outside in the corridor was that of falling water.The thick, deep brown rod of firmed manflesh grasped by Dan's pale hand had grown hard as a staff of Mpingo wood. Erratically, it pulsed once or twice as he'd held on tightly. Then came a sudden urgent squeeze on his own sex as its warm surroundings spasmodically began to contract. Working Clay's sex furiously with his hand because he desperately meant them to meet same time, same place, somewhere high in orgasmic nirvana, Dan too hurried toward its gates. His taut belly hooked and connected with hard, fast slaps against Clay's backside. Abruptly, within the rush, his own sex began spouting warm jets of his seed into the well of sensation from which he'd drawn.An instant later, the rippling sea of musculature on Clay's bent back froze over. Though each and every clenched muscle found a pose all its own beneath the gold veneer of the satiny skin there, each knit and combined with the rest in a broad, detailed relief which surely and succinctly portrayed man during his most profoundly beautiful moment -- the ebullient unfoldings of culmination at an ardent striving's end.Throb by throb, another copious flow of Clays pearly seed burst forth and dribbled off the end of his pulsing bronze-hued manhood. Every delivery was spun out in short, gleaming crystalline chains that intermittently broke as they'd shone in the light from overhead, immediately lost to sight once they'd landed on the white tile between Clay's parted feet. So camouflaged, his issue ran into the drain with the spray Lolita Paysites of water that streamed down from the shower head ....The vision of his classmate instantly dissolved behind the young preacher's eyes. The reality of Harlan's want of him was again upon Clay as he lay there threading his tight fist with his sex. All at once a view of future love and joy seemingly too bright to be obscured by gauzy reminiscence, leapt from behind Clay's reveries of dead and bygone time and appeared clear as day within his eyes again. It usurped his faded visions of the few resulting brief encounters he had with Dan. Flashes of heat -- exquisite heat -- lapped at his belly making him eager for the climb toward Harlan's naked lithe form; suddenly all there was to be seen in the moment's dreamscape. "Youngblood," he suddenly commanded in loud summons in the empty room as urgency rushed overran him and his big body spastically jerked on the bed. "Ooh ... youngblood!" This time he almost screamed for Harlan as he furiously plunged his tightened fist up and down the length of his sex. Each hammer of his fist fell with a thud onto the thick pad of coarse, black hair that dressed the joining of his knotted thighs. The drives of his hand landed hard enough to cause the readied and tightly contracted mass of his scrotum to jiggle with each hit.The young preacher was ready indeed. A complete occurrence wholly inside a millisecond, Clay's sweaty body bridged the length of the bed in a tremulous, swaying arch of tight muscle as he desperately dug his heels down into the mattress as if further spurring on the uproar of sensations carrying him off. Nearly every part and piece in the span of his straining and primed visible flesh was clearly defined on his frame when he cried out for Harlan one last time. Geyserlike, expulsions of the big man's semen shot high up into the air above him and then plopped down again in sticky drops that wet the hairs on his heaving chest and belly like warm, spattering rain.The last pennies of physical passion spent, Clay's sweaty ass crashed back down onto the bed as a strange, groggy and bewildered moan seeped out of the handsome preacher's lips. The lids of his slowly closing eyes were the curtain fall on the lonesome man's act of yearning. Eyes fully closed to the bare stage his empty room made, Clay quickly surrendered to the enticements of deep, dreamless sleep and lay for the rest of the night covered only by soft lamplight .... 1964 - Part 6A few minutes ahead of five that next afternoon as dusk grew, Clay Adderly's front door upended an eternity of waiting for Harlan with a welcoming inward swing. Breath steamy, the youth hurried inside the house from the cold bearing a grin and elation, both of which beamed bright in contrast to the dreary leavings of late day outside. Again face to face but this time no longer shepherd and one of the fold, new lovers instead, the tall, lean teak-skinned youth and the big framed young preacher composed quite a comely pair.Though such a simple thing, no other gift was as great to either as the other's nearness. Both silently rejoiced, gratified. Neither Harlan nor Clay uttered a single word or even moved as just for them time kindly stretched the next minute or so thin, piece by piece, before stealing by.The city and its workings, all just outside the thick wooden door at Harlan's back, were all at once vague and distanced in the handsome youth's awareness. Clay's firm, flat-handed shove on the heavy door had cleanly cut off the lean, newly made man before him from Philadelphia's stoic face, the chilly weather and all else in the outside world with a dull thud.Though he and Clay had been separated not even a day's worth of hours, to the youngest of these two new lovers the expanse of the time so far elapsed between the prior night and then was tantamount to days, maybe even weeks. Thus having come across a seeming abyss, naturally, the tall youth's light eyes were not only full of love whetted keen by time and distance but questions too. He was especially eager for the answer to the greatest among them but didn't quite know how to ask and had to think on it in silence for a moment or two. Finally, no other knowledge essential to him but this, shy, Harlan tested Clay's eyes and stumbled on the words, "Rev, I was kind of wonderin' whether ... I mean ..." Harlan looked away to shyly complete the question. "Did you miss me?" he asked.Deeply taken by the charm of Harlan's boyish uncertainty, so clearly real and evident, the big-boned, honey-colored man at first playfully feigned surprise but then murmured quite seriously, "Good God, youngblood how could you think for a minute I didn't?" Clay reached out and reassuringly clamped Harlan's shoulder with a big hand. "There's no way for me to tell you even the half of it," he sighed, shaking Lolita Paysites his head incredulously as though attempting to shake the cobwebs of ignorance for words away. "Why, if I was to sit myself down right now and start doin' the necessary figurin' up of all that's inside me, counted up, the feelin's would come to a sight more than just my missin' you."I've been hungerin' for you all through the day, in ways so big and so different, I'd need a month of Sundays to make it all plain. One minute there'd come somethin' like an achin' in my hands that I knew there'd be no healin' for til you were here and I could have another feel of you. Very next thing, my eyes would commence ramblin' about like I was a lost child lookin', if for Lolita Paysites nothin' else, just the ease in some reminder of the last look I had of you so it wouldn't seem like I was so far from home." The big man's handsome face colored up when he shyly added, "And, well you know -- everything -- about last night keeps comin' cross my mind. Even so, it still comes to more than just a cravin' to be up on you. My need's been deeper than that -- sure nough.""For all of today I've had as much of a soul deep burnin' to have you near me as I've had for a drink of water or my next breath of air."Harlan marveled at what he heard and whispered,"Really?".The oath was unquestionably reavowed inside the solemn attitude of Clay's brown eyes. "Oh yeah ... really," Clay confirmed, nodding earnestly as he slowly drew Harlan all the way to himself in the little vestibule. The well-built preacher nuzzled his returned companion's clean black hair, sucking in the wonderful smell of man and youth on him as he grinned contentedly knowing his new love, his true love was harbored safe and secure inside his arms. "But let me tell you somethin' -- you know, there's more than water and air I feel a need for right now," the velvet rumble of the big man's softly made known in Harlan's ear. "All of a sudden a mighty powerful yearnin' for a taste of sweet brown sugar's come on me too. Can you see your way clear to servin' up a little ... please sir?"Responding with speed, Harlan pressed his trim build harder into Clay's. "Here, take all you want," the youth accommodatingly murmured as he offered his mouth to Clay.The grasp of Harlan's gloved hand on the books he carried slackened and, one by one, they slipped then fell away from him as easily as his cares. Each landed dully on the entryway's sisal mat. With equally as little compunction, the youth let loose the reins on the impatient amorousness he'd ridden on through the day and began, despite preliminary shyness, an eager retest of every ridge and hollow of the preacher's solid outer anatomy with his flattened palms. Nonetheless, despite all the force with which his lean, hard belly strained against Clay's, it seemed at that moment, to Harlan, they'd never be close enough....Two desires, one to quest the high peaks of closeness again, the other to become good friends with the truth were born and risen with Harlan early that morning at seven. Responding to his mother's unwitting felony by way of her relentless call from the bottom of the stairs, he'd reluctantly pried his tan eyes ajar in irritated silence at being robbed of a last twilight vision of Clay. Nonetheless, that's when he'd begun to think of Clay all over again and the roots of love's principles began to bore into his consciousness. Since Lolita Paysites his chance had obviously come, longings to love well and love deep, grew as rightfully foliate in Harlan's vision as the little informed young lover's aspiration to better acquaint himself with choicer words of love and deeper wisdom in the ways of connection.To the eye, sparks of this true revival were scant in evidence as, sleepy Harlan trudged to the bath and in a daze stepped beneath the shower's spray. Even if low voltage, the aura of a new frame of mind was surely cloaking him. As his light brown eyes gathered life and light, finally opening all the way in acceptance of the coming day, his intent did not wash away. Inside the chrysalis it had cast around him he'd quite contentedly jostled about during the long bus ride north to school.As the day had worn on Harlan, too distracted to effect proper studiousness because of his extracurricular memory's frequent preemptions, had wandered class to class through a wishful mire of luxurious ponderings of love, sex Lolita Paysites and his future. The tally of meaningful scholastic effort times time spent totaled his day at school as a mere sojourn.As in the aftermath of the rites of passage for many, there was the radiance of a brand new being all about the handsome youth's smiling face that shone too bright to hide. However, the whole wonderful thing beginning to seem almost surreal, he found himself unable not to question whether the night just passed had truly been a real occurrence or just illusion.Grateful to be alone at lunch to ponder it, Harlan at last permitted the very private bundle of thoughts linked to the prior evening's events to fall wide open inside his head. Yet, each time he'd done so, he found it immediately necessary to slam the cover shut on his meditations by reason of the physically stirring effect of their content on his blood. The reaping of even bits and pieces of memories planted all through the preceding night were more than enough seed for arousal.Curatively speaking, all the remedies for killing a hard-on that he'd offhandedly gleaned in the locker room proved more comedic relief than reliable prescriptions. Intermittently hard-dicked and embarrassed throughout the day but nonetheless giddily amazed and secretly pleased at the strength with which the mere recall of lying in bed with Clay held sway over him, Harlan found himself unable to suppress boyish giggles at the state he was in.Despite every trick he'd tried; clamping his bottom lip between his teeth as hard as was safe, holding his breath, even constructing macabre tableaus inside his head, nothing seemed to squelch the rapid flourish of erections that sprang up and bloomed any time -- and anywhere -- he happened to envision the preacher's bare body. This was evidence enough to lead one so young to finally surmise, it had all been more than real and that he wanted another taste of it ...Shivering with eagerness and ecstatic to at last have and hold each other again, each of the young dreamers made himself warm at the fire of the other's ardor. The two of them stood merely pressed tight for a good while, too much in love to think of or fear discovery and too absorbed in their intimate examinations to be the least bit disturbed by the patter of rushing feet continually passing in the cold outside. Surely it was through luck, not clairvoyance of any kind, that the two new lovers correctly predicted neither harm nor danger would beset their secret celebration of one another that night.Standing so close, eating the warmth of Clay's body and his hot, dry kisses, in the heat of the moment Harlan's dick thickened and went hard. Just as quickly his mind and will turned quite malleably plastic. So inclined to the follow the lead of his guide, the dreamy-eyed young man hastily coiled his strong arms round the preacher's broad back and unconditionally surrendered, offering himself with an impetuous whisper. "Teach me some more."The tall youth's teacher, so big, so steady, gladly but shyly began to teasingly suck at his charge's full lower lip, ultimately drawing it betwixt the two of his with a slow, pensive pull. As he took possession of Harlan's mouth, his big hands boldly swooped down to cup, then knead, the firm muscle in the half-spheres of the handsome youth's slim tail end. The doing of that caused the even tighter press of the tall, leggy youth against the big man. Automatic masculine instincts set each to a studied slow chafing of his primed and swollen crotch against the other's.Lesson by lesson, both started taking serious note of their trailing fingers' every discovery, alerting themselves of little things they did that appeared to please the other as self-schooling progressed. Neither of the pair of handsome young men learning the other's ways in the confines of the cramped classroom that the tiny foyer made could imagine anything more important from where he stood.The more feverish Harlan's return on the preacher's investment of kisses grew, the more the turned-on youth mashed and ground the hard, aching knot of bound up sex between his legs against the mammoth lump risen at the front of Clay's paint stained khaki pants. His firm butt continued to clench then loosen in Clay's two-handed grasp as arousal spurred him to take initiative.Harlan swung a long leg sideways, fitting one of the preacher's thick thighs between the two of his as he leaned into his body. The youth, bending his knees slightly and bearing down hard, began short, brisk slides of his aching crotch on the hard muscle atop the big man's thigh with jerky hooks of his gut.Handsome honey-colored Clay was as much surprised as turned on by Harlan's growing show of ardor. "Mercy now youngblood, looks to me like I'd better get you the rest of the way inside real quick," he whispered huskily. The preacher shot out and hand swiftly pushed open the vestibule's inner door and began to draw the younger man holding onto him to the center of the living room. "Looks like we've got ourselves some powerful big business to tend to," he said in a knowing voice."Hold up a second," Clay abruptly instructed as he reached for Harlan who stood there in the middle of the floor, waiting ready and still. His golden man's big hands shoved Harlan's open jacket off his broad shoulders. Pinching the leather jacket's sleeves high at their fronts, Clay deftly drew the jacket straight down the youth's strong arms. Instantly released, it fell to the living room carpet, ignored.Electric jolts of arousal, on his uncontrollable desire to view all the beauty hidden beneath, compelled the preacher's strong, thick fingers to fly along the vertical row of small buttons at the front of Harlan's heavy shirt. Each was speedily undone and the shirt, once flung open wide to set Harlan free, was as well cast to the floor after being removed.An upward shove of the preacher's flat palm and spread fingers hiked Harlan's tee shirt high up his wide chest. Clay, with thorough care, guided the pink tip of his tongue across his lips to make them thoroughly wet just before bending to plunge his mouth against the nipple first exposed on the satin span of warm brown skin on Harlan's chest. He voraciously slid his mouth and darting tongue on and off one of the deep bronze hubs of energized nerve ends there to hungrily nourish the ripening lust inside himself by sucking at its tiny nub of a point. As Harlan gasped and squirmed in reaction, his feet commenced a quick-stepped dance of joy purely inspired by Clay's mouthing.The bull-necked preacher straightened his bent back abruptly and laid claim on Harlan's mouth once more. The rise of their hearts' racing spiraled higher as this new kiss endured. Clay, in love, in heat and ready to do all things to please his love, tore his mouth off Harlan's. "Goin' down youngblood," he intoned like a man bewitched as his eyes fell to Harlan's crotch. " Bout to get on the case just like a doctor," he uttered, throaty and incensed. Moving his lips yet closer to the youth's unquestionably attentive ear, "Headin' way, way down here," he whispered, gently rubbing the lump, hard as stone, at the junction of Harlan's legs. "Gonna see if somethin' can't be done to cool down all this hot blood in you."Similar in abstract, thoughts of being dipped in the pool the day Clay had baptized him flashed across the aroused youth's mind the moment the big man seized him by the waist, hard, and bodily hauled him down onto the pale green sea of carpet under their feet. All in a flurry of Clay's big hands and the few following seconds, Harlan lay stretched out straight on the living room floor, pants undone and snatched down just past the middle of his thighs.Still completely dressed, Clay quickly knelt over leggy young Harlan, straddling his knees. More alive and sex bent than he'd ever imagined possible for himself or any man, the big man slowly reached down for Harlan's cock, man-steel and heated under his touch, and clenched it in his hand. The young preacher contemplatively eyed it with slack-mouthed curiosity as the long, dark erect staff of manhood throbbed, sometimes twitched within his grasp.The handsome preacher's broad, powerful shoulders shuddered as he slowly bent low, angling the thick black shaft of Harlan's cock toward his lips. It was then that he noticed a droplet, clear and gemlike, appear almost magically before his eyes atop the wide crown of the youth's sex. Clay bent his body the rest of the needed distance.One lick, just one. That's all it took -- merely one light but tender swipe of his tongue made the little crystal bright jewel his.Raising his head a second later, the salty, viscous droplet dissolving on his tongue tip, Clay again ponderously gazed at his slowly lifting and descending fist and at the dark, blunt headed man-flesh protruding from it. He passed his tremulous free hand between his legs, giving his own yet unbared and burning sex a squeeze as he made an intent study of the tiny glistening path of moisture marking his tongue's first trace on Harlan's dick.Stretched out under him and anxious that he do it again, Harlan burrowed his ass deeper into the softness be
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