Boy Story: The Road Taken - 21. Running The Gauntlet

Running The Gauntlet

As things progressed, I was staying over at Parker’s house at least two nights a week with his mother’s blessing. Who could have figured, right? And we got into a pretty good routine. If I got up in the morning and had to pee, I’d wear Parker’s robe to the bathroom and back. In fact, the only time I bypassed the robe was right after sex...butt sex to be exact (and blunt). No matter how well anyone has prepared for that happenstance, the genitals of the top person need to be washed with soap and water afterward.

The problem is, you don’t want a nice clean, white robe coming into contact with a body part that has visited a not-so-clean place. It can leave stains that may be embarrassing to all parties involved. So to avoid any unsightliness on a nice white robe, I would walk naked the eight feet down the hall to the bathroom with the robe slung over my shoulder to wear on the return trip once cleanup was completed. It was a very quick route that I had mastered with great success.

That was until one day. And if I recall correctly, it was the Saturday morning two weeks after our “little talk.”

I’d finished giving Parker what he wanted doggie style and began my trek to the bathroom to wash up. The distance was four or five walking steps. On that fateful morning, somewhere around step number three, Parker’s mother, carrying a laundry basket full of clothes, entered the hall at the same time I was headed for the bathroom. We both stopped short and gasped because we weren’t expecting to see each other. That’s when, as if in slow motion, I watched as Parker’s mother’s eyes drifted downward and she gasped a second time. My rocket was still closer to launch mode than stand-by and Ginny got an eyeful. I tried to diffuse the situation by pointing toward my destination and blurting out, “Bathroom!” and she pulled aside and let me pass. I don’t know who was more horrified.

I went about my bathroom business and made sure to wear the robe on the way back, as I normally would. I got back to the bedroom, collapsed on the bed, and blurted out, “Parker, we’ve got...a situation.” I then filled him in on the events that unfolded in the hallway.

“Shit, you were still hard?”

“Yeah, not fully but pretty much,” I replied.

“What did she say?”

“She said, ’Wow that’s a nice one!’...What do you think she said? Nothing—she was in shock!”

“Just like me when I first saw it!”

“Parker, this isn’t funny. Your mother saw...everything! I’m mortified!”

“Oh come on, there are many more embarrassing things in life.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Well, what if you had a micro penis? Wouldn’t that be more embarrassing?”

“Knowing you, if I had a micro penis, it wouldn’t be an issue because we wouldn’t have gotten past that first night.”

“Fine, but you don’t have a micro penis, you have a big beautiful penis, so why even go there? Listen, it’ll be OK. What does she expect? After all, she’s got two gay boys in the house often enough. Mom will process the information, accept it, and move on,” Parker theorized.

As things turned out, I made an impression that wasn’t easily forgotten. When I got to Parker’s house for my Wednesday sleepover, I was brought up-to-date on the fallout. Parker informed me that everything culminated in a “very weird” conversation he had with his mother on Monday night.

As I wasn’t in attendance, I’ll piece together the conversation as best I can from what was told to me.

“Parker, can you come in here? I want to have a word with you,” Ginny called out from the den when she heard him getting a drink of water in the kitchen.

“Sure Mom, what’s up?” he asked entering the den.

“Have a seat, honey.”

He sat down on the couch.

“Parker, you’re going to be 18 soon and I think it’s time we had a talk about personal safety,” she began.

“Safety?” he queried.

“Yes, personal safety. You see, it’s great that you are in a positive relationship now, but with all of your youthful enthusiasm and raging hormones, it’s sometimes easy to lose sight of protecting yourself from possible injury.”

“Huh, you’ve lost me,” he confessed.

“Parker, you have to realize that you are not a big, muscled football player type. You’re thin and somewhat petite, so what might be good for a bigger boy might not apply to you.”

“OK, but I’m not going to play football, so what’s your point?”

“It’s not about football. I’m using a football player to illustrate a body type. When you decide to do something with your body, you must consider whether that something is appropriate for your body type. You shouldn’t do anything that may be hazardous to you because you feel obligated or are getting pressured into it.”

“Hazardous? Pressured? Oh, wait a minute. Does this have anything to do with Matt and the hallway incident? Is that what this is all about?”

“Well, let’s just say that incident reminded me that we needed to have this talk.”

“OK, Mom, let me make it easy for you. My body type is thin and wiry, but flexible like a gymnast. I doubt big muscles would be of any benefit to me when it comes to...being intimate. Plus, I consider myself a size queen, which is a gay boy who is turned on by larger...you know...boy parts. That was an extra bonus that came along with Matt. I liked everything about him before, so that was a welcome surprise. Yes, Matt is big downstairs and that’s what I like.”

“But honey, I never could have imagined. I mean, of all the men I’ve ever been with...not even your father.”

“You know Mom, this is getting into TMI territory now.”

“I’m just trying to be as objective as possible, Parker. I simply want you to be safe and injury free, that’s all. And speaking of being safe, I hope you boys are observing safe sex practices.”

“Oh boy, I could tell that was coming one of these days. Listen, I know what you’re going to say, but you have to take into account where Matt is coming from—the straight world. So the chances of him being anything but clean are minuscule.”

“Parker! We’ve talked about this! You remember what happened after last time...all the testing and worrying...and how relieved we were when you finally came out negative. And now you are falling back into the same bad habits. What are you thinking?”

“Mom, chill out! This situation is very different. So yes, I’m taking all of my previous experience into account before making my decisions. I know Matt, I love Matt, and I trust Matt. And based on his past experience, he couldn’t be anything but negative.”

“Parker, HIV is not a disease just for gay people. It has made its way into the straight community, too.”

“Matt has been totally up front about his previous sexual exploits. And believe me, HIV has not been in the same universe of where Matt has been. Just trust me on this one, OK? In some rare cases, sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith. And this is one of those cases.”

“But it’s just a little bit of latex and everything and everyone is safe and happy.”

“Mom, I love you and I appreciate your concern. But you’re not a gay boy, so you wouldn’t understand why I’d rather not.”

She sighed long and paused. “Fine. Parker, I’m not going to fight you on this anymore. I’m tired and I’ve said my piece. I just hope you know what you are doing. It’s your life and you have to live with the consequences—good or bad. I see crazy injuries and diseases at the hospital all the time and I just don’t want to see you become another statistic.”

“Look, Matt told me that he had a physical just last month. He had blood drawn, everything listened to, the finger up the butt—the whole nine yards. The doctor said he was as healthy as a horse...and he was probably thinking he was hung like a horse too.”

“Parker! That’s not funny.”

“Funny or not, it’s the truth and right now, I couldn’t be happier. So if you ever run into Matt in the hallway again and he’s not wearing anything, just remember it’s for my benefit, not yours. So just look him in the eyes, say good morning, and go about your business.”

“Ha ha! Oh my God, you actually said: Say good morning, and go about your business?” I asked.

“Yeah, I had to let her know this was about me and not her. And I guess it worked because she backed off and dropped the subject.”

“You mean, it ended right there?”

“I think she realized that I was being more adult about it than she was,” Parker replied. “It’s not like you were doing anything wrong. It was just her classic over reacting.”

“Hey, I just want you to know that if you do want to use condoms, and you haven't said anything because of me, it would be alright with me either way,” I managed to slip in.

“No, way. I don't want to change unless you do. It's so much more satisfying," he explained. "Especially when it's with someone you love,”

“That's cool. I was hoping you weren't feeling pressured into trying to impress me. Believe me I'm plenty impressed already. And of course I don't want you to get into hot water with your mother either.”

“Oh wait, speaking of which..." Parker began. “She also asked that I try to be a little more discrete when we’re, you know, doing stuff. She said some nights she feels like she’s got box seats for a sport that she’s not a fan of.”

“Oh no, really?”

“Yeah. She said she sometimes hears me barking out orders. But the good thing is that she doesn’t hear you—at least she didn’t mention it, so the blame pie is squarely on my side of the fence.”

“Well, you are a little bossy in bed.”

“Bossy!”

“But bossy is hot. Just maybe not from your mom’s point of view when she’s hearing her son calling out Harder/Faster/Pound me good!” I offered.

“Hmm, maybe if I said it in French...marteler me fait du bien!”

“Yeah, I don't know what you just said but that sounds way hot. Everything sounds very sexy in French, like manger mon croissant!”

“You want me to eat your croissant? Ha ha. Yeah, so that was pretty much the extent of it with my mother.”

“And that's about the extent of my knowledge of French. Hmm, maybe she felt as a mother she was obligated to say something and once she said it, that was that,” I suggested.

“Sorry about all of this,” he continued. “But if you’re dating me, you end up dating my problems too.”

“I love you and your problems. But problems is perhaps too strong a word. They aren’t problems so much as dilemmas.”

“Problems/dilemmas, what’s the difference?”

“Dilemmas sometimes sort themselves out and don’t leave you stressed out after they’re resolved. So I love you and your dilemmas. See? Doesn’t that sound better?”

“Matt, you’re the best!”

“I know.”

And at that, a pair of used boxers that Parker had picked up off the floor took flight and bounced off my face landing on the bed next to me. I picked them up, shrugged my shoulders, and sniffed them. They smelled like Parker.

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