Boy Story: The Road Taken - 62. As Far As We Could Go

As Far As We Could Go

When Parker graduated from college in 2001, I gave him a unique graduation gift. I asked him to marry me…which actually wasn’t legally possible. Though it really wouldn’t change much of anything in our daily lives, it would certainly escalate the level of commitment, and that was good enough for me.

Parker was so excited, he started to cry as he blurted out “YES!” and he hugged me so forcefully it knocked me to the ground...and we had a good laugh. He had no way of knowing that I had secretly been making arrangements for this moment for many months. I had been saving up for some time, and I had amassed enough cash reserves to buy him an extra special ring. The jeweler didn’t have exactly what I wanted in stock, but he offered to special order what I was looking for. When it came in at the jeweler, I went to have a look. The finished ring was even more stunning than I expected. I could hardly wait to put it on Parker's finger. The jeweler said, “She’s a lucky girl.” I said, “Yes she is,” with a smirk.

Parker was never much into jewelry, but he did prefer silver-toned jewelry over gold. The promise ring I already bought him was stainless steel. Sure, not a precious metal, but it was a cool design and it wasn’t going to tarnish. So let’s just say it was more symbolic than expensive. For the engagement ring, I wanted to go all out choosing platinum with a band of real emerald chips set in a channel around the entire ring. The emerald is Parker’s birthstone, so it was symbolic. When I presented the ring to him, Parker absolutely loved it! (He’d better because I paid a good chunk of change for it!) It was a beautiful ring, and it deserved to be on Parker’s finger.

Ginny had warned me not to move too fast while we were both still going to school. I was true to my word. Now that we weren’t in school anymore and had stable employment, I felt it was time to take the next step. And a real engagement was the next logical step. Now we could say fiancée for real and still keep further plans for sometime in the future.

However, it seemed that fiancée was about as far as we could go because same-sex marriages and civil unions were not recognized in our state or in our country, so it looked like we would be fiancées for a long time to come. The previous year, only the state of Vermont had legalized civil unions between same-sex couples, but we did not live in Vermont. Things did seem to be moving in the right direction, though. The Clinton White House passing the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) in 1996—which stated that the federal government would only recognize marriage as that between a man and a woman—certainly did not help. So when the time would come that Parker and I felt ready to fully commit, the only option for us at the time was a domestic partnership.

But more on that later.

I did mention that Parker had achieved stable employment. After college ended, he had built up enough goodwill at the record store that he was able to get a part-time position while he searched for something more permanent. He realized that switching to full time in a tiny record store in a shopping mall would be too confining in the long run. He loved CDs, vinyl, and music for enjoyment, but it wasn’t going to provide much of a career. The pay was OK for a high school or college student, but not so much for a college graduate. He did consider applying for a managerial position, but record stores were beginning to look like a dying breed, and he decided to pass. Tower Records, Virgin Records, HMV, and many smaller chains were already circling the wagons.

One day when Parker was going into the city to meet Connor for his birthday, he walked by an establishment that had a Help Wanted sign in the window. He stopped to check it out and discovered it was a modeling agency looking for office help. He figured models make some decent money, so maybe the agency pays comparably more than a record store. For the purposes of this story, let’s call it The Markham Agency (to protect the actual name). He stopped in and they were willing to set up a job interview for the following week.

Parker was very smart about the interview. He went out and bought some men’s fashion magazines and looked at the types of suits they were wearing. He picked out one style that he liked and went to the local discount men’s suit place and asked them if they had suits like that. He tried on a few and found one that fit the bill. They were able to adjust the trouser hem in 24 hours, and the boy had a pretty stylish suit for the interview. Since he was in need of at least one good suit, Ginny agreed to pay for it.

According to Parker, the interview went well. He was applying for the position of receptionist/greeter for both models and clients (the people who hire the models). The person presently in that position was a 30-something very pregnant woman who would be leaving the company soon to have and raise her child. Both she and the office manager met with Parker and they were initially intrigued at the idea of having a male greeting the mostly female clientele.

But they had encountered an unpleasant situation in the past with a former male employee who was creating problems in the office. He treated the single models as if they were members of his private dating pool, and he had a pretty successful track record. Some of the models may have gotten the impression that dating an employee at the agency would help their career. Anyone could plainly see the huge conflict of interest that created. Therefore, the manager admitted to Parker that they had reservations about hiring a good looking, young male employee for this position. What were his thoughts?

After thanking them for labeling him “young and good looking,” Parker was able to allay their fears. “Well, that would never be a problem with me for two very good reasons. First, I’m gay…not bisexual…not questioning…not even remotely straight. I like guys and only guys. Secondly, I am in a committed, long-term relationship with my fiancée who I hope to be allowed to marry one day.”

That exchange not only won him the job, it impressed upon me that he was looking toward a future for us. It was the first time I could remember that this sentiment was voiced so clearly. In the end, Parker had a full-time job that paid better than the record store, and I now understood that we were both on board for a future together.

Now, I don’t know if all of the preceding events set the stage, but soon after Parker started working at the agency, Ginny collected us together because she “had some great news.” Bill had been hinting around about marriage for almost a year. Ginny finally felt she was in a good enough place to say “yes.” As a result, she would be moving in with Bill, thus cutting her commute to work by half.

Parker and I looked at each other speechless because we were living with her, in her house. Were we now going to be homeless? Were we going to have to find an affordable apartment, which even on our combined salaries, does not exist?

“Oh, about the house,” Ginny began, “Since it’s paid for, I’m keeping it as long as you choose to live there. I’ll charge you a reasonable rent that will go toward taxes and upkeep.”

I thought for a moment, “A whole house with a swimming pool to ourselves that we can afford? This was indeed some great news!”

“Congratulations!” I coughed out not quite sure if it was for her or us.

“Yeah, Mom. That’s great! Congratulations! And thank you,” Parker tried to sum it all up.

“I feel ready for the next chapter in my life. And I see you boys are now in a good position for me to make this move. But keep in mind once I move, you will then be responsible for paying the utility bills…the electricity, phone, cable, water, heating oil, and all of that,” she cautioned. “If you decide to move out, the house will go up for sale.”

“Yes, of course. We can certainly take care of the utilities with what we make,” I tempered her fears.

“Yeah, Mom, we’re both employed now, so we will make it work!” Parker exclaimed.

“Look boys,” she began, “when my ex and I originally bought this house in the mid 1970s, I think we paid about $37,000. At the time, that was roughly two times my husband's yearly salary, and I was able to be a stay-home mom caring for two children. In today's world, most couples can't find a home for two year's salary multiplied by even two working parents. I see a housing situation that's completely out of control. And I sympathize with the young couples of today who are just starting out. My one wish is for you boys to start your life together on a strong footing.”

This was a sweet deal that wasn’t lost on either of us. There was no way we could afford to live in the town we were in, so she charged us just enough rent to cover property taxes and general upkeep. Since the house was paid for and Ginny was working and making a good salary, she didn’t need the house to generate a rental income...though no one would blame her if she wanted to. It was nice to know that Ginny was always looking out for us.

A little over a month later, Ginny moved in with Bill. She took very little out of the house, mostly just her clothes and personal items. She said if she needed anything in the future, she would just come by and get it. Bill’s condo was fully furnished, so there wasn’t really a need to move in a lot of stuff. Now she would have her privacy with Bill, and I would have my privacy with Parker. Sure, in the past, we had some privacy, but we would always be careful to plan our activities around her work schedule. Now we wouldn’t have to concern ourselves with being discreet and nearly all of the furniture was staying with us.

“Please take good care of my house. If I plan to drop over, I will always call beforehand,” she assured us as she prepared to leave.

Suddenly, an image popped into my head of her dropping over unannounced and walking into the living room as I’m balls deep in her son. So I immediately became aware of the importance of getting a warning call.

“Sure Mom, that sounds great. We’ll take excellent care of the house. We’ll even clean every now and then, ha ha,” Parker joked.

“Well, you’d better. I don’t want to come back to a pig sty,” she warned.

“Don’t worry Ginny, we’ll divide up the cleaning duties,” I promised.

“OK, I’ll hold you to that,” she warned. Looking around the room she said, “Well, goodbye house! I've had a lot of happy memories here. I hope these boys will as well.” And she walked out as a resident for the final time. A minute later we heard the car pull down the driveway and drive off. We were now alone.

One consequence of Ginny moving out was that Parker became very “optional” about wearing clothing around the house in the days that followed. And a few times, especially on warmer weekend days when we’d be using the pool, it was not unusual for Parker to go a whole day without clothes on in the house and out in the back yard by the pool. Was I going to put a stop to it? Hell no! I enjoyed the view and frequently joined him. To my sensibility, it was like trying to put a pair of boxers on Michelangelo’s David. Parker’s perfect body was meant to be seen, not covered up…even if it was for my eyes only. It was art. He was art. However, I was quite often unable to hide my enthusiasm for Parker’s naked beauty, which of course led to much monkey business.

“Well…”, I began, “the first night in our own place.”

“Yeah,” Parker responded looking around. “So you wanna fuck on the couch for a change?”

“Um, OK.” You can clearly see he needed to twist my arm to some degree.

“Don’t worry, I’m clean today,” he informed me.

“Even so, we should lay down a blanket or something first.”

“Agreed,” he replied disappearing from the room. A few minutes later, he barked out, “Think quick!” and tossed a flannel blanket across the room that I caught in mid-flight. As I started to spread the blanket on the couch, a tube of lube came sailing through the air and landed on the couch. I turned around to look in the direction from which it came…and there was Parker as naked as the day he was born…only at this exact moment he was…uh…ready to go…so to speak. My knees buckled slightly at the sight of him.

“Parker! You’re…”

“Naked?”

“Well, that's nothing new, but...”

“Oh, you mean, hard?”

“Yes, that too, but you are…stunning!” I managed to spit out.

“Oh, is that why you seem stunned?” he answered.

I was finding it difficult to speak. You would think that after so much time together and seeing Parker naked dozens of times that I would be somewhat jaded. Nope. Smoking hot is smoking hot and on that day smoking hot was Parker.

“Well, just make sure you don’t poke your eye out with that thing!” I joked.

“Oh, don’t worry. I have poked quite a few things with this piece, but my eye was never one of them,” he said holding his hard cock in his left hand. “But this will never do,” Parker said pointing to the fact that I was fully clothed. He sidled up to me and began separating me from my clothes.

“There we go. Well now…I see you are armed and ready for siege tactics,” he said looking down at me. “Perhaps you can use that cannon on my castle gate.”

I didn’t have to look down. The tightening I felt downstairs told me all I needed to know about my state of affairs. Parker got on all fours on the couch. I quickly lubed my fingers and probed Parker’s joy hole with one, two, and then three fingers at the same time. His moaning was punctuated by the occasional “Oh yeah, fuck me! Please…fuck my hole!” I would never tire of the magic trick of making my long, thick tube disappear into that tight, pink hole of his. How he’d squeak and beg for more as I repeatedly thrust it into him was a huge turn on. “Oh yeah, give me all of it!”

Parker had a highly adept skill set in bed. Most guys instinctively pull away when they feel penetrated. It’s an involuntary response. If you do something that suddenly feels uncomfortable, the first thing your body tries to do is pull away from the object causing the discomfort. Parker knew enough through experience that when he felt that discomfort, instead of pulling away, he’d do the opposite. The move is, when you begin to feel discomfort due to penetration, you attempt to open up more and move toward the object or go down more on it.

Also, a good bottom can gauge his partner’s orgasm and adjust his wanking to try to get the two to sync on the orgasm as much as possible. Most times the bottom boy will go off first because it’s difficult to hold back an orgasm when your prostate is being stimulated. But with some observation, practice, and communication, a simultaneous orgasm can be achieved. That day on the couch, we achieved a synched orgasm. Parker was able to hold off and hold off until I was tipping. “Dude, I’m going to come!” I warned. I detonated into his ass and not even a second later he came. It was as if I was shooting my cum through him and out his cock. It was another best orgasm ever to add to the list of so many.

I peeked around his torso to view the pearly white fluid now puddled on the blanket. I reached down to retrieve some with my fingers, and I then put those fingers in my mouth.

“Whoa, is that Matt licking up cum?” Parker teased me.

“Guilty as charged,” I confessed.

“No, I’m the guilty one. I’ve turned a straight guy into a total cum pig!”

“Ha ha. No, I’m just a pig for you. Hey, that didn’t come out right,” I tried.

“I know what you meant because I’m a pig for you too, Matty boy!”

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