Chronicles Of An Academic Predator - 20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

August 28, 1962

Northwestern University

Evanston, IL

I sat at my desk reading the latest copy of Time, waiting for the departmental meeting. I had 15 minutes until it started, and while I could have gone to the conference room and waited there, I didn't want to be early. I didn't want to sit in that room with my colleagues pretending to be sad that Bob Jensen was dead, and I didn’t want to see the lie in their eyes that said they didn’t care either. I thumbed through the magazine until I found a story that grabbed my attention. It was a feature on the latest attempt to assassinate Charles de Gaulle. It was a rather simple plan: someone sprayed his Citroen with machine gun fire. Fortunately he and Mme. de Gaulle escaped without injury, but it was disturbing to see still more fallout from the Algerian mess.

I remembered thinking that Jensen had been a massive weight on this department, one who did nothing but distract us and hold us back. I wondered if Algeria and France were the same way. Now that France had resigned itself to Algerian independence and finally let go, I wondered if that would let France focus on itself and its own needs. I fervently hoped that was the case, and I hoped the same would be true of Algeria. Some relationships just weren't made to last.

I looked at the clock and sighed even as I steeled myself for this meeting. I got up and looked in the mirror, making sure my impassive expression was on, then headed to the conference room. I timed it perfectly, managing to walk in right before Peterson did. We all took our places, then he started the meeting.

“I'm assuming that you've all heard the terrible news that Dr. Jensen shot himself yesterday. The police found his body slumped over in his car in the Bong Recreation Area. That's in Wisconsin, for those of you new to the area.” He looked at me as he said the last line. The faces around the table were somber, but there were no tears. This was not an emotional bunch of men, and even if they were, Jensen had only made their lives more difficult. He was universally reviled, and it was rather humorous to see these men pretend to be saddened by this event when they weren’t.

“That’s a shame,” Broughton said, but his acting skills were so poor that it was evident he didn’t care a fig about Jensen.

“The police are investigating. They haven't indicated if they found a note, or anything else to indicate why he took this action. I've assured them of our full cooperation.” We all nodded.

“This does leave a gap in our faculty. I'm meeting with the Dean and the Provost to get approval for a replacement. In the meantime, we'll have to work together to shore up any deficiencies.” And with that, Peterson delineated Jensen's departmental obligations. There were a few committee seats to be reassigned, but they fell to the senior members. I was already teaching his history lecture class, so there wasn't anything to do there. He had one additional class on the US Civil War, an area that Adams was interested in, so he ended up getting stuck with that.

Once the practical matters had been resolved, a silence fell over the meeting. If Jensen would have been loved, liked, or perhaps just not despised, people would have been talking about him and his contributions to the department, the university, or the body of knowledge. As it was, no one could even guilt themselves into uttering the smallest of accolades for him. After a minute Peterson realized that they weren't going to, not that he was jumping in to start things either. “Well gentlemen, let's get back to work. Dr. Jensen's funeral will be on Thursday, and I think it would be appropriate for us to attend.”

The meeting had largely gone as I’d expected up until that point. I really hadn’t thought that I’d be required go to this bastard's funeral. The last thing I wanted to do was watch his wife and kids grieve. I knew if I saw them and that if they were sad, I’d feel incredibly guilty. I knew that I was the one who had caused this, and that his suicide was my fault. It was the same as if I had murdered him myself. I didn’t have that kind of courage: there was no way I could look his family in the eye. I made a tough decision and followed Dr. Peterson to his office.

“Is there something I can help you with Dr. Crampton?” he asked, annoyed that I was all but chasing after him.

“Dr. Peterson, I had planned to leave tomorrow morning to visit my parents for the weekend before school starts. Do you think I should change my plans so I can attend the funeral?”

“Well, you hardly knew Dr. Jensen, and I wouldn't say that you two were the best of friends, so I see no reason why you need to stay for his funeral. You may want to send some flowers though.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said sincerely. He nodded, then turned and walked into his office.

Flowers were cheap enough. In the end I just pitched some money into the pool with the secretaries, who would diligently put my name on the card. It was only after I’d worked this all out that I remembered that I had traded one hell for another. Even as I thought about having to go back to Claremont, I wondered if I could get away with not going to either the funeral or Ohio. I knew that Peterson wouldn’t check up to see if I had actually left town, so all I would have to do is keep a low profile around here so no one saw me. Jensen had killed himself, and it was inevitable that the police would investigate his death. I decided that being in Claremont would give me a good story if they decided to question me about missing his funeral.

August 29, 1962

Claremont, OH

I drove up the familiar road, reading the familiar signs, seeing the familiar houses, and since the top was down, smelling the same familiar smell, all of which was part of the overall Claremont experience. As I negotiated the turns on Skyline Road, I came around an all-too-familiar bend and slowed near the spot I'd lost the Pontiac, inspecting the area where I’d lost my car and broken my arm. The ruts in the side of the road were still visible, although they'd put up a guardrail now to hopefully forestall future people from driving their cars off the cliff. Not too much farther after that, I passed the spot where I'd pulled over and made out with Stefan, and where he'd given me the pinky ring I'd hung onto for only a few days.

The thought of Stefan added a whole new irritant to the equation. On the one hand, I was excited to see my father, Abe, Vella, Sammy, and Jeff. On the other hand, I'd have to see my mother, and deal with that issue, and I’d have to visit Tonto, who probably still hated me. And worst of all, I'd have to see Stefan. It was weird how my feelings for him had just died. I wasn't worried that I'd get emotional and want to fuck him, then I remembered how sexy he was, and began to question my resolve. And that led me to the real reason I planned to avoid him. I didn't want to be around him because he reminded me of my own weaknesses. Because of him, I had let my guard down and exposed my horrible secret to a family member. Because of him, someone besides one of the guys I'd blown, or been blown by, knew I was a fag. In the depths of my psyche, I knew that this was my fault, not his. He was just the symbol, but blaming the entire nightmare on him made it easier for me to keep my distance.

All of these unpleasant thoughts had thoroughly darkened my mood, so I had to pause as I turned into my parents’ driveway, pulling myself together and compartmentalizing all of these issues. I sighed, which signified that I was done reordering my emotions, then drove up the private drive, past Abe and Vella's house, to the garage. This was such a sudden trip that I hadn't bothered to tell anyone I was coming, so I’d decided to make it a surprise.

I strolled into the kitchen and the first person I saw was Vella. She screamed my name and ran over to hug me, just encasing me in her strong arms. That hug from Vella squeezed out any residual bad mood I hadn’t dealt with. “I didn't know you was coming home! Nobody tells me nothing,” Vella grumbled.

“No one knows I'm coming back, so actually you're the first,” I said with a smile.

I heard the silky smooth voice of my mother as she approached the kitchen. “Vella, I thought I heard you scream? Is everything alright?” Then she walked into the kitchen, looking elegant in a dark blue suit, one perfectly tailored to fit her. “JP!” she exclaimed, and hurried forward to give me her ‘warm’ welcome. She was so soft, so cool, and so regal; it was hard to stay mad at her. “What a pleasant surprise! Did you just get in?” She turned to Vella. “Would you please see if you can find Jack?” Vella nodded and strode off to track down my father.

“I had a few days before school started so I thought I'd come home and visit. This will be a busy semester, and I don't know if I'll be able to make it back again before Thanksgiving.”

“Well it is fabulous to see you. We were just getting ready to go out. The Hendrickson's are hosting a charity event to refurbish the old post office, but we can cancel.” She headed toward the phone.

“Mother, please don't change your plans,” I said emphatically. “I'll be here until Sunday. Besides, I'm tired from the drive, so I'd like to make it an early night anyway.” She stopped and looked at me dubiously, but it was hard for a mother not to take into consideration the sleeping requirements of her son.

My father came bustling in, dressed as nicely as my mother. He practically lunged toward me and gave me a big hug, a bear hug, something so completely out of character it shocked me. “It's good to see you son! What a great surprise!” I felt my eyes get moist at seeing how happy he was to see me, but I quickly regained control of myself. Ever since that accident he and I seemed to be closer, more connected. I'm not sure why that was, but I liked it.

“It’s good to see you too,” I said. He joined the argument I’d just had with my mother, with both of them wanting to cancel their plans, but I was ultimately able to talk them into going.

They bustled off to their event, leaving me and Vella to gossip. “Sammy gone and got himself a girl,” she said with disdain.

“What, she's not a nice girl?” I asked.

“Nice girls don't wear their skirts high like that, and nice girls don't go sticking out their bosoms like that. She may be a nice girl, but she sure don't look like one,” Vella said, with all the self-righteousness of a mother watching out for her vulnerable son.

I laughed. “The only girl he'd find that you'd think was dressed appropriately was a nun.” She laughed with me. “What about Jeff?”

“He's doing fine. Don't see him with any one girl. He spends most of his time eating. Between the two of them they're about to devour the whole city. I showed your mama the food bill and I thought she was going to pass out.” Growing boys eat a lot, and those two were both big and energetic.

We sat and chatted for about an hour, until I was truly exhausted. I headed to my room, stripped down to my boxers, and went through my nightly routine, then finally I was able to crash out in my bed. All the stress from my battle with Jensen and from coming back to Claremont must have sapped my energy, because I managed to fall asleep before I could think about things and torture myself even more.

I was enjoying my sleep, but my senses were trying to pull me out of it. Slowly I pulled myself out of my slumber coma, and as I did, the first thing I noticed was a familiar hand around my chest. I smiled as I woke up and recognized the feel of that familiar form against my back, and that equally familiar, if not entirely pleasant smell in my room. I had woken up to find Jeff snuggled up against me: my teddy bear was back. I turned around and gave him a big hug and a big smile. All of my reticence about coming back to Claremont vanished. Seeing him, and lying here with him, was worth the trip.

“Hope you don't mind me sneaking up on you like this,” he said cautiously.

“No, it's the nicest welcome home I've gotten. I missed you.” I was worried that sounded totally queer, but he just rolled over on his stomach and let me lie on his chest like I used to. “Think you can sleep in here with me?” I asked.

“If I'm careful I can.”

“Still not worried I'll rape you?” I teased him.

He snaughed. “You're the one who may have to worry about that.”

“Promises, promises,” I pretended to joke, then I got up and went to the bathroom.

Once in the bathroom I paused to think about my next move, or more to the point, to think about his next move. We hadn’t talked about what happened that last night in Chicago, so I didn’t know if our clandestine fuck was an aberration, or if was his way of making me his fuck buddy. Just the thought of that night had given me a raging erection, which I found particularly frustrating when I was trying to think logically about what I could expect from him. That was going to be tough to do with this latest hormonal surge from my body.

Just like I’d done in Chicago, I reasoned that if he made a play for me, there was no way I could or would resist him. With that in mind, I brushed my teeth again just to make sure my breath was fresh, then I grabbed some Vaseline and lubed myself up well. Then I faced the biggest decision: should I wear my boxers or not? I opened the door and the room was dark, but instead of walking over to my bed, I just stood there, wondering what to do. On the one hand, I'd worn them most of the time we'd slept together. On the other hand, I hadn't worn them that last night, and he didn't seem to mind. The hormonal surge won the argument, so I slipped my boxers off and quietly crept over to the bed.

I climbed in and felt him move in behind me, felt his warm, naked skin against mine, felt his softly padded rock hard body pressed against me. My dick had gone from raging hard to throbbing. I snuggled back into him like I usually did, which had the effect of moving my ass against his lower abdomen. I felt something kind of crinkly, and I realized that I had encountered his pubic hair. He was naked too.

I reached my hand around and rubbed it up his leg, pulling him closer to me. When I got up to his hips, my guess that he was naked was confirmed. He followed my lead and moved up behind me. I felt his rock hard cock slip between my legs, brushing against my perineum and pushing up against the back of my balls. He was molded against me, and in just a few seconds, I hoped, his dick would be sliding into my ass. Then he suddenly froze up, and I could feel his fear growing with each second. “Um, is this OK?” Before I could answer, he pulled back and began to panic. “I'm sorry; I don't know what I was thinking. Guess I just got carried away.”

I reached back and grabbed his ass, pulling him back toward me. “It was great. Don't move away.” I felt him exhale and return to the position he’d been in before he freaked out. His cock slid back between my legs, his strong arms wrapped around me, and his mouth nuzzled me behind my ear. He gently thrust his hips in and out, sliding his cock against my balls and taint, driving me crazy. “I missed you so much,” he cooed in my ear.

“Me too,” I said, although it came out in a moan. I reached down and grabbed the head of his cock and played with it a little bit. He stiffened again, but not like before, because of fear, but this time because he liked it. I guided the head toward my hole, lining it up, then I pushed back into him.

“You want to feel me inside you baby?” he cooed again. God, I loved it when he talked to me like that.

“Yes,” I said, moaning again. He thrust with his hips and I pushed back into him, and in a flash he was buried inside me. The feeling was almost intoxicating.

“Oh baby, you feel so good. I love being inside you. That's right, show me how much you love having my cock in your ass.” He was thrusting into me, and I was thrusting back at him, in a rhythmic manner that was totally synchronized. He reached down and grabbed my cock and started stroking. I was going to stop him, but it would be irrelevant, because I was too far gone, too close to blowing my load.

“You feel too good baby. You feel too good. You're so hot, can't wait. Gotta cum. Gotta cum!” And with that he began to shoot inside me. He jacked me quickly, in time with his thrusts, and before he was finished I had started. My twitching ass must have milked him dry, because as soon as I was done, he pulled out gently, then collapsed on his back.

My psyche is always the most vulnerable after I cum, and I was already heading down that dark path of recrimination. He had collapsed on his back. Had he done that to get away from me? Now that we had fucked, when we were both obviously awake, did he think I was a queer? Was he disgusted by me? In that unique way that Jeff had of sensing my moods and easing my mind, I felt his hand gently stroke my back, inviting me to re-engage with him. I rolled over and landed on his chest, hugging my big teddy bear as tightly as I could.

We lay there for a while, both saying nothing, just enjoying the contact and the bond. He finally broke the silence. “So you think I'm queer?” I looked up at him and moved my hand over his cheek, feeling the moistness from his tears. I knew how tough this was, grappling with being gay, and for a guy like Jeff, it would be even harder.

“Well, fucking another guy is definitely a queer act, but I don't know if that makes you queer.”

“I don’t get it. What's the difference?” At least by confusing him I'd stopped him from being so upset.

I knew I had to ease his mind, because if I could calm him down, he could think about this rationally and probably cope with it. I didn’t really know how to do that, so I took a chance and just started spewing bullshit. “I think there are five types of guys. There are guys who are straight, that only like women; and guys who are fags that only like men. Then there are guys who genuinely like both, and can go either way. This is just my opinion, mind you, but it's what I think.”

“Okay,” he said dubiously, as he started to think about what I was saying.

“Then there are guys who are horny and will fuck anything, but it's just a hole to stick their dick in. What it's attached to really doesn't matter. And finally, there are guys who are straight that fall in love with another guy, and they end up doing queer things even though they really aren't.” I was sprouting out this shit in a confident manner, talking about it like I’d written my dissertation on it, when in fact I was just crafting these theorems to try and address whatever he was feeling.

He was silent for a bit, and then he asked the big question: “What are you?”

“You tell me and I'll tell you,” I teased, but when I didn't get a snaugh I figured that he wasn't in a joking mood. For him, a man who prided himself on being the ultimate in masculinity, this was an open and bleeding wound. “I'm queer. I've known it for a long time. Girls just don't do it for me. I mean, I like them, I like dancing with them, and hanging out with them, but when it comes to fucking them, well, I would rather be with another guy.”

“Have you ever fucked a girl?” he asked me. That was a pretty intense question, ripping right through my shields and into my most personal of spaces. No one had ever asked me about that before, because the people who knew me well enough to pose the question knew that I would recoil against them even asking it. But with Jeff, I felt obligated to open up to him if only to ease his own suffering.

“Once,” I answered, even as I questioned myself. I was shocked that I trusted him this much, and that I’d told him something I hadn’t even told André.

“Did you like it?” My compassion with him began to fade in the face of this even more intrusive question, and as the conversation became irritating. I decided to respond, and then throw up my shields to any further questions along these lines, if only to protect my own sanity.

“It was OK. It felt good. Girls are soft, and boobs are cool, but I can't see myself doing it on a regular or extended basis.” In other words, I couldn't handle a serious relationship with a woman, much less marriage.

“I don't know if I'm queer or not.” He said.

“Have you ever fucked a girl?” I asked.

“Yeah, a couple of times. It was fun. I'd do it again.” He snaughed. It bothered me that he could so easily talk about things like this when I couldn’t.

“When you jack off, what do you think about?” I asked. I appreciated that he didn’t give me some off the cuff answer, but that he really stopped to think about it.

“You,” he said. He looked at me and I saw his pain and confusion briefly veiled by his feelings for me.

“Every time?” I asked, because to me it was inconceivable that, even if he were gay, that I’d be the guy he would fantasize about.

“Pretty much.” That was incredibly flattering. I hugged him tighter still. Knowing that he thought I was that hot started to fire up my libido again.

“So what do you imagine when you think about me?” I asked, with a coquettish lilt to my voice.

“I'll show you,” he said, as he rolled me off of him, rolled over on top of me, and for the very first time, he actually kissed me. This wasn’t some peremptory friendly thing, but a real, tongue twisting open mouth kiss. When he finally broke it off and pulled back, gazing into my eyes, I was forced to admit that it was the best, the absolute best kiss I'd ever had. He kissed better than Peter, better than Scott, and better even than André, although thinking about André caused me a pang of guilt.

The action moved away from our mouths to our groins. His strong body was on top of me, undulating against me, rubbing our cocks together. They were both still slick from our first encounter, which caused them to slide against each other in an incredibly erotic way. I wrapped my legs around him to hold him to me tightly, and I ran my hands down his strong back, feeling his muscles straining as he did most of the work.

Now would be the time where, in the past, I would move this kind of activity to the next level. I'd either try to turn it into a fuck, or a blowjob. This time I didn't want to do that. This time, the kiss we’d experienced and the contact we were fostering was enough to send me over the edge. What's more, our bodies were moving so closely in tune together, so in sync, that we shot at almost the same time. It was physically powerful, but the emotional connection was unbelievable. The thought that attacked me as I came down from my orgasm was that it would be so easy to fall in love with him.

He collapsed on top of me, his head on my chest, my hand gently stroking his dirty blond hair, as he drifted off to sleep. I looked down at his handsome face, so peaceful, so strong, and followed him into dreamland.

August 30, 1962

Jeff was already gone when I woke up, but we had bonded so much physically and emotionally, I didn't let it worry me. I knew he had to be careful, and being gone all night was not the way to be discreet. Still, I missed his company. I got up, got ready, then meandered into the kitchen to scrounge up some food. There was a note from my mother, telling me that they'd gone out but I should meet them at the club for lunch. I chuckled to myself as I recalled that the last time I went there I got a condo, and almost laughed out loud as I pondered what I might get this time.

When in town it was customary for me to go visit my relatives, and Tonto was always the first person I went to see. I decided to bite the bullet and maintain the routine, hoping that I could somehow heal the wound between us. I also factored into the equation Stefan's desire to sleep in, and that spurred me on in the hope that maybe I'd be in and out of there before he woke up.

I drove up to the monstrosity Tonto called a home, feeling the tension inside my body soar. I swallowed hard as I got out of my car, and strode into the kitchen with fake confidence. Tonto was there, as usual, and seemed genuinely happy to see me.

“JP! What a nice surprise! How long have you been in town?” She jumped up and gave me one of her big hugs, which surprised me enough that it took me a second to respond.

“I just got in last night,” I said. It seemed to make her happy that I still came to see her first, despite our problems last time.

“I'm glad you came to see me,” she said. “I was worried that that whole brouhaha last time would come between us.” That was odd. She made it sound like it was no big deal, when it had been a major issue before.

“I'm really sorry about that Tonto,” I said lovingly. “Even though you’re really pissed at me, I still love you.”

“Well JP, the past is the past. Let's just move on.” I said nothing, but just stared at her, totally surprised by her change of heart. Just a month or so ago she was ready to disown me for molesting her grandson, but now she wanted to put this whole thing behind us and move on. I finally pulled myself out of my shock and changed the subject, before she changed her mind and decided I was deserving of more persecution.

“Have you heard from Billy lately?”

“Not lately,” she said, and sighed. “The last time we spoke he seemed distracted. I was a little worried about him, but I didn't want to pry.”

“Maybe you should take a quick trip out to see him,” I suggested nervously. I knew that he was in the throes of this thing with Janice and the new baby, but as independent as Billy was, he'd need his mother's help with this one.

“Why?” she demanded, then looked at me suspiciously, “Is there something I should know?”

“I'm not going to betray a confidence Tonto, not even to you. Billy is just fine, but I think he might benefit from a visit from you.” She gave me a dirty look, and I could understand that, since I didn’t like it when I only got part of the story and people kept the other part a secret.

“Is this about the latest baby, the one on the way?” I'd walked into a snake pit, revealing just enough to enable her to guess somewhat accurately. There was really nothing else I could say without revealing what Billy told me, so I said nothing. She waited for me to speak, then when I didn’t, she broke the silence. “Your silence tells me what I need to know.”

“Tonto, you can’t…” I began to object. She held up her hand to stop me.

“Calm down JP, I won't betray your confidence; you should know me better than that. But he is my son. Now that I guessed, can you tell me, please, what the hell is going on?” I was backed into a corner now, and I really didn’t have much of a choice. Tonto was very forceful and all but unstoppable, especially when the issue related to her family.

“Tonto, Billy talked to me about it. If I tell you, I will violate his trust. If he finds out, it could destroy, or at least damage our friendship. Is that what you're asking me to do?” I thought I’d put that quite poignantly, but she wasn't moved by my soliloquy on honor.

“JP, he's my son, and if there's something going on I need to know. You have my word that I won't reveal anything you tell me.” I was doomed, because she’d basically outlined our arrangement then agreed to it for me, and there really wasn’t much I could do if I wanted to maintain a good relationship with her. I flagellated myself for buying back Tonto’s love by selling one of my best friends down the river and betraying his confidence, but her impatient stare prompted me to spill my guts.

“Billy's worried that it's not his baby. He was at sea until February. Janice told him she was pregnant shortly after he got back and they, uh, reunited. The doctor suggested that she was much farther along.”

“That is too bad,” she said, letting me see the anger and sadness in her eyes.

“When we were in New York, I told him that he should give her the benefit of the doubt, and that time would tell,” I went on. It was like now that I broke my vow to Billy, I couldn’t tell her the story fast enough. “If she has the baby in September or October and it's full term, that could be a problem.”

Tonto nodded ruefully, then seemed to digest the situation. “Thanks for telling me. I'll protect your confidence. I should get out there and see him anyway. It's been too long. And I'll try not to call my daughter-in-law a slut, although that may take some restraint.” I laughed at that.

“Restraint isn't one of your strong suits Tonto.” She laughed with me. I saw some motion in the doorway and looked up to see Stefan walking into the room. I got up and walked over to him. “Hello Stefan,” I said, greeting him in French and giving him the appropriate kiss on the cheeks in the continental fashion. He was incredibly uncomfortable, and the overall tension in the room had risen considerably. “How are your English lessons coming along?”

He blushed severely and the tension more than doubled. “His English has gotten so good that we decided he could finish learning all on his own,” Tonto said. I knew that was a lie, and Stefan's expression showed it, but I let the issue drop.

“Well, I have to meet my parents for lunch,” I said as I turned to leave. “Let me know how things go with Billy, will you please?” Tonto nodded and hugged me.

Stefan approached me and gave me a hug as well, and while that was a normal family ritual, the real communication was happening between our eyes. His eyes were pleading: they said he was sorry that he screwed up our relationship, and they said he missed me. Mine were cold and unyielding, telling him that he’d had a chance and he’d blown it, and that at this point, the cord was cut and we were over. Tonto couldn't possibly have missed how brief and perfunctory our interaction was, and I was hopeful that would put her at peace as regards my intentions toward her grandson.

Lunch with my parents turned out to be merely a social event, followed by a shopping expedition with my mother, and a nice dinner at our house. After dinner, I spent some leisure time with my parents, and then I was finally able to escape to my bedroom for what I hoped was the highlight of my day.

Jeff came into my room about half an hour after I ‘retired’. I was already in bed, wearing nothing but lube, hard as a rock, anticipating his arrival. He stripped off his clothes and climbed in beside me, draping his body over mine and treating me to more of his oral expertise. I pushed him over on his back and decided to show him mine.

I moved my mouth down to his neck, nibbling gently, then to his chest, sucking on each of his small, sexy nipples. Then I moved further down his smooth chest, down his smooth abdomen, followed his small treasure trail, and found his dick poking up, begging me for attention. I took him gently in my mouth, using all my talents, swirling my tongue around his head, moving up and down his shaft, increasing my speed, until I was rewarded by his orgasm.

I looked up at him, and he was smiling ear to ear. “That was amazing. Damn.” I smiled back and swallowed loudly, which made him laugh. I moved back up to his chest and snuggled up to him. We just lay there silently, enjoying each other. I'd never been with someone like this before, someone that I could just be around and not have to have a conversation with. With anyone else, it would become uncomfortable, but with Jeff, silence was just fine.

He stroked my back gently, then moved his hand lower and stroked my ass cheeks. I hadn't shot before so that was all it took to get me really fired up. He pushed me over onto my back and mimicked the same moves I had made on him. I enjoyed it but didn't really think about it until he engulfed my cock with his own mouth. When he did that, I was surprised only briefly before I was overcome with pleasure. I guess I was so used to André, who would fuck me, and jack me off, but never seemed interested in sucking me, but Jeff had no such qualms. Jeff was obviously new at this, because his teeth hit me a few times, but it didn't take him long to develop a nice rhythm.

I was enjoying his work, thinking that I so wanted him to fuck me again, when I felt him gently insert his finger in my ass. He moved it around till he got the reaction he wanted, the reaction that said he hit my spot. He continued to stimulate my prostate with his finger, while he sucked my dick with his increasing skill. With that kind of intense stimulation, it didn't take me long to shoot.

“I'm gonna cum!” I whispered loudly. I figured he'd be grossed out by cum, but he clamped down on my cock and swallowed every last drop. I looked at him, stunned and satisfied, wondering at what a fun lover he was turning out to be.

September 2, 1962

Tears seeped from my eyes yet again as I drove out of Claremont and headed to the freeway that would take me back to Chicago. How ironic that Jensen's death would drive me back home and bring me a reconciliation with my home town. I no longer dreaded it, and in fact, with Jeff, there was an additional motive to visit.

Our last night together had been intense. I lost track of how many times we had sex, and how wonderful it was to lie there with him in between those athletic trysts. He calmed me, he stabilized me, and he satisfied me. He extracted two promises from me. First, he made me promise to come back to Claremont for the homecoming game on October 13^th. Next, he made me promise to come back again for their last game of the season on November 10^th, and to stay over for his birthday on the 12^th.