I needed to go out and get a job but Greg made that impossible. He needed to bathe after working out in the morning and he was helpless in the kitchen once you got past Coke and ice cream. Then there were his stretching exercises, which he needed help for maximum results.

I thought I wanted to go to college and I would need to finance it. I hadn't discussed it with my parents, although my mother had expressed an interest in the idea. I knew I was on the outs because I spent all of my time with Greg, only stopping at my house a few times a week for dinner. It was less than ideal.

Greg continued dedicating his life to a full recovery. The right leg was now starting to come around. The left leg was still weak and while he could walk a short distance, it required a crutch or a cane to assure he didn't fall on his face if it gave out, and it did give out. Luckily it was a muscle response to atrophy and not the bone, although any time it folded up on him, my heart stopped until he was trying to get up. He'd usually start laughing his ass off about that time, laughing at himself, laughing at the fact he had falling down, and maybe laughing because the leg was okay and just giving him a hard time.

The Greg I once knew would never have laughed at himself. Not about something unimportant and certainly not about something as important as that leg, but suddenly he could find humor in his condition. I'd try to laugh with him but my heart was never in it. I loved him and I wanted him to succeed completely and when he fell down, I wanted to pick him up and brush him off and hug him, but I knew better if I wanted to live.

There are some things you've got to do alone and while I could offer him moral support, push him when he needed pushing, which was rare, I couldn't do it for him and I was usually begging him to take a break, slow down, and don't push so hard. Drink something, eat something, but he would have none of that, ignoring me and changing the subject as he went on to the next exercise.

We had a routine that consisted of stretching the first thing in the morning. His parents would already be gone by the time we got up, and if Doug was there he was sleeping in, so we pretty much had the place to ourselves. After stretching, which was less painful for me once he was able to make his leg do the things he thought it should do, we moved to the living room for weight lifting, the first of three sessions for the day.

While he did walk some in the house, it was always with a cane or the crutch close at hand to make sure. I stayed close but didn't crowd him. After weight lifting, he had to be bathed or held up in the shower, because he sweats profusely. More times than not this led to more exercise, usually me exercising his main muscle until it would finally relax and then we could have breakfast.

Then, there were the times we'd go out. He'd carefully put the cast on and then once he was off the back steps, with me there helping him down each one, he wanted the crutches, handing them back to me and collecting them from me whenever he got in or out of the car.

He did like to ride. We'd fixed the front seat so it would give him enough room to keep the cast on while we road. He could have taken it off but getting it on right was tricky and so leaving it on was easier and he said it wasn't all that uncomfortable. We'd ride south through the counties and through the farmland and wooded areas that were close at hand. Mostly we drove and he watched out the window, but sometimes we talked.

"When did you know you only liked men?"

"I like women just fine," I protested, as he looked out the side window.

"You know what I mean. Why are you always so difficult about this stuff? When you knew you wouldn't be romancing any women? When did you know you'd always be with men?"

"When I met you," I said, not looking at him but I could feel his eyes on me.

"You're going to blame this all on me, right? It's my fault you're...."

"No, I knew I had feelings for boys. I don't know how I knew because I'd never done anything about it but I knew what I liked looking at. That day I met you, it was crystal clear for the first time," I said.

"What was?"

"What I felt. What I wanted. How powerful it was. How badly I wanted it... you... love. It's what was inside of me waiting to get out."

"You're serious? One look at me and you were toast?"

"Greg, I'm not in the habit of lying to you. I knew about my feelings but no one else did. I never talked to anyone about it and I never heard of anything like it. You know, I heard the queer stuff and about sucking dicks and taking up the ass, but not about feelings. I felt more for you that day I met you than I had ever felt for anyone else in my life."

"So you took one look at me and it was all over but the shouting?"

"Exactly."

"Bullshit!"

"Whatever you say. You asked and I tried to answer the best way I know how."

"You're serious?"

"I'm serious. You knew as soon as you saw me? You said so."

"Yeah, but guys looked at me that way before. I just knew the look and what it led to. That didn't bother me none."

"I saw you look at me Greg. You knew exactly what was on my mind. I know you did. You can deny it but I know you knew it was more than me wanting to swing on your dick."

"That's different. What I knew was you were like a lot of other guys I met. You wanted it and I was just the guy to see you got it. Except you pissed me off too, even then you had a way of pissing me off. You didn't hide anything, and it bothered me. Everybody hides that. Most guys pretend they don't want it and then you get them off and offer it to them, and they're on it."

"How do I piss you off? You've said that before."

"I don't know, you always piss me off. I met a lot of guys that wanted my dick and who was I to argue with that. Most of them were into girls and it was just a thing we did. With you... well it was always something else, something serious, something more dangerous. What you wanted went way beyond my dick. I couldn't deal with that part of it. My dick was my dick and I like it when guys are playing with it. I didn't know what else you wanted but I knew you wanted something."

"Me dangerous?" I laughed and he stared at me blankly.

"I like women!" He protested.

"Me too," I said.

"I don't understand why I like you the way I do. I always thought that was something you did when you were a kid, and I certainly did a lot of it. I didn't think I'd keep doing it or liking it or liking a guy that way. It's not like I thought it would be. If I hadn't gotten hurt this would never have happened, you know. I didn't feel that until then."

"What?"

"Us."

"Us?"

"You know what I'm saying. What I feel for you. I know it's something like love, Martin. I'm not a total idiot and I don't know how I could feel so much of that for you."

"Love," I said, taking the risk.

"I knew those days you didn't come up. I waited and waited, wanting to see you. I needed to see you. Missing you more than I ever missed anyone, knowing I needed you to come, when you didn't. I knew what it was but I didn't want to say it. I've felt it before but not like this. I mean I always controlled it before, when it started and when it ended. It was never like that with a guy."

"Like what?"

"Guys were a dime a dozen. You pull out your dick and the guys that like big dicks follow you around. The ones that don't care for it stop hanging around. It's a matter of knowing which you want to be around. It's pretty simple once you figure guys out. Girls were always different. I was able to be with them and it was cool and I never had to be all that careful. You know you hold hands, kiss a little, and then you screw, and it was fine. I got what I wanted and gave them a good dose of what they wanted. It was simple then."

"What you wanted?"

"With you I'm just comfortable. It works and we fit and it's not like I thought. Now, I don't know what I thought or why I thought that way. I know what people say it is but that's not what it is. I didn't know when I first met you that you were anything but another guy that wanted time with my dick. That's what I knew, Martin. No one says it's about two guys doing this, being together, not needing anyone else. No one says that. I never heard that."

"So what brought this up? You were trying to give me to Doug a few weeks ago," I reminded him.

"A couple of weeks ago none of us knew I'd still be here today. I didn't want you to be alone. As fucked up as my little brother is, I love him and I wanted him to be with someone that would take care of him the way you've taken care of me. I wanted you to have someone sweet and my little brother is that. I didn't want you crying your eyes out for me if... you know what I'm saying. I had to face reality and deal with what might happen, you know."

"Thanks," I said. "I figured it was something like that. That's sweet too, Greg. You've got more of Doug inside you than you think."

"Not even, Yuck! I'm not sweet. I've been told I'm a bitter pill to swallow," he said, squeezing my hand and winking.

"Well, could be, but what I've swallowed has been sweet."

I didn't look at him because I didn't want him to see that my eyes were getting misty. Greg wasn't given to long dissertations on his inner most feelings, but the words he'd used to describe what he was up to were important words for me. He might have gone about things in strange ways but his heart was in the right place.

He was far more aware of what was going on between us and inside of me than I gave him credit for. I didn't know if he'd ever get here again but he was here now, and I was here with him, and that was the thing. He could have died. He could have thrown me over and gone back to being a prick, but here he was trying to get a better understanding of why men loved men even if they thought they only loved women. Feelings could be confusing because mine changed all the time but feeling what I did for Greg left no doubt about who I wanted to be with.

Perhaps there weren't any answers the way he thought, because a hundred times I'd given up on ever spending any quality time with him. Then I spent more time with him than I'd ever spent with anyone, and I loved every second... well, maybe not every second, but mostly it was good and being with the man I loved was enough for me.

If you put all the people I'd ever known together and stacked up the time I'd spent with them, I'd spent ten times more time with Greg than with all of them put together. We knew each other. We knew how the other thought. We knew what turned the other on, off, made him laugh, cry, and what he was about in general. That's what love was to me. That's what Greg was to me. I knew when to reach for him and when to leave him alone, although that was the hardest thing to do.

If he had died, then I would have had what we had and it was more than I had ever had with anyone else and I'd always be grateful for having what we had, no matter where it went after he was walking on his own again.

It just seemed logical to me. You never know if you'll get tomorrow so you make the best of today. Greg was today and I had been making the best of it and I kept getting tomorrow and it just kept getting better. I did know it was a lot more difficult for him than it was for me. He'd come to depend on me and need me, and he realized he'd never depend on or need anyone as much.

We drove down one road and up the next and being outside and seeing life moving around him was one of the things he enjoyed most. After being locked up in a room for months and months, he was once again engaged in life. He liked seeing it and holding my hand as I drove. I'd turn and catch him looking at me and he'd smile and the look on his face said it all.

We stopped at a hamburger joint and ordered burgers, fries, and shakes, and then he sent me back in for a Coke before we hit the road again. He marveled at the flavors he'd missed and seemed excited by the food, the drive, everything.

He rolled down the window and leaned his head out and his hair blew wildly in the wind. He rested his chin on the window frame and stared out until we hit a bump and he rubbed his chin, glaring at me like I'd picked the pothole out just for him and he cussed and then did the same thing all over again. Sometimes I worried about him but he was coming back to life and it didn't take much to mesmerize him.

"I'm tired," he finally said, stretching and rearranging himself until he put his head in my lap. "I'm horny."

"This is news?"

"Right now I mean. I was just enjoying the ride. Now I'm horny. Does driving around make you horny?"

"You're close to the subject matter. You could check and see," I said, feeling his cheek on my crotch as I watched the road.

"I said I'm horny. I know you're horny. You're always horny, Martin. If you really loved me you'd a least give me a hand."

"But it never stops at playing with it. That's never enough for you."

"Yeah, I know," he said, giggling around the words and pulling my hand until I had to lean his way to reach what he wanted me to reach.

I had no doubt he was already hard and so I felt it and he stopped pulling on my arm as soon as my fingers closed on it.

"That's really nice. I like that. You like it? I'm really horny, you know."

"How could I not like it, Greg? It's attached to you."

"Yeah, nice accessories don't you think? It has an optional drip attachment that's been working overtime lately. Did you know that? I've been sitting here thinking about doing something with it."

"Very nice," I said, feeling the dominant vein that throbbed as I traced it with my index finger.

He held my wrist to I wouldn't suddenly desert him and he moaned as he pushed his hips up off the seat to meet with my hand.

"Wow! You don't know how close I am. Can you believe that shit? I use to go all night and never cum, and now you touch me and I'm lit up. Losing my touch. Maybe I'm getting old. Don't stop, please."

It was what it was. He didn't ask me to stop or find a place to pull over so I could do more for him. He did hold my hand in place a couple of times so he could hump it again in long hard thrusts that he held until he set a soft moan free and then he'd let go, breathing hard and fighting off what I was sure was rushing toward him.

He went a long time before the second series of humps interrupted our quiet drive. At the same time he used his free hand to squeeze my dick. I did enjoy driving but even more so when we were swapping hand jobs. He was sweating and very close to the ragged edge but backed off each time I was sure he couldn't.

"You want me to stop?" I asked when he was calming down.

"No, I like riding," he said from my lap.

"We aren't riding we're playing with each other and I might drive off the road."

"While we're riding. I want to keep moving."

"Isn't going to do either one of us any good," I said.

"That's all you think about, isn't it? Sex! Sex! Sex! Can't we just hold each other for a few minutes and not worry about sex? I kind of like this."

"Greg, we aren't holding each other. We're playing with each others dick."

"Yeah, that's what I said. Can't we just do it? I kind of like having you in my power and get you all worked up."

"Easy for you to say. You're getting me hot and I'm going to make a mess in my pants if you keep it up."

He did keep it up and finally unzipped my pants and reached his hand in feeling my enthusiasm for his talent. When he liberated me, I almost ran off the road. He rested the shaft against his lips and breathed hot air on me.

"Keep going," he said, when I was too flustered to keep jerking him off. "I remember the first cock I sucked."

"You do?" I said, as his lips nibbled on the top of my shaft.

"Yeah, it was this guy in Germany. He played football. That's soccer here. He was in a band, had his own car. All the kids liked him. He coached the little kids in soccer. We'd go to his house for soda and cookies after he practiced with us. One day he's changing his clothes with us watching. He had a hairy crotch and this long uncut cock and he's digging in his gym bag for his underwear and one of the kids is like staring at his dick. It hung down maybe six inches and had skin hanging below that. Kind of ugly you ask me. Was a pretty good size."

"What are you staring at," he asks the kid.

"You're bigger than my brother," the kid said, "except when his gets stiff."

"You touch it when it gets stiff," he asked him.

"Sometimes," he said, putting his hand on the guy's smooth white thigh.

"You want to touch mine," he said.

"Yeah," the kid said and did.

"I was pretty shocked that he would and he'd let him but then he says."

"Anyone else want to cop a feel before I get dressed?"

"Everyone did. There were seven or eight of us, I guess. I knew one or two but mostly they were guys I played soccer with from the town. The dude leans back and puts his arm over the chair as we all gather around, eleven, twelve-year-old kids, feeling this man dick. Only now he's on a hard and it is really big, especially with us fighting to get our hot little hands on it. I just barely got a couple of hairs and haven't sprouted yet."

He started kissing my dick and was no longer telling the story. He had moved his hand down to my balls and was feeling them in a way that made his mouth action more pleasing.

"What happened?" I asked, starting to breathe hard and think about a place to pull over.

"Then he says."

"Anyone want to kiss it."

"He lost half his audience. I think three guys planted their lips on it. The last guy kissed it right up under the head and the skin pulled back off the head when he did it. So he feels on it some more."

"Anybody brave enough to suck it now that you've got me all worked up?" He asked.

"The one that had kissed the head went for the idea. He got his mouth around the top of it and started licking and sucking. He didn't have a clue and we just stood and watched it. My dick was stiff."

"Must have been quite an experience," I said.

"Not like Herbie and me and Kent and Doug hadn't already figured things out. It was my first group sex deal without any of them."

"You seem none the worse for wear."

"I wanted to be like that guy for a long time after that. Just pull it out and have guys wanting it. That was about the coolest thing I'd ever see. I knew all these guys and to think they went right for the guy's dick, that amazed me."

Greg sat up, wiping his mouth with his forearm. He seemed to have left Germany and I could no longer reach him and I missed him already. I kept my hand on the seat beside his leg.

"I haven't thought about that forever. I wanted to be like him and I was. I mean, from then on we were always playing around with him after practice. He was three or four years older than us. So he was a man, but he was a kid and he liked the attention. You could tell. At times we'd all pile on him, you know, wrestle him. We'd got the best of him and then someone would pull down his shorts and we took turns pulling on his dick. Like punishing him only he liked that even more than we did."

"Come to think of it he never put up much of a struggle. We all knew what was going on. He really treated us nice after that."

"I knew what was going on until you sat up. What's with that? I offend you. I showered last night."

"How'd you know, Martin?"

"Know what?"

"I don't know. I never had any trouble getting guys. I just took out my dick at parties or in a group. It was big enough it attracted attention and after awhile I was only running with guys that wanted it. Almost since those days on the football team... soccer team. So why did you want to hang around that? You knew what I was doing."

"I wasn't hanging around that. I was hanging around you."

"I was such a jerk. Why?"

"Greg!"

"Martin! Why Martin? I don't mean you loved me shit. Love only goes so far. I wasn't nice to you. I told you that you pissed me off all the time. I really want to know the answer."

"I don't know the answer. I never liked anyone before. I like Doug but you know Doug and there was no point past pleasure and that's cool with some guys but not Doug. You can't have sex with Doug and not get really involved. He's perfect... except he doesn't want guys to love him, which is a bummer."

"Give me a break. He doesn't love Herbert?"

"Yeah, but Herbie's safe. Like Kent was for me. I loved Kent but he had to go and that left...."

"So, I'm an afterthought after Doug and Kent? I should have known."

"It all started with you. They happened because you didn't. I'm only capable of dealing with so much pain and rejection. I backed off you and took advantage of what was there. Waited for my time."

"Told you I was a dick. Your time? What's that about?"

"You said you were going to tell me about the first time you sucked a dick," I said, wanting to get to something else to talk about, not being able to explain my mindless love for him..

"I sucked that German guy off. I saw what that first guy did and I knew I could do better than that. So I did."

"In front of your friends?"

"They weren't my friends. We were all involved with him. He was older and it fascinated all of us. Yeah, one of them made a comment, now that you mentioned it, and I decked the little shit. After that other guys sucked him too. Life was way simpler back then. You could solve little differences pretty easy. What would you have done if I died?"

"Died?"

"Yeah, it's not like it didn't cross your mind. I could see the look on your face. My old man ... you know I've never seen my old man weak or powerless. He's always been the best and most in charge guy I've known. Seeing the look on his face. That hurt. I knew I was in trouble. I felt guilty I made him feel that bad, you know."

"You didn't have anything to do with it. He was worried about you."

"He found something he couldn't control or get into shape. His lame son."

"You aren't lame," I objected.

"Shit, Martin, where you been. I can't walk but ten steps on my own. That's lame. You're still here."

"Where'd you expect me to go? We're a long way from home."

"I don't know. I don't deserve you, you know. I had other plans. I let you hang around because I didn't want to be alone at first. Then I realized... you were it. No one else gave a shit. I'd been a dick and an asshole and you were still there by my side, and you didn't know how it was going to turn out. I didn't. I guess that's when I knew you were for real. That's the trouble, you see. I've never trusted anyone to stay with me. Why would they? At first it was just a game. My dick was bait and guys liked playing, but there was always another game because guys can't stick with guys without other guys getting jealous or talking about it. So I was always fishing. Looking for more suckers, so to speak. I forgot why I was doing it after awhile. It was a rush at parties and after and when guys wanted some serious action. That's all there was after awhile. I knew guys don't stay with you. So I'd lay back and let them have what they wanted and then I was alone. Still horny too."

"Herbie?"

"Herbie's Herbie. We're friends. He stayed with me because he wanted what I had and he knew he could get it as long as I did. Hell, he set up the parties and knew which guys would and which guys wouldn't. We knew the outcome."

"That's then. This is now. I would have cried a lot. My heart would have been broken, and I'd have collected the pieces and figured something out," I said.

"You love me that much?"

"I don't know how much I love you because I've never been in love with anyone else. If you asked me to grade it I'd have to say a lot."

"Yeah, me too," he said.

He held my hand and we drove back to the house. It was time for his afternoon workout and he pumped iron as furiously as usual or more so. He kept looking at me between sets while I was loading or unloading the bars. I didn't know what to make of it but Greg thought a lot more than he once did and I could see it when he did, and I was never sure that was good for me.

Our world had been a hospital room for almost a year and now there were larger considerations, old memories and habits, and his needs and desires. I wasn't sure if things might be changing between us. Sometimes I got the feeling that he only wanted to be with me but than at other times I felt the distance and I wasn't sure. A lot of things were reawakening inside of him.

Instead of showering after the workout, which was usually a given, he wanted to lie out back in the sun. Even though he was sweating he had me pour a half a bottle of number 30 tanning lotion on his skin.

He lay nude on his back with his erection stretching up on his belly. Our arms touched but I decided to leave him alone, even if my own lust for him was starting to boil in the afternoon sun. I rolled onto my stomach when my front was baked sufficiently. Before I got settled he rolled on top of me, his cock sliding into my crack as he chewed the back of my neck and my ear like a wild thing.

"I've been waiting for you to do that. You know how hot you got me in the car. I've waiting for this."

"Greg, you're parents are going to come home."

"We'll hear. They won't come out back anyway. Just for a little while. I need to be inside you. Please."

He rubbed his slippery body against mine and the heat was incredible as he coated me in the lotion. Finally he got situated deep inside and he lay still except for his lips and his teeth as he hugged himself to me.

I was faint from the combination of forces that were working on me and then. he did about the best thing he could do, getting up on his knees and starting to fuck me, slow at first, but then as I raised up to meet him I could feel both his thighs inside mine and he was pretty intent on what was coming.

When he collapsed on top of me and finished up, I was pretty sure we were making progress. It was the first time he'd used the bad leg while we were having sex. He usually favored it and did what he could to keep it out of our way but on this day he had put his weight and his lust on it, and there was no sign it wasn't up to the task.

When he rolled off I was soaked in my sweat and his and in slick lotion and cum and he used the towel he'd worn around his waist to wipe me down.

"I wanted to do that in the car," he finally said. "I knew it would be hot. I decided I'd wait. Instead of cumming so often. Cum like that once or twice a day would be good, huh? Would that be cool for you?"

"That was the best, Greg," I said, squinting to see his eyes seeing me. "Anytime."

"Yeah, it was, wasn't it," he said, smiling that Greg smile and looking pleased with himself. "That was good."

He put the towel in his crotch and lay back on his back as I watched him. He reached out and collected my hand in his, rolling onto his side so he could look at me.


Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm@yahoo.com

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"Discovering Love" Copyright © 1 September 1997 OLYMPIA50. All rights reserved.
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