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Subject: The Pandemic Houseguest: Jordan Moves On Part One The Pandemic Houseguest: Jordan Moves On Part One Greetings readers. While I thought that I’d concluded Jordan and Dean’s story, I couldn’t get them out of my mind. Along with many emails asking for a continuation I decided it was appropriate to carry on with the story. I hope you’ll enjoy the new characters and not be troubled with some changes. If gay content, descriptions of hot gay sex, or actual dialogue in an erotic story offends you please don’t read further. This is entirely fiction, a work brought on by a perverted imagination, access to the internet and time to burn. The names, events, activities, and circumstances are fictitious. If it’s illegal wherever you live, or for your calendar age, stop now. This story is mine: all rights reserved by the author with the exception of its use fty. You’re welcome to use it to pass the time but not to copy and repost as your own demented work or for commercial purposes. Nifty relies on donations so that you can the ultimate form of safe sex by reading about it. Those same hands you use for pleasure can also type in a donation. A special note to my reader `B’: thank you for the suggestions and encouragement. And on with the story. “I’ve never asked anyone this… but I’ve never felt this way about anyone… until you… so I’ve never had to find the words… God… you’d think it would be easy after all this but…” “Yes Dean, I’ll marry you,” I said. “You will?! Wait! How did you know I’d…” “Ask to marry me? I have my spies.” “Paul!” “Maybe, but don’t you think what matters is my answer?” “Oh… yeah…” “But I have to wear white.” “White? But you’re not a…” “If I don’t wear white my mother will know I’m not a virgin,” I said. “I think it’s pretty clear after six years that you’re not,” Dean said with a chuckle. “I don’t know if can handle disappointing my mother,” I said, trying not to laugh. “Well I do believe there is perhaps one virginal hole that I haven’t made love to,” Dean said, drawing me into an embrace, turning my head to the side and poking at my right ear with his tongue. “Please! Save it for the honeymoon!” I said, overacting. As I started to draw in a breath full of Dean’s smell unseen hands pulled me back from the warm embrace with my husband and he was replaced with a pillow. I hated waking up from those dreams, especially alone, as I had been for the past six months, in our bed. I only saw Dean alive now in my sleep. Before the emotional darkness could descend I hopped out of bed, used the bathroom and headed towards the kitchen. It was impossible to find a safe space in the house. Every part of it held a memory of some sort, twenty years’ worth piled like disorganized boxes everywhere. I took solace in my morning coffee as I leaned against the counter where I’d bumped Dean in my juvenile attempts at seduction. Where we’d prepared untold numbers of meals, all part of making what Dean had called `a good run’ numbering almost twenty years in total. I’d started as a houseguest and ended up the husband of my fantasy daddy neighbor. Dean’s run had ended last January. A sudden heart attack that nobody saw coming, given his robust physical condition and excellent health, had taken the love of my life without even the chance for a few last words. The grade school here in Ventura was very understanding and allowed me to take a leave of absence that had stretched into my resignation effective the start of summer break. Time hadn’t completely healed my grief, but it had given me clarity. Starting this fall I’d be working at UCLA and putting my doctorate to work preparing updated LGBTQ-affirmative curriculum for the state’s school system, evidence of massive social changes over the past twenty years that even included lowering the age of consent to sixteen. Paul and Howard were giddy at the thought of me spending more time with them in LA. I’d miss my school and my elementary class kids after teaching there for twelve years. I’d started after our summer-long honeymoon. We’d married the day after my birthday because Dean joked that it made it easier to remember the anniversary date. Not everyone understood the generation- gap union of a 21-year-old and a 56-year-old, but as my mom said, “Fuck `em if they can’t take a joke.” Mom was still feisty as hell. Married life with Gary, along with the birth of my half-brother Marcus sixteen years ago, and a late-in-life surprise named Nicholas, had been good for her. Now that she was retired my brother was wearing out the hinges on the connecting gate coming over seeking refuge from her mothering. Marcus was a decent kid, a brunette twin for me at that age. When we were together most people mistook him for my son, much to his teasing delight. He’d even survived the taunts and teasing of being the only kid in grade school whose brother was a teacher. He got no breaks from me yet we came out of it even closer. `Uncle Dean’ loved him as well. In school he’d had eyes for both girls and boys and I’ve yet to figure out where he was on the sexual continuum. He’d be loved regardless. The new position started in September and I had a summer to fill. I’d contemplated traveling but my heart wasn’t in it quite yet. I didn’t need to work now or for a long time as Dean had made me save most of my teaching earnings. Also, unbeknownst to me he’d put my monthly household contributions into an account; along with the paid-for house that was now mine. If only my emotions were so well-sorted. I heard the gate creak, announcing a visitor. Two boyish voices told me it was Marcus plus one. The knock on the door and its opening were simultaneous, as Marcus viewed my home as an extension of his own. I recognized the cute red- headed teen with him as a recent new friend but there was something else about him that was familiar. “Hey Jordie, you remember Cameron?” Marcus said, careful not to shorten his friend’s name. Then it clicked and I pictured a shy, freckle-faced boy in my homeroom class seven years prior. “Hello Mr. Monroe,” Cameron said then partially extended his hand as though trying to figure out the social protocol for an encounter with one’s former teacher. My eyes lingered for a moment on his baseball sized bicep bulging out his t-shirt sleeve as my gaze traveled from his hand to his handsome face, not missing how his pecs pushed out his shirt. “Just call me Jordan,” I said, with a glance at Marcus to remind him of my entire name. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” I added, leaving off my thoughts of how attractive he’d turned out. “Yeah, I’ve kinda grown since fourth grade,” Cameron said, as proved by five-foot-eight inches, maybe a hundred and forty pounds of lean-muscle toned teenager, still sporting a few freckles on an konyaaltı kendi evi olan escort otherwise unblemished handsome face. “No shit!” Marcus said. “Otherwise you’d be a midget.” “Which somehow you have remained mentally,” I said to Marcus. “I’m telling mom!” Marcus said, whining a well-practiced threat. “She took my allowance away a long time ago little brother,” I said, then to Cameron spoke. “You’ve definitely grown. How much is my brother paying you to be his friend?” Cameron gave me a befuddled look, clearly not acquainted with my family’s sense of humor. “He didn’t pay me… I…” he said. “My brother thinks he’s funny but he’s not,” Marcus said. “He should pay me to tell people I’m his brother when we’re out. He hates it when people think he’s old.” “Ouch,” I said without conviction. “You don’t look too old Mister… err… Jordan,” Cameron said. “You look the same as when you were my teacher.” “Why thank you Cameron. Perhaps you could be Marcus’ teacher and instruct him in some manners then?” “Cameron’s my friend, Jordie. Sucking up to him won’t make him yours,” Marcus said, marking his territory with an overdramatic sneer. “So what brings you here today?” I said, changing the subject. “Is mom demanding you paint the house, weed the yard, clean your bedroom and do the laundry before dinner-time?” “Pretty much! I wish she was still working so I wouldn’t have to work,” he said with youthful exasperation. “And you?” I said to Cameron. “Oh, she doesn’t make me work, I’m a guest.” he answered flatly then the corners of his mouth curled into a partial smile as his dry comment was understood. I laughed and said, “Good one, Cameron.” “Thank you, Jordan,” he said and then I remembered that day with Cameron in fourth grade. There was a school assembly and just as we were about to walk out of class a scuffle broke out in line between Cameron and another boy, Victor. They were so engaged in pushing each other back and forth they didn’t see me until I put my hands between them and pushed out to separate the two. Victor was a pusher, but this was completely out of character for Cameron. This was also Victor’s third strike this month so the first thing I said was, “Hallway.” He knew the drill, so out the door he went to wait until it was his turn in interrogation. I heard a whimper and turned to see tears on Cameron’s cheeks, his lower lip trembling as he fought a full-blown cry. I pulled up a chair and sat down so I’d be eye-level. “What happened?” “V-v-victor was being mean to me.” “That’s not nice but you shouldn’t push him.” “I know… but… he called me a name… because he saw me…” “What?” “I don’t want to say.” “Cameron, I can’t help you unless I understand what happened. I won’t tell anybody else what you say, okay?” “Umm… okay… I guess… you know Tommy?” “Yes,” I said. Everybody in our homeroom, perhaps the entire school, knew our classmate Tommy. This was a boy who would never have to come out, starred in every school play, was so supremely self-confident in his identity at a young age, that he defied peer pressure and was adored by all. “Umm… Victor saw me… uh… kiss Tommy today,” he said, then completed his confession with, “On the mouth. “Oh?” I said, feeling my eyebrows rise out of control. “And what did Victor say?” “He said I was a slut, and that Tommy was his.” I willed my eyebrows to come down from my forehead. “And then?” “I don’t know what a slut is but it sounded bad so I pushed him,” Cameron said. “I like Tommy,” he added with conviction. I weighed my options carefully. I’d had a teacher conference with Cameron’s mother and preacher father. They were pleasant enough but I was concerned that bringing their attention to their son’s confrontation over a boy-kiss could cause him harm. I decided it best to try and work it out with my two jealous Romeos. “A lot of people like Tommy,” I said, to assure the boy. “And kissing a boy or a girl can be okay but not at school�it isn’t allowed in our classroom.” “Oh yeah,” he said. “I thought that only meant girls.” I could understand his confusion. “No that means anybody. Why don’t we have Victor come in here and we can work this out?” “Okay. Hey Mister Monroe?” I tilted my head to go ahead. “One of the boys told me you have a husband. Is that true? I mean, he’s a man?” “Yes it’s true Cameron. My husband is a man.” “Wow… that’s cool… but my parents would hate me if I ever married a man.” There was nothing I could say to that and I remembered that the assembly would wait for no man or boys. “Victor!” I said in my teacher voice, knowing he was perched as close as possible to the door opening. “Yes Mr. Monroe,” Victor said as he walked into the classroom. “You probably heard us, right?” “Umm… yes,” Victor said. “Do you have anything to say to Cameron?” “Umm… yes… I’m sorry for pushing you.” “And?” I said. “For calling you a name,” Victor said, completing his confession and offering a defense. “But I really like Tommy and I don’t want other boys kissing him.” “Like I told Cameron, there’s no kissing allowed in our classroom, and certainly no pushing either.” “Cameron, what do you have to say?” I said. “I’m sorry for pushing you, Victor. And I’m sorry for kissing Tommy. I won’t do it again,” Cameron said. “Okay, shake hands and then we can go to the assembly,” I said, noting the irony that Tommy was performing a song in that gathering. Weeks later Victor said, “It’s cool you have a husband. Someday I’m going to marry Tommy.” I nodded and smiled at his forthright declaration, despite the fact that Tommy seemed more like a housebreaker than the marrying kind. I always wondered if he’d taught Victor the word `slut.’ That school year I noticed Cameron noticing other boys in class with occasional wistful stares at Tommy. He’d come up to my desk for help on a problem, and like a lot of my kids he’d sometimes lean on me. A lot of them did that so I didn’t do the math to make it seem like a thing. But I knew the other kids didn’t have a glint in their eye like Cameron when they looked at me. “Jordie, can we talk for a minute,” Marcus said, bringing me out of my recollection. “Sure,” I said. “Cameron, there’s juice and sodas in the fridge, help yourself.” “Guys. You’re going to talk about me and I’m right here.” “Okay,” Marcus said. “Am I gonna tell him or are you.” “My parents kicked me out for being gay,” he said. “I’m sorry,” I said, a bit surprised but sad to hear that even in a time of more enlightenment religions still seemed to practice hate while preaching love. “So Cameron’s going to stay with me for a while,” Marcus said. “I’m sorry for you,” I said, making sure I had Cameron’s gaze as I konyaaltı otele gelen escort nodded at Marcus and made a squinty face. “Jesus Jordan, what a thing to say!” Marcus said in astonishment when he got the joke. I looked at Cameron, concerned that perhaps my joke was ill-timed. His lips were pressed together then curled up into a growing smile before he gave up and let out a big chuckle. “Oh fuck!” he said. “I needed to laugh.” Marcus stood there, unsure of whether to go at me for the joke or Cameron for laughing then joined in. “You gonna tell him how they found out?” Marcus said as he laughed. This brought deeper laughs from Cameron before he said, “Oh my God. They caught me kissing… of all people…Tommy!” The irony that Cameron got kissing his boy-crush from the fourth grade made me laugh along with the teenagers. “And you know the funniest part?” Cameron said between laughs. “It was our breakup good-bye kiss… because… he’s a slut!” he added as he reached for the counter for support. I’d cried plenty over the past six months but this was the first time it was brought on by laughing. Marcus’ phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Mom wants to talk to me. Now,” he said. “Okay, see you later,” I said. Marcus got two steps towards the door and Cameron made to follow. “She wants to talk to me alone. Jordie, can Cameron hang out here for a while? “Sure. Alone huh? What did you do this time?” “I may have compared Nicky to a small hairy jungle animal that eats bananas and needs a bath” he said. “You called him a stinky monkey again?” “Allegedly,” Marcus said. “If you don’t see me by dinner time check the back yard for a fresh grave. You know Mom,” and he was out the door. “Juice or soda?” I said, opening the refrigerator door. “Orange juice if you have it,” Cameron said. Two glasses of orange juice on the counter later we sat down. “I’m sorry about your… about Dean.” “My husband, you can say it.” “I remember that time in school when I asked if you had a husband and you told me like it was no big deal. You’ve no idea what that meant to me.” “But you were what, nine years old?” “Yeah, but I was starting to like boys. Especially Tommy.” “Everybody liked Tommy,” I said. “Especially Victor,” Cameron said with a chuckle. “I do remember that day.” “Really? Why?” “It’s not every day two boys get in a fight over another boy. And you were so brave telling me that you kissed Tommy on the mouth,” I said. “Didn’t learn much, did I?” he said. “Got in trouble both times. For Tommy!” he added with a laugh. “Do you miss him?” Cameron said, looking right into my eyes. “Yeah.” “Oh man, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…” he said. “No, it’s okay. It’s been six months, I’m doing better.” “I used to sit in class and look at you and try to imagine what it was like for you outside of school, like what happened when you went home.” I raised my eyebrows and tilted my head trying to figure out where he was going with this. “No, not like what you guys did, although I’ve got a better idea of that now. I mean what it would be like to live with a man, and how lucky your husband was.” “I think we were both lucky,” I said. “But this explains that far-away look you used to get during class sometimes. I always wondered what was going on in your little red head.” “I was totally crushing on you,” he said, his face blushing. “I’m honored,” I said. “The last day of fourth grade I didn’t want to go to school. I thought that if I didn’t finish the school year they’d put me back into your class for another year.” “That bad, huh?” “This bad,” he said, and with a quick move leaned in and gave me a kiss. Cameron’s lips were soft, pliable and he puckered just long enough to send a jolt through my body, the first one from someone other than Dean. He pulled back and I rolled my lips inward, tasting orange juice and feeling my heart beat fast. He sat there, staring at me. “I stopped lying today when I told my dad I’m gay, so I can’t say I’m sorry.” “It’s okay.” “More than okay for me,” he said. “Victor was right.” “What?” I said, still stunned from the kiss. “I’m a slut, I’ve kissed two different guys today,” he said and chuckled. I couldn’t hold back my own laughter. “I’ve been waiting to do that since fourth grade.” “I’m glad you waited. I rather liked being a teacher there,” I said. “Jordie, mom sent me over here,” a boy’s voice said. I looked to my left and there stood Nicky, his straight straw-blond hair going in every direction, wearing shorts, a t-shirt and a smile. “Nicky, nice of you to drop by,” I said. “You always say that. Markie says you don’t always mean it for real, says it’s… uh… star-class-men.” Cameron clenched his jaw, holding in a laugh at Nicky’s interpretation of sarcasm. “But Markie calls you a stinky monkey, so who are you gonna believe?” I said. “You!” he said as he pushed me back from the counter so he could hop into my lap. “Hi Cammie.” “Hi Nicky.” “What were you guys doing?” “We were… uh… chatting,” Cameron said. “Yeah, chatting,” I said, wondering exactly what he’d seen. “Chatting? Okay,” Nicky said and gave us a quizzical look that indicated he’d seen more. “Markie said you’re gonna stay with us. Really?” “It’s true,” Cameron said. “Mom says she’s out-bumbered,” Nicky said. “Out-numbered,” I said, unable to stop my inner-teacher from a gentle correction. “What I said,” Nicky said, unperturbed. “I think it’s great we have all boys and no stinky girls.” “Nicky, mom’s a girl,” I said. “Oh yeah, but it’s not the same,” he said, his logic infallible. “I’m still alive,” Marcus said a moment later as he came into the kitchen. “No thanks to you,” he added, glaring at Nicky. “But that’s not why mom wanted to talk to me.” Nicky stuck his tongue out at Marcus as he burrowed into me for protection. “What then?” I said. Marcus nodded his head towards Nicky and I got the hint. “Nicky, you why don’t you go into the living room and play a game,” I said. “Can I do a shooting one?” “No. But you can do the racing one.” “But it won’t be fun unless you play so I can beat you.” `True,’ I thought. “Go practice, you can beat me later.” “Okay,” Nicky said, hopping down from my lap, brushing into Marcus as he walked by and sticking his tongue out at him. Marcus just smiled and shook his head at our tow-headed little-monster brother. “So?” I said. “Mom’s been getting calls from Cameron’s dad asking where he is,” Marcus said. “Did she tell him?” Cameron said. “You’ve met my mom, what do you think?” I nodded my head in agreement with Marcus’ comment. “She wants you to come to dinner so we can figure out a plan,” Marcus said, looking at me. “I need to tell you some stuff first,” Cameron konyaaltı rus escort said. “What?” I said. “It’s about my dad, Deacon Len, and money.” Marcus and I both came to attention, waiting for Cameron to continue. “Okay, so there’s this creepy guy at church, Deacon Len, and he’s always standing close to me, putting his hands on my shoulders… and other places… and saying stuff that makes me… uncomfortable.” “Eww!” Marcus said. “Was that the old dude at your house last Wednesday?” “Yeah. He’s my dad’s best friend so I couldn’t really say anything about the perv to him,” Cameron said. “Did he make you do stuff?” I said, going into teacher mode. “I don’t want to talk about that,” Cameron said, which my experience told me was `yes.’ “It’s what he and my dad did with money from the church.” Marcus and I looked at Cameron. “They took the church money,” he said. “Then they made it look like a burglary to get away with it.” “Wow!” Marcus said. “You should call the cops.” “Who are they gonna believe? Reverend Olsen? Or his son that he kicked out for being gay? Besides, they don’t have the money anymore.” “Who does?” Marcus said. “I do,” Cameron said. “And a video that proves what they did.” “Fuck,” Marcus said. “How did you get that?” I said. “I put a camera in my dad’s office when I knew he was gonna talk with Deacon Len after the burglary. Got it all on video.” “So what are you planning to do?” I said. “Use it when my dad tries to get me to move home and make me straight,” he said. “But the money…” “You can’t keep it,” I said. “I know, but if I give it back he’ll find a way to steal it again. I don’t think it’s the first time.” Marcus’ phone buzzed an interruption. “Mom wants us home for dinner in fifteen minutes,” Marcus said. “You too Jordie.” “We’ll talk about this after dinner guys,” I said. Our party of four took the well-worn backyard shortcut, smelling dinner as we passed through the gateway. “Hey mom,” three of us said then looked at Cameron. “Hello… umm… mom,” he said. Judy smiled at his greeting then pulled me into a hug, the kind that had gotten me through the pandemic years ago, and now Dean’s passing. “We need to talk,” she said in a quiet voice as she held me close. I nodded my head in silent acknowledgement and we sat down to dinner, minus Gary who was on a business trip. Mom was good at directing conversation and kept it light, avoiding the elephant in the room. Cameron was a bit shy about joining in the teasing that was one of the usual courses with any of our sit-down meals. “Cammie, was Jordie your teacher in grade school?” Nicky said. “Yes he was,” Cameron said. “So lucky. I want him to be mine but he stopped.” “That’s cause he doesn’t teach stinky monkeys,” Marcus said. “Moooommmm,” Nicky said. “But he did teach stinky monkeys,” Cameron said, stepping in before my mom could. Nicky furrowed his eyebrows in a question. “He taught a really stinky one before named Marcus,” Cameron said. “Hahaha! Marcus is a stinky monkey not me!” Nicky said, his boyish voice full of glee. Marcus looked at me for backup and I just shrugged my shoulders as I gave a wink and a nod to Cameron for joining in how we show love. Mom also gave a smirk and a shrug when Marcus turned to her. “Boys, I want you to clear the table and wash the dishes while I talk to Jordan.” “How are you doing son?” she said once we’d sat down on the living room sofa. “It still hurts” I said, becoming her little boy again. “You’re going to be okay,” she said, putting her arm around me. “Dean told me that the day I left you with him.” “He did?” “Yeah, and he always kept his word. So what are we going to do about Cameron?” “It’s more complicated than you think,” I said. “Fucking churches,” she said after I related Cameron’s story. “Full of hypocrites with a thief leading the herd.” “I’ve got an idea,” I said. “But I need your help.” `Ventura LGBTQ Center Receives Surprise: $50,000 from Anonymous Donor’ read the subject line on the email sent to subscribers three days later. I wasn’t at all surprised. Neither were Marcus, Cameron or mom, or all of Ventura as the local news had also picked up the story. One of Marcus’ talents was graphics, and he made quick work of creating what appeared to be letterhead for River Road Baptist, Pastor Olsen’s church here in Ventura. We all pitched in on writing a supportive letter from the pastor for the center’s work and how God loves us all no matter what. Cameron made a convincing forgery of his dad’s signature. Mom insisted on wearing sunglasses and an old wig she had from years-ago Halloween to drop off an envelope with the stolen cash and letter to a busy receptionist. We had high-fived each other that day she got home from her mission and waited for our surprise to hit the fan. Cameron’s phone beeped thirty minutes after we got the email three days later. `Call me,’ his dad’s text read. Moments later his father received a reply from Cameron. `Don’t contact me ever again.’ With a few more clicks the video followed the text. The room and Cameron’s phone were silent and we took it as a victory�for the time being. As we walked towards the kitchen for a celebratory pizza mom had ordered I felt a tug on my arm and turned. Cameron stood there and it was like going back in time to when he was a fourth-grader, tears on his cheek, chin quivering, only this time he did cry as he pulled me into a hug with his muscled arms and buried his head in my chest. I held him tight, giving comfort, but then to my embarrassment reacted with the kind of tingling only Dean had given me. I tried to pull back but Cameron held on tight. “Thank you Jordan. You saved me again,” he said as he nuzzled my neck, hardening my predicament. Any doubts he noticed were dispelled when he ground his hips into me and kissed my neck. “What do you mean again?” I said, my voice shaky. “Now and that time in school. You didn’t make a deal about kissing Tommy and made me feel okay about being me. You showed me what a real gay man was like,” he said then let out a soft cry. “And now you helped me get away from my dad.” I shuddered when I felt Cameron’s tears on my neck and turned my head, which lined me up with his face. His hands slipped up from our hug and with one on each side of my face pulled me into a deep kiss. There wasn’t a thought of pulling back as I moved my lips against his and opened up to his probing tongue. He let out a low growl as he searched out my tongue and sucked it into his mouth. When I felt his muscular round butt in my hands I realized they’d moved down of their own mind. Cameron’s hands made a similar journey and pulled me into an even more passionate embrace. Sensations I hadn’t felt since Dean coursed through my body as I held the teen. I’d always been the little spoon with Dean so it was a new experience to hold someone smaller this intimately with my five- foot-ten hundred-sixty pound well-toned frame. It felt different, but somehow right. As Cameron ground into me I felt his hard cock pointing down towards my knees, pushing against my leg. It wasn’t small. “That doesn’t look like chatting,” Nicky said a few moments later.

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