Finding Tim

by Charlie

Episode 245 - And

My last episode ended with a memory of Frank Littleton. Frank was a most interesting man. He'd shared very little about himself as he and Adele came into contact with the Gang through Ronnie. He and Adele lived in Madison where he worked, but for some reason what his work was was never discussed. Rather we discussed Ronnie, and then Sharon and Kyle, and others in the Gang.

Then Adele died and he set off on his crusing adventures. He didn't tell us much more about them than what was contained in his postcards to his grandchildren. However, after his death Ronnie got talking about him several times, and some of his history came out. He'd grown up in Des Moines. Iowa, where he'd been a star athlete in the local high school. He'd continued his athletic success at Drake University in Des Moines. He went on to do graduate work in chemistry at Iowa State, also in Des Moines. For financial reasons he'd lived at home all six years of his university studies.

He'd then become a laboratory/research assistant in the chemistry department of the University of Wisconsin. There he'd teamed up with Dr. Martin Everhart, one of their top chemists, on a series of research projects that led to the development of several valuable industrial chemicals. They'd set up a small private laboratory, where Frank worked full time and Dr. Everhart was a paid consultant. The laboratory was strictly for research and they licensed the chemicals they developed to large manufacturers. The two worked together until Dr. Everhart retired. Frank then hired a couple of lab assistants coming out of the University of Wisconsin and kept the laboratory going. When he retired the two lab technicians took over the corporation and Frank had no more connection to it.

Ronnie told me, "There are two very startling things that grew out of this. First, that a star athlete could watch his son be a complete nerd, with no interest in athletics and not be disappointed."

"Frank was a wonderful person, so I can believe that. And his success was in science, he must've been pleased to see you do well in physics."

"He was. And he never talked about athletics. But I have to wonder."

"Did you talk to him about that later in life?"

"Yes, and he simply said, "I loved my son just as he was.' But I still have to wonder."

"I understand, Ronnie. But you are who you are. What's the second thing?"

"You know, we lived a very comfortable, middle class life. Nothing was ever said about money, at least in my hearing. We clearly never lacked for money. My folks bought new cars every couple of years--middle class cars like Pontiacs, top of the line Fords, you get the idea. Comfortable, but not lavish vacations. Then I read his will, and go over his investment accounts. He's worth millions, and has been for years. Those damn chemical patents made him several fortunes and he never said anything about it. Now he leaves me four million dollars and a similar amount to Kyle, Sharon, and our kids, Kevin and Kay; and their kids: Kevin's Taylor and Tyler, and Kay's Pned and Pnan. Add it up, that's thirty-six million dollars, and then there was about six and a half million left over to be divided between Drake University and a community development organization in Des Moines. And that's all after the taxes were paid."

"Ronnie, that's fantastic. And you never knew he was worth that kind of money?"

"Well, I knew he had enought money to go on some very expensive cruises, but no, I had absolutely no idea of his wealth. You know, when we got out the will there was a letter addressed to each of us. The ones for Pned, Pnan, and the twins were marked, 'To be opened on their eighteenth birthday.' My letter, and the ones to Kevin and Kay, all say about the same thing. The usual about how proud he was of us and how much he loved us. In Sharon and Kyle's he told them how delighted he was that they had become part of his family. Kyle almost cried when he read that. Then he talked about the money. Mine said, roughly, 'Ronnie, this money isn't for spending. It's you're reserve fund, maybe call it a rainy day fund. It's always been there for you, Sharon, Kyle, and all your children and grandchildren. But it hasn't been needed. Keep it for just that purpose. It is well and broadly invested. Leave it alone. And don't let it go to your head. Yes, you are now a millionaire, but so what? But remember, that wealth is your protection, your anchor, your lack of worry. I'm not worried, I know that you, Sharon, Kyle, Kevin, and Kay all have solid heads on your shoulders, and I trust in future generations. You have had a good life up till now, keep it up. I love you.' Essentially he was telling me that I was now a millionaire and not to act like it."

"That's quite something."

"It sure as Hell is, Charlie. I've told you, and I know you share everything with Tim, but the Gang doesn't need to know this, just as I didn't know it a week ago."

So it turns out that the only person in the Gang that had even a fraction of Fred's wealth was Frank, and we never knew!

Remember the Family Law and Counseling Center? Ivan, Nicole, Fredie, and Rydia were making it work. It took about three years to acquire enough clients to pay the bills and provide an income sufficient for the four of them. Of course, with only one house to maintain, and no mortgage, the income required for the four of them wasn't much more than one or two persons would need. They were doing better than that minimum.

Eventually they began to think about children. The all agreed that they wanted kids, but the question was, how many? It was quickly agreed that if both women were healthy and fecund it would be appropriate for them each to have the same number of children. It was quickly agreed that that would be one or two. Six kids was more than they wanted to deal with. But did they want a total of two, or four? They noted that a family of eight immediately has a transport problem: it takes a full-size van to hold eight. They discussed whether couples would feel fulfilled with a single child of their own. Nicole kind of settled the matter when she said, "What do you mean a single chilld of my own? Any child born in this group is a child of all of us. If I have one kid and Rydia has one kid, then we all have two kids. And that's enough for me." It was settled. And in January of 2018 the girls went off the pill and the boys threw away their condoms.

Ivan said, "Fucking without a condom is kind of nice."

It was also agreed that. until babies were made, intercourse (despite Ivan's more gross term) would be limited to spouses. As much as they were a foursome, they felt that babies should have clear parentage. In this they disagreed with the other foursome, but it was a friendly disagreement that they'd discussed with Andy, Jim, Kara, and Amy. In fact, discussions among the eight, and often including the children, were very helpful to the younger foursome.

By 2019 two children, a girl and a boy, had arrived. The girl was Nicole Covington, child of Nicole and Fredie, to be called Nikki, born March 7, 2019. The boy was Arthur Ivan Jorstad, child of Rydia and Ivan, to be called Art, born June 11, 2019. With an African-American mother, Art was the least likely Norwegian you can imagine. Ivan thought he was the most beautiful baby ever. No one could ever figure out how Ivan, born in an all white, in fact nearly all Norwegian, community in Chicago could have not a trace of racial prejudice in him, but he didn't.

I'll let the women respond to the obvious comment that they were continuing the sexist tradition of naming children with their fathers' names:

Nicole: "Considering what the Covington family's done for all of us; how they've accepted all of us into their family; it would be ungracious and insulting to not follow the usual naming tradition for Nikki."

Rydia: "A Jorstad without blond hair? What a joke! I love it. And you know what? Ivan's parents think it's funny. I love them, and they love me." And that goes a long way to explain Ivan.

It became a proud family of six. They solved their child care problem very simply: every day one would stay home from the Center. It rotated, but was governed by who had what on their schedule. They quickly learned that Fredie needed to stay in the office, as a law center without a lawyer present didn't work well. So Fredie took his turns at child care on weekends.

While the girls (women? the females couldn't decide which they preferred, while the boys definitely preferred being boys) were pregnant the four had several conversations about language. Ivan was fluent in Norwegian. In his community the kids all were bilingual, and this was reinforced by the church, which operated in Norwegian. Was he going to try to pass on this tradition to his son?

Fredie said, "You know, being bilingual is wonderful. And my understanding is that it helps you in learning another language."

Ivan replied, "So they say. I've never studied another language. For my language requirement at the university I simply presented Norwegian. But it'd be great if my son learned Norwegian."

Nicole pointed out, "If you want him to learn Norwegian, you must speak to him in Norwegian, all the time, from the beginning. He can learn his English from Rydia."

Rydia commented, "You know, my Southern Black English ain't all that great."

"I've never heard you use the word ain't," said someone.

"She's kidding; her English is pretty damn good. But there's a problem. Ivan can speak Norwegian to his son, but he's going to have to speak English to us, and his son is going to hear that."

"There will also be a second child. What's Ivan going to speak to her?" (Sonograms had settled the gender question.)

Fredie said, "Norwegian. And then we're going to have two kids that can speak Norwegian to each other, and nobody but Ivan'll understand. Could be interesting."

Nicole said, "I think we all are going to learn some Norwegian. I like that."

By the time the kids turned two, the whole household was learning Norwegian, determined that it would become a bilingual house. It's too soon to report on the success or failure of that project, but they seemed very determined. Visits from the Norwegian grandparents certainly helped.

Diane, daughter of Bert and granddaughter of Carl, was a very bright girl who delighted in traveling with her father to Bismark and other places around the state as he represented the Friends of the University of North Dakota. She also delighted in visiting her grandfather in his lovely office atop The Carl, and have him show her his latest projects.

She liked to visit her mother, Peg, at AAA, but there wasn't much interesting about four people sitting around typing on computer word processors. Sometimes they'd ask each other for ideas or comments, and that led to discussions, sometime heated, that she often found interesting, but the thing of most interest was the newspapers and clippings that April Madison was always working on.

On her wall April had a map of the state which showed each of the fifty-three counties and its county seat. By this time April easily knew every county, where it was, and its county seat. In her huge bookshelf she had a notebook for each county, and one for each city of significance. In the notebook were the clippings and notes that she'd found scouring every local newspaper in the state and for each high school that published a student newspaper and could handle subscriptions. Her pile of mail each day was almost a foot high! Everyone wondered how she managed not to be buried in paper. When Diane asked her about that she told her, "First, I've learned what to look for and where. Almost anything interesting is going to be in the headlines, so I don't bother reading articles unless the headline suggests something interesting. Columns like 'Tidbits,' "in the back corridor,' or 'This just in,' are worth reading as they often contain interesting notes Tim or Liddy can use. I can go through a newspaper pretty fast. Of course, when I began, the pile of papers wasn't so high, and I learned to scan as the daily pile slowly got higher. But toward the end of the day, if I still have a pile, I sort it for the important papers and scan them. The rest go in a pile on my desk. The next day I look at the new pile and decide if there's any chance of getting to yesterday's leftovers. If there is, I put them on the bottom of the pile. If there isn't, I toss them out. It's better to miss a little than to get behind. Dated material is useless."

A fourth grader, Diane asked, "Could I help? To start I could take the papers you're going to toss. I could learn to scan them for interesting material. If I missed things, it wouldn't matter because it was material you were going to miss anyway."

April thought that was a reasonable idea and so she put Diane to work. Diane was a fast learner. After bringing April a little pile of articles, April would go over them with her, explaining why certain ones would be useful and others wouldn't. Very quickly, Diane got the idea and made very few mistakes. Of course, there was no way April could tell if she was missing useful material. So April started to let Diane go over material before April did, and April quickly found that Diane didn't miss much.

Soon April was in Perry's office asking about bringing Diane on as an employee of Development Consulting. She was in Perry's office because Development Consulting was legally a part of Fred's Sports, even though she took her instructions from Liddy, Tim, and the new Vice-President for Development. Perry's response was, first, surprise that Diane was able to do the job or would want to spend after school time doing it. After hearing April explain how Diane seemed to really enjoy the work and enjoyed the idea that she was doing something important, Perry had to express his doubts that they could legally hire someone so young. He did promise to get one of Fred's Sports' lawyers to look into the matter.

The answer came back that she had to be fourteen years old. Diane was eleven! Perry's lawyer had gotten his job because he thought like Andy and Perry–as if no box existed. So he'd come back with the following suggestion which he assured them was legal. Diane could help April as much as she liked, but would not be an employee and could not be directed as if she were an employee. If, from time to time, Fred's Sports wished to thank Diane, gifts would be in order. In particular, it was suggested that Diane and her family would like to take an exciting trip from time to time. Cash gifts, on the other hand, would not be acceptable.

By the time Diane was in middle school, she'd become almost an essential element in the office, and easily covered for April during April's summer vacation and when April was out sick. And Diane knew her North Dakota geography and history better than any one in her school, including the teacher that taught the subject. Question: Mohall is the county seat of what county and where is it? Teacher: "I'll look it up in my North Dakota atlas." Diane: "Renville County, on the border with Canada, about two-thirds of the way across the state."

On her fourteenth birthday she went on the Development Consulting payroll.

This short story takes us back a little–to the 1990s. Paul was established as a physical education teacher and wrestling coach in the Ironwood High School. One day, just as school was letting out, two men about Paul's age approached him in the gym. "The office told us we'd find you here," one of them said, and continued, "I don't think you recognize us."

Paul stared at them both for a while and they seemed familiar. Then the light bulb went off! "You're Jimmy and Leon! Outed gay students in my high school class. Are you stlll together?"

"A lot more than students in the same class at school. You and your whole damn wrestling team made it possible for us to finish high school here, graduate, and have a wonderful life together. We both went to Northern Michigan–we were roommates there–and then ended up in Aspen, Colorado, where we're now co-managers of a ski resort there. It's been a good life."

"So what brings you to Ironwood, and specifically, what brings you into the Ironwood High School gym this afternoon? Oh, yes, which of you is Leon and which is Jimmy? I'm embarrassed that I had to ask, but I always knew you as a pair."

The face that so far hadn't said anything spoke up, "I'm Leon. That's Jimmy, but he's Jim now."

Jim continued, "Every year at Christmas we've flown our parents to Aspen for the holidays. Those trips have been our only family time together. This year at Christmas all four of our parents insisted that we had to visit them in Ironwood. We couldn't refuse, so here we are. And if there was anyone in town that we had to try to find, it was Big Paul, the wrestler, and saviour of pathetic, outed gay boys."

"Look, you have to come to dinner. Amanda would love to meet you."

Leon said, "My folks are feeding us tonight. Could we make it for tomorrow night."

Paul said, "Sure," and gave them directions to his home.

That evening he told Amanda about the meeting and the dinner invitation. She replied, "What are we feeding them, and I presume you're ready to do some cooking, because I have a meeting after school tomorrow."

It wasn't long before they'd agreed on pork chops, baked potatoes and peas and carrots; and Amanda had made sure that Paul would take care of everything but dessert which would be her responsibility. She planned on ice cream sundaes! and Paul let her get away with that.

The dinner was interesting. Jim and Leon knew nothing about Paul and Amanda's relationship to Tim and me, nor to a whole lot of other gay couples; as far as they knew, Paul and Amanda were a provincial couple like many others in Ironwood and the Upper Peninsula. As the meal went on Paul would mention something like his being at the Olympics in London or maybe Tim's and my last visit to Ironwood. Of course, Jim and Leon knew that Paul knew Tim and me, but they had no idea just how well we knew each other.

Finally Leon asked, "OK, you talk about Tim like he was your best friend; you seem to attend the Olympics regularly--that's far beyond the reach of K-12 teachers in the UP, or anywhere. What gives?"

Paul laughed. "You can't believe what grew out of that wrestling match that I had with Jim Forsythe. You know I met Tim and Charlie, and connected you with Tim and Charlie over the phone. But that was just the beginning. I, and later Amanda, became part of a large collection of people that aided and supported each other--and loved each other. Somehow they got connected with Fred Milson of Fred's Sports, and his support included everyone going to every Olympic Games. The group is centered in Grand Forks, North Dakota, the location of the University of North Dakota where Tim is President and Charlie is the Dean of Law. Amanda and I intend to retire in Grand Forks."

Jim asked, "You said, 'Loved each other,' that could have a lot of meanings."

Paul thought about his answer to that for a long while, and then answered, "I think that most of the meanings that you might be thinking of could apply."

"Wow, that's interesting. You know, Leon and I have been totally faithful to each over the years. We've never regretted that."

Amanda jumped in, "Faithful can mean a lot of things. I believe that you're implying by your use of the word that you've never had sex outside of your relationship. By the way, are you two married?"

"Yes, we went to Ontario at the first opportunity after that option opened up."

"So did a number of our friends, including Fred Milson, I might add."

Amanda continued, "We sort of got off the subject; we were talking about being faithful. It means one thing to you but to others it can mean a couple that remains true to each other even while they're enjoying sex with more that just their partner. I think that describes most of our close friends in Grand Forks--but not here in Ironwood."

"And it describes you two as well, doesn't it?" asked Leon.

"Yes, it does."

"So, if we were so inclined, we might have a four-way this evening?"

"No, not since the HIV/AIDS crisis. We simply never have sex outside of our established group. We take no chances."

"It would hardly be taking a chance with a couple that's only had sex with each other since high school."

Paul said, "Look, let's be very honest here. I knew you two in high school, but not very well. I haven't seen you since then. I have no basis to be sure of your HIV status. I really don't know if you have been faithfull to each other. And that kind of uncertainty is exactly why our group simply doesn't have sex outside of the group. It means that I don't have to make any judgments about you two, because regardless of that judgment, I have agreed that I won't have sex outside of our group."

Leon said, "This has all been interesting, but Jim and I never have sex outside of our group--of two--so we're all even."

Jim said, "To move on to a different subject. Don't you find it rather stifling to live and work in the UP?"

Paul said, "Well, I know what you mean. There's not a lot of culture here--at least as the big cities would define culture. And there's a narrowmindedness--guns are good; women are for cooking, cleaning, and maybe a little typing; schools ought to stick to the three Rs; and of course, gays are bottom-suckers. Nevertheless, these are good solid people. They take care of each other, celebrate Christmas together, mourn together, and hate people who don't share their values. Obviouslly, as a gay couple, you were smart to get out as soon as you finished high school. Amanda and I think we're contributing something. She's trying to make them environmentally aware through some of the curriculum she develops. I work with boys who need to learn to love and not hate. If a few of them are learning that lesson, then I'm happy. Over the years we've had a few gay boys. I'm glad to say that we didn't need the wrestling team to protect them, but they weren't accepted for who they were. Like you two, they're gone, and I don't blame them. But not needing the wrestling team in progress, if slow progress. Maybe I've been part of that."

"But you plan to retire in North Dakota."

"That's not really running away from the UP; it's an eagerness to join a lot of friends that live in Grand Forks. If Grand Forks wasn't calling, Amanda and I could enjoy retirement here. We have a lot of friends--many of them teachers that're trying to gently shove their students in new directions."

The dinner came to an end. Amanda's ice cream sundaes which featured fresh strawberries (well, as fresh as you can get in a grocery store in Ironwood in December) and whipped cream (out of a can) were a big hit. Conversation continued for a while after dinner--mostly reminiscing about high school years--but shortly ended. Jim and Leon thanked Paul and Amanda for the pleasant dinner; Jim again thanked Paul for his support many years before as the wrestling team, led by Paul, protected two boys who needed protection; and the two couples passed out of each other's lives, perhaps to pick it up again in a decade or so.

How would you like growing up in The Wheelhouse? Well, that's where Jon and Bruce grew up. What did the folks who lived in The Wheelhouse do all day? They rode bicycles. Jon, the eldest by two years, began in a sidecar where his mother, father, or one of his "uncles" could watch him. Soon Bruce was in the sidecar and and Jon was promoted to a trailer. By age five he was on a seat that allowed him to help pedal, and by seven he was riding his own bike following along as his parents and uncles slowed to his pace.

By eight and ten they were bicycle demons–racing all around town at breakneck speed–at least breakneck speed for them. The occasional fall was inevitable. But after a few repeat visits to the local ER, the doctors decided that there must be something going on besides bicycle accidents. Social Services got involved, and paid a visit to The Wheelhouse shortly after Bruce had come home from the ER with a broken arm in a cast and sling. Bruce was rather proud of his cast, and had it signed by most of his classmates, his teacher, and even the principal.

The signatures didn't satisfay the lady from Social Services. She insisted that she needed to talk to Bruce by himself–without his parents present to threaten him or prompt him. It must've been an interesting interview. The lady from Social Services wasn't really happy with the simple answer, "I fell off my bike."

"Where?"

"Somewhere out to the northwest. I'm not sure where. Jon's the leader."

"What happened?"

"I dodged a pothole, but then hit another that I couldn't avoid."

"Who was with you on this ride out to the northwest?"

"Jon."

"Who else?"

"Nobody."

"How old are you Bruce?"

"Seven."

"How old in John?"

"Nine."

"And you two ride alone?"

"Sure."

"How far do you ride on these rides alone?"

"I don't know. Miles. Ask Jon."

"You and John ride miles all alone?"

"I told you that."

"When you fell, how did you get help?"

"Jon used his cell to call Dad."

"Do you have a cell?"

"Of course."

"What if the accident had been more serious?"

"We'd have dialed 911 and then Dad."

"What if you'd been bleeding a lot?"

"I was. At least it looked like it."

"What did you do about the bleeding?"

"I didn't do anything. Jon got a bandage out of our first aid kit and pushed hard on the bleeding till Dad came. When Dad took the bandage away the bleeding had stopped."

The woman was dealing with a seven year old, who was talking about his older nine-year-old brother, and they had clearly acted like fairly mature teenagers! In the poor woman's mind here were two little kids that were allowed to roam all over on their bicyles when they should've been riding them around the block. On the other hand here were two little kids that clearly were quite capable of the trips they were taking. Well, congratulations to Social Services. She spoke to Bruce's parents and said, "You have two rather mature children. How did that come about?"

"They've been riding with us almost since birth, in a sidecar, trailer, or trailing wheels. The love to ride, just like us. So we let them ride, ride, ride. They know basic first aid for an accident, and they know how to use a cell phone–well most kids their age do. But they know when to call home and when to call 911 and they aren't afraid to do either. We have the usual fears of parents who let their children have freedom, but these kids've earned it, and our job is to give them the freedom they've earned. Today's accident isn't cause to restrict that freedom, but to celebrate that they knew exactly what to do, and they did it. We're proud of them. Would you like to sign Bruce's cast?"

She did.

By ages nine and eleven Jon and Bruce rode by themselves a lot less, because they were now able to keep up with the Marauders without slowing them down a whole lot. The eight of them were seen all over town and out in the countryside all the time. Clearly the Marauders now numbered eight.

One problem was than none of their classmates at school could keep up with them. Since bicycle riding was their life, it meant that they didn't make a lot of friends at school. The Marauders talked about this and worried about whether this was a problem they needed to be concerned about. The problem solved itself when Jon was age eleven and went to middle school. There was a bicycle club at the school and he quickly joined. They rode on Saturdays and sometimes made it an overnight trip. The eighth graders, who at first weren't sure what to make of this eager sixth grader, quickly learned that they couldn't keep up with him. On the third Saturday they got to talking and learned Jon had a little brother, Bruce, in fourth grade, who could also keep ahead of the pack. Jon asked their sponsor if Bruce could ride with them the next Saturday and Bruce–after his parents gave their enthusiatic permission–was quickly "in like Flynn"–whoever Flynn was/is.

But this story isn't about bicycling. You can easily write the story without my help. Just read of the success story of Bruce and Jon's parents, JoJo and Als.

Jon and Bruce were not, as you'd expect, "take it easy" bicycle riders. They were always pushing the envelope. When you've climbed to the top of a long hill your reward was a downhill ride. These downhill rides tended to fall into two categories: long, sometimes winding, rides through the fields of North Dakota, or a rather rapid plunge down a steep hill. You can imaging which Jon and Bruce preferred. One day the two of them, at this time ages eleven and thirteen, were out riding in an unfamiliar area near Lake Ardoch and the Ardoch National Wildlife refuge. As they rode along they saw two bicycles laying on the grass beside the road and two boys laying down resting beside them.

Jon and Bruce stopped and the four got to talking. The boys, Jimmy and Dan, were from Minto and attended Minto High School where they were both juniors. Ardoch was much closer to Minto than it was the Grand Forks. The two boys were surprised to encounter anyone on the back road they were on, much less two middle school kids from as far away as Grand Forks. They sat and talked for a while and then Bruce challenged the two older boys to a race. Jimmy and Dan were a little surprised at the challenge, but they agreed. They'd race back down the road until it was beside the lake. Jon asked, "OK, what does the winner get?"

Jimmy hesitated, but finally said, "I have an idea. Does a little sex play bother you?"

Bruce said, "No," and Jon nodded agreement.

Jimmy continued, "OK, the last two to the lake have to take off their clothes and let the two winners play with them."

Jon asked, "For how long?"

"Until we all agree it's over."

Bruce said, "OK, I think were in."

Much to the surprise of Jimmy and Dan they found Bruce and Jon to be serious competitors. The road approached the lake down a long steep downhill. The four approached the top of the hill about even and then set off down the long hill. Bruce and Jon, both serious daredevils, headed like mad down the hill. Jimmy and Dan had two things against them: first, they weren't daredevils and had a reasonable fear of the steep downhill on an unpaved road; second, Bruce and Jon were better riders and were easily keeping ahead.

Bruce and Jon got to the bottom, pedaled the few hundred yards to lakeside, dropped their bikes, and watched the others arrive. Bruce said, "I think it's now time for you to lose your clothes."

Remember, Bruce and Jon were part of a group of kids for whom sex wasn't forbidden. They'd had masturbation explained to them, and Jon had successfully experimented. He liked to have Bruce give him hand jobs, and in return he tickled Bruce and got him excited, but no orgasms as yet.

Jimmy and Dan were hesitant, but Jon reminded them that stripping was their idea. Slowly clothes came off, revealing two very hard penises. Jon turned to Bruce and asked, "Which one do you want?"

"Jimmy's seems to be the longest, so I'll take that one."

"I'll take Dan's."

They played with them for a little while, and then fisted them till they came. They made a race of it, and Bruce and Dan won, but not by much. "Now what?" asked Bruce.

"Nothing. They were good sports. Let's head home."

They did, leaving Jimmy and Dan lying on the ground, with cum all over their chests. Bruce and Jon never saw Jimmy and Dan again.

On the way home, Bruce asked Jon, "Could we get in trouble for all of that?"

Jon answered, "I don't think any crime took place, but there are some police officers that could make a big deal out of it."

"What about our parents?"

"I think the only question they'd raise would be the fact that those boys were strangers."

"They were nice enough, and they started it."

"I know, and we're all under eighteen, so there was no adult child sex. And there was no fucking. However, I think the main point is that nobody saw us. Privacy is very important in sex."

"I'll beat you home!"

"No, you won't."

Reader, you can draw your own conclusions, moral and legal.

When told the story, the Mauraders just laughed.