The good news: I was ecstatic at the control my brother had given me over our lovemaking. I couldn’t restrain myself. Mom, Dad, and I waited while his team had their final post-game conference after which his team, a bunch of young guys, surprised me by giving each other impromptu hugs. My brother had only hit one home run that day but that night we celebrated his four at bats. Painfully obvious, in fact.” Our desserts and coffee arrived just in the nick of time. Maybe it was some vestige of parental guilt, or maybe they genuinely wanted to see their son’s performance; it didn’t matter as Paul and I were both happy that they would be there. Perplexed, I buckled myself in as we drove off. And as I reached down and took his moist, soft penis in my hand and lightly fondled it, reached further and cupped his sac, elated to gently roll his balls around easily with my light squeezing, another thing occurred. I understand those stories. The post-game chat with the parents, I knew, had left other things unsaid. It was a completely empty threat, a bluff to extort a kissing lesson from Paul. It’s obvious they know they have something the boys want, but it’s also obvious that they have no idea of the beauty and wonder
