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What I’m about to tell you may shock you.  But then again it might titillate you. If Clay and I had gotten together six months before our parents got married or even the night before, it probably wouldn’t, but it also wouldn’t be nearly as interesting. Dad and Clay’s mom met at the Senior Citizen Center where they went regularly to play cards or bingo or whatever else they did. Neither Clay (whom I didn’t know existed) nor I knew what they were planning. It had all been settled before we were told. Mom died eight years ago and Dad had been alone since then. Clay’s mother had been a widow for longer. Clay and I had moved in with our parents for the same reason: because we didn’t think they should be living alone at their age.Clay and his mom lived in a great rent controlled apartment that she had had for twenty years, but Dad had this big house, too big really. There’s the master bedroom on the first floor, which is so big it’s almost a suite. It has a fireplace with a seating area, a large walk-in closet, and a master bath. Upstairs there are four bedrooms: Grandma’s before she died, my older sister’s, who died of meningitis when I was eight, the unused guest room which is now full almanbahis şikayet of those things you will never use but you don’t want to throw away, and mine.My sister’s room is frozen in time, left just as she left it, as a memorial. Clay and his mom moved in and Clay took Grandma’s room and threw out all the frou-frou and do-dads, stripping it down to the basics of a monk’s cell.Clay and I are almost the same age. I’m two months from my twenty-seventh birthday, and Clay turned twenty-eight last month. He got married straight out of high school, divorced three years ago and has two little kids he sees regularly. After meeting we soon discovered we had many of the same interest. We have both run the half-marathon, love cross-country skiing, and kickboxing. We are fans of the Lakers and the Chargers. We like cool jazz and can’t stand rap. We don’t smoke and both drink bourbon. And we both enjoy a good laugh.The Saturday after the wedding Clay suggested we go out on the town to clear our heads of all the wedding hoopla we had gone through. It had grown into a big affair and we were relieved it was over. We were in a nice jazz club that didn’t try to gouge you, having a almanbahis canlı casino quiet conversation.We’d been there for about three hours when clay said, “Ty, I don’t know the correct way to ask you this, so I’m just going to ask it. Are you gay?”I answered the question with a question. “What gave me away?”He shrugged. “It was just a couple of remarks you made over the past several days. Now I don’t even remember what they were, but they put the thought in my head and I just took it from there.”I looked at him. “Does that change anything?”He smiled. “No, not really. I guess I should have told you this first, but when I was about sixteen a kid about the same age moved in our building for a year. His folks were going through a nasty divorce and he came to stay with his grandparents until things were settled. We hit it off and after a couple of months, he invited me to a sleepover. Long story short, he gave me a blowjob that night, and many times after for the rest of the time he was there.”I had been looking at him the whole time he was talking. “And that was it? No follow ups?”He shook his head. “No, never did it again.”I didn’t know what to add, so I just let almanbahis casino it lie there. We went on to talking about other things.We left the bar before closing time and headed home.Clay was driving, and after several minutes of silence he said, “Back to my original question, are you actively gay?”I drew back and frowned. “What do you mean ‘actively’? I’m not dead for God’s sake.”He laughed. “I just meant do you make out?”“Not as much as I’d like to,” I said.There was a beat, and then, “Would you like to make out with me?” he asked.I was dumbfounded. “Are you propositioning me?”He said, “No. Well, yeah, I guess I am.”I think this would be as good place as any to say I found Clay very attractive but had not imagined anything with him since I hadn’t imagined anything could ever happen with him. He was the straight son of the woman my father had married, that was all. I didn’t say anything and by that time we were home.I went in my bedroom and proceeded to follow my fussy bedtime routine. I stripped down to my boxers, went into the bathroom and power brushed my teeth, scrubbed my face with defoliating face wash, put on moisturizer and pissed. When I walked back into my bedroom Clay was standing there naked with his rather large semi-erect cock in his hand.I stopped cold and he smiled and asked, “Are we going to do this or not? You didn’t give me an answer before.”I hadn’t moved. “Clay, are you sure about this?”He looked down at his cock.

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