Only Gerald and Anna agreed with me. When they said that, Steve turned right at his mom and then left at his dad and gave them the same horror look Bobby had just given me.
We finally agreed that one parent for each boy would all meet tomorrow and go together to each store with the boys and confess to the managers and return the merchandise.
"I'm not paying the stores not to prosecute Bobby. If they want to, that's fine with me," I said.
Gerald and Anna agreed. With that said, both Bobby and Steve were openly and loudly crying.
The next day, at each store, the managers said it was their companies' policy to notify police and prosecute thefts this large. All of the boys were openly crying, despite the people in the stores looking at them.
Each parent received calls from the police to report downtown to the juvenile section to answer to the charges, and bring the boys.
At psychologist Betty's advice, I did not whip Bobby from that last Friday afternoon when I first found out about the thefts. She said if the police do take them to the Hall and saw marks on Bobby, I would be in more trouble than Bobby.
During the time between the parents' first evening meeting and going to the Police Department, Bobby and I were very quiet living together. We did our usual routine, but he was grounded to his room. I kept reassuring him that I loved him, wanted him with me and that deep down he was a good kid. During some breaks in his grounding, we found things to laugh about, enjoyed each other's company and played some games and watched some rented videos. Nevertheless, he always knew he was in big trouble.
The parents, boys and four very expensive lawyers met with the police to discuss the charges. Each boy was a first time juvenile offender, and that was working to their benefit, the lawyers emphasized.
Privately, I told my lawyer that I would like something like six months probation, counseling (which I had already arranged) and some community service. I said I wouldn't mind if Bobby spent a night or two in a Juvenile Hall facility. The lawyer said we could get off with a lot less. He didn't understand why I wanted to be so harsh when we could easily avoid it.
"I'm not sending a message to Bobby, Bill, that his rich dad, with a high-powered lawyer, is always going to get him out of trouble."
The whole legal mess was settled in a week. The high-powered lawyers moved the case along quickly and efficiently with the help of the prosecutor and judge. They all knew and respected one another; they were close friends, in fact. Money and connections always seem to get things moving faster and quietly, most of the time, at least.
Bobby and Steve spent a night in Juvenile Detention, although the Judge said that didn't need to happen. We parents insisted on it. We agreed to reimburse the County for the detention expense. The Judge gladly accepted that. The judge was very pleased over the rehabilitation program setup for all four boys. He was most pleased that Betty was handling this; he respects her, too. The Court set a fine for each boy at $1,000. The kids were placed on probation for six months. Community Service time was set for 50 hours instead of the 100 I wanted. It was argued that school would be starting soon, and the boys needed to focus on their educations. The Community Service had to be completed during the term of the probation. Their service work was to be centered on the homeless and teenage drug and alcohol problems. The boys must report to their Probation Officer once a week. At the end of their probation, the boys had to reappear before the Court for an evaluation on how they progressed.
Everyone was pleased on how things worked out, except Bobby and Steve. They didn't like the Juvenile Detention day and night stay one bit.
Later, the boys did their "time" in detention. They were very relieved to get out. Each said, "Hell would freeze over before they would ever go back to a place like that."
"I learned my lesson, Dad, big time. I'll never, never, ever get into trouble again," Bobby said.
I contacted my favorite limo service, and said I wanted an ordinary car with a dependable driver to take the boys to their Community Service programs.
My psychologist friend, Betty, became a hit with the boys. They liked the group meetings. They were shocked at what some of the other teenagers in the group were saying about their lives and how and why they got into trouble. It opened their eyes to a world they did not know and did not want to enter.
Bobby often met privately with Betty. The boy revealed a lot more to her than the stealing experience. Much later, I would find out that he talked to her at great length about his _s_e_x_ual thoughts and fantasies.
Betty had Bobby meet with Frank, my gay friend who answered a lot of Bobby's questions this summer at one of my parties. Frank is also a psychologist who deals extensively with teenagers and adults on gay issues. Bobby had mentioned Frank to Betty, whom she knew professionally. Frank met with Bobby on many occasions. My friend Frank did not mention those meetings to me. Nevertheless, I would learn about them later when all would be revealed to me.
My lawyers had been working on my guardianship of Bobby, and it was being completed. Bobby wanted me to adopt him and change his last name to mine. The lawyers were working on that, too. That process would take a little more time. But as I've said before, money and connections could often move things along faster than usual. I didn't always like using that strategy, but when I wanted something badly, it was usually my best approach.
In August I had Bobby enrolled in an excellent school in our neighborhood. He would be going to school with his best friend Steve and the others in his crime spree along many other friends he met over the summer.
The remainder of the summer went well. Bobby and I had a lot of fun together. There were the usual parties, gay, straight and both. He was becoming a gregarious boy who had great fun at all the parties.
We had our quiet time together around the pool that we both enjoyed greatly. Our all- over tans were deeper. We did our exercise workouts together. We had a ball!
The school year was coming closer, and surprisingly to me, he was most excited about it. The boy actually wanted to get back in the classroom. When I was his age, I usually dreaded the end of summer fun and the start of school.
Labor Day weekend was a week away. I had planned that we would take a few friends for a house boat camping trip on Lake Mojave for a week. Bobby invited his closest friend Steve. I invited six of my closest gay friends, including Frank the psychologist whom I did not know was secretly counseling Bobby.
I had arranged the rental of a large motor home for our transportation. We had a ski boat to tow behind the motor home and two Sea Doos to tow behind the Ranger. Each adult was responsible for bringing certain provisions. It was going to be great fun: skiing, swimming, playing and camping in quiet coves with plenty of privacy.
The night before we were to leave, Bobby and I were attending to last minute details on our part. The motor home was parked outside the house. We had a lot to load, but we finished our tasks well before dinner that evening.
Bobby was inside the house doing his last minute chores. I had just finished fueling the motor home. When I returned home, I was walking down the hall toward Bobby's room when I heard this horrible coughing and smelled the foul smell of tobacco smoke. I detest smoking and do not allow it in the house. Bobby said he hated the smell of tobacco smoke and became sick at the smell. In summer school he was an active teenage advocate against smoking as well as drug and alcohol use. This pleased me to no end.
But what was causing him to cough and this repulsive smell. I came to Bobby's room, and he was puffing on a cigarette or at least trying to. Each puff made him cough.
"What are you doing, son? You hate this stuff. You know I hate it."
"Just experimenting, Dad." He didn't blush or seem flustered as he usually does when I've caught him at something he wanted to hide from me.
Knowing that I would be coming home soon, it seemed to me very strange that he would be trying this stunt, which would obviously get him caught.
"Where did you get these cigarettes, son? Did you steal them?"
"Absolutely not, Dad, (cough, cough) I asked an older friend to give me a couple to try out."
"We're leaving on a vacation tomorrow, and you do a crazy stunt like this?"
His bathroom door was open to his room. I looked inside and saw a towel on the floor with vomit all over it. It smelled horrible.
"This is obviously making you sick. Stop it and regain your sanity."
"Dad, I need to be punished for this. Please give me a spanking."
"What? I'm not going to spank you for this. Your coughing and vomiting should tell you that your body is punishing you enough."
"Please, Dad, I need a spanking, a hard one. This _s_h_i_t_ has made me sick. I'm sorry for that word, Dad. Please punish me."
"You're crazy, son."
He looked me eye to eye, slightly _c_o_c_k_ed his head and had a face that said "please do this for me."
"Dad."
"OK, you win. Get yourself ready. Do you want me to use my hand or the strap?"
"The strap, Dad."
"Good heavens, son. You are one crazy kid. I'll be back in a couple minutes."
I walked down the hall thinking this kid is looney. I won't be hard on him. We're going to the lake tomorrow. He likes to ware his thong bikini, and a red ass will be difficult for him to explain to the others. Besides, I don't want the guys to think I'm always whipping my son or worse, abusing him.
When I returned to Bobby's room, he was lying naked on the sheets of his bed. His body stretched out and arms above his head and dangling off the head of the bed. He didn't say a word to me.
I positioned myself so that I was sitting on the bed with my back to him. With my left hand, I firmly held his waist.
"How many do you want, son?
"Twenty lashes, Dad, please."
Since he wanted that many, I would begin by spanking him with my hand. Remember, no redness or marks can be seen tomorrow.
With my right hand, I began the slow, easy rhythm of the spanking, starting lightly and building to intensity. I spanked one ass cheek, then the other, then both. I was going to give him 10 spanks and then 10 lashes with the strap, with the last one being the hardest.
Bobby moved his hips side to side with each spank, sometimes lifting his butt up and down. There were no cries coming from him. He just softly said, "Oh, ah," with each spank.
His hips moved more intensely, and his ass moved up and down more vigorously as I switched from using my hand to the strap. Still, his only sounds were soft "Oh, ah."
With the last spank the hardest on both cheeks, he cried out, "Oh, man!" And then he breathed out deeply.
"Thanks, Dad."
"I'm going to turn the ceiling light on to examine the redness and any possibility of marks. I don't want any signs of a whipping on you in the morning."
Bobby never moved from his stretched out position. I examined his ass, rubbed it lightly and felt just a little heat. He would be ok for tomorrow.
"Looks good, son. There won't be any notice of anything by tomorrow."
"Thanks again, Dad"
He just kept lying there, not moving at all.
"Son, get up. We still have plenty of things to do yet."
It seemed as though he wanted me to leave the room before getting up. That seemed especially strange to me, since he has not been modest about being naked. I left the room to finish my other work for the vacation.
I walked past Bobby's room to carry things through the garage and to the motor home. Bobby was taking a shower. I saw something in his room I thought we needed for the trip. I walked in to get it and noticed the sheet on his bed.
I'll be _d_a_m_n_ed, the kid creamed the sheets big time with cum during the whipping.
Now I get. How dumb could I be not to have thought this one out? The little bastard set me up with that cigarette scheme so there would be a lame excuse for a whipping. He insisted on the whipping, almost begging for it. The "oh" and "ah" sounds were his feeling of _s_e_x_ual pleasure. The wiggle dance with his hips and the up and down movement of his ass was to generate some light friction on his penis to bring himself to a climax, with my hand and the strap whipping his ass fulfilling a fantasy. He used me. He used me as a vehicle for a masturbation exercise. I laughed out loud. I kept laughing all the way to the motor home. By the time I got to the vehicle I was laughing so hard I was crying.
I entered the house through the laundry room, Bobby was washing his sheets and towels. He was clothed only in his very brief bikini underpants.
"Everything loaded, Dad?"
"I think so, hope so. There's always something I seem to forget, but the list is all checked off. Why are you doing your bed sheets now? The maid will change and clean everything while we're gone."
I couldn't help that broad smile on my face. It was so hard for me not to be laughing out loud.
Bobby looked at me with a slight blush on his cheeks.
"Dad, I like things neat and clean, just like you do."
"Every day you put on new sheets. And the maid washes your clean sheets and puts on another pair of sheets."
I'm being a real _s_h_i_t_head, I'm really teasing this boy horribly. But I can't seem to control myself. I know he changes his own sheets daily because of his wet dreams at night, and he _f_u_c_k_s the sheets whenever he gets the chance. He doesn't want the maid to see the cum stains.
"Oh, Dad, please." He was really blushing now.
"Go ahead, son, do your thing. I'm just giving you a hard time."
"Dad, go to bed. We have to be up at four in the morning. Although, I'm not sleepy. I have been too excited."
"Too excited is not the word for it, son." I laughed.
"Dad, you're cruel." He knew now I was on to him.
I started walking down the hall. I didn't get far.
"Dad, look."
I turned back to him, and he threw a towel that landed right on my face. I laughed uncontrollably and threw it back at him.
He caught the towel. "Dad, you are a nuisance. I'm going to get you this week. You better be watching out." Bobby was now laughing loudly. He knew that I knew.
It was now out in the open, which probably makes him feel more at ease with himself and me. And he should feel freer not having to hide his feelings from me and the multitude of changes going through his young body. I wish I had that opportunity when I was his age.
Well, I thought, a spanking or whipping is out as punishment for this kid. He obviously likes it too much. On the other hand, if he's desperate for some fantasy fulfillment, why shouldn't I help him out? I'll have to think deep and hard on that one.
My alarm went off at 4:00 a. m. That's a God awful hour to get up. I rolled out of bed and got myself ready for our vacation. When I got to the breakfast nook, Bobby was already downing his cereal, toast and juice.
"Morning, Dad. I'm ready. I've got all my personal things packed. Ready to go!"
Yawning, rubbing my eyes, I was going to fix coffee, but Bobby already had the coffee made. What he considerate kid he is.
"Morning, son. What have you packed for yourself?"
"Dad, all I need for the week: the bikini I have on; an extra bikini, two thong bikinis, three T-shirts, a hat, some running shorts and sandals. I have all the hygiene junk. I've got a couple books. Anything else I should take."
"Seems like you have all you need. It duplicates what I've got. Our minds are alike."
"They sure are, Dad. They sure are." Feeding his face, his big blue eyes glanced up at me.
We laughed.
Off we went at 5:00 a. m. to pick up the other guys. My friend Frank was behind us towing the ski boat with the Ranger. By 6:30 we had everybody loaded on board and were off on the 91 to the I-15 with Lake Mojave our destination. With no stops along the way, we reached Cottonwood Cove shortly before noon. It was hot outside. Very hot! The place was getting crowded. Our reservations were in place to park the motor home. It was the best place to park, close to the restaurant, dock and a good view of the lake. Money does talk, when you want the best place.
Bobby and his friend Steve were only wearing their Speedo bikinis pulled down so low that it seemed a light breeze or a slight bend of their bodies might cause the things to fall off. The rest of the guys were also wearing bikinis, but some wore running shorts, including me.
The first order of business was to launch the ski boat and the Sea Doos. We had great fun doing that. Everyone wanted to board any of the craft, especially the boys. The guys took sympathy with the boys and let them ride on something. In a few minutes the water craft were docked near the houseboat
It took nearly two hours for our gang to sort the houseboat from the motor home, arrange things with the rental people, check-outs and other stuff. Then we were off to find our special spot on the lake to spend the rest of the day and night.
We headed upstream toward Willow Beach and the dam. About midway between Cottonwood Cove and Willow Beach, we found the perfect spot. It was a quarter moon quiet cove with no one to share it with and a beautiful sandy beach that would allow lots of fun. It took another hour to anchor the houseboat and move the water craft ashore, to setup a beach site and generally get things organized.
Bobby and Steve were boys, and boys will be boys. They changed to their thong bikinis. They switched from chores to swimming to frolicking in the water with each other. When someone yelled at them to help, they obediently stopped their play and pitched in, until they found an easy out to continue playing. Most of the guys were giving up on the boys for help. "Let them be boys and have fun," they said. Some looked with envy at the boys' free spirit of play. Some would love to return to those carefree days and be a boy again. Some wished their own childhood would have allowed them to be so free with their nearly naked bodies in front of adults, especially Bobby, so free in front of his Dad. "_s_h_i_t_," one said. "What I would give for that opportunity."
The rest of the day was spent water skiing, playing with the Sea Doos, sunning on the inflatable rafts and having just overall fun.
A boat was coming into our cove carrying a family with two teenage boys. It seemed they wanted a piece of the cove for their own pleasure. Bobby and Steve ran over to the boat to help the people beach and come ashore. Apparently the mom and dad and their kids didn't like what they were seeing: Bobby and Steve in thong bikinis, men laying naked on the rafts, and other guys in small bikinis.
They said to the boys, "Thanks but no thanks. We'll find another spot."
The boys couldn't understand the problem. All they wanted was the company of the teenage kids aboard the boat as another set of playmates. Meanwhile, some of the adult guys were all laughing and clapping that they fended off the invaders. Although some said, they would have liked the extra company.
We had an early evening barbeque on the stern of the houseboat. It was a very nice setup with all kinds of food and drink. Some of the guys are excellent cooks. Following dinner, several guys wanted to go back to the motor home for the night. And a couple guys wanted to make the hour trip to Vegas and return to the motor home about midnight or so. They all probably wanted to do some partying on their own away from the boys. They all would return to the cove early the next morning.
That left the boys, Frank, Sam and me with the cove and houseboat to us. Even though it was hovering around 90-degrees at night, we setup a campfire on the beach for effect. Frank brought along his guitar. He's an excellent player and singer. We sat on the beach, looked at the stars and sang songs into the late evening hours.
Frank, Sam and I went to the air-conditioned houseboat for talk and sleep. The boys wanted to stay on the deck on top of the houseboat.
Frank and Sam went to bed. I walked out on the stern of the boat for some peaceful thoughts to myself. I heard the boys wrestling, giggling, some "ohs" and "ah" sounds and a few slaps on flesh. If my imagination was correct, the boys were having a little party time of their own at _s_e_x_ual experimentation.
I got up early the next morning. Frank and Sam were still asleep. The boys, apparently wanting some air conditioned comfort, were sacked out together on another bed. A sheet barely covered the two of them. They were both nude and sleeping very close together. Bobby's arm was around Steve's waist. I thought I should have a discussion today with Frank, the gay psychologist, about the boys' intimate behavior. Being Bobby's dad, I can't think objectively about these things like I used to.
In a few moments the roar of the ski boat was heard in the distance. It slowed and came in slowly beaching next to the houseboat. Out jumped our buddies with additional provisions and ready for breakfast.
In an hour everyone was out on the water skiing except Frank and me.
"Frank, I want to talk to you about Bobby?"
"No problem, Dave. Bobby gave me full permission to discuss anything with you."
"Full permission? What does that mean?"
"Well, Dave, Bobby has been seeing me regularly, and we've been talking on the phone. This has been going on since the theft incident. He had a lot of questions about himself, his feelings and fantasies. Our talks have been more educational than therapy. I listed him as one of my patients. I wouldn't talk to you, Dave, unless Bobby gave me permission. You know, patient and therapist confidentiality."
"Why wouldn't he come to me and talk? We've been having such a great relationship. I feel a little hurt about that."
"Don't be, Dave, he fully intends to confide in you. He wants to very much. But he felt that a third party with my special experiences would help him understand many things before he starts talking to you. Dave, Bobby believes he's gay."
"Gay? How can he make that determination at such a young age? I think he's been _s_e_x_ually experimenting with Steve. He has a lot of growing to do. I would think it's too early for him to know his orientation."
"I know about Steve, Dave. Yes he has been experimenting. He's told me. Steve thinks he, too, is gay. They have a lot of feelings toward one another. They did it on the top deck last night. And you noticed how they openly slept together last night. They've been experimenting for about a month."
"Jesus Christ, Frank. You know things that I've only been guessing. Let me tell you about what we did the night before the vacation started."
"You mean that little spanking episode between you two. Bobby had been trying to think of a way for you to do it to him for the last two weeks. He enjoyed it very much and wants to do it again and again. The kid was never abused by his real parents. They never laid a hand on him, he says emphatically. He believes the two hard whippings you gave him this summer were well deserved. He doesn't think you abused him. The boy wants to do some play spankings with Steve. Right now, Bobby is a little unsure about asking Steve. He says he prefers that you spank him, because you're more of an authority figure. That, too, fuels his fantasy. Think, Dave, when did you start getting feelings that you were gay? When did you start your BDSM fantasies?"
"Frank, you are blowing me away. You have just said a mouthful. I guess you and Bobby have been doing a lot of talking yesterday and today. I didn't notice the two of you together that much. And that spanking scene the other night was really funny once I caught onto what he was up to. You'll have to tell me how healthy it is for a dad to help his son masturbate a fantasy. That's a new one to me. I've never heard of it. I was noticing boys more than girls in a _s_e_x_ual way, I guess, just about Bobby's age. By the time I was 16 I was really sure, although I did have some dates to proms and things like that. I wanted to be a part of that scene to sign off my childhood, I guess. I had _s_e_x_ only once with a woman, a prostitute. She was good, but it wasn't the same as with my male friends. The BDSM stuff entered my psyche at a very early age, maybe 5 or 6. As I grew, I loved to see whipping and spanking scenes in comic books and movies. I kept those fantasies to myself until maybe 20 or so before experimenting.
"Dave, it's up to you if you want to help him masturbate his fantasies. Personally, I think it's not a bad idea if you do it properly. Here's why. If you turn away from him from him this relative harmless exercise, he'll just go elsewhere to fulfill his fantasy. And that could spell a lot of big trouble for the boy. There are guys out there who would love to whip him and do terrible damage to him. He's safer with you and maybe Steve. I suggest keeping it that way until he's older and wiser and can look out for himself. I definitely don't think you should have _s_e_x_ with him. That's bad in keeping with your dad, son relationship. Never cross that line where you become an extension of his lovers. You should always be a father to him and a friend, but be a father first and foremost. He will respect and trust you more for that. You have to set the rules, be the person that helps him guide his way in this stage of his life. You have to be the wiser person. You're not his buddy. You're his dad. You do that, and he'll make you his buddy in his own way.
"What about protective _s_e_x_, Frank? Have you discussed that with him?"
"Oh, indeed, Dave, very much so and at great length. He knows how to wear a condom. He knows what they're for and the protection they serve. I've not gone so far with the boy to the point I'm telling him more than he can comprehend. He still has much to learn, very much."
"Dave, I have talked at great length with Steve. That boy is having his own problems. He knows or thinks that his Dad would be very upset if he found out that Steve was having gay feelings. He's confided to his mother, somewhat, but not at any great length. I think the boy is more cautious and scared than he should be. After all, they know their son is on a week's vacation with a bunch of gay guys. They know you're gay. I think Steve's parents will be very tolerant, helpful and even respectful if they knew that Steve was gay. He has a 22- year-old sister that's a lesbian. His parents know it and accept it. Steve's problem is that he's the last one in the family that could carry on the family name. He's torn by that and thinks his dad would be disappointed. Perhaps that could cause some friction. But Steve's parents are intelligent enough to know that you can't force a _s_e_x_ual orientation on someone. They learned that with their daughter. And, believe it or not Dave, I helped them through it. Their daughter, Susan, is thrilled that Steve is talking with me. She thinks Steve is gay. Steve wants to be open about it, but he doesn't want his schoolmates to know. Neither does Bobby want it out in the open to his other friends. That's understandable, especially at this age. It's even justifiable in adults. Sometimes you just can't come out of the closet to everyone. It's not practical."
"Dave, I suggest that you let the two boys play and experiment safely and sanely. Take away their outlet and they will go underground. Parents can't punish these kids into submission. They're going to do it one way or another. Just be thankful they are not on drugs or alcohol. These kids are tuning into their bodies and the changes that are going through them. Nothing can stop that. Let's make it safe, sane and let them know they are loved very much. If there's any chance that they might start experimenting with girls, we'll have to put them through a new learning exercise for what's safe and sane. But for now you can be thankful for one thing, Dave."
"What's that, Frank?"
"They aren't going to get a girl pregnant."
We both laughed uncontrollably.
The vacation the rest of the week stayed on the same course of play and fun for all. The boys continued their nightly _s_e_x_ual play on the top deck and slept together the rest of the night. What a _s_e_x_ life these two were having. God only knows how many times they were doing it. Those hormones were running wild in both of them. It soon became the topic of conversation among the guys. They all knew, and were thinking to themselves what great fun the boys were having. There was a little envy among them. No one said a thing to the boys that they were on to their activities, except Frank in his counseling. I had the feeling the boys knew the other guys knew and just didn't care. They were having too much fun. Can you blame them?
There is so much to say and stories to tell about the "Wonder Years" of life with Bobby. He becomes far more open about his _s_e_x_uality and fantasies in the coming years of his teenage life as he grows from a boy to a young man.