"I want to go to Ocean City."

"What!"

"Not right now. I want to walk into the ocean. I want to swim in the Atlantic before the summer's over. You like to swim. I want to go to Ocean City to swim."

"You think that's enough time, Greg?"

"I want to go to Ocean City," he insisted.

"Sure, Greg. Ocean City. I'll mark it on my calendar."

"Yeah. Put it on our calender."

What was the point of arguing with him? His face was covered in sweat and his hair was wet. He lay with his head in my lap. I couldn't get up without dislodging him and I didn't want to move him. He seemed okay if okay was lying in my lap in the middle of his driveway. He didn't seem to be in pain any longer. I wasn't going to disturb him.

The sound his leg made, made me queasy. If we'd destroyed it, letting him rest for a few minutes wasn't going to make a lot of difference and so I sat with him until he was ready to go back into the house, and then I put the bike deep in the shed, making sure he couldn't get to it again. I thought of coming back later and taking the bike away.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

"You're not very hungry tonight, Gregie," his mother said, after she'd come in and fixed dinner.

He had slept the rest of the afternoon. He was white as a sheet but didn't complain or cuss me for letting him do what he wanted. He was quiet and went right back to sleep after not eating his dinner. I sat with him until he was snoring and then I went into the kitchen where Greg's mother and father were doing dishes.

"How's the champ today?" his father asked with his happy smile.

"I don't know. He tried to ride the bike," I stammered, not wanting to admit to stupidity or lose the confidence of people I depended on.

"That boy, a chip off the old block," his father said, laughing that infectious laugh of his, but it didn't catch on and his mother heard the inflection in my words.

"What happened?" She asked, turning her back on the dishes to face me with her question.

"I told him no. He dug it out of the garage. We were in the driveway. I didn't want to go along with it. You know how hard-headed he is. He wouldn't take no for an answer. He was going to try to do it by himself and I was afraid he'd fall and...."

"Martin! What happened?"

"He got on the bike and I wedged his foot on the pedal. I started pushing the bike. Real slow, because I was really worried about what he was doing, but you know how he is," I stammered, looking for some agreeable words but they all made me sound like I was a ranting lunatic.

"Martin!" His mother said as his father fell silent and came closer to my words.

"His leg made a sound. It really hurt him bad. I mean crying-bad. He's cried before when forcing himself to lift weights or stretch his leg beyond where it's ready to go, but nothing like this," I continued, wanting to get it all out there as his mother sunk into one of the chairs at the table. "Then he was okay. Not okay, he's been sleeping ever since. I just don't know if we fucked it... excuse me... if we might have damaged it. It doesn't seem to have changed anything. He still walked on the crutches and walked to the bathroom afterward. He hasn't mentioned it, so I had to. I'm sorry," I said, and the tears ran out of my eyes.

It was Greg's mother's chance to fall silent. I could see the disappointment in their faces that I'd been a party to his folly and I should have known better, but I knew all that. I just hated to see them look at me that way.

"Okay!" His father thought. "I'll call his doctor. He's not due for therapy for another day but I'll get him in first thing in the morning. You can take him over, Martin? If I set it up?"

"Yes, sir. Anything."

"Good. They'll want X-rays. We'll let him sleep for now. Let me call the doctor and set it up. If the therapist thinks anything is wrong the doctor will be waiting for his call. Just don't tell Greg what we're up to and that way he'll go along without any argument. He is probably all right, but we'll get him looked at to make sure."

"He's going to notice I'm taking him to therapy on his off day," I said.

"I'll just tell him there's an extra appointment this week," his father said.

Of course Greg knew I had told his parents about our misadventure. He gave me the appropriate silent treatment on the way to the hospital. He looked like death warmed over. His eyes had deep circles under them and the usual sparkle had gone out of them, and him, as he sat motionless, staring out of the passenger side window at the fast moving world. I went along with the game plan and didn't bother trying to talk to him.

The therapist was there, although it was his day off. I followed them as he chatted with Greg, giving his usual positive spin to everything. Greg sat in the wheelchair after shoving the crutches at me. He had nothing to say but it was obvious he was not in good humor.

The therapist put him in the pool first. It was usual what he did at the end of a session. He had Greg's ankle on his shoulder and he was working gently to bend the knee, which was a normal part of the routine. Greg was stoic, wincing no more than usual but he didn't complain about his pain this time. Part of the time he stared at me with darts in his eyes over the indignity of having to return to the hospital on a day when he could have been home. I could take his wrath as long as I found out we hadn't set him back too far.

"Why the long face?" his therapist asked, while lifting him out of the pool.

"It's okay. Probably didn't do your tendon much good but you deal with the pain when you fuck with it. It's a little inflamed. I'll give you something for that. You have about 30% motion in your knee today, so whatever you did, it looks like we're about three weeks ahead of where we were yesterday. Just don't do it again, Greg. That leg has taken all the beating it can handle. Let's go slow for awhile. Besides, I need to work and if everyone finds out they can do their own therapy, I'll be out of business."

"You're the boss," Greg said, not selling it.

"Yeah, well, whatever. You can listen to me because I know what I'm talking about and we'll see this through, until that leg is almost as good as new, or you can keep fucking around with it, and then maybe it'll never support your weight again. It ain't no fucking sweat off my balls, kid. I'm going to be here doing this no matter if you walk again or not."

"I want to go to the beach," Greg explained. "Ocean City. I'm asking permission."

"Not a problem."

"I want to walk into the ocean by the end of the summer," Greg declared.

"Uh ... that's a bit ambitious. The ocean gets pretty cold by September. I'd save that idea for next summer," the therapist cautioned.

"Next summer?"

"You'll be walking on it without difficulty by the end of the year if you'll listen to me and keep doing your exercises. I'd say the ocean will be a bit cool by that time. What's your rush?"

"I'm tired of being a crip," Greg said.

There was silence that you could cut with a knife, and then the therapist erupted.

"Holy Shit! Are you kidding me?!? Let me take you upstairs and introduce you to some of the guys who really are crippled", he snarled. "You're lucky, kid. You'll be swimming in the ocean this time next year. Give it a little time. You're going to have that leg for sixty more years. Take care of it."

"I will."

"You had an accident! You're recovering! Cripples don't EVER recover you little plebe! You should be thankful for what you have! You been blessed, boy!"

"I don't feel blessed, I'm just tired of it. I'm sick of needing a nursemaid. I'm sick of coming here, I hate this place," Greg bleated in spite of his cowering now.

He'd picked the wrong cowboy to fuck with.

The thoroughly frustrated therapist looked at me,

"You dress him and you get him outta here, please! He'll be okay if he holds his horses. I've got sick peole who need my services..., and it's my day off. Do us both a favor, don't dress him tomorrow. Don't do anything but put him in the car and bring him to me. If he's half hanging out of his pajamas, let it hang. He wants to do it on his own, let him. He can't make it on his own and the sooner he knows it, the better off we'll both be."

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Tomorrow, before we do our therapy, I'm taking you upstairs where all the amputees are. You're going to see guys who can't go home. They have no options. They aren't going to go back to a normal life. I want you to see what real cripples look like. You got me, sport?"

Greg's eyes said he did, but he didn't answer.

"See you tomorrow, Gregie. You should rest that today, and I'll check the swelling tomorrow. If it hasn't gone down some, we might give you some pool time and send you home."

The therapist looked at me again before saying, "Don't let him do anything else to that leg. We can still get most of it back to nearly normal. More trauma makes it that less likely."

A second passed, then glaring at Greg, he said, "I don't appreciate giving up my day off for someone that refuses to listen to me and does nothing but feel sorry for himself! You've had one, kid, and you only get two from me - then I tell your old man he can find someone else. You got that? I'm here because I'm the best with your kind of injury. One more and you'll settle for second best. Got me, sport?"

"Yes, sir," I interjected, as Greg withdrew from our conversation, refusing to be scolded by some military therapist.

He gave me no help at all while I dressed him, making me wait until he lifted up his ass so I could pull his pants up to where they belonged. I started buttoning his shirt for him and he slapped my hand away. I slapped his hands even harder.

"I'm not crippled," he growled at me.

"Then quit acting like you are!" I screamed. "Tell you what Gregie, your nursemaid can get lost faster than you can say, "motherfucker." I can call your father to come take your sorry ass home, and be done with you. Say the word, sport."

If looks could kill, I'd a been a dead man.

"I'm not gonna put up with this shit again, Greg. It's not worth it to me 'cause I got other more rewarding things I can be doing with my life!"

He stared but said nothing.

"I want to get a job but I can't because you want me with you all the fucking time! Now you want to get rid of me because I did what had to be done for your own good. You know something you shit, I somehow feel responsible for our little stunt yesterday - don't bother to ask me how, I just do.

"You're not a fucking little boy, Greg! You can't play games with that leg," I said, tears welling up in my eyes, "Yesterday, I didn't know if you'd hurt it again; I was scared shitless and all you can do is bust my balls. Well fuck you and the horse you road in on, you bastard!" I yelled, throwing his shoe at him, making him wince as his eyes opened wide at my tirade.

He held his shoes in his lap, unable to bend over far enough to put it on by himself and I refused to do it for him. I angrily wheeled him out of the room and down the hall toward the parking lot and the car.

He was still holding the shoe when I put him in the car. I slammed his door and went around the car and yanked my door open, slamming it once I was inside. I couldn't look at him.

Once we got home, I pulled him up out of the car and the shoe fell on the ground, rolling on the driveway, where I let it.

It took him fifteen minutes to finally get up the back steps and through the kitchen and into the television room with me right behind him, until I sat him roughly down in the chair, tossing the crutches onto the floor. I returned to the kitchen, where I fixed him lunch, putting way more food on the tray than he could eat. I filled two glasses full of ice and soda and I delivered it all to the television room where he still sat in the silent room, staring at the blank television.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking up at me with his sad puppy look.

"Yeah, I know. I know. I'm going out to look for a job," I declared with absolutely no forgiveness in my voice. "That'll hold you until dinner. I may be back, I may not. Your nursemaid has had it up to here," I said, motioning to the top of my neck.

"When will you be home?" he asked softly, not daring to look at the hostility in my eyes.

"When and if I get here, but don't wait up for me, dear. I wouldn't want to get in your way. You've got plenty of food to last you until your parents get home. I'm leaving."

He wanted to say something else and he glancing up at me with a pitiful look on his face. He looked away when I glared at him as I went out the door. Whatever it was, it would wait.

My rage at Greg was because we both knew he played me like a fine fiddle, and I didn't know the difference between the sincere Greg and when he was giving me a con job. Giving up my life to help him get back to a place where he could dump me wasn't my idea of a good time. There were limits, and I had reached mine.

I realized at that moment that my life had to be about me as well, and not just about him. He was usually pretty careful not to cross the line, because he knew I remembered it all. Just like he knew I'd lay down in traffic for him, but what he didn't know was just how far he could push me and he had crossed the line and brought me face to face with a reality I feared more than loneliness.

It was nine o'clock when I got back to the house. I'd filled out an applications for a job at a local parts warehouse and I drove around... and around, trying to calm down but only succeeding in crying a lot and wondering what the fuck I was doing. It wasn't fun any more.

The shoe Greg dropped on his way into the house was sitting in the middle of the kitchen table now. His mother was reading at the dining room table and she looked up over her glasses at me as I came through the door. I couldn't read her expression. I didn't know if Greg's parents finally realized I was a dufis.

"Hope it's not catching. My son's have had those before."

"Pardon?!"

"Long face. You look like you lost your best friend. My son has a similar mournful look on his face right now. Want to tell me about it? He won't talk."

I remembered the first day I sat with Greg and his mother at that table. She had been totally pissed off at the fact Greg had come home from the hospital without telling them. Her voice took on that same little girl charm she used on her sons. She had said the very same thing in the very same voice to Greg that day. It made me smile. I wanted to cry.

"I'm not going to kid you. We need you, Martin. All of us need you. You don't think he wouldn't have driven us crazy if it wasn't for you? He's a real son-of-a-bitch when he sets his mind to it, but we love him in spite of it. You're the only one I know of that's ever been able to handle him, and he can't help but make you crazy now and then. I understand if you need a break, but don't leave him like this, Martin. He depends on you in so many ways, and you've been there for him through it all.

"It's hard on him, being the kind of boy he is. I understand if you do leave him, but you will regret it one day. He might be a bastard some days, but he's pretty amazing other days too. It's kind of a trade-off that on days like this doesn't seem worth it. Today is almost over. There will be tomorrow no matter what you decide."

"What did he tell you?" I asked.

"Greg? Nothing, nothing at all. He's been sitting in the chair in there since we got home. Did you leave him all that food?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"He wouldn't eat dinner. He wouldn't let me turn on the television for him. He's just sitting there waiting. Were you going to be away for awhile? There's enough food there to keep us all going for a few days."

"I didn't know what I was going to do. I just needed to... get away from him."

"But you came back, that's a good sign, Martin. He hasn't totally alienated you yet."

"Yeah, it's not easy leaving him. He just pisses me off. It's like he's the only one with a dog in this fight. I was so scared yesterday. I can't reason with him and he does stuff I know is idiocy and then I feel bad because I can't stop him. He said something today that just... I don't know... it just set me off and I can't forget it. I don't want to forget it. I know what he's like. I've put up with it for a long time. He plays me like a fiddle to get me to do what he wants. It's a game to him. He wants to see how far he can go. As far as he went today."

"He's sorry," she said for him, sympathetic to my discord.

"That's not enough."

"Why don't you go talk to him. He's not going to bed until you talk to him. He's sitting in there waiting for you to come home. My son is hard-headed and now he's punishing himself because he knows that he hurt you. Don't let him run you off, Martin. He needs you, and, I think you need him. We'll find a way to work it out."

"Yes, ma'am."

I stood at the door to the television room for a long time. I could see his mother at the table and she went back to the book she was reading. I finally opened the door, and there he was in the chair where I left him. He looked up to see who it was.

"I missed you," he said ever so softly with his puppy dog look.

"Yeah," I said.

"I've got to pee," he said. "I almost pissed myself. You shouldn't leave me alone."

"You couldn't get across the hall on your own? Come on Greg."

"No, you let me fuck my leg up, remember?" He said, giving me half a glance with half a smile attached and then realized it wasn't going to work this time.

"Yeah, I remember. Put your arms around my neck," I ordered, leaning down to where he was before standing back up, pulling him out of the chair as he hung on to me, hugging me, clinging to me.

I could hear him crying as we stood pressed together. He shook some but did his best to hide what was going on.

Our faces ended up dangerous close together as I took his weight on me. I could feel the heat coming off of him. He moved back just enough to see my eyes. Our lips were only two inches a part. He leaned on me as we took one unsteady step at a time across the hall and into the bathroom. He still managed to look dejected as he fished his dick out of his pants.

"Want to hold it for me," he joked, not daring to look at me.

"No thanks," I said. "I'm trying to cut down."

"Didn't think so. I don't blame you for being pissed off at me."

"Good," I answered. "You going to pee?"

"Oh, I was wondering why I was standing in front of the toilet," he said, and he spent five minutes eliminating his ready to burst bladder.

I got him back across the hall and sat him back down in the chair.

"Aren't you going to eat any of this?" I asked.

"Not hungry," he said. "Can't eat until I hear you say you love me."

"You've got to eat. You didn't eat yesterday. You want to heal you got to eat. You want to be a cripple?"

"I said no, I'm tired. I want to go to bed now."

"Greg, you are not an invalid."

"Yes I am! And I'm a tired one. I'm sore. Help me undress please, I want to go to bed now."

We'd hit an impasse and neither of us was sure how far we were going to go to please the other. It wasn't much different that it had always been. We both stood firmly on the ground we held, and while we were willing to meet the other half way, neither of us could muster the strength to finish the deal. We'd come close.

"Clothes," he said. "I need help."

I leaned over him and unbuttoned the three buttons I'd buttoned on his shirt, before quitting. I could smell him once I opened the shirt. There was no tee-shirt, just his bare chest and damp underarms. The scent of him made me dizzy with desire. He lifted up so I could ease the pants off. His erection was obvious. He smelled of sex and lust. I hesitated to see its shape and how it stood proudly out from his sandy blond pubes.

"I can't help it. You touched me. It always gets like that when you touch me. Want to help a fellow out. I could use a good.... You can fill in the blank. You came back. I wasn't sure you would," he said. "I thought I'd finally done it. I heard you talking to Mom."

"Put your arms around my neck and I'll get you in the bed."

"No, not if you aren't sleeping with me. Don't leave me. I need you, Martin."

I leaned so he could put his arms around my neck. It was all I could do to keep my hands off of him. He was every bit as beautiful as that day we met on Schultz Road. I loved seeing him naked. I waited for him to give in and put his arms around my neck. He stared at my face.

"Stay," he said.

"I'll stay," I said, too tired to go anywhere.

His arms were around my neck immediately. He let me pull him up as he held his body close to mine. I put my arm around his waist and moved him the five feet to the foldout bed. I sat him down and he kept his arms around my neck. We were making a lot of heat and I'd begun to sweat. Greg made me sweat. If things were different, I'd have been working him over, giving his magnificent dick a run for its money. I'd make him squirm and then do it all over again, but this wasn't time for that.

Once I undressed and laid down, he stayed very close to me. Close enough that I continued to sweat. He didn't touch me in a way that would encourage me to satisfy him. I don't know he really wanted that or some sign that our love wasn't dead. He still acted as though he was half out of it. He was still too pale and too quiet, but it didn't keep him from being insufferable.

I was keenly aware of how close I was to him in bed. I wanted to be with him even when I didn't want to be with him. My mind was full of insane thoughts. I had no idea what I was going to do. I had no idea what the right thing to do was. I fell asleep without ever trying.

After going to sleep, I woke up some time in the night, hearing Greg crying. My anger subsided immediately when I felt his tears wet my chest - it broke my heart. I hugged him to me and gave in one more time.

"I'm sorry, Greg. I know it's hard for you, but it's no picnic for me either."

"I know," he said, trying to hold back his tears, "I'm such a baby. I never used to cry."

"You never use to be broken. It takes a lot out of you but it requires more energy to keep fighting to get your life back. You need to keep fighting."

"Will you stay with me? I can do it if you stay with me."

"I'm here aren't I? I don't know why, but I'm still here."

"I keep thinking that one day you won't come back. I'll wait and wait and you won't come any more."

"I'm here now. Let's be grateful for right now and we'll let tomorrow take care of itself."

"Today didn't go so well, did it?" he observed objectively.

"No, tomorrow is another day. We'll give it another shot," I said, and he leaned up to kiss me.

God I loved him. I didn't know if I would live through it.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

"I want to go to Ocean City," he said, as soon as he saw my eyes open.

"Greg, what time is it?"

"I don't know. It's daylight. Did you fix coffee?"

"Greg, I just woke up," I said.

"You think I'd be talking to you if you was asleep. I'm not that dumb. Want to fool around, little boy?"

"You're feeling better," I said, seeing his color had returned.

"Yeah. I decided not to ride the bike any more. I want to go to Ocean City."

"People in hell want ice water," I said.

"You can't prove that," he said. "Do you think they do. I'm in real trouble if they do."

"You figure you're going to hell, Gregie?" I asked with no seriousness in the question.

"I figure what I'm thinking right this minute would get me a one way ticket," he said.

"What are you thinking?" I asked.

He smiled and pulled the sheet back to let his hard-on spring into full view. I'm thinking this can be cured. I bet if I reached over there and gave you a feel, yours needs some attention too. We ain't done nothing in two, or is it three days? I haven't gone that long since, since I never did. Sex, coffee, and then we'll plan to go to Ocean City.

"I've got to pee," I said.

"Me too. That'll make our orgasm that much more intense. I like needing to pee while I'm getting all worked up. The more I feel the more I like it. Don't you?"

"I can't argue with that. The more I feel the more I wonder how much I can feel," I said.

"You can only feel as much as you can feel. That's easy to figure out."

"Why didn't I think of that," I said, as he maneuvered himself close enough to me to get a hold on me.

"I really got to pee, Greg," I said, but he'd put a lip lock on me that wouldn't quit.

His hand worked his own erection over, but I decided I had to get my hands on it before he finished without me. It wasn't easy getting to him while keeping my place in his mouth. He made it easy on me and a minute later we were dick to face and the engagement took all the anguish out of the last few days. This was worth all the struggling with Greg. This was perfect.

As I got my jaws accustomed to his dick, I was able to lick, suck, and lavish my best attention on most of the top half of his presentation. Greg wasn't quite so ambitious, which was good, because I couldn't hang on as long as he could. I was a five minute man, when Greg was the ever-last variety if not every time.

He caught me by surprise with his fast reward for my loyal service. He was on the second squirt before I realized my great reward was running down my throat. It was obvious then as he swelled and then reduced in size as he became more passionate about how my lips caressed his overheated tissue. He swelled, pumped out more juice, and then reduced several more times.

While there was a certain ecstasy from having a lip-lock on my true love, it masked what was happening in Greg's mouth. Unlike usual, he'd stayed with it, never letting my dick slip his lips and hit the cool morning air. Greg had all of it securely in his mouth, and by the time he was dripping out the last of his passion juice, I began to furnish him with my own. Even that failed to dissuade him. In for a penny in for a pound, at least on this morning.

I was overwhelmed with feelings, even though I knew I could only feel what I could feel. It was still about the best feelings I'd ever had, except we were still lip-locked together and I wasn't quitting if he wasn't. Our truly mutually lusty moments were rarely as intense as these. While I wasn't ready to reload, he hardly softened at all, as my lips and tongue took advantage of when he was newly drained and more supple in my mouth.

It didn't last long, because anything sexual, even after Greg just got off, turned him back on again without a thought. It's what he did. It's who he was, and I was there to see he got as much as he could handle. I was there to love him, care for him, and experience every delight he shared with me. Greg was awesome, even when he was nearly down and out.

It was almost nine when we had enough and went across the hall to shower. Greg still though a little anal action might be the cherry on top. I had to be on top of my game and super lusty to allow him that pleasure. When I wanted it, there was nothing as good as Greg giving me all he had to give and doing it with passion and a gentleness I didn't expect to come from him.

I let him soap up my crack and use that to amuse him, but he still tried for the prize, but didn't succeed. I did have my limitations. I was so worn out that standing in the shower took effort. We dried each other and Greg was still more randy than he wanted to admit. I took a special pleasure in drying his body. His color had reset back to normal. There was no sign of the pallor from the two previous days.

Greg was back to being golden. His hair was gold, his skin was gold, and he saw the world through the most dazzling blue eyes. I envied his looks. I always had. He made my heart race. He made my mind race. He made my dick salute him.

The therapist went along with the program.

"You look better today. We'll take the rest of the week off. Go to Ocean City. No point in pushing our luck. You okay with that, sport," he said in a far more friendly way.

"Yeah, I can get with that. See you next Tuesday?" Greg said.

"Next Tuesday. I'll be here with bells on," the therapist said.

"Me too. Without the bells," Greg said, and we walked out with him holding onto my forearm to assure his balance didn't betray him.

We exited the main gate and drove directly across the street into MacDonalds. He ate two Big Macs, two fries, and a gigantic chocolate shake, not leaving so much as a crumb. I did too.

"You ever been to New York City?" Greg asked, handing me his trash, wiping his lips on the last napkin and pushing it into the pile for me to eliminate.

"No. That's in New York?"

"Duh. I want to go to New York City," Greg said.

"Ocean City?" I asked.

"That too. We got time, Martin, or are you in a hurry?"

"No hurry," I said, trying to remember why we argued the last few days.

"I figure you love me and I'm not going to get a better deal from anyone else. I've decided I love you, as if you couldn't tell, and we should go to New York City together."

"Okay," I said, waiting for the logic.

"We should have some memories to remember, you know? I've always wanted to see New York City. I want to do it with you. I want us to do it together, I mean. You know?"

"I like the idea, Greg. I've always loved you. I probably loved you before I knew you, but I knew the first time I saw you that I was going to love you. Lord knows I'll never meet anyone like you."

"That's for sure," he said. "Lets don't fight any more. I hate that. If you'd left me when you acted like you were going to leave me, I'd a died. Life without you wouldn't work too well. I want to stay together and not argue any more," he said, figuring it out as he said it. "I want to go to New York City."

"Me too," I said.

I did love him so.

Discovering Gregory
The End

I am dedicating Discovering Gregory to David Martin Miller, my soul mate and greatest love. Without Greg, there would have been no David, and without David, I may not have written.

I've loved you for so long, David, I can't stop now.

Rest in peace, my love: David Martin Miller, November 1950 - April 2013



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"Discovering Love" Copyright © 1 September 1997 OLYMPIA50. All rights reserved.
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