Those of you who have read all or parts of Geoff and Chet, published on Literotica, will recognize Reg who is portrayed as an amoral antagonist in that novella. This story was inspired by that portrayal and takes place three years before. It is one of several potential epilogues. All characters, places and events are fictional. All characters portrayed in sexual situations in this story are over 18, but there is reference (not description) to earlier illegal (abusive) events which impact character formation. Presumably as a consequence, Reg is not what might be described as a nice guy. This story is a little dark. If this troubles you, please skip this story. Copyright 2023, all rights reserved. BD
Reginald Gallagher (Reg to all his friends) had just finished his last class of the day at North Dallas High School. He planned to skip cross-country practice. He could get away with the skip because he was absolutely the finest runner that NDHS had ever produced. He was already a two-time All-Stater and co-captain of the team. Today was Reg's 18
th
birthday and a group of his buds had promised a party in his honor. So he headed home to change into his party duds.
Reg is tall, very tall—already 6-5 with long "runner's" legs and that small high bubble butt that long distance runners seem to develop. He has a café au lait complexion, dark hair, cut close, sculpted cheek bones, a long neck, pillowy dark pink lips and large violet-black eyes. His cut muscles are long and lithe. He has large hands (he could easily palm a basketball) and thin, long feet. Almost every girl at NDHS—including some female teachers—had already hit on him. But he put them most of them off in that deep baritone voice that suggested maturity well beyond his years—blaming his reluctance on fear of his father's (the "Rev") strict regimen and rules.
He is also a cyclist at the Dallas cycling club at the YMCA. This was a unique Y—it was an old club, but when the Westin opened on the next block, the city council had persuaded Westin to rehab the building—taking the top two "new" floors for the hotel's gym on a long term lease. Thus, it was really two gyms in one building—the lower four floors and basement a neighborhood Y, with sufficient funding to host various teams and events for the local population and the top two floors, the exclusive gym for the hotel. Both gyms shared an elevated track that circled two basketball courts on the enclosed roof. The basement Olympic sized pool was also available to Weston guests. So there was some contact between hotel guests and neighborhood athletes. This arrangement permitted the Y to host an informal cycling club and maintain high standards. Westin didn't advertise this in its brochure for the hotel, but repeat guests knew that there were many opportunities to "interact" with the dozens of fit young gym rats who lived at the Y.
Reg was also an avid cyclist, encouraged by his uncle Joe Gallagher, a former national cycling champion and retired police officer (Dallas PD). Joe is the Reverend's younger brother—if one could indeed describe the two guys as brothers, for they were about as different as possible. Joe is a big burly man, tall and muscled, obviously athletic, but he had allowed himself to soften a bit--perhaps thanks to a gunshot wound in his thigh which is really slowing him down. In fact, his retirement at full pension after only 14 years of active duty, at age 38, was the direct result of the gunshot incident. The Rev was fifteen years older, bookish, short and slim—but with a booming preacher's voice and commanding presence that seemed to belong to someone else.
Reg is the "baby" son of The Very Reverend James Albertus Gallagher, head pastor of Zion (Third) Baptist Episcopal Church of North Dallas and his former-beauty-queen wife, Suzanna, a dark, sensuous, Somali beauty. (Everyone always wondered how the Reverend had landed such a prize trophy.) Rev runs the church, his house and his family with an iron fist. He is famously puritanical, preaching fire and brimstone from the pulpit each Sunday. In fact, sins of the flesh were his go-to topic for almost any occasion. Many in his congregation had come to believe that sexual intercourse between consenting partners within a marriage was somehow biblically sinful! Certainly, talking about it or asking for it was; there was only one biblically-acceptable position: missionary between a married man and his subservient wife, desiring to pro-create.
No scandals haunted his pulpit—he was as chaste and strait-laced in his private life as he preached to his congregation. (With a wife like his, who could possibly tempt him?) No doubt Reg recognized the contrast between the life his father preached and led vs. the free-wheeling, anything-goes, highly sexually-charged atmosphere of a modern urban high school (and coincidentally, the bachelor life of his Uncle Joe). Suffice it to say that Reg, like almost all his classmates, was not chaste and had not been since arriving in high school, although, thanks to the Reverend, he was discreet and rarely indulged. (But, we can't talk about that here.)
Reg had four older sisters, three married within days of their 18
th
birthday—the Reverend was taking no chances with the commitments of his daughters to virginity and so arranged marriages as soon as he possibly could. The oldest sister had been injured in child birth and had several mental defects which required her to be institutionalized almost immediately. She was essentially a non-member of the family. In fact, Reg's Dad sometimes felt that Isabelle's "accident" was somehow a divine retribution, related to the fact that he had impregnated his wife two months before their wedding, and thus he steadfastly avoided visitation at the institution.
The Zion Baptist Church of North Dallas is unfortunately dying. Black parishioners are slowly moving to the suburbs, where they are becoming more secular and not likely to make the long drive down to Zion several times each week to participate in the life of the parish. Those who remain are very religious, older and poor. For them, a weekly contribution of spare change or a dollar is the norm. The church is in financial trouble and the Rev's salary is often the last expense to be paid. Fortunately, the kids are almost gone and the preacher's house is paid for. He prayed, confident that he and Suzanna would survive.
Reg cycled home, showered and changed to his party gear—a tight logo-ed tee, old threadbare jeans that exaggerated his enormous basket, and expensive new Nikes--being careful to wear a big "letter" hoodie over most to avoid the Reverend's comments about how tight, revealing clothes were the tools of Satan—in case the Reverend spotted him as he departed. Reg heard the familiar three-tone horn of his best pal's 4 by 4 and headed out, calling to his mother that he would not be home for dinner. She in turn wished him a happy birthday and reminded him of his 11 pm curfew on school nights. Reg acknowledged her with a hug—she was only slightly shorter than he--and ran to the waiting car where the shotgun seat had been reserved for the birthday boy. Getting in, he tore off the hoodie and threw it into the back seat.
Four guys headed to a neighborhood "club" and its famous "Keg Happy Hour 5-7." Reg was looking forward to his first "legal" beer—since, even in nearly dry Dallas, the drinking age for beer and wine had been reduced a few years previously to 18. This was also dance contest night at the club and Reg knew he had all the right moves—and the body—to attract partners, provided Joe let him, that is.
Joe was planning to meet at the club and, although he was clearly older than Reg and his buds, Joe had blended well with the gang for several years—often providing the beer and occasionally some weed. (This was obviously not Reg's first beer!) Joe dressed and talked young. He wasn't married. He was either celibate or extremely secretive. All of Reg's friends teased him about Joe's apparent virginity. So Joe had lots of time to "father" the boys—most of whom were being raised solo by hard-working mothers. For the last two years, since his retirement, Joe had been volunteering at the Y, coaching basketball and cycling and acting as a trainer-instructor in the gym.
Joe had made a special project of Reg. Uncle Joe had always been around, playing sports and video games with Reg. And he was very affectionate from the time Reg was about 11. They hugged. They wrestled. Years before Reg could often be seen carried on Joe's wide and muscled back. Quite often Reg even slept over at Joe's house—which meant the same bed since there was only one—where Joe spooned his tightly. Uncle Joe had answered all of Reg's tough questions about life and love and had even coached him on how to masturbate. Essentially, he adopted him. Joe was always around, offering advice, and showing how certain cycling techniques improved performance, how certain stretches cured runner's thigh cramps etc.
At the Y, Joe was Reg's trainer and spotter. Reg, starved for any kind of physical contact with his father, attached himself to Joe. They became best friends, working out together, showering together—and completely comfortable with each other's nudity and with frequent physical contact. Joe had become Reg's regular masseur. Joe, like so many others, was obviously attracted to Reg's beauty. He rationalized his possibly illegal relationship with his nephew in that Reg wanted and needed it.
(Details of the conduct which the law describes as child abuse are not going to be described here—except to note that they changed Reg and formed his character. His young adult life was impacted. The fact that heredity provided him with a photogenic body, athletic prowess, and truly enormous genitals was, of course, also a factor in his character development. The extent to which child abuse impacts character is still an open issue—particularly with strong, otherwise normative male personalities.)
Regardless of what the law might say, well before his 18
th
