Chapter 9

“The Sheriff here ... or there?” I wondered aloud.

“There. The Sheriff here isn’t black, I’m pretty sure. He’s a stodgy old white dude that used to be in the Klan ... and he’s a Republican, but I repeat myself,” Devin pointed out, making us all laugh now.

“So, what’s his name and how do you plan to give us grandkids? I don’t have any problem with you being gay, honey. Trust me on that. If you’re gay, be gay. It’s what makes you happy and ... well, gay,” my wife playfully asked Devin about grandchildren, while keeping it fairly lighthearted.

“Sheriff Mervyn Spancill. Don’t ask me how he got that name. Ever since the Dubliners recorded that song, he’s had nothing but grief about it. A very Irish name for a Southern black peace officer. Granted, there aren’t that many black Southern sheriffs around at all, let alone openly gay ones, but he’s one of that rare breed. It’s like that one guy from In The Heat Of The Night, if he was already police chief in Sparta, Mississippi, and if he was gay,” Devin blushed a bit now.

“So, I’m guessing that he’s either the Top, vers, or a power bottom!” I teased my stepson a little now, further breaking the ice.

“I’m definitely the bottom, Dad. Trust me, when you’re a size queen like me, being on the bottom for a cock that big is a real treat! I love my dicks so big that they need extra lube to fuck me! I’m kind of a pain slut, too, to be totally candid,” Devin added before he noticed the look on his mother’s face.

Not embarrassment, but arousal. She was TURNED-ON by thinking of our son’s (I was the only father that he really knew) eager bottoming for a large and powerful prick. The thought of Devin having his cornhole used by a massive dong excited her, even made her very wet. I would have to use that for our reclaiming sex later, to make even more thrilling for both of us.

“We’re mostly monogamous, but he likes to fuck his ex-boyfriend now and then, so I don’t sweat that. Sure, he’s a threat, but if Merv leaves, he leaves. If he stays with me, good. There’s no point fighting something that just comes naturally. That’s why I stopped fighting who I am and told myself, ‘What’s worse, getting some grief over doing what you love, or living in quiet desperation, as Thoreau warned against?’ I had my answer right then and decided to come out as gay ... I’ll still stay here, at least for now, but I might eventually move in with him or vice versa if he decides to retire,” Devin explained.

“Well, that’s up to you, but the offer stands,” I reassured him while Heather nibbled my ear.

“Ew ... Mom? Really?” Amber half-seriously complained.

“And what about grandkids?” my wife persisted, “I’m totally cool with you being gay, as I said. I just want to know the game plan to get me some grandbabies!”

“We’re looking into surrogacy, though there are no guarantees and that ain’t cheap, of course,” Devin visibly worried, as did Heather, but at least she knew that it was on their radar.

“And you, so ... your ex-teacher, Mrs. Ochoa, or should we just call her ‘Carmen’? You got it bad, got it bad, got it bad, you’re hot for teacher!” I teased my stepdaughter while her mother burst out into a side-splitting laugh.

“Very funny, Daddy! I must warn you ... if you don’t recall how she looks, Carmen’s a knockout. A classic Mexican beauty, trust me on that. Born in Cancun, of all places, which has led me to tease her that her real father was a tourist. That cracks her up everytime! Her husband never gave her a baby and so now she really wants one ... and she ain’t thinking in vitro, either,” Amber let another penny drop now.