Category: Uncategorized

A Sudden Departure

The gamekeeper was in his den drinking scotch with Preston Riley, a member of Fletcher House and well known around the world for his various extraordinary exploits. I don’t say enjoying scotch with Preston Riley, as the gamekeeper thought the man an actual twit — well, “insufferable twat” were his exact words. Riley was reveling in his latest accomplishment, the acquisition for Fletcher House of “Sail Board Boy,” and the gamekeeper was letting him enjoy it. Never argue with the members, that’s the director’s job. And the director would have one hell of a job tomorrow.

For this evening, the gamekeeper took the line that both he and the board would have to adopt: “Thank you Preston, for your continuing hard work and many valuable contributions to Fletcher House.” Tomorrow however, someone not named Preston Riley would have to figure out what to do with this latest acquisition (Jesus Christ!) already booked, without a number, and locked up on D level (for fuck sake!). This is not according to Hoyle.

Preston really liked this one. He encountered the boy in a wind surfing contest on Maui’s North Shore. He’d sent his dogsbody after the boy to find out about him; and what he found out was that the boy was living in a garage in Paia, behind a seedy looking house occupied by Hawaiians. He ate from the grocery store in town or with the locals or with other sailors who’d gather at Baldwin Beach in the evening.

Preston occupied himself with the boy on and off for a couple of weeks, loved to watch him, mostly naked, preparing his sailboard on the beach, putting out on the water, straining against stiff wind; he loved to watch him come back and wrestle his rig onto the beach, and shake it with his friends; he loved to watch the boy drink beer, watch him swallow with his head back and his lips sucking the long-neck bottle. He was captivated by the boy’s anatomy, his legs in particular and his glutes; the sun had browned his skin everywhere, and from high up on the cliff top where Preston watched the boy play in the waves out beyond Mama’s Fishhouse, he was hardly distinguishable from the natives. Preston was sure of real potential there and put his money down.

Well, the gamekeeper would let him think it was money well spent. And for all I know, Preston may never be disabused of the notion that he’d brought real talent to the House. Tonight though, he was going to take two handlers and an equipment manager with him to the racks on B level and have his way with the boy all night long and into the morning.

But in the morning, maybe even before Preston was done with his comprehensive fucking and torture, the gamekeeper would have to make a decision about what to do with the boy. And as he took another sip of scotch, nodding in agreement with Preston’s observations on this particular slave, in his head, our gamekeeper was carefully working out the problem: Of course, the boy would have to go, but where? And how?

And then it came to him at once. Obviously. Thursday’s combined secondary auction was two days away. And there would be two agent representatives there whom he knew, one from Sharjah and one from Dubai — they repped for half a dozen houses between them — any one would do nicely. Young, untrained, euro-white, alpha males were much sought after by these houses. And, after training, it was unusual for such slaves to be resold in the West, so the chance of the boy winding up again near Fletcher House would be rare indeed.

A quiet knock on the door let the two men know that the boy had been prepared and racked and awaited their pleasure. The gamekeeper determined to accompany Preston on the boy’s maiden voyage, particularly because he wanted to forestall any activity that would spoil a sale two days from now. Especially to the face, there could be no injury. Chafe marks about the neck, wrists, and ankles were de rigueur, but blood injuries would have to be prevented. The handlers were just starting to warm up the boy’s butt and hams with long slotted paddles. The sound of the wood smacking flesh made a sharp cracking sound immediately followed by a shout from the boy.

This went on while Preston sat down in a club chair where he took off his shoes and socks, loosened his tie, and got comfortably settled into the rhythm of the smacks and cries. The desperate moves the boy made trying to get away from the blows rattled the chains holding his arms. Soon the skin on his backside was a shining red overlay of bright stripes. Preston got up from his chair and roughly brushed his palm over the skin, paying particular attention to the places where it was darkest red. “That hurts,” the boy whimpered in response to his harsh touch. “Yes,” said Preston, smiling. “Doesn’t it though.”

But the beating continued until Preston was ready, until he’d slowly undressed, until he’d got himself very hard watching the beating, until he called out an order to stop. It was time. The boy was ready now; Preston was ready. He greased his cock, came up behind the boy, gripped its nipples between thumbs and forefingers and slowly slid his cock between the boy’s cheeks and into its ass, just an inch at first and out. Then in again just a little farther. In and out. Deeper and deeper and finally a full thrust all the way in. The boy screamed and gurgled; spit and snot sprayed out.

Preston had found his sweet spot and now he rode it for all he was worth. “So sweet, so sweet,” he babbled mindlessly. “So sweet.” And then with a growing urgency he gradually sped up his pumping to a furious pace, grunting in time to a gathering need and then one final thrust and together, a loud harmonious duet of cries as Preston left his load far up the just acquired, now, no longer virgin slave.

The gamekeeper watched as the handlers shifted the boy to a drawing table, a long plank with cuffs for wrists and ankles at the ends that were cranked away to stretch the boy the long way. Preston waved away one of the handlers and took up the cat-o-nine tails on his own and began to apply it with gusto to the boy’s chest and abdomen. Now, satisfied that the boy was in good hands, the gamekeeper slipped out unnoticed and went back to his office.

The man sighed with relief. He’d found a way to avert disaster. Tomorrow he would quietly put about to select members that the boy had been unsuitable and best served the interests of Fletcher House on the auction block. Which was certainly true as far as it went. What wouldn’t be mentioned was that the boy was the number-two son of a three-star admiral in the U.S. Pacific Fleet. Or that the admiral, even more significantly, was a member of Fletcher House — and on the board’s Advisory Committee on Acquisitions! Small world.

“Going once…, going twice….” Two days later, the auctioneer brought the hammer down, “Sold to House Dubai. Thank you, gentlemen. Next on offer is item #413, 19 years old, trained at Octagon…”

It was the summer of 1995. Me and dad had planned a trip to the lake for my 18th birthday. 

Growing up, I’d always looked up to my dad. He was a hard worker, was in good shape, and was quite attractive for a 46 year old.

Turning 18, I was in pretty good shape. I’d played football since I was 10, having been the quarterback. I had been curious about my sexuality for a while, never having done anything with a girl or a guy. But I had always been more interested in guys. Growing up, I had a little bit of a crush on my dad. I’d see him naked while we changed in our tent a few times. Every time I saw him, I couldn’t take my eyes off his cock  

 Dad and I had always gone camping together for years since I was a kid. This year, we decided to go out to a new campsite we hadn’t been to before. Once we got there in the morning, we set up our camp and went down to the lake to fish. It was a hot day, 95°. Both of us were sweating through our shirts by the afternoon. My dad started to take his off. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

His chest was hairy, covering his big pecs and traveling down his stomach towards the the waistband of his shorts. He had sweat dripping down his body, making his chest hair cling to his skin. He would sometimes lift his arm to search his head, and I stood there wishing I could get my nose in his pits. I took mine off too, noticing him glancing at me every now and then. 

After we got done fishing, my dad said he was heading to the park showers. I said I’d be there in a bit, finishing up my snack. After about 5 minutes I head over to the bathhouse. I walked in and took the stall next to my dads. Setting down my soap and turning on the water, I took a look around the stall. I noticed a hole in the wood of the stall that lead over to my dads stall. I bent down to check it out, having seen gloryholes in porn before. As I looked through the hole, I saw my dads 9 inch cock. He was hard as could be and stroking it with two hands. I watched him for a minute before I remembered what the guys in the porn had done. I put my finger to the hole and my dad stopped jerking off. He stepped up to the hole and his 9 inch hard cock slid through. 

Seeing my dads dick up close was a dream of mine. I took it in my hand and started to stroke him. I heard a light sigh come from his stall. I noticed a bead of precum forming on his piss slit, and I reached my tongue up to taste it. It tasted salty but sweet. Loving the taste of it, I took his dick in my mouth. I couldn’t believe I was sucking my first dick, and my dads at that!! 

After sucking and licking his dick for 5 minutes I felt the head of his dick expand and he started unloading his cum in my mouth. After 5 huge pumps of cum in my mouth, I couldn’t handle anymore. He shot 3 more loads on my face. He pulled his dick out of the hole, got dressed and hurriedly left his stall. 

I finished up my shower and returned to camp shortly after. Neither of us mentioned what had happened in the bathhouse. We made dinner and got ready for bed shortly after. 

Laying next to my dad in our tiny tent, feeling his body warmth next to me, I wondered if I would ever get to taste his cock again. I started to get hard thinking about it. I drifted off to sleep thinking of my dads load shooting down my throat and in my mouth. 

When I woke up the next morning, my dads arm was on top of me and he was spooning me from behind. I felt something hard poking against my butt.

I reached my hand down to feel what it was, only to find my dad sleeping naked. His hard cock poking against my cheeks. I laid there with his cock in my hand. Feeling the warmth and pulse of it in my hand was making me feral. I started to squeeze it a little and my dad began to roll over and wake up. 

As he woke up, he looked down at the bulge in his sleeping bag. He started blushing and apologized, reaching for his clothes. I told him it was all good. We went about our day, but all I could think about was his cock in my mouth. I was starting to think it would never happen again, till our trip to the bathhouse that evening….

When I was younger I experienced mutual sex with another man . Mutual oral and tried anal a few times. Always considered myself bi. Recently found myself single and reading sex ads online,  one night I decided to answer one of those ads. Older man looking his sub.ive always had fantasies of serving a dom man and submitting to him , but have never met such a man. I got the nerve to reply to the ad , and then nervously waited.  It was a couple days and I recieved an email. We emailed back and forth,  mostly he asked me what I like and what I would do. The emails started getting more sexual . He called me his boy and told me to call him sir from now on. Eventually we talked about meeting on the weekend, I was to come to his place on Saturday morning .

Saturday came quick, I was nervous but got cleaned up and headed to meet him.i knocked and the door opened , there he was dressed in a robe . He told me enter boy.once in I was told to undress and he looked me over. He slapped my ass and said good boy follow me. He led me down the hallway to another room, upon entering I notice a large table in the middle , get up on the table bo I was told . As I climbed up I notice lots of paddles and toys on the walls. I was instructed to lay on my stomach.  Sir came around near my head and put a blindfold on my eyes, as he started to massage my shoulders and back I could feel his hard cock hitting my face . I was getting so horny thinking of his cock but couldn’t see it.  His hands felt so good on my back working their way down to my butt. Then all of a sudden “whack”” he slapped my ass hard . I tried to say something but he pushed his cock into my mouth. He started to push it in further saying take it boy , you are mine now. He fucked my mouth harder now, I could feel his big head hitting my throat and making me gag.. it didnt take long and I felt him jerk as he came in my mouth spurt after spurt I tried to swallow it .when he finally stopped he slapped my ass hard and said good boy . 

I lay there trying to catch my breath   ì could hear him moving about the room . When he returned to me he said I was his and I was to be his only . He would use me how he wanted  and I was to obey or be punished.  The thought of submitting to him made me so horny, I said yes sir I’m yours. 

Good he said and he started to caress me again rubbing my butt and back. As he walked around the table I heard a chain rattle. I said what is that sir, you will see boy as he strapped my wrist down to the table legs. I’ve fantasized about being in bondage but have never been tied. I was nervous and excited.  He continued around the table to my legs and he strapped my legs down and spread..  when I was tied unable to move I felt so helpless.  He said he was going to breed me teach me how a real man fucks his sub. I felt his hands start to work my ass cheeks again , slowly spreading them . His thumb stopping to rub my hole. Then I felt cold as he lubed my ass working it in me with his fingers he slapped my ass hard and laughed, he said I’m going to make this hole mine now boy. I felt him climb onto the table,  I could feel his hard cock rub against me, I was scared but wanted him so bad . I wanted to be his. Then I felt it, his cock head touch my hole. He slowly pushed into me , I could feel it slowly get deeper til I felt his weight on me .he was fully in me now , it hurt but I tried not to cry . I was his now I must obey and take him he slowly pulled out but them slammed it back in. He did this several times, each time I cried out. He said take it boy you will learn to love it, you are my boy cunt now . He then started fucking me harder,  i cried out each time it went in. I thought please cum please be finished in me , but he just fucking me for what seemed like forever.  Then I felt it , his cum flooding my ass . Spurt after spurt as he fucked me deep til he collapsed on top of me pinning to to the table . He whispered in my eye good boy .

Chapter 23

Road’s End

Angus drove to the ramp at The 5. He looked north, and then, he looked south. It was a thousand miles to San Diego. When he looked north, he disregarded it.

“South,” he said. “He’d go toward California. He wouldn’t want to go any farther away from home.”

Moving onto the ramp that led to Route 5, Angus sped along like there was a reason to hurry. It was possible Cory hitchhiked out of Eugene. Odds were he would be getting closer to home after this much time away. It was as good a guess as any.

Maybe Cory was still out here. Maybe Angus could find him.

Angus remembered what Gary Ford said.

“A kid that looks like that isn’t going to stand on the side of the road for long. San Francisco is a gay city.”

It was a gay world, Angus thought, as he drove south, humming the sound that went with The Kink’s song, Lola.

When he reached the Oregon, California border, he was tempted to drive all the way to San Diego. He’d let the rental car company sort out what to do with the Portland car.

Angus knew driving the 800 miles home, would keep his mind off what he knew. Cory left hours before he ever hit Route 5. Even he kept driving at eighty, he couldn’t make up the head start Cory had, and who was to say he hadn’t gotten in with a trucker, and he might stick with that ride for days or weeks to come.

He drove into California, using the first interchange to turn back toward Oregon. Driving would keep his mind off the obvious, and then he’d need a couple of days to recover from a beeline home.

It was daylight when he drove beyond Eugene, on his way to Portland. It was early enough Friday, he got on an early flight to LAX. He gave up any idea he’d be seeing Cory any time soon, as the jet headed down the runway.

*****

Angus was up early on Saturday. He’d been exhausted after arriving home Friday afternoon. A few good meals, and sleeping in his own bed, had him fired up and ready to go Saturday.

Since Wes was away for several days, he started out by going to Terry’s. She was working on a computer in the back of her shop. She looked up, when she heard Angus come in.

“If it isn’t my favorite private eye,” she said. “How go the search for Cory Wade?”

“Nothing has changed since San Francisco. I got close. He got gone,” Angus said.

“I have some items of interest for you. I took two news articles off the Internet for you to peruse, when you have time.”

“I happen to have time on my hands. That’s why I came here to talk to you.”

“This one came first, and it comes from the Star-Ledger, which publishes in Newark.”

“Krugerrands Sink Wade Prosecution. A criminal case brought by Anthony Wade, against a prominent local private Detective, in the city of San Diego, took a sudden turn, once Angus McCoy introduced a gold coin called a Krugerrand at his preliminary hearing. While Mr. McCoy was hired by Mrs. Wade to locate her missing son, the senior Mr. Wade objected to the private detectives search for his son, once it took the private detective into the Wade house.”

“While Mr. McCoy had the door key to the Wade house, as well as the code to the burglar alarm, the only response coming from Mr. Wade, ‘I want that key,” which tended to prove it was the key to his door. While the Honorable Judge Kennedy seemed to be amused by these maneuvers, Mr. Wade was soon having a tussle with the prosecutor, asking that the charge against Mr. McCoy be dropped. He’d suddenly seen the light. McCoy was only doing his job. The man was looking for your son, Tony. Wasn’t that a clue?”

“What took you so long, Tony? It wasn’t the news, his wife hired the private detective that moved Mr. Wade. It wasn’t the key or the code to his house that moved him. It wasn’t even his missing son. It was the appearance of the gold coin that seemed to shake Anthony Wade’s resolve,” Terry read.

“It was the gold coin that ended the prosecution of Angus McCoy, local private eye, whose only wrong doing might have been, his judgment in taking the Cory Wade case in the first place, and after watching Mr. Wade’s performance, perhaps we know why his son is missing,” Terry said. “You’ll like this part. I found it interesting.”

“Angus McCoy, a man with his own cop shop, and plenty of work, should have done a little investigating of the family that hired him. And this reporter has a question, Mr. McCoy, how can a moderately priced gumshoe afford to carry around a pricy Krugerrand, or is this part of another case you might be working? We’d like to know. I rarely find the going on in San Diego all that exciting, but when a local boy makes the news, goes to court, under dubious circumstances, things can get quite interesting in the city the locals call paradise.”

“We keep our eyes on the local talent, and you, too, Mr. Wade,

and one must wonder, what significance the coin represents. It certainly got Mr. Wade’s attention, and the FBI’s, too, or so I’m told, according to my sources. What’s up with that, Mr. Wade? What are you trying to hide? I bet Mr. McCoy knows, and who has he been talking to?”

Terry stopped reading.

“This was a few days after the charges were dismissed,” Angus said. “Pretty spicy bit of journalism.”

“I thought so too. They practically call him a crook,” Terry said.

“The mention of the FBI gives us a clue who wrote that little hit piece. They want Tony to know they’re watching him. Not subtle at all. Wade’s roots are in New Jersey. He’s associated with some pretty dangerous characters there. You have something else?” Angus asked.

“This is from Wednesdays Union. I do searches on the names involved in the cases you work. This isn’t so much about Tony Wade, but it’s all about him. I’ve been doing daily searches on him since I found the first article on him.”

“OK, let’s see what we have here,” Angus said, turning the monitor to where he could read along.

“James Fields, CEO of United Enterprises, of New York City, takes the helm of a local company. James Field’s, of New York City’s United Enterprises, took control of the floundering Wade Contracting earlier this week. There was no details given about the circumstances under which the company changed hands, but Mr. Fields is well known in the New York and New Jersey real estate market. There have been persistent rumors that Anthony Wade, CEO of Wade Contracting, has returned to New Jersey for health reasons.”

Angus pushed himself away from the monitor.

“That’s quite a bit of news,” Angus said.

“I thought it might interest you,” Terry said.

“What makes Cory run?” Angus said.

“A penny for your thoughts, Mr. McCoy,” Terry said.

“Oh, nothing. Tony is, shall we say, between a rock and a hard place. That first article you read, put him there.”

“Why?” Terry asked.

“There are things we know, and there are things they keep so secret, we’ll never hear a word about it. There are powers, Ms. Baldwin, mere mortals know little or nothing about, and with that, I’ve got to go.”

*****

There was no question where Angus was going next. He wanted the rest of the story, and while he knew he wouldn’t get it, he might get something if he was polite.

“Angus McCoy to see, Special Agent Boyle,” Angus said, leaning on the desk just inside the local office of the FBI.

“You can go back. He’s expecting you,” the receptionist said. “Second door on the left. Knock and go in.”

Angus knocked twice and stepped into the office.

“Angus McCoy to see Special Agent Boyle,” he said.

“Angus McCoy is here to see you,” the woman said. “You can go back. Go through that door.”

“McCoy! How’s Portland,” Agent Boyle said.

“Eugene,” Angus said.

“Our resources limit us. How was Eugene?”

“How do you know where I went?”

“You’re on our radar, McCoy. Nothing personal. You’re now knee deep in an FBI investigation. We keep track of where people of interest go. It’s a general program that tells us when someone of interest travels on public transportation. We don’t have a tail on you.”

“Ask me any question. I’ll tell you no lies. You don’t need to follow me,” Angus said.

“No, we don’t. There are certain things that happen once you’re on our radar. It’s nothing personal. Say you went off to Portland.”

“Eugene,” Angus corrected.

“Say you went off to Eugene and you disappeared. Who knows, maybe some mobsters are keeping an eye on you, and at some point they decide you’re too big a headache to allow to keep breathing, and they take you out. I check our computers, and I see, you flew to Portland on Wednesday. Now, if you fall off my radar, I know where to start looking for you.”

“What mobsters?” Angus asked.

“I don’t need to tell you anything, McCoy. You know how the world works. Of all the people of interest I keep an eye on, you are way down the list of one I need to worry about,” Agent Boyle said.

“Thanks for that vote of confidence. Where’d you get the information on the preliminary hearing?”

“If you are a person of interest, mad Tony is a target. We had someone in the courtroom for the same reason we know you went to Portland. It’s important we know what is going on around Mr. Wade.”

“You know about the Krugerrands. I knew as quick as I showed the Judge the Krugerrand, Wade couldn’t risk having any information getting out there,” Angus said. “But when your a person of interest, I guess the FBI doesn’t mind putting a nail in your coffin.”

“We do what we can. That was our literary section at work. From time to time, we find it helpful, to rattle someone’s cage. It’s good for a chuckle, McCoy.”

“Wasn’t very good for, mad Tony,” Angus said.

“Shit happens, McCoy. We were never after Tony. We know his part in the heist. We know where his coins are. What we don’t know is where the boss keeps his coins. We want the boss, not Tony.”

“How sick is, Tony?” Angus asked.

“When he flew out of here, he was green, McCoy. He won’t be back. He might be demoted, made to pay a price, or, well, who knows what goes through a mobsters mind, when he thinks you crossed him?” Agent Boyle said.

“Indeed,” Angus said.

“Simply taking that coin out of your pocket set a lot of wheels in motion. You knew what you were doing. I knew you knew exactly what you intended to set in motion. Once you talked to me, McCoy, I knew the play. It made sense. That’s why I gave you the information I gave you, McCoy. That’s the only reason I’m telling you what I’m telling you now. We’re in this together, and that’s not a secret in New Jersey.”

“They called him back to New Jersey. I didn’t see that coming.”

“He flew back the morning after the preliminary hearing. They sent one of their major players to take over the San Diego operation. He’s been investigated for bank fraud, money laundering, the usual list of mob activities. He remains fairly clean, which makes him valuable in taking over Tony’s operation,” Agent Boyle said.

“So where’s Tony now?” Angus asked.

“We have one of his boys. One who was in on the Lufthansa heist, where they stole those Krugerrands. He’s told us how it went down. We have him, one other soldier, and Tony working that job. We’re trying to get Sammy the blade Capicino. He took the lions share of the loot. We didn’t move on Tony, and we won’t move on the other guy, until we have Sammy, so we are waiting to see how it plays out in New Jersey.”

“Tony is in trouble?”

“I think we can safely assume they didn’t replace him because they were happy with him. It’s why we put the piece in the Star-ledger. We can wait and they may eat their own. If we can put heat on Sammy, he’s not as powerful as he was five years ago. We might get him out of our hair without doing anything, but we want to take him down, one way or another,” Agent Boyle said.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Angus asked. “You didn’t have that much to say the last time we talked.”

“We’re way farther down the road to closing the Lufthansa theft. You’ve given us a lot of help McCoy. You know how the system works. You’re nice to us and we’re nice to you,” Agent Boyle said.

“Sure, but all I did was give you what I had, because I wanted to find the Wade kid. I didn’t give you anything important,” Angus said.

“Not important in the larger scheme of things, but it filled in some blanks. You allowed us to move Tony out of San Diego, which is why I gave you what I gave you the last time we talked. I can’t discuss details of an ongoing investigation. What I can tell you is, Wade has an apartment in New York City and a house in White Plains. He hasn’t been to either place, but he’s been back East since shortly after the charges against you were dismissed,” the agent said.

“So he’s in trouble. Where do they have him?” Angus asked.

“Somewhere that we have no eyes. He’s not without influence. He didn’t have enough to keep him from being called home, but we have no information, since he arrived in Newark. We’ll wait and see,” the agent said.

“I have a second Krugerrand,” Angus said.

“Ah, the boy was in Eugene,” Agent Boyle said. “Emailing the coin shops finally paid off?”

“Finally did, and how do you know we emailed coin shops?”

“We’re the FBI. We know everything, McCoy.”

“He was in Eugene. I didn’t see him, but I talked to people who saw him. He was there. I just didn’t catch up with him.”

“You hold those coins for now. We won’t be going to court any time soon. Keep doing what you’re doing. If you find out anything I should know, I’d appreciate a call. If I find out something you should know, I’ll call you, but for now, that’s all I have for you.” Special Agent Boyle said, standing to shake Angus’s hand.

“McCoy, watch your back. Mad Tony may not be here, but he has a long reach. If he decides you’re the one responsible for the trouble he’s in, he won’t hesitate to take you out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Boyle,” Angus said.

“Odds are, he’s been planted inside the foundation of a new building somewhere. When a hood the caliber of Tony is missing for more than a couple of weeks, it means he’s helping to holdup a building somewhere. You do know about contractors?”

“I do,” Angus said. “I’ll keep my eyes open. Thanks.”

*****

On Monday, Angus learned more about how the system was working, than he’d been aware of for some time. Life as a dashing private eye kept him out of the loop on a lot of inside information. It was another reason why Terry was so valuable to him. If she hadn’t picked up on the New Jersey news story, Angus wouldn’t have gone to see if Agent Boyle knew something about the origins of that story.

Even though he’d learned a lot, he still had the same problem. Cory Wade was out there and he could be anywhere. He lasted on the money from cashing in the first coin for almost the entire summer. Angus needed to face the fact that this case might have no resolution.

With the lack of sleep and poor eating habits, Angus ran out of gas shortly after noon on Saturday. He went home, took a nap, ate dinner, and he went to bed before eight.

On Sunday he had no energy. He dove into the Sunday paper and he enjoyed a relaxing day at home. At three he got a text message from Wes.

“Made it home early. Lunch at noon, China Camp or the Bayou?”

Angus text backed, “Bayou,” and there was no more communication.

“I’ll need you to drive me to the Bayou at noon tomorrow.”

“I say this coming on yesterday. Wes, is back?” Mildred asked.

“Yes, we’re meeting at noon. I’ll tell him about my latest misadventure concerning the Cory Wade Affair,” Angus said.

“How long will you need. I won’t fix a full meal for dinner. You never eat after one of these meetings. How long will you stay?”

“Give me to four. No, after drinking, I won’t want much to eat, Mil.”

*****

When Wes arrived at the Bayou, Angus was working on his second drink. There was a Knob Hill at Wes’s place.

“I didn’t know I’d be back so soon, so I have nothing on my calendar today. How long before Mildred comes to pick you up?”

“Four,” Angus said. “I want to be smashed by four.”

“You’re the man that can do it. I take it things did not go as well as expected in Eugene,” Wes said.

“They didn’t. I wasted three more day. Five if you count the weekend. I spent the weekend sleeping and eating,” Angus said.

“I haven’t heard from Dolores. She ran out of service on July 31. Peg sent her a invoice asking for ten thousand more dollars, so I can pay you for your time. You do want to be paid,” Wes said.

“I insist on it. I have a gun to put emphasis on the point.”

“Enough said. I can’t argue with the time you’ve put in on this case. You do realize if that kid doesn’t wish to be caught, he can stay on the run for years. For all the assistance we’ve gotten from Dolores, I could chuck this case without giving it two thoughts,” Wes said.

After lunch, working on his fifth or sixth drink, Angus began talking.

“In Chicago,” Angus said.

“Not a Chicago story,” Wes said. “Please!”

“In Chicago, you’ll like this one, Wes.”

“It’s how the last dozen Chicago stories started,” Wes said.

“There was a confidence man, Shorty Maloney. Shorty and I went back a long way. I arrested him the first year I was a detective in Chicago. He clipped a wallet from a guy in a bar. Bumps him and does the dip and the hand off to his buddy. The guy he clipped was as drunk as a skunk, but he knew Shorty got his wallet, and he calls the law. Who is sitting two blocks away? Moi, and I met Shorty Maloney for the first time. He’s in one room. The guy he clipped is in the other, and Shorty knows he’s been made. He wants to make a deal, but I ain’t Monty Hall. This guy is going down. I do have my standards.”

“I can’t wait,” Wes said. “Do you mind if I have a couple of drinks while you’re getting to the point?”

“No, No. Give me a minute. You’ll like this one,” Angus said, finishing his drink, holding his shot glass in the air.

“Shorty says, ‘I’ll see if I can’t locate this man’s wallet, I’m good with a deal like that’.’

“’Shorty,” I says, “Look around. Your ass is in jail. Why am I listening to you, I says.’”

“He says, ‘I’ll find everything that was in that wallet for you. If I can get a line on where the goods are. Your man doesn’t have to cancel all his cards, get a new driver’s license, none of that shit.’ I laughed in his face, but the guy who lost his wallet goes for the deal. He had maybe a hundred bucks in the wallet, but the trouble involved in replacing everything will cost him more than that.”

“What happened?” Wes asked.

“I was told to make the deal. The man wants his stuff. He’ll take a loss on the money to get the stuff back. I cut Shorty loose. He says I’ll hear from him by the end of the day. I say, ‘Yeah, like I’ll be seeing Santa Clause,’ I says,” Angus said.

“What happened?” Wes asked.

“See! You love my stories. A messenger shows up an hour later. He has a big manilla envelope, a mailing envelope. I sign for it and dump it out on my desk, there’s the guys cards and license. Just like Shorty sold it to me. The guy is tickled pick he got them back. I’m out to get Shorty now. I hate it when a guilty guys gets off the hook.”

“Did you get him?” Wes asked.

“You’ll really like this,” Angus says. “Shorty moved uptown and he’s out of my usual beat. I keep my eyes open though, and I’ll be ready for Shorty the next time he shows up. I hear he’s running half dozen scams, and I can tell by the description, it’s Shorty. Word has gone out that I want the guy. I get a call from a guy who transferred out of my squad, and he is working across the city. He tells me they’re going to take Shorty down the next morning. I’m invited along so I can gloat as they haul him off.”

“They go in. I’m not officially part of the bust, so I’m outside, and they call me inside. I go in and three swat guys are standing around the table. ‘You McCoy one of them asks?’ Yeah, I says. ‘It’s for you,’ another guy says, pointing to an envelope on the table. Sure enough, for Detective McCoy is written on the envelope. How’d he know I was going to be in on the bust?”

“How did he know?” Wes asked.

“He didn’t. He remembers my name from two years before, and not knowing any other cops, he addresses his note to me.”

“It’s a confession?” Wes said.

“No, he has a deal for me,” Angus said.

Wes laughed.

“’McCoy, I know you know I’m a man of my word. You need to take this note to the proper D.A. I am going to give you the perp in the Stein Jewelry Store heist. There are some miscellaneous beefs against me. Have the Stein D.A. Clear the charges off the books. Once that happens, I’ll give you the guy who beat down Stein.’”

“You did what he asked?”

“I didn’t have a choice. Stein is a big deal. The guy that robbed him pistol whipped him. Bad news. He’s in a coma for weeks. The D.A. Wants the guy who did it,” Angus said.

“You made the deal,” Wes said.

“I made the deal and Shorty takes another walk. I’m a little less angry about this deal. He got a really bad guy off the street, and Shorty is annoying, but he’s not dangerous. I could accept that.”

“But Shorty didn’t go away this time,” Wes said.

“No, Shorty was an on the ground informant. He knows a lot about what’s going down in Chicago, and this was before the time when a dozen shootings a day go down. If Shorty doesn’t know who pulls off a nasty job, he’s capable of getting the goods on who did.

He starts giving me stuff outside my jurisdiction, but I get invited into whatever area involved,” Angus said.

“Your legend has spread,” Wes said.

“Something like that. I go on the busts, because I have the note from Shorty. It’s like a search warrant. My name is mentioned when they announce a troubling crime is solved. I get promoted soon after that,” Angus said. “A year or two pass. A messenger shows up at my desk one day. It’s a note from Shorty, and it starts all over again. By the time the final two notes come, I jump right on what he gives me. I know it will clear a seriously bad case off the books.”

“So is Shorty still out there?” Wes asked.

“I don’t know where Shorty went. As I said, it went on for nearly a decade. The last two notes were delivered to my desk by messenger. No quid pro quo. Just a scrap of paper inside, ‘McCoy, so and so is good for this shooting. Here’s where you can find him, and here’s where you can find the piece.’ After the fifth or sixth note, I didn’t hear anymore. He moved, died, or he went straight, but the notes stopped. I’ve got to solve all my cases without Shorty’s help after that,” Angus said. “Funny how things work.”

“He was a regular crime fighter,” Wes said.

“He was. Always a case as cold as a witches tit, too.”

“You never thought someone got wise to Shorty? Ended him?”

“I did, but I prefer to think he’s living in a retirement village in Florida, double-dealing in penny ante poker games for the elderly high rollers who can’t make it to Vegas any longer.”

“When you come right down to it, It’s a story about justice working. Shorty was more valuable on the street with his eyes open. Any prosecutor worth his salt could see the value in dealing with Shorty. I could trade with Shorty,” Wes said.

“If life was different, and if Shorty started out with the advantages you and I had, he’d have been an undercover cop. I thought, while it was still going on, someone ought to make Shorty an honorary cop. Give him an award for community service.”

“What happened to you wanting to lock Shorty up, Angus?”

“I was young. Justice to me was locking everyone up if they dared to crossed a bright red line I had drawn inside my head. I saw so mush anguish, and misery, and I somehow managed to escape it. began wondering how I escaped it. Then, I thought, I could try not to add to people’s misery. I began to see people as people and not perps. We all need to accept some guilt for the misery in the world. Someone creates that misery. Someone keeps their boot on the neck of poor people. They do what it takes to survive. As a cop, I met a lot of them. It was my job to arrest many of them. I traded in my bright red line for a bit of compassion. I had to see the misery. I didn’t need to add to it. You learn as you go. It’s easy to beco6me cynical, but you can overcome being cynical too.”

“Angus McCoy, philosopher,” Wes said. “We could all do more, if we weren’t so busy doing what we do. It is what it is. You chase perps and I defend them. I can’t afford to be too judgmental.”

“You’d defend Jack the Ripper if he had money,” Angus said.

Wes laughed.

“No, Jack the Ripper was guilty as sin. I wouldn’t take his case, no matter how much money he had. I do have a reputation to protect. I do my best not to take a case, when the defendant is obviously guilty. I’m afraid, Jack would be on his own.”

Angus lost track of the number of drinks he’d had. He hadn’t had enough, not yet. He’d drink until Mildred picked him up. That would be it for this bender. He’d get hammered, go home and sleep it off, and wake up with a hangover.

After Angus blew off steam, talked Wes through his latest trip, and Wes told him, ‘You couldn’t do anymore than that.’ Angus might stop beating himself up over getting old, getting slower, and not making the move he should have made to catch up with Cory.

Wes didn’t drink from his third Knob Hill. He blocked off noon to four on his schedule, but he knew he needed to go to the office to finish a brief and to put some documents in his briefcase. Wes knew by the seriousness in Angus’s voice, this was going to be one of those afternoons. He’d stay until it was time for Mildred to come.

He wanted to make sure his friend got to the car OK.

*****

David is tall and slender, with a halo of blond curls and startled brown eyes.  We are in The Lookout Lounge of the Mountain View Country Club where I am the bartender and David is one of the servers. The Lounge is full this summer night at nine o’clock.  The juicy young staff circulates among the elderly patrons taking drink orders and relaying them to me.   Harsh whiskey and cigar laughs pierce the smoke and civilized murmuring.

Two bourbon old fashioneds,” David says, his dewy brown searchlights scanning my face.

 He is nineteen and I am thirty-two.  He is just one of a dozen boys and girls on the staff who haunt my bar, looking for someplace to park their unfocused energy and pour out their adorable tales of woe.  To them, I represent the glamorous adult world where all choices have been made and lived with.  To some, I am the cool, patient older brother, to others, the suave older man who can teach them a thing or two.  David seems to have the worst case of puppy love, so intense, for the moment, that he can’t hide it from the others.  My life is no pleasure cruise, I try to tell them, but they still come at me with their shining faces.  They walk away and I watch their supple bodies ripple with energy in their black, polyester uniforms.

 David haunts my every step tonight.  When I go to the men’s room, he follows, washing his hands and talking to me as I stand at the urinal.  He continues his soft lament which issues from peach fuzz lips, like a vaporizer’s gentle puffs of steam.  Syracuse is rough, his parents’ expectations high, his girlfriend, Courtney, won’t sleep with him.  My listening echoes inside his cavernous want.  I nod my head and shake off my stirring, hefty cock.  His dark eyes are locked onto mine, searching for approval, definition, the dark charge of lust.  I’ve got my cock in my hand, and I could just step away from the porcelain and feed it to him.   “Here, kid.  This is what you really want.”

I could press him up against the white tile, tear off his pants, ram my cock between his quivering, creamy haunches, and rock him for an hour or so.  Listen to his whimpers as his eyes roll back into his head and his hot little hole takes the length of my cock.  I could grab his curls and turn his face to mine and suck the ether from his soft lips.

Instead, I zip up and follow his pretty ass back to the lounge.  He is undeniably lovely, but I’ve had my share of young men and have sworn off them.  Not for me the long nights of playing Daddy nursemaid to boys who insist on telling why they don’t want what they seem to want so much.  The hurried departures in cars that mom needs for work in the morning, the barefoot tiptoe through the back door to their rooms.  Pointless calls in the middle of the night when they’re out with friends, just to know you’re still there and hopefully waiting for them.  Surprise visits when their horns are up and no visits when they’re supposed to show.  The juicy mouths that don’t know where to begin or end, the silken, stiff, abashed young cocks you want to slice off and sauté in sweet butter when you’re done with them, and the butts so tight, they hurt to enter, hurt to leave.  No.

Two Manhattans and a Scotch on the rocks,” David puffs at me.  “It sucks using my mother’s car. I wish I had my own wheels so I could go out after work and blow off some steam.”

“Where would you go?” I ask, handing him the Scotch rocks.

“I don’t know.  Where do you go?”

“Oh, places.  I don’t think you’re ready for them.”

“Try me.”

Ooh, would I.  He’s going to be an accountant, married to his unresponsive girlfriend.  His flirtation with me is a flirtation with his own destiny.  Does he dare step off the path assigned him and risk winding up like me?  It may look tempting when he feels the leash tug at his slender throat, but that leash has a pot of gold at the end of it. For the moment, for this summer, we are thrown together in this working vacation from his real life.  In September he’ll go back to school, and I’ll still be here or work someplace else.  I hand him his drinks and there is no time to tell him of the hazards of too many left turns off the path.

 At midnight, the last members leave the lounge and I make a round of drinks for he staff as we clean up.  I knock back a few belts of whiskey to take the edge off.

Some of the kids invite me to a rock club with them and I decline.  David is the last to leave, moping about not being able to go anywhere.  I run my hand through his curls and he brightens.  “Cheer up,” I say.  “It’s only temporary.  You will have everything you want.”

We walk to our cars, and he gives me a hug in the parking lot.  The urgency of it knocks the breath out of me.

I drive away from the country club revved up by coffee and whiskey, drunk and alert and looking for action.  Like junk food’s surge of cheap energy, I’m caught up in a junk love rush, fueled by David’s sugary beauty and need.

 It’s after one when I get to The Male Box.  I walk in like a man with a mission.  No small talk.  I just want to fuck with somebody.  I scope out the bar, look out on the dance floor and see a couple of likely prospects.

 “Is it still raining?” asks a voice at my side.  He is blond and bleary eyed, in his mid-thirties with a full, flushed face.

“No.  It didn’t rain at all today.”

“Right.  That was yesterday.”

I shake my head and ignore him.  He looks a little puffy and besides, he’s drunk and stupid.

“What are you drinking?”  It’s him again.

“It’s okay.  I got it,” I say.

“I know you got it.  I can see that.  What are you drinking?  If you don’t mind, I’d like to know.”

“Whiskey.”

“I’ll have another one.  And whiskey for my snooty friend here,” he says to the bartender.

I look at him, surprised by the heat in his bleary, blue eyes.  He stands, leans on the bar, and leans into me.  His beefy chest, covered in blond fur, spills out of his starched, white shirt.  His jeans are worn and tight, packed in all the right places.  A clean breeze blows off him, good, honest soap with no sweet or funky undertones.  A couple of hours ago he must have looked very nice, a fleeting thought he immediately reads.  He has a man’s edge, drinking off something major to get to this ballsy, nerveless state.

 “I’ve been waiting for you all night,” he says.  His full face is pleasant, and I like the bad boy twinkle he manages.  He must have been the cutest boy in seventh grade.

“Oh?

“You just got here, so you can shop if you want to shop. But I know how to treat a guy like you, and I think you know that.”

I put my finger to my lips, and he is quiet.  I have my glass of whiskey, knock back one more quick one and take him back to my place.

 A fat full moon hangs outside my window and floods the apartment with light.  Just inside the door, his mouth is on mine, his hands on my face pulling me into his deep, wet kiss.   It’s a good kiss and I know things are going to be interesting, at least.  We strip in seconds and wind up stretched out on the hardwood floor, head to cock, feeding each other our well-matched dongs.  His is thick and veiny, a cock with a history.  His fragrant blond pubes graze my nose, and his tight, pink balls make a perfect mouthful.  He slurps happily on my fat tool, taking the big head down his throat.

He rolls onto his back and stretches his golden body across the floor.  I am  pleasantly surprised by how taut and well-made he is.  I stand, straddled over him, take a breath.  My fat dick points, glistening, to the moon.  We smile at each other, and he runs his hands up my legs.  He pulls my full, furry ass down onto his face.  He gnaws at my hot hole while my balls crunch up on his chin and my cock stretches along his hairy chest.  I lean over and take all of his fat cock in my mouth, right up to the tense, pink nuts.  I dip my dong down his throat and hoist up his haunches to get a peek at his rosy crack.

His round, muscled ass feels like marble in my grip and glows in the moonlight.  I part his beefy thighs and bury my face within his spread cheeks, lapping at his unpenetrated rosebud hole.  I hear him gasp at this new sensation, feel the juices regroup in the downy stretch to his clenched balls.  His mouth goes dry on my cock, and I like this power over him.  I climb off his face, spin him around the floor and pin his strong thighs in my grip.  I spread his legs and plunge my face into his ass, making a meal out of it.  I slap his butt and make him grunt.  I drink in the perfume of man meat and soap as my tongue works its way into his steaming center.  I take a breath and look at him spread out before me; his eyes are closed, and his tongue is lolling around his lower lip.  My hunger for this nameless hunk surprises me.  I feel his butt hole tighten around my tongue lashing.  He’s ready to pop a sizzling load.  I want to get inside this tight, hot man.  I lower his ass down to my stiff cock and rub my cock’s juicy, fat head along his puckered, gasping hole.

No!” he says through the steamy moonlight, and I know he means it.  My lips meet the head of his swollen cock, knowing he will squirt any second.  He twists around and pulls my cock into his mouth and on contact I pump a steaming load down his throat. He gulps it down, sucking the juice out of me.  I shake with pleasure as I swallow the length of his rock-hard tool and feel the first bursts of sweet cream shoot out of him. I gulp down each delicious, pent-up spurt like a man who hasn’t eaten in days.

 In the shower, he is all pink and gold in my grip.  He is a beautifully made man with big, articulate hands that knowingly roam my body.  His face is perky and relieved now and his blue eyes are bright, twinkling with mischief.  The warm water slides off our big bodies, trickles into our locked-together lips.  Who is he?  His hunger is that of someone who has worked out exactly what he would do once he got his hand on another man, without having much chance to do it.  He’s definitely not a piece of trade from the bar circuit, this or any other.  This kind of meat and muscle union doesn’t happen very often and I’m not going to question it.  I’m going to ride out every sultry second until we part.

We step out of the shower with hard ons. He dries me off tenderly, then sinks to the floor and takes my cock in his mouth.

“Who the fuck are you?” I say, before I can stop myself.

He looks up at me with those blue twinklers.  “I’m your coach, Johnny.  And if you tell anybody about this, I’ll have you thrown out of school.”

“Oh.”  I wanted to laugh but didn’t.

“Do you understand me?”  This new tone in his voice makes my cock jump.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Show me your room, Johnny.”

I lead him to my unmade bed.

“Your room’s a mess, Johnny.  I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”  His voice is a gruff, thrilling whisper.  

“You’re naked, Johnny,” he growls, “That’s against regulations.  Go get your jock strap.”

I pull it out of the dresser drawer and slip it on.

“You’re a pretty boy, Johnny.  That’s going to get you into trouble.  See what you do to me, Johnny?”  He stands by the bed, stroking his big cock.  “Get your ass over here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

 He pushes me down onto the bed and hoists up my butt.

“It’s lesson time, Johnny.  You have to learn.”  He whacks me across the ass, and I yelp.  “Hurts, don’t it, son?”  He whacks me again.

“Yes, sir.”

He spits on his palms, spits on my ass, and administers, resounding, stinging whacks to my upturned ass.  My cock is hard and pokes out of the jock strap.

His mouth is in my ear. “Johnny, Johnny, Johnny.  See all the trouble you can get into with this pretty ass of yours?”

“Yes, Sir.”

 He spreads my butt cheeks apart and spits on my hot puckerhole.  His hands run up my cheeks, up my back. He grabs my shoulders and pulls me toward his thick punisher, rubbing its fat head around my hot hole.  He grabs my shoulders again and plunges me onto his cock, finding the center in one thrust.  I feel the delicious tight squeak of skin on skin and the heat of him deep inside me.  He pumps my ass with his hot piston.

“Johnny, Johnny, Johnny.  You’re so bad.”

“Yes, Sir. Yes, Sir. Yes, yes, yes, Sir.”

He grabs my cock and pumps it too, while his other hand slaps my butt.  My body starts to quiver, and I yelp with pain and pleasure.  The juice spurts out of me in hot licks as my butt muscles squeeze around his fat tool.   I feel him pump me full of his hot syrup.

We fall across the bed and laugh.

“I told you I would take care of you,” he says.

“You did, Coach, you did.  Are you a coach?”

“Nah, I sell computers at Cyber World in the mall.  The coach thing is just something I always wanted to do with a guy.”  He looks at his watch.  “Oh, shit, it’s late!”

“Back to the wife and kids?”

“How did you know?”

“A hunch.”

He sits on the edge of the bed.  “The brood is down at the beach for a week.  I figure this is my only chance to see the sights.”

At the door he says, “Can I come back sometime?”

“Anytime.   But my name isn’t Johnny.”      

It rained hard all the next day.  When I got to the Country Club at four, I learned the sewers had backed up, flooding the dining room and lounge.  We were told to go home and ran to our cars in the downpour.  I had just started the engine when David tapped at the window.

“Hey, can I come with you?” he asked.

“I’m just going home.”

“I’d like to visit for a while.”

I hesitated.  “You’re soaked.  Get to your car and follow me. My place isn’t far.”

His breath was hot and sweet on my neck as I opened my apartment door.  I waved a hand around my tiny Spartan lair.

“Lesson number one.  Stay in school.”         

“I like it,” he said.  “No frills.”

I turned and we were face to face.  “I’m going to pour us a couple of brandies.  We should get out of these wet clothes and get comfortable.”

I led him by the hand to the living/bedroom.  He stood there, giving me his big, brown eyes.

“Need help?”  I took off his vest, unbuttoned his shirt.  He had a boy’s chest, smooth and slender with tiny brown nipples.  My hand grazed them as I slid his shirt off and I felt the charge of that brief touch surge through him.  I went to the kitchenette and poured two snifters full and found him standing shirtless in the middle of the room, looking expectant and lost.

“You can take your pants off,” I said.  “I’m not going to bite you, I think.”

“What about you?”

“No problem.”  I set the brandies down and peeled off my clothes in second and stood next to him wearing only my crusty, bulging jock,  He stepped out of his pants, shoes, socks, folded his clothes neatly across a chair and stood in his briefs.  The outline of his long, thin cock poked against the cotton.  I handed him his brandy, our toes and baskets grazing each other’s.    “To us,” I said, “may we have everything we want.”  We clinked glasses.

“What do you want from me?” I said.

He puffed his baby breath at me. “I don’t know.”

I put my mouth on his and we breathed into each other.  I felt his body tremble and his cock jump in his briefs.  I stuck my tongue in his mouth and his soft lips parted.  I ran my hands down his smooth back and pulled him into me, our baskets grinding together.  His hands were on my face, feeling it, examining it, pulling it closer.  He stepped back and scanned my face in fear and amazement.

I let him lead.  He put his hands on my shoulders, then slid them down my beefy arms and held my hands.  He gazed at my crotch, my hard cock straining against the jock strap.  He shook his head like a dreamer awakening and laid his golden curls against my chest.  I slipped my hands into his briefs and cupped his downy butt cheeks and pressed him into me.  He looked up in surprise, clamped his dry mouth on mine.  His long, pale body contracted and shuddered; his legs wrapped around mine as his body arched.   He gasped and I felt wave after wave of hot jizz shoot out of him as I held his quivering ass.

Suddenly, he wouldn’t look at me.  “I have to go,” he said as he hurriedly gathered his clothes.

“Look at me!”   He did.

“You’re not going to run out of here feeling all bad about yourself.  Nothing bad has happened.  You did something you wanted to do, and it felt wonderful, didn’t it?”

He nodded.

“You wanted to be with me, so now you’re with me.  This is the only chance you’re going to get.   If you run out now, I will never talk or listen to you again.  We should enjoy this time we have together.  If this is just a phase you’re going through, then let’s make it a wonderful phase.  Something we can both remember with pleasure.  Now, go clean up and let’s hang out.”

He took a shower, and I stretched out naked on the bed, sipping my brandy.  My cock was hard as a rock, and I was so worked up over David I thought I was going to shoot my load any second.  I wanted him to experience this time with me before he scampered back to school and the girlfriend.  That way he could make an informed decision.  I heard his light footsteps approach.  He stood by the bed, wearing a towel with his cock standing straight up beneath it.  His startled brown eyes took in my cock and the sight of me laying before him. 

He took off the towel and I looked at his long, slender cock and his pink, hairless balls dangling beneath it.  He knelt on the bed and took my fat cock gingerly in his hand, stroking it.  I ran one hand through his curls, then down his lovely back.  I felt up the downy mounds of his ass and ran one finger across his tiny, clenched butthole.  He moaned as I gently fingered his hole and the velvety nether stretch to his dangling balls.  A pearl glistened at the head of his cock and his balls rose and tightened.

He leaned forward and laid feathery kisses across the length of my pulsing tool.  He spread his legs to accommodate the palms of my hand massaging the hot golden zone between his legs.  A languorous string of drool oozed out of his slender, throbbing shaft as he took my straining cock head in his mouth and delicately, thoughtfully tasted its juice.   I was ready to cum in his mouth.  But not yet…..I pulled his head away.

“But I want to,” he said.

“There’s more,” I said, pulling him toward my face.  We kissed a deep, juicy kiss as he spread himself over me.  I took his long legs and brought him up until he straddled my chest. His pretty cock pulsed in my face.  I took the length of it in my mouth and felt it throb in the back of my throat.  I held his now tight balls in one hand, while the other played around his clenched hole.  I felt the rumble in his balls and spurt of sweet cream eased down my throat.  I knew there was more.

I lifted his beautiful, tense ass onto my mouth as his cock ticked and drooled across my face, his full balls resting on my nose.  He worked his ass around and around on my hungry tongue, practically squeaking with delight.  I gnawed at his tenderized hole and worked my tongue into the steaming, musky center of him, the place I most wanted to be.

I licked rhythmically within his sweet asshole, drinking in the taste of him.  I ran my hands over every part of David, the golden curls, the fluttering eyelids, the sloping, freckled nose, his parted lips and dry tongue.  His slender chest and tiny, aroused nipples.  His flat stomach and little patch of wiry hair.

I parted the quivering mounds of his ass as I licked deeper inside him.  My hands ran down his thighs, his calves, the soft soles of his feet.  His cock pulsed and oozed its inexhaustible supply of cum into my hair.  When he put his hand on his cock, I took it off and his hands roamed across everywhere they could reach on my body.

He rotated his impaled ass around my long tongue.  He pulled at my cock.  I lifted him and his mouth met mine, amazed and hungry for the taste of my lips, the taste of himself on my lips.  His gasping hole grazed my tool, and the heat was intense.  My cock rubbed along his steaming crack and his butt trembled with anticipation.

“Is this what you want?”

He couldn’t get the word out but nodded his head.  My fat cockhead met his soft, moist hole and slowly, exquisitely entered his hot center.  We paused and let his ass accommodate my stiff, veiny tool, millimeter by millimeter.  He groaned as his virgin ass filled with my man meat, the pain and pleasure shooting across his beautiful face.  He got up on his haunches and brought his tight butt all the way down on my cock, rocking with excitement.

I took a deep breath and looked at him, his slim, pale form completely in my possession.  His brown eyes were on fire as his sphincter muscles contracted around my tool.  I ran my hand across his face, and he took my fingers and sucked them, one by one.

From deep inside him I felt the trembling juices and the first contractions as his cock swelled.  I watched the first spurt of cream shoot out of him and splat hot across my face.  I opened my mouth wide as spurt after steaming spurt arched through the moonlit air.  My tongue licked up every delicious drop.

I couldn’t hold out any longer.  I pulled his shaking, spurting body in time to grab my own raging tool and slap it across the small of his back.  I shot a load that hit him between his bony shoulder blades and trickled down his spine.  I pulled his cock to my mouth and drank the last drops of him.

He spread himself sleepily across the bed.  I washed him with a warm cloth and dried him as he grunted contentedly.  I lay beside him, and he curled his moist, long form against mine.  We fell asleep happily, with nothing to say, no past and no future.

When we woke, it was almost three in the morning.

“Oh no!  My Mom’s gonna kill me.  She needs the car for work in the morning.”

When he left, I drank some more brandy and looked at the fat moon outside my window.  My mother had her own car and was satisfied with a call every couple of weeks.  I didn’t have a wife to ask me how I spent my week alone.  There was just me, big and naked, looking out my window with the taste of David still on my lips.  And I was very, very glad.

There’s nothing better than a lad that can suck well be pushed to his limits for views after this one goes up there will be emails you was to nice to him, you should find a bigger cock , try him with a few the little bitch.

He doesn’t want to upset him before the contract is signed there’s nothing worst than one and done especially one with promise the sick fuckers out there will want to see him broken.

“Does that mean it’s going online the contract said anything in this room was yours  but I didn’t realise you started”

Maybe he’s smarter than tim first thought but not smart enough to make sure it wasn’t rolling before he put a cock in his mouth. No point lying now.

“yes tonight probably there’s not much editing well any really” he goes to his bag pulling out a contract and handing it Sam.

“five films deal just like that ” Sam takes it he starts to read  Tim always talks as they read to put them off confusing them maybe they miss something or fail to see that all the films are not just like that one.

“that was so good Sam “

“a real pro” big john says.” So pretty and a good cocksuker”

Tim’s not had a proper boyfriend in years he’s never really had the need there’s always someone looking for a job he can take advantage of he looks at the sofa god only knows the mixture of cum pussy juice and lube that couch has seen.

“I enjoyed it I think how long will It take to do five films “

“few weeks a month maybe I have a couple this week you can jump into .I take it you’re never had anal ” sam shakes his head

“we can sort that out ” Sam takes the pen and signs the contract Tim’s day keeps gets better and better.

Tim takes the card out of the camera replacing it with another fresh one.

The three of them go to get a beer Sam seems more than comfortable naked now the three of them in the little office out back a computer on the desk. John decides he’s going home getting dressed and leaving Sam and Tim alone.

They sit in the office as Tim starts to add the file to the website he calls him Sam Wonder they both think it not a great name but can’t come up with anything better.

A casting wonder is the name of the video the thumbnail a shot of Sam sat naked on the sofa. The file nearly uploaded and about to change Sam’s life a couple of beers in.

“Come sit next to me” Tim taps the chair ” it’s done all you have to do is click that button and it’s live”

Sam takes the mouse and moves it over the live now button

Click.

Tim turns to him kissing him hands over his body he stands lifting sam up and carrying him back into the studio to the very old dna covered sofa. It’s about to get some more.

Holding him in one strong arm Tim quickly turns the camera back on.

“does this count as a film ” Sam asks .

“it’s before twelve ” Tim tells him ” it’s still the first contract “

“That’s not fair “

“no but I will be nice and gentle its better this way you don’t want big john as your first do you “

he lowers Sam down on his back kissing him their hard dicks rub together.

“turn over ” Sam turns showing his bottom to the older man

He feels his lips against him making him wet they start to rock together Sam pushing on his tongue.

Tim stands behind him his cock pushing at his hole opening him up and sliding in slowly his hands on his hips he’s very gentle it surprises Tim himself its been a while since he took his time nice and slow he’s had a few virgins on this sofa over the years and he’s never treated them like this its normally hand on the back pushing them down face buried in the disgusting cushions the contract signed the video up what does he care about the stupid cunt with its ass in the air ready to be filled with his cum.

He gets close and starts to go faster. Sam is taking it well he’s not loving it it hurts a bit but it’s not unpleasant finally Tim shoots his load into him. He watches it drip on the sofa between his legs as he pulls back they turn and kiss each other .

“I need the toilet ” Tim shows him going back into the office the video has 673 views already he checks the emails he was right they want to see him In a group. He likes Sam alot but he’s also has a business to promote he moves the video to the top of the first page and changes the picture making it bigger its the first thing people will see his face mouth open filled with cum.

“you want driving home sam” if you want ” my home” if you want. It’s definitely the first time he’s taken someone home in a long time he’s had his fun there’s no reason for it.

A few beers then bed it makes him feel odd that he texts home to say he’s staying out, he’s seen his licence they don’t get in the door without one but still.

They wake in the morning wrapped up in each other

He checks the computer over a thousand views its doing very well Tim wonders if he should tell Sam

“I can do today if your up for it ” it’s big dave for bear in the wild.

“are we doing a video today and has anyone seen the it. “

Tim nods and opens the website Sam’s jaw drops 1321 people have seen him like that he reaches over Tim and clicks on the commits. Sam doesn’t know if it turns him on or makes him sick there disgusting the things they are saying

“hes a whore down my town fucked him every way possible”

“bet he fucking loved it can’t wait till they piss on him dirty fucker”

That’s not me he points to the commit I didn’t do that for money i am not a prostitute.

Tim knows that it doesn’t matter they can say anything they want to about him now and they will. He would normally point out that well yes you had sex for money soooo technically you are and watch there face as reality sets in.

They realise that it is true they are a whore.

Sam walks off ” what time are we leaving ” twelve tim tells him he joins him in the shower is he falling for him and today he’s going to watch someone fuck him hard.

He pulls out some clothes for him very short cotton shorts and a thigh t-shirt ankle socks a good outfit for bears in the wild they fit Sam well about a size to small.

They talk in the car there hands touching occasionally

Sam’s been in a whirlwind since walking into that office he just wanted to get paid thats all. But the moment that hard cock entered his mouth he was hooked it felt right.

He hadn’t really thought about Tim doing him he hadn’t offered to suck his cock or let him fuck him and Sam didn’t really care that was the contract he was to get fucked not do the fucking it was quite clear about that.

It was fair to say Sam was just looking at the money a chance to get away from home and find somewhere to live. the amount of views was worrying to him someone he knows is going to see that

Maybe a job interview that could be a problem  he will worry about later he feels stupid in this outfit if his parents saw him now like this he would be sleeping on the streets.

Hes to walk though the field picking at flowers he will meet the bear at the edge of the woods. He will tell Sam he’s on his land and has to pay for the flowers. Sam obviously has no money and has to pay with his ass its not a original story or a well told or we’ll acted one. No one here or later at home tissues at the ready are going to be bothered by that.

There looking for a fit lad who get himself in trouble.

The bear comes out of the woods he’s just got dungarees and wellies nothing else his board hairy chest .

“what the fuck you doing ” he shouts across the field and starts running over ” this is my land my flowers ” he roughly grabs Sam holding him by the shoulders shaking him .

“my flowers you shouldn’t be here taking them “

“sorry sir I didn’t mean any harm mister “

“you got any more ” his hands feeling his body all over his chest in his back bum and groin pulling him up by the shorts

Lifting him off the ground the shorts pulled tight into his arse crack  showing it off perfectly.

“I ain’t got any in there mister “

The bear pushes him against a tree feeling his bum his fingers running up the crack of his arse

“there’s nothing in there sir ” he pushes his body against Sam the camera gets a shot of the bears big bulge just before he does he starts to rub it up Sam back side.

“how you going to pay for my flowers ” he’s grinding hard against Sam hands on the tree .

“I have no way to pay sir i have nothing on me.”

“there’s always a way to pay son” the bears massive hands on Sam’s slender body. He pulls his rope belt off and takes sams hands tieing them together round the tree.

“mister there not even worth that much ” the bear pulls Sam down to the floor.

“there not yours ” he undoes the two buttons on his dungarees dropping it to the floor his cock hard and big .

Sam’s never seen hair like it a thick mat of curly pubic hair .

He slaps it across Sam’s face ” you need to pay ” pushing at Sam’s lips he’s shaking his head till the bear grabs it and holds him still

Sam can hear Tim tell them what to do

“that’s it force it in the little bitch, open now Sam “

Sam lets him in he’s big but he can handle it the camera moving around getting close ups ” fuck it’s mouth “

Sam hears Tim say “treat it rough use it hard “

The bear starts pumping into his mouth hand on his head the spit starting to run down his chin. Sam closes his eyes and takes it he pulls back rubbing the spit over Sam’s face and slapping his cheek hard.

“look at me you dirty thief ” he looks up the camera close to his face and the large cock uses his mouth.

The bear pulls out pulling Sam to his feet and getting behind pulling at his shorts ripping them down the back he can feel the split showing his asshole to the world.

Everyone knows what’s coming next Sam’s about to give his still fresh ass to this man he doesn’t know. Tim takes a deep breath he suddenly wants to stop this he thinks after the bears had him he will never be the same again its to big he’s too rough only the ones who like this shit still have the same look in there  eyes after this and he’s afraid that will be the end for him and Sam.

They all look at him differently after an experience with the bear they will be an argument about the contact. Tim will have to show them the small print the bit they didn’t read the part that says Tim can do what he wants in the videos up to and including twenty men ( he over did that part so the dumb fucks would be happy when it was just five or six) they could be pissed on wrote on he could cover them in jam if it pleased him make them eat a banana out of someone’s ass if he wanted. He had a couple of times just for fun he had done that with the ones who pissed him off.

He’s going to open his mouth as the bear stops to lube up his cock. Then starts to work out the editing points for it in his head the bears a pro he will make it easy make it will look like he’s fucking Sam raw. It’s then he knows he’s going to keep his mouth shut the website, the views ,Tim’s wallet will all befits from this happening the only one who doesn’t is Sam.

Tim doesn’t  know what Sam will do to get out of that house . Sam honestly believes he would do anything now this has started. walking in that office yesterday he would have said he preferred a nice tall blonde with big tits fuck he would have done the granny shit if he had to sucking on old sagging melons.

Licking decades pass its best pussys if that’s all he could get

But something he’s only just admitting to himself now as his hands are tied around this tree his ass being prepared is he’s not scared about what they might do hes scared he might enjoy it to much.

The bears hard cock works it way in his hands on his hips .

“more Sam more fight it.” Tim says behind him.

“I would know what you wanted if you let me see the other films ” Sam says calmly.

Tim never let’s them see what they are In for never he had told Sam in the office to make him nervous but they almost always forgot about that when they started sucking cock.

“no stop not my bum” Sam shouts ” nothing is supposed to go up there mister.”

He gets it the bear thinks starting again he’s hard and deep rough on Sam like always the bear never thinks about who he’s fucking just another twat in to deep. Tim brings them to him he does his thing and goes back home never thinking about them again.

He gives it his all sweat running down his thick hair matting it on his back and bum he can feel it dripping off his balls as he slams into Sam Colin luke whatever this lad is called .

He stops as he gets close letting the lad free he takes his belt wrapping the belt around his neck the bear leans against the tree ass sticking his ass out

This is the best bit the bear thinks as he starts to pull the belt between his legs pulling this lads lips to his hot sweaty ass.

He has to pull very hard to get them to do it even to dirty ones the ones that have done it many times before.

See that mass of thick sweaty hair and have second thoughts he can still feel the sweat running down his back into his crack he knows the camera will get it make sure the viewers at home know how disgusting this is.

“oh please no not that it disgusting ” he hears him shout

“your awful please no. ” Sam shouts before his lips are buried into his fat hairy hole.

The bear feels him lick straight away he pushes out more into Sam’s tongue doing its magic on his arse.

It normally goes on to long the fighting and struggling but today he right in there licking and sucking like a hungry dog.

The bear has to turn his load more than ready he grabs his head wanking hard over him his large load its a weeks worth let’s go over the lads face he aims for the eyes and lands his shots. The cameras getting a good shot of the cum pooling in his eyes head back the bear grabs his hands to stop him wiping it away just how Tim likes.

“look at me ” the bear grows at him.

To everyone’s surprise Sam trys to open his eyes blinking madly ” you learnt your lesson “

“yes sir” the bear sees the cameras pull back he let’s go of him  and walks off into the woods naked leaving Sam kneeling on the ground .

Tim walks back to Sam pulling out a towel from his camera bag and wipes the cum from his eyes waiting for the shouting the screaming ” that wasn’t a bit rough he tied me up he hurt me he made me lick his fat ass.”

“thank you Tim ” he says taking the towel himself and rubbing his eyes and getting up by this time the camera man and the bear are back

“it was a little short Pete you couldn’t handle the rimming”

They all laugh except Sam

“you should leave your mark on my bum or something like your claw  “

“fuck that’s good ” Sam is taken back to tree the bear pulls his shorts to one side whack whack whack Sam can feel his ass burning.

“that goes on the series headline that picture a big red hand print you just made it worst for everyone after you” the camera man says

“fuck em” says Sam.  Tim thinks he might be in love with his dirty new friend.

My straight neighbours Nick and Pete had asked me round to their house for some festive drinks and nibbles. They were both in their early fifties and had both been married but now divorced and as a means of saving money lived together in a bungalow despite having to deal with ‘gay’ rumours.

Being gay, I had often wondered if they had dabbled in a little male to male action and had even fantasized about them on occasions.

Anyway they knew I was gay and that had not been a problem as they were always friendly with me.

I was surprised to find that I was the only neighbour that they had asked to their drinks and nibbles party but I didn’t question it but tucked into the buffet they had laid out and had downed about three large gin and tonics

“Nice of you to come round Geoff” said Nick.

“Yes” echoed Pete “We don’t often get the chance to entertain and to tell you the truth you are the only neighbour we really get on with”.

They asked me if I was seeing anybody special but the answer to that was no not after having been dumped by my last boyfriend. Boy is probably the wrong word as like me he was in his early thirties.

Anyway Nick and Pete told me to help myself to more drinks and asked me to join them in their very comfortable lounge. I sat on the sofa and they sat either side of me and before long the conversation turned to sex.

“We don’t get much sex these days, not after our divorces do we Nick?” said Pete.

“Bet you get a lot more sex than us mate” said Nick.

I had to admit that it had been pretty sparse since my ex had dumped me.

“The bastard!” said Pete “He was a fool to dump a nice looking guy like you”.

“Tell you what I miss the most Geoff, I miss the missus sucking on my cock”. said Nick

“Yeah” said Pete” Though mine wasn’t that good at it and never swallowed anyway”.

The two guys laughed and agreed that neither wife was keen on cock sucking and neither ever swallowed  their cum.

“Do you like sucking cock Geoff?” asked Pete offering me another G and T .

“Yes ” I said slightly embarrassed “There’s nothing better than sucking on a cock”

“That is” said Nick “Unless you are sucking on two cocks”.

They both laughed again and I found myself getting a little tipsy as well as a little stiff with all their talk of cock sucking.

“Do you swallow mate?” asked Nick..

“Yes” I said “I think if you are prepared to suck cock then you have to be prepared to swallow cum”.

“That’s what we like to hear” said Pete “So how about sucking our cocks off mate?”

My dick was now straining stiff in my pants and I noticed two nice bulges in the guys jeans too.

I was pretty smashed at that time and told them I’d be happy to suck them off anytime.

“How about now?” asked Nick already unzipping his jeans.

Pete followed by unzipping his jeans too.

The two men pulled out their cocks and my eyes widened. Both were nice meaty uncut pricks, both exposing mouth watering knobs. Nick’s was slightly bigger at about eight inches whilst Pete had a thicker seven incher.

I leaned over Nick and took his cock into my mouth and began to suck on it, a hand roaming for a feel of Pete’s prick.

Nick was soon moaning, his hand holding my head down on his cock as I sucked on it.

“Come on my turn” said Pete.

I moved over to Pete’s cock and pleasured that with my tongue and mouth a hand now wanking Nick’s stiff dick.

“Tell you what mate” said Nick “You sit on the settee and Pete and I will kneel either side of you so that you can suck both of us easily”.

I did as he asked and after pulling off their jeans and pants they knelt either side of me their cocks rigid and ready for more sucking. I slid down a bit so that I had a cock either side of my mouth and began to suck one then the other. Nick began to face fuck me and Pete waited his turn to do the same.

After some minutes of individual sucking they both pushed their cocks into my mouth together.

I was so fucking excited by now that I had to pull my own dick out my pants to wank as I sucked the guys.

“Oh! Geoff you are such a good cock sucker” said Nick.

“Bet you’ve had hundreds of cocks in that sweet hot mouth of yours”.

I was unable to answer them with my mouth full of cock but I managed to nod yes.

“Fuck!” said Pete “I’m so fucking close already”.

“Me too” said Nick.

In my less than sober state, I was finding it hard to believe what was happening. Two stiff hot cocks in my mouth and ready to spurt. Fuck! What a lucky lad I was.

Pete started to spurt his load, his cum splattering my tonsils, his cock out of control in my mouth.

Nick followed , his hand wanking his cock off to a spunk fountain that hit the roof of my mouth.

I was sucking and gulping down their creamy loads, the taste pretty sweet.

I was wanking my own cock pretty fast and once the two cum loads were swilling around my mouth and down my throat I started to shoot my load, a

spunking that shot everywhere including their thighs and my own chest and face.

“Mate that was fucking fantastic” said Pete “Now why couldn’t our wives do that?”

“Too fucking frigid” replied Nick getting off the settee.

Cum was dribbling from my mouth and Pete asked if he could take a photo of my spunky lips with his mobile.

He took a few photos, some of my face, some of my cum covered body and then my cock and balls.

“Nice pics for us to keep” said Pete/

We had more drinks and the guys kept asking me questions about gay sex.

“Do you take it up the arse then Geoff” asked Pete.

“Of course. I love feeling a cock up me” I said.

“Do you let guys shoot their spunk up your arse>” asked Nick.

I was well relaxed now and pretty tipsy so I was happy to answer their sexy questions.

“Yes. Love men to spunk in my hole” I said.

“Ever had a gang bang then mate?” asked Pete.

“Well” I said “Not really a gang bang but once I took five loads up my arse one evening cruising by the river”.

“Wow!” said Pete “You must like getting fucked”.

“Yeah! I do” I replied.

“Do you fuck arse as well?” asked Nick

“Of course. I have tried everything” I said.

“What even rimming an arsehole? Have you tried that?” asked Pete.

“Yes” I said realizing that I was slurring my words due to the drink.

The two men were eying me up really sexily and I was getting pretty stiff again with all the sexy talk.

“I’ve always wanted to be rimmed” said Pete “The fucking wife would never do that”.

“Have you been rimmed and is it nice?” asked Nick.

“Nice?” I said “It’s a fucking incredible feeling.

I looked straight at the guys, I seemed to know what was coming next.

“How about you rim both of us then?” asked Pete.

“No probs” I said. “I’m as randy as fuck, I’ll do anything you ask”.

The men were soon bending over for me showing off their hairy holes and waiting for my hot tongue.

I licked Pete first and he started moaning instantly.

“Fuck I’ve never felt anything like this before it’s fantastic” he said.

“Hurry up and lick my arse” said Nick “I want to know what it feels like” and so I licked from arsehole to arsehole pleasuring the men and loving the fact that they were moaning with pleasure.

I pushed my tongue deep into Pete and I thought he was going to cum, he was so excited. I grabbed his rampantly stiff cock and buried my head in between his arse cheeks.

“Me next” pleaded Nick, his dick wet with pre cum.

I swapped to Nick’s arse and pulled his cock as I deep tongues his hairy hole.

I could have sucked on their holes all night long but they both had other ideas for me.

“Do you think we can fuck you mate?” asked Pete

“We’ve never fucked an arse, our wives never let us do that” said Nick.

I was happy to feel their cocks inside me so being the slut I am,  just let them position me and waited for dick.

Nick was first to push his hot cock into me and it felt pretty wonderful.

“Fuck him hard” said Pete  wanking his own cock

“What does it feel like?”

Nick was fucking me good and I was moaning for cock.

“It feels fucking fantastic that’s what . So good I can’t fucking hold on” he said and he started to cum inside my arse.

“Fucking hell! As good as that is it. I can’t wait to get stuck in” said Pete holding his stiff cock ready.

I could feel Nick’s cum running from my hole but Pete didn’t mind that and was soon dipping his cock in the cum and pushing his creamy cock up my arse.

“Wow!! he said “Wow! It feels so fucking good”.

He fucked me really good and for much longer than Nick. He kept stopping and starting as he got close and the fucking lasted much longer. His spunking was a noisy affair and he hollered loud as he came shooting his spun deep into my hole with a hard thrust that went as deep as possible.

I groaned loudly but took his cock and cum with a greedy cum lust, my legs wrapping a round Pete’s body to hold his cock deep.

The three of us were pretty exhausted so rested a while. I went to sleep my arsehole seeping cum, my drunken mind a whirl of sexual images.

I had a surprise when I woke up. The men were in a sixty nine sucking each others cocks with some determination. I didn’t wake fully but lay watching them suck and gobble each others pricks. Pete began licking Nick’s arsehole and then Nick did the same for him. Both guys were moaning like fuck but were obviously having a whale of a time.

I watched and got really horny, my cock straining for attention.

Suddenly Nick was on top of Pete and pushing his stiff cock into Pete’s eager arsehole. I couldn’t believe these ‘straight; guys were fucking. Pete sure seemed to like his mate’s cock fucking his arse and I sure liked wanking my cock watching them.

Nick noticed that I was awake and stopped thrusting briefly.

“Don’t just watch us Geoff get your cock up my arse and fuck me” said Nick.

I was stunned by his suggestion but so excited by it and seconds later I was bollock deep in Nick’s hot hairy hole giving him a good fucking as he fucked Pete.

Our moans ad groans were legend, Nick was loving having my cock up his arse and Pete was so into Nick’s fuck that he began shooting his load all over the place.

Nick could obviously feel the tight ring of Pete’s arse milking his cock as he came and within seconds Nick was tossing off inside his mate’s hole.

The knock on effect was fucking awesome, Nicks hole was pumping me as he cams and I couldn’t hold my spunk back either and began to cream Nick’s twitching hole. I pumped a bollock load into the straight man’s arsehole and he seemed to love it.

The session ended with the three of us rolling about on Pete’s cum getting ourselves sticky with spunk and loving every minute.

“Are you guy really straight?” I asked.

The two men looked at each other and smiled.

Pete said “What do you think mate?”

I am a femme gay guy.  I work in a men’s clothing store that caters to gay men.  I love working there as I get to flirt with sexy guys.  I start the day fucking myself with my 8” dildo.  As a bottom bitch boy, I crave cock in my mouth or deep in my ass.  Sometimes I will ride the dildo while lick and kiss my hightop white Converse covered with red lips.  At the bottom of these Chucks by the heel there are red lips before the words “ Me”.  I love these pretty Chucks and sometime wear them with my denim skirt from Random Identities.  I have a great collection of sneaks and boots.  As a kid, I liked wearing cowboy boots and Mary Jane sandals.  At puberty I would ejaculate wearing boots or sneaks that turned me on.  I like to cum on a new pair of sneaks or boots to initiate them into my life.  I kiss them  and lick my cum on the new pair of gorgeous boot or sneaks.  Some of my boots have high heels; I feel so bitchy walking in my heeled boots.   I also love the feel and smell of leather, particularly tight leather jeans and shorts.  I have them in different colors-black, white, and pink. Some pairs have a zipper in the back so my lover can have easy access to my ass and hole.  I love rubbing my leather crotch and feel my dick harden under the leather.  Sometimes I can’t stop and drop a load under the leather.  If I am with a partner, he can unzip and suck my cum soaked cock.  Oh fuck. 

 Today at the store I am wearing a pink tee, tight white leather shorts, and high top pink Chucks. I also am wearing earrings that dangle for each ear, my curly brown hair has blond highlights, am wearing different colored beaded bracelets, and  several rings.   At one point a gorgeous black guy comes in wearing high top white AF1s and is looking for a pair of cropped leather jeans to go with them.

“Hi.  I’m Jimmy, can I help you?”

“I’m Joel and am looking for a pair of leather jeans that I can wear with my AF1s

 I show Joel a couple of pair of jeans.  He chooses one pair and I take them into the change room and hang them up.  As I am leaving the room, I feel Joel’s hand on my ass.  I wait from Joel to come out with the jeans. 

“How do you like them, Joel?”

“Very nice, they will complement my white boots.  I will take them”.

Joel goes back into the room and opens that door to hand me the jeans. He pulls me into the room and starts to kiss me. I reach down for his crotch which is hard. I shut the door, unzip his jeans and take his BBC in my mouth and suck it.  Joel quietly moans while I enjoy every inch of that beautiful black shaft in my mouth. Joel’s load explodes in my mouth. I lick all the cum off his dick and zip up his jeans.  We briefly kiss.   He gives me his phone number and we agree to meet again.

When I get back to my place, I put on my skirt and jerk off thinking of Joel and his cock.  I imagine sucking his BBC again and Joel rimming my hole and then fucking me in my skirt  and pink Chucks.  Oh Fuck.  I want his BBC so much.  I want to be Joel’s white bitch boy.  I buy a 8” black dildo and use it for now for my morning  ride and imagine my ass is going up and down on his BBC. If it is clean after I take it out, I suck it.  It is still warm and wet from my pussy.  Oh fuck, doing this makes me cum.  I cum on the dildo and then lick my cum on it. As I suck it, I imagine looking up at Joel  and listening to him moan.    Just as I finish, Joel calls and we  agree to meet tomorrow evening at my place.

Joel arrives the next evening wearing his new black leather jeans and his white boots.  He looks so fuckin hot.    We sit on my white leather couch and have a beer.  I am just wearing my denim skirt and my high top pink chucks. My nails are painted pink to match my boots.

“Love your look, Jimmy.  You’re such a pretty femme boy.”

“”I’ve been thinking of you and your BBC, bro.  You look great in the new leather jeans and your white boots.”

I rub Joels’ leather crotch while he reaches under my skirt and takes my dick in his hand.  It is rock hard now.

I go down on Joel’s leather crotch.  The new leather smells so good.  I lick and suck on his leather crotch and feel his BBC below the tight black leather.  Joel starts to moan.  I unzip his jeans and kiss and lick his cock.  I take it in my mouth and start to suck it. 

“Do me you white cocksucking, faggot.  I love seeing your white mouth on my cock”  

While I am sucking his BBC, Joel reaches for my ass and hole.   He licks his finger and sticks it in my hole and moves it in and out. 

“Oh yeah,  Do my hole, Joel.  That feels so good.  My pussy is getting warm and wet ready for your BBC. “

“I love your skirt and pink Chucks.  I am going to love fucking you now”

Joel goes down on my ass and hole.  He slaps my ass and licks my hole. I feel his tongue on my hole and want his cock so much.

“Fuck me, now.  I want your BBC now.  Do it”   

I feel Joel’s beautiful black shaft enter me and fill me.  I work my ass and puss around his cock.

“Oh yeah, white fag boy, work my dick with your ass.  Oh fuck, man”

I am on my back with feet and pink Chucks in the air.  Joel holds my pink boots as he fucks me.

“Please lick and kiss my pink boots, bro while you fuck me”

“Sure bitch.  I love your pretty  pink boots.”

I am in heaven with Joel’s BBC deep inside me filling my completely and seeing him kissing my pink boots.  

“Oh fuck, Joel. I am cumming now.  OHHHHHHHHH”

Joel drops a huge load deep inside me.  I am his pretty woman now with my pussy filled with his seed.      I reach down take some of his cum as it flows out of my hot hole.  I can’t wait to suck it on my fingers.  Joel kisses me and enjoys some of it too.  

“Oh fuck. That was good, slut boy.  You’re such a hot little bitch”

“I want to be your  bitch, Joel”

“Yeah, let’s definitely do this again soon.  I love how you worked my cock with your pussy.  I want you to wear your skirt and pink Chucks again.  I know I will jerk off think of how you looked when I fucked you, pretty gurl.”

It was going to be a white Christmas. It was going to be a blinding snow white Christmas before my shift at West Virginia University’s Brooke Tower dining room was over and I was released to slide down the steep Morgantown street to my car. But I was in for it now. I was standing behind the food line ready to dip out the sweet potatoes and the homeless men we were feeding had already started streaming into the dining hall. Homeless women were being accommodated elsewhere.

There was a tree here and Christmas music was being piped in. We’d been told to expect 120 of them—homeless men from the streets of Morgantown. From here they’d slide down North High Street to the Wesley United Methodist Church, where they’d find cots to sleep on and would wake up on Christmas morning to a breakfast there before being turned out into the cold and snow on Christmas Day. For an evening, night, and morning they’d be taken care of. Outside of Christmas they’d more or less be invisible.

I shuddered at the thought of being on Morgantown’s cold, windy, and hilly streets on Christmas Day in the snow. Luckily. that wouldn’t be me. I had a nice warm house to go home to and a cushy job as a history professor at the university to take up again in the new year. All very nice other than the loneliness of it. Over four years now of loneliness.

I could have been at home this evening, albeit probably alone. The house in the better, historic district of the town, was decked out for the holidays and I had a nicer Christmas tree there than the one they’d managed here in the Brooke Tower dining hall. Brooke Tower was a West Virginia University residence hall. The students were away, and the faculty hosted this Christmas Eve dinner for homeless men every year. Each year I wished we’d expand the service to the homeless over the Christmas vacation, and each year I determined to help that happen. But, so far, I hadn’t done that.

But I’d shown up every year for the last four years to work the food line here on Christmas Eve rather than spend it with friends or stewing alone at home in grief over what no longer was. It had been part of a promise I had made to the God I didn’t believe in four years ago at Thanksgiving. If he’d spare the life of my young partner, James, one of my doctoral students who had moved into my house and my bed, rather than let his weak heart take him, I’d dedicate my Christmas Eve to the faculty diner for homeless men. James was a brilliant student and a fantastic lover. Despite my plea, he’d died in the second week of that December. In my grief, I had signed for the Christmas Eve dinner anyway—and had just continued carrying through on that in subsequent years.

I was musing on this—how odd it was that I was still attending this event every year after my promissory prayer that prompted it hadn’t been granted—when I saw him arriving in the room. I’m not sure what made him stand out from the others, but he had a quality of James about him that gripped me and I’d just been thinking of James. I couldn’t really identify what it was. He was on the small, but well-formed side as James had been, but he was dark in coloring when James was a blond. And he moved with hesitancy and a bit of distance from the others moving into the room and looking for a place to sit before coming to the chow line. I’d seen some of these other men for years and most of them were comfortable with each other and were sectioning off in groups to sit with. This young man seemed isolated, unsure of himself.

He was as ragtag as the others—dressed in layering for the outside elements, with nothing matching anything else and some of it threadbare. Then I saw what maybe it was. It was his eyes. They were a milky blue. James’s eyes had been as well.

Well, that’s it then, I thought. And that wasn’t much, so I moved into position behind the sweet potatoes and waited for the onslaught. I was to man this position for the first go of the men through the line and then I’d be relieved by Stephen and was to go out and socialize with the men at the tables through dessert and until they started moving out toward the Methodist church. We wanted them to feel like we cared—that they mattered—if only on Christmas Eve.

* * * *

“Um, no thank you, sir. I’m not too fond of sweet potatoes.”

That took me back. This was one of the “heavy” dinner opportunities of the year for the homeless men. They typically piled up with everything that was on offer and came through the line a third time. I wasn’t used to having what I was spooning up turned down on the first trip down the line. He’d done it respectfully, though, and in a soft voice.

I looked up. It was the blue-eyed young guy who had brought James to mind.

“That’s fine. There’s plenty of everything else. And it looks like maybe you haven’t taken your share of everything else. Be sure and come through the line again,” I said.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” he said and then he was gone. And I felt the loss of him. I couldn’t help myself. I connected with him somehow.

OK, yes, it was largely because he was my type. I wasn’t promiscuous in seeking gay sex, but I did so on occasion, usually on trips to the Charles Town racetrack rather than hooking up here in Morgantown. But I wasn’t shielded from having a type of submissive guy who pushed my buttons, and this guy did. This wasn’t the time and place, though, so I would just avoid him.

I of course didn’t avoid him. When Stephen relieved me behind the sweet potatoes and I moved out into the dining area to see who might be receptive to sitting with me as they finished their meal and having someone to talk to on Christmas Eve, I searched for and found him. He was sitting alone at one end of a table. Our chief organizer, Sally, a robust, jolly black woman, was engaging in conversation with two guys at the other end of the table. As I approach, I saw that she tried to pull my guy—I was already thinking of “Blue Eyes” as my guy—into that conversation, but Blue Eyes wasn’t responding. He was hunched over his plate, isolating from the world around him.

“Hi, it’s Mr. No Sweet Potatoes, isn’t it?” I asked, standing beside where he was sitting at the end of the table. “Mind of I take a load off my feet here for a few minutes?”

“Sure, I don’t mind,” the young man said. And, gratifyingly, I could tell that he really didn’t mind. He lifted his head and flashed me a special smile. When I was interested in a guy I could usually tell just by the way he looked at me whether he might be interested too. This guy looked like he might be interested. That made me feel all warm and fuzzy.

“I’m Gil,” I said, as I sat down across from him at the table.

“Cliff here,” he said.

“Hope you went back for seconds. You’ll need the energy for a snowy night like this.”

“Yes, thanks, I did.”

“But you bypassed the sweet potatoes.”

“You got me,” he said, and we both laughed.

“Not tanking up is unusual for the guys coming here,” I said. “Maybe you haven’t been homeless that long?”

“No, not very long.”

“Bad circumstances?”

“It just all imploded in on me. I had to drop out of college and was living out of my car, picking up work here and there when I could. Then the car got towed. I don’t know where. With everything I owned in it.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I said. And I was sorry. There were so many stories like this that brought men to this position. “With luck, it’s all back up from here. At least we can hope for that,” I said. It sounded hollow even to me when I said it and I was embarrassed not to have anything more helpful to say. I had it all—in abundance—and I was only dedicating one evening in the year to helping anyone else to try to come back up from this. “How long have you been on the street, bedding down in shelters for the night?”

“A week tomorrow,” he said. “A week Christmas Day,” he added to make it all the more daunting. “But it’s just as well, I guess, that my stuff went with the car. I might be able to find the car some day with everything still in it, and if I’d had my stuff for the last week, it probably would just have been stolen from me in the shelter.”

“I’m so sorry, Cliff,” I said, touching his forehand with the fingers of my right hand without even thinking about it. He didn’t draw away.

“It is what it is,” he said, with a sigh and a small smile. He was looking down on where my fingers had made contact with his arm. He wasn’t pulling away.

“Why don’t you go see if there’s something you want for dessert,” I said.

“Sure. Bring you anything?”

“That would be nice. I’ll get us some coffee. You take anything in yours?”

“Cream and sugar—when I can get it.”

We were just settling down to dessert and coffee when Stephen was tapping on a mike at the front of the room to make sure it was live. “Sorry to interrupt, guys,” he said. “But I have bad news. The boiler at the Methodist church has given out. No heat there. We’ll have to make other arrangements for you tonight. But don’t worry, we’ll find someplace for you all. It just will take time.”

Groans erupted all around us.

“Don’t worry. We have Perry Como and Andy Williams Christmas albums to last all night here, if need be,” he added.

The groans increased.

At the other end of the table, Sally spoke up to the two guys she’d been talking to. I’d gotten the impression that she knew these men pretty well from previous dinners. “This could take all night,” she said. “And it’s Christmas Eve. Tell you what. I’ll check you two out to my care and you can come home with me for tonight.”

“Oh, we couldn’t impose on you like that,” one of the men said.

“You wouldn’t be imposing,” Sally answered. “My boys are in the military and not able to come home for Christmas. Their beds are there, empty. It’s Christmas Eve. I’d love to have a couple of young men to share this evening and Christmas Day with. I’ve got more fixings for a Christmas dinner than I can eat myself. I’d love you both staying over for that.”

The way she said it told the guys she meant it. They gave in without a fight.

I don’t know if I would have said and done what I did if Sally hadn’t set the precedent. But I did. I turned to Cliff and said, “It’s really the same with me,” I said. “I’ve got the room and would love to have the company. Instead of waiting around here for them to find you a shelter for the night, why don’t you come to my place? I live just over on Marion. Plenty of room. I can take you wherever you want to go tomorrow—assuming we aren’t snowed in. I think it’s still falling.”

Cliff didn’t put up much of a fight on that idea either.

The snow, indeed, was still falling when we left Brooke Tower and slid down the steep hill to where I’d parked the car.

“Great car,” Cliff said. “It’s a Lexus, isn’t it? Their sports version.”

“Yes.”

“Bet it’s given you a lot of pleasure to drive.”

“Not as much as I had hoped,” I said. And now thoughts of my lost partner, James, swam up from the depths for the first time since I’d sat down to talk with Cliff. I’d gotten a lot of toys like the Lexus RC 300 in the wake of James’s death to help make up for the loss of him. None of them had done that.

* * * *

“My, how festive,” Cliff said as we drove up to my large Victorian house on Marion Street.

“It is rather meant for the season,” I said. It was painted crimson red, with ivory trimmings. The white lights I had it outlined in and had left on when I went into the university to help serve dinner set it off beautifully. I hadn’t left lights on inside, though, and when, standing in the foyer, I was able to bring up from there the lights on the Christmas tree next to the fireplace in the living room, the gas logs in the fireplace, the lights in the garlands lining the tops of the bookcases, and the Josh Groban Christmas album on the CD player, Cliff laughed.

“Talk about ready,” he said. I didn’t pursue exactly what he meant by that. I didn’t think I had to pursue it. We’d been on a sexual connection beam since I’d sat down to have dessert with him. Neither one of us had to say anything. We both knew. It was Christmas Eve. We both wanted something special.

“I was determined to have something special for Christmas Eve even if I had to have it alone,” I said. I’d had the commitment to serve the dinner. That didn’t really leave any opening to have a date or to spend the evening with university faculty friends.

“And now you won’t be having it alone. I’m sorry to be intruding.”

“You’re not intruding, Cliff,” I said. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll get us some wine. You drink red wine, don’t you?”

“When I had a life I did,” he answered.

“Having someone to spend Christmas Eve with is a present for me,” I said. “If you could have a Christmas present, what would it be?”

“Really?” he asked. “Let me think.” He laughed. “You’ll think I’m being silly.”

“No I won’t. What is it?”

“What I’d really, really like for Christmas this year is a long, hot shower.”

It was my turn to laugh then. “Of course you would. What was I thinking? That can happen. Go on up the stairs. The main bathroom is to the right. There’s a robe hanging in there and everything else you need. Take your time. Indulge.”

He did take his time and indulge. When he reappeared, though, he wasn’t wearing the robe. I had a large Turkish towel hanging in that bath too, the kind that wrapped around your waist and was held with ties. He, bare-chested and barefooted, was wearing that—and nothing else—when he padded downstairs. “I hope you don’t mind. The robe was really too large.”

“Yes, I guess it would be,” I said, gauging again our relative sizes. We were both fit and built well. He just was on a whole smaller scale than I was—like James had been. Although James had been blond and Cliff was dark. Both with those pale blue eyes one could swim in, though. Both sexy as hell. Both giving me an erection.

“Here, let’s sit on the sofa, facing the tree and the fire. Here’s your glass of red. Hope Josh Groban is good enough.”

“A whole lot better than those other ancient dudes the guy at the dining hall mentioned.” We both laughed. We turned to each other and smiled. He lifted his wine glass in salute and I answered with mine.

When the first kiss came, it seemed so natural and right.

* * * *

Naked, I was sitting on, buried into the sofa. Cliff, naked, was straddling my lap, facing me, cupping my head in his hands, mesmerizing me with the intense gaze of his pale blue eyes. His knees were buried into the back of the sofa, and he was rising and falling, rising and falling, on my erection. I grasped his waist between my hands and helped him rise and fall, slowly at first, and then increasingly rapidly until we both gave a cry and collapsed into each other with a sigh of release.

“Sorry, I didn’t plan this,” I murmured.

“No need to be sorry,” he said. “I may have. I don’t know.”

“It just that . . . reminding me of someone else . . .”

“No don’t. This is us. This isn’t you and someone else. Let’s just enjoy this. I must say I’m getting a bit tired of Josh Groban. Are there bedrooms upstairs.?”

“Of course there are,” I answered. “You probably know there are. You’ve been up there.”

“Well then.”

* * * *

I woke up in one of the en suite guest room beds with light coming through the open door of the bathroom. The beam of light was picking Cliff out struggling into the clothes we’d run through the washer and dryer earlier in the evening. He was trying to be quiet, but I’m a light sleeper and woke. We did it—more than once—in a guest room bed because I wasn’t yet prepared to take someone into the master bedroom bed I’d shared with James. In my dreams, though, we were in my bedroom, which was, I think, telling me something important.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “Come back to bed. I’ll fix us a good breakfast in the morning and then drive you wherever you want to go—if that’s what you want.” I left it hanging there, open for discussion on more than a one-night-stand.

“I’m embarrassed. So ashamed,” he said. “I’ve got to go. I had an assignment, and I’ve blown it.”

“An assignment? What time is it?”

“It’s just 1:00 a.m. There’s time for me to do what I was supposed to be doing.”

“What you were supposed to be doing?”

“I wasn’t straight with you. I’m not really homeless. I’m a newspaper reporter. I was supposed to be doing the homeless thing over Christmas and writing a feature about it for the Washington Post. But then there was you . . . and this.”

“You lied? You’re not homeless?”

“Nope. Afraid not.”

“So, all that about being on the street for a week, living out of your car before that, and your car being towed away with everything you owned in it was just bullshit?” I was working up to being pissed.

“Oh, no. All of that happened to me. It’s why I could write the article. It just happened to me a couple of years ago. Never did get the car and what was in it back. I worked my way out of it—the homelessness. But I experienced it, so I can write about it. I’ve screwed this up now, though. I’m not doing the whole thing. The dinner at the university was one thing, but I’ve got to get to a shelter tonight to experience that into Christmas morning. Sorry. I don’t think we’re far from the university. I need to go back to where we had dinner and see if I can get into a shelter tonight.”

I no longer was building an anger. “So, you’ll have to live that life through Christmas Day?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so—if I can understand how that is now.”

“Tell you what. I’ll get dressed and drive you over to Brooke Tower and leave you there if they are still trying to get guys into shelters tonight. And if they aren’t there anymore, I know who to call to make arrangements.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that. And no hard feelings, I hope. I don’t mean to walk out on you. It’s been great. It really has. It’s just that I have to . . . this story is important. People need to be reminded that there are those who are on a thin thread at Christmas time and dependent on the generosity of others.”

“I’ll drive you on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“That you come back here on the 26th and that we have a late Christmas here then—and that we discuss something more often, maybe more permanent. If that’s OK with you?” I could feel myself faltering. I was just an old fool. Maybe this hadn’t meant as much to him as it had to me.

“Yes, yes, I’d like that,” he said, making me melt, swimming in his openness, his willingness—and his pale blue eyes.

Chapter 22

Tampa

We were getting the hang of the new instruments Harry bought just before Christmas. I’d begun to identify specific chemicals in the water. The next time I went out with Popov to his far western fishing grounds, I’d take a dozen water samples and begin the process of comparing what was in the water with the chemicals we were now able to identify.

Chemicals the CDC suspected were in the runoff from farmers’ fields. It was in the fertilizers, insecticides, and a myriad of other products that ended up in the streams and rivers before running off into the Gulf and countless other estuaries around the world.

We weren’t supposed to know if it could kill us or give us cancer. It was a company’s right to kill us or give you cancer if it was in the course of making a lot of money. At least that’s the way it seemed.

Harry, being smarter than the average bear, asked the CDC to give him the list of chemicals they suspected were involved in their study of diseases near chemical companies and petroleum refineries. Turning the information over to a group of scientist and engineers, they were able to develop an instrument to identify and measure those chemicals in the environment.

Harry provided his conservancy with the first two instruments the engineers produced. We had a tool in the fight that would put the names of chemicals in front of judges. Saying they were suspected in the death and disease caused by certain products containing these chemicals might get a judge to crack the code on proprietary rights of corporations.

If one judge breached a corporations proprietary rights, more judges would follow. This was going to be the next battlefield in the war to save the environment.

It was my job to take water samples and identify any of the suspect chemicals. I’d write a research paper documenting the chemicals and the quantity of particles present in the Gulf, Cove, and any nearby inlets where I took my water samples.

The speed at which new chemicals were being developed meant it wasn’t possible to do a long term study. The corporations were blazing new trails with new products made with new chemicals.

The more frustrating it was the determined I became. There had to be a way to beat the people doing the polluting. I would become smarter and enlist the aid of more communities living on the Gulf of Mexico. There were universities and biologists doing what I was doing. We needed to pool our findings and make our research papers public.

The Clean Water Act forced companies to clean up their act, and they did, until they figured out how to bypass the new laws. If one corridor was closed they’d go down another one. They’d save money and outsmart the EPA. They did that leaving men like me to figure out how they did it and then get Harry to write new laws to stop them.

The best we could do was inform the public on what we found. I could say, ‘We suspected certain chemicals in common products found around the house’ They could sue me for mentioning specific products, but it we talked in general terms, we could get away with pointing a finger at those who were doing the damage. Making their kids sick and the land they lived on dangerous wouldn’t be popular.

With the scientific community on board, our research papers became ammunition for Harry in his effort to pass sensible legislation to undo what unscrupulous lawmakers did behind closed doors.

As time went on, we fell farther behind, and we needed to work harder to protect the air and water. We were cracking the code on the chemicals doing the most damage and we made it part of the record every chance we got.

I would be discouraged if Harry wasn’t so fired up all the time. It was up to us to make the biggest difference we possibly could. I was with Harry on that one but it required him to give me a reminder on occasions. I could still become discouraged when things seemed to be standing still.

As I matured, winning the war wasn’t on my mind. Making a difference was far more important. Each paper I wrote needed to offer a hope of solving the growing number of challenges and that meant it would take all of us to turn around the damage being done. The people would need to be part of the solution.

*****

After a busy week, Jack brought in some Jacques Cousteau films he’d bought while he was in college.

As we watched some Jacques Cousteau footage that came in with Jack one morning, it was obvious Cousteau wanted to bring the beauty of the undersea world to as many people as possible.

Jacques Cousteau and his crew went to the ends of the earth to photograph the life there. What was on the film made me feel what I felt when I fell back into the sea on a dive. It is impossible to do it justice with a camera but if anyone came closest, it was Cousteau. I did admire him as a school boy in Tulsa. That was as close as I came to the sea until I lived next to one.

Cousteau’s films were meant to uncover the mysteries of the oceans. As beautiful as each film was, his films came with a warning. This underwater world lives in concert with our own world on land. These worlds are interdependent. Should the underwater world become sick and die our world can’t hope to survive.

Jack stood and applauded once the film ended.

“He’s the most effective researcher on the seas,” Jack said.

“The most visible, which makes him the most effective. I’ve never heard anything negative said about him and that makes him a man who can be admired,” I said.

In one segment of the film, there was a meeting at sea with two research vessels side by side. It was in the Pacific the year before. I recognized Bill Payne’s research vessel.

I was exhilarated that the man at the head of the class in ocean research took the time to meet with a protege and fellow explorer. They’d showed several closeups of the two men together. I wouldn’t tell the help that one day the man talking to Cousteau would be in the conservancy laboratory talking to them.

Cousteau was a beacon to the men in the same field. He ended anything he said on a positive note. It was all about the beauty, the color, the gift sea creatures are to the world. It was all presented with a smile.

Even with the intrigue at the cove, I managed to stay on track at work. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to let Ivan out of my sight but there were far more reliable people than me who were keeping him safe.

I thought of him from time to time while I worked. I smiled and went back to what I was doing. Everything was going to be fine, I hoped.

*****

I waved at whoever was around before I untied Sea Lab’s mooring ropes. I’d go straight to the bridge, hit the start button, and five minutes later I left the cove. I did what I was told. I’d always watched for signs of being followed. I wasn’t paranoid, or maybe I was. I didn’t like it when the FBI tailed me when I drove Teddy’s car.

My caution to be sure no one followed me to one of my reefs kept me alert to the same boat appearing in more than one places where I went. I’d never looked into the sky and wondered if someone was photographing me. With a high powered lens, the coast guard could take a picture from miles away on the Gulf, and I wouldn’t notice them.

This routine made it nearly impossible for someone to sneak up on me. I had once worried about someone coming on board Sea Lab while I was on a dive. The only time someone surprised me was when Ivan was aboard when I came back on Sea Lab two years ago. I smiled at that memory.

Had anyone else stepped out of the passageway, I might have stroked out on the spot. It was on my mind once Ivan told me that the Jersey hood might take a shot at any of us if we crossed his path.

Kramer knew me from my pictures being in the paper, standing beside Harry. Could Carlos Santiago remember me well enough to make the same distinction. Would he want to take out Harry’s right hand man? Was my imagination too vivid for my own good?

With no one around when I went into the water, who was going to show up in the hour I was underwater?

Should I take someone on Sea Lab to make sure no one came on board while I was on a dive?

The dive that day went smoothly. I was gone two and a half hours and I returned to the cove just after noon. The first thing I looked for when I entered the mouth of the cove was Ivan’s shop. It stood out as the most substantial structure overlooking the scene.

The Fish Warehouse was many times the size of Ivan’s new shop, but it was off to one side and only the unloading docks and ramps were on the water. The rest of it stretched out toward the highway.

I backed the Sea Lab into her slip as usual. Ivan came to the front door of the shop to watch. I waved. He waved and I went down to secure Sea Lab. I needed to do an inspection but everything was working fine and I’d do it after lunch or I’d make time tomorrow.

It was one of those mild cloudless days that come in January. Being outdoors was hard to resist but I got a lot of outdoor time.

*****

It was a month since the second incident that ended with a full court press to protect Ivan, the cove, and those of us who lived and worked in the vicinity.

Since Popov and Harry put themselves between us and trouble, my life had moved along without a hitch. The part of the day I looked forward to most was after eating with Mama, I’d take Ivan his lunch. I always left enough of an appetite to help eat the feast Mama sent.

There were other rewards that came with taking him lunch. Those were as nice as any dessert and twice as sweet.

I was more impressed each time I went to the shop. The displays grew more detailed and they were alive with color. The changes each day came as a surprise I looked forward to.

Ivan had excellent taste and I didn’t know that about him.

One of the fisherman that kept watch over the conservancy house sent mama a dozen trout the day before, when Dylan took them dinner. She was tickled pink and she’d done one up beautifully for Ivan’s lunch. With steaming mashed potatoes and fresh peas I couldn’t wait to get it to him. It was still piping hot when I carried it from the car to the shop.

As January’s go, this was a good one. After the trouble a few days before Christmas, we’d managed to recover nicely. I didn’t feel the danger. I was aware that trouble would come suddenly and leave in a hurry. I was alert without being too cautious about something I could do nothing about. A month after the last trouble and with so much protection around us allowed me to relax.

As I went in the door and heard the bell tinkle, I smiled. I could feel the heat from the aluminum plate. Would he be surprised.

Ivan took a step backward once I put his lunch on the counter and opened my arms for a hug. He stepped back by the desk where he kept the plans. I closed the distance between us. He backed into the desk. I didn’t know what game this was. I wanted a kiss for bringing him that damn fish and I intended to get one.

Neither of us was happy about the hug. I let go of him like he was a hot coal and I was burning up.

“You’re going to tell me that’s a growth on your back, aren’t you, sweetheart?” I said in an angry voice. “We have a son, Ivan.”

“It is exactly what you think it is. I’m going to protect myself, and Tag, and you. I won’t be unarmed.”

“Where’d you get the gun, Ivan?” I asked, stepping away from my lover as he tried to close the distance between us.

“I brought it home with me. They insisted I have one over there,” he said. “Cost too much to leave it. There was no reason to leave it.”

“How many times did you use it on someone, Ivan?” I asked in my, I want the truth voice.

“I didn’t. I wasn’t in that end of the Company. I didn’t lie. Before they’d let me loose to go to work, I learned to shoot it with either hand. I could hit a target twenty-five feet away, dead center with either hand. In a two handed stance, I can hit a target 40 feet away,” Ivan said. “I’m also smart enough to know that shooting a paper target is nothing like shooting a human being. I’d avoid that if possible. In this case it may not be possible.”

Ivan was focused on me and I on him. That left our rear guard down. It was when my son’s long arms got in the way of our war on guns.

“Cool!” Dylan said. “I knew something was going on down here. My father can shoot like Dirty Harry! Far out.”

Dylan stood with his hand holding the bell so it wouldn’t jingle.

“I was going to surprise you. We got out at noon. I got in the backseat of your car while you were eating lunch. I fell asleep,” He said, trying to cover all his bases, but he’d picked the wrong conversation to interrupt.

I glared at Dylan and then I glared at Ivan. I couldn’t say what I wanted to say and Ivan knew it. I wasn’t done yet.

“You brought him down here. Don’t look at me,” Ivan said.

“I’m looking at you and I’m about to take him home, but I’ll be back. Get in the car Dylan,” I said in a way I’d never spoken to him before. “Didn’t you hear me.”

My son stood defiantly in the door.

“Yes. OK, Daddy, I will when you tell me why. Then I’ll go get in the car. I came to see my father, Daddy. I have rights here. I’m not a child.”

“Do what your daddy told you or you’re going to have a sore butt to go with your rights,” Ivan said.

Dylan looked stunned. He could get away with almost anything when it came to Ivan. This was definitely a setback.

“When I’m trying to protect you, you have no rights, kiddo.”

“Cool your tool, Clay. He knows about the gun. I’ll explain it to him,” Ivan said.

“You’ve had that gun in your house and Dylan has been going up there? That isn’t funny, Ivan. I don’t expose him to violence for a good reason. I don’t want him to get the idea it’s ever an option.”

“Daddy, get a grip. Do you see what’s on television?” Dylan asked. “You want to know about violence, ask me, I’ll tell you.”

“The gun has been in the secret room where my grandfather’s fishing equipment is kept. Junior doesn’t know where it is. I haven’t taken the gun out since I put it in there, until now,” Ivan said. “To tell the truth, I forgot I had it, until now. I’m not going to face Big Carlos unarmed. Your version of an idyllic world works here, Clay, because we don’t come in contact with the real world. Big Carlos is the real world and he’s come to town. He’ll be back. He’ll be armed. I plan to be armed when he comes back.”

“He’s not eleven yet. I don’t want him exposed to this,” I said.

“You think I do, Clay? He is exposed to it. You didn’t think he’d figure it out? Think about it. We’ve never lied to him. We told them all the protection was because of someone setting fires.”

“I thought that was the dead guy on the dock. He was the firebug,” Dylan said. “That’s what I heard.”

“Who told you that?” I asked.

“The sheriff’s kid is in my class. It’s all he talked about for a week. I was sure it’s why Popov’s men were guarding us. I didn’t know the details, just rumors. I still don’t know, but I know Daddy-O needs to carry a gun because he feels like there is danger.”

“It’s why we don’t want you down here, Dylan,” I said.

“I have no interest in his gun, Daddy. Can I be proud my father is good with a gun? Why not? It doesn’t mean I want to have one or fire one, because I don’t. I shoot pictures and all you need to do is tell me what’s going on. You don’t need to fight about it. I’ll figure it out once I know the facts.”

“Yes, we should have explained it but we don’t know what to explain. We don’t know anything for sure. That’s why it’s dangerous. Nothing could happen but something could,” I said.

“I’d rather Daddy-O have a gun then be unarmed if something does happen,” Dylan said.

“Yes, he should. As usual I’m worried about you, about him, and I don’t like guns.”

“I’ll get rid of it,” Ivan said. “With Taggart here every day and you here most days, I feel way better knowing I can take care of trouble if trouble comes calling.”

“No! You’re right. It might come down to you being able to protect us. If you know what you’re doing, carry the gun. If I see Dylan so much as look at it sideways and I don’t know which one of you I’ll spank first.”

Ivan cracked a smile.

Dylan laughed.

I wasn’t laughing. It was still a hard reality to accept.

Once more my reaction was out of proportion to the event, except this event went far beyond what I would tolerate. Guns did one thing. They killed.

A civilized society didn’t need to kill and claim it was a sport and they had a right to kill. I hated the killing and I hated guns.

“Trouble has come to town. It has visited the marina twice. The next time the objective might not be to set a fire. When this is over, we’ll go back to doing things your way, Clay. For now I know what needs to be done to protect the people I love. I can’t stand by to wait and see if someone else will protect us.”

“OK. You do have a point. We’ll wait to see what happens,” I said.

“This?” Dylan asked. “What’s this?”

“The fires at the marina were set. The guy responsible hasn’t been caught. The cops know who he is and they’re on the lookout for him. I have the gun to convince him not to set any more fires,” Ivan said.

“That’s all,” Dylan said. “Daddy, you’re wrapped too tight. I knew someone set the fires,” Dylan said. “I know there are bad people in the world. The corpse was one of those?”

“He was. You don’t need to be down here until the guy they are looking for is caught,” I said.

“There’s two firebugs,” Dylan said.

“Two?” I said.

“The dead guy worked for another man,” Ivan said.

“That’s cool. All you needed to do was explain it, Daddy.

“With your father packing, you don’t need to be down here until the need for the gun is over,” I said.

“Can’t you reason with him, Daddy-O?”

“I told him I didn’t want you down here until the guy is arrested,” Ivan said. “We agree on that one, junior. We need to make that call and you need to obey your fathers. That’s how this deal works.”

“You too. I thought you could fly. I don’t see how you got off the ground, Daddy-O. OK, go ahead and take me home. I’ll stay in my room until you let me out or until I’m twenty-one.”

“Get in the car, Dylan. Your trout is probably cold but you don’t deserve hot trout. I’ll talk to you later,” I said.

“You can shoot with both hands, Daddy-O?” Dylan said from the door. “How cool is that?”

“I’ve never taken the gun out of the holster since I qualified with it six years ago. I don’t dislike anyone enough to shoot them, junior.”

Dylan laughed.

I cringed.

Once again Ivan had remained cool while I became emotional about things I couldn’t control.

Ivan was right and he defused the situation by telling Dylan the least troubling part of the story. It helped with Dylan but it did nothing for my disposition. It had become too real. It wasn’t Ivan’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, except for the psychopath who might be waiting to strike at any time.

I was worried about Ivan but he knew what he was doing. I wish I knew what was going on. I left Dylan sitting in the front seat of the Chevy to make a return visit to the shop before I left.

“I’ll be right back, kiddo” I said.

His back was turned when the bell jingled.

“I love you as much as it’s possible for me to love anyone, Ivan. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I’ll trust you on this. I know you’ll do what’s right or what needs doing. I’ll try not to get in the way. You did fine with Dylan. I wouldn’t have known what to tell him. I was wrong. I’m sorry I got upset at you,” I said.

“I won’t hug you or kiss you. I’m still too upset but I can admit when I’m wrong. I know I’m wrong, but I still don’t like guns.”

Ivan didn’t move closer while I talked.

A hug would would mean touching that damn gun again, and I wasn’t doing that. I left the shop.

I drove Dylan home and he went into the house. I stayed in the car shaking.

I wanted this to end.

*****

What was going on at the marina wasn’t happening in a vacuum. Popov started a search of coves and inlets, looking for the boat he’d seen at the end of the dock. Popov knew every boat in the marina. It was his marina before it was Ivan’s.

Each time he came ashore in his launch, Popov put his foot on Bob Jones’s yacht before stepping onto the dock. He had no difficulty remembering the boat or the man. It was this knowledge that had Popov searching for a boat he’d know anywhere.

Harry was quiet. Popov was vigilant and his fishermen watched the marina and our houses. The fishing fleet continued to go out early Tuesday and it returned on Friday afternoon.

J.K. might turn up anywhere. He was in the car watching the conservancy house a lot. When I got out of my car to take Ivan his lunch, J.K. might be standing by the new kitchen and he’d nod. When I walked down the dock to Sea Lab, J.K. might be sitting on a chair near the stern of the Daddy-O. He’d nod. I nodded back.

J.K. stayed very visible and one day, when this was over, I’d hug him and thank him for letting me know I was safe under his watchful eyes.

*****

Carlos Santiago was nowhere to be found.

*****

As Harry prepared to kick off his campaign for the senate in Tampa, we met at his house to talk about the importance of it. He called each time he wanted to talk and he sent Reginald for me in the evening after dinner,

Each time he sent for me, I expected this was when Harry would clue me in on what he knew and what the FBI told him.

He didn’t. So I didn’t ask. He’d tell me when he was ready.

We talked about the campaign, publicity, donors, and my place as the man who introduced him as the next senator from the great state of Florida. If Harry had any doubts about me, he didn’t show it. Even when the house was full of close supporters, donors, and public officials, my place was at his side when he called for me to be there.

He didn’t tell me what to say or what not to say but I knew better than to put on another performance like I did the last time I faced his donors, state officials, and the people who supported Harry.

It made me more confident and less self conscious about my last appearance in Tampa. We all make mistakes now and then. Learning from those mistakes means apologizing and never doing it again.

I was ready to put it behind me. I’d feel better when I did.

*****

Harry was home a week before he kicked off his campaign for the senate in Tampa. He made the rounds in Florida and touched base with big supporters and donors. He appeared on television, was interviewed by newspapers, and in general the name Harry McCallister was mentioned every night on the local news.

A congressman has a district and he runs for election in that district. A senator must be known by the people in his state. What Harry had that no one else brought to the table, a vested interest in the Gulf of Mexico, the state’s beaches, the air, and things that were a threat.

The Sanibel Island Conservancy was out front in research and in studying the environment that impacted every Floridian and anyone who visited or vacationed in Florida.

It was a hefty resume.

As the man Harry built the conservancy around, I spoke for him about the details and implications of what my work produced. Harry didn’t just talk a good game. He rolled up his sleeves and he knew everything about my work and what that work signified.

Whatever I said, Harry knew about it. When I explained the significance of my findings and the threats we faced, Harry understood my message. He made sure I explained it to him. He was in Washington making sure he did all he could to protect the environment from corporations and misguided people who saw waterways as a place to dump anything they wanted to get rid of.

Many voters wondered who representatives represented. They certainly didn’t represent the people. With Harry they knew where he stood and what he was doing. If you were a resident of Florida, no matter what you did, your livelihood depended on the pristine beaches, clean air, and healthy agriculture.

Harry McCallister stood up for Florida and everyone knew it.

*****

Ivan drove because public speaking made me nervous. Dylan came along to see what his daddy might do for an encore.

What I’d do was introduce Harry and get off the stage.

The future senator of Florida deserved the best I had to give. He asked me to introduce him in Tampa to start the campaign. Trusting me to do the right thing and I wouldn’t disappoint him.

I wasn’t looking forward to facing this particular audience. Once I did, it would clear the air and allow me to take on the role Harry had trained me for. That was turf I was comfortable covering.

These were thoughts that ran through my mind as we raced toward Tampa. At seventy the Buick was smoother than the Chevy was at forty. It was a top flight ride.

It wasn’t necessary for Harry to announce early but he wanted to discourage challengers before they decided to run. With Harry’s father being a popular congressman, and Harry, picking up where his father left off, won the seat his father once held in congress.

Harry was a known quantity who stood for a prosperous Florida. He was known statewide for heading the Sanibel Island Conservancy before he went to congress. I worked at Harry’s conservancy lab and on board the Sea Lab, which had become better known than me, and we took our business seriously. We intended to keep the Gulf of Mexico clean.

I showed Harry my introduction the day before he kicked off the campaign in Tampa. It took under five minutes to deliver. Harry read it in two minutes. He handed it back to me.

“Short and sweet,” he said. “You aren’t usually that brief, Clay.”

“I don’t want to go off script this time, Harry.”

“I admire the effort. You’ll be fine. Everyone understood your passion over your reef being destroyed. They were sorry too. Walk out there and give the introduction your way. You’ll be OK once you start. They probably don’t remember your last appearance. These people have busy lives. We occupy no more than a few hours of it each year.”

*****

In Tampa, in front of a standing room only crowd, the first odd thing threw me off of my prepared entrance, introduction, and exit. This wasn’t about me. It was about Harry.

I didn’t remember so many photographers as I took the walk onto center stage. When I stopped at the microphone, the cameras clicked. If there were cameras the last time, I didn’t remember so many.

My name was on the marquee under Harry’s.

I stood in front of the microphone. I didn’t touch it or make sure it was on. That wasn’t my job. The lights hid the people beyond the first couple of rows but I looked through the curtains before going on stage. It was a packed house but that was no surprise. The applause for me was.

The cameras stopped clicking and it was almost too quiet once the applause stopped.

I remembered to smile.

“You know me and you know why I’m here,” I said.

The short speech I rehearsed for a week was nowhere to be found. My mind went blank.

The applause threw me. I hadn’t said anything yet and I searched for the first word. If I remembered that, I’d be OK.

The applause died away.

I would introduce Harry and get off the stage. How hard was that? I’d known him for half my life.

I fought the urge to run.

I stood there smiling. I looked to see if Harry came onto the stage to rescue me, but I was on my own.

“I promise I won’t depress you tonight,” I said.

The audience laughed.

They remembered my last performance and they could laugh about it. I was relieved. If I could remember what I wanted to say, and it wasn’t very long, I might survive this.

As the audience waited, the words came back to me.

“This is a special night for me. When I was asked to make this introduction, it seemed perfect, because this is the opening of Harry’s campaign for the senate. We all know Harry is the right man for the job. He makes it possible for me to do the work I do. It’s work I do for you and all Floridians. With your help, and with Harry in the senate, we’ll keep Florida the picturesque place where everyone wants to be.”

There was applause.

I hesitated, waiting for it to die away. I was OK now.

“I ran a little over the last time we met here, so I’ll cut right to the chase. Honored guests, donors, campaign staff, ladies and gentlemen of Florida and the world, I give you my friend, my mentor, my boss, and the next senator from the great state of Florida, Congressman Harry McCallister.”

The applause echoed throughout the auditorium.

Everyone stood and applauded.

Harry took long confident strides on his way to the microphone. I wasn’t expecting the hug. It was reassuring.

“I told you you’d be fine. They know you’re at the center of my work in Washington, Clayton. It’s your passion we all love. Thank you,” Harry said, patting my back before turning to face the audience.

I left the stage. The cameras clicked furiously. I looked back from the wings. Harry continued to wave. My mentor was on his way to the senate.

“Thank you. Thank you,” he waved and smiled his biggest smile.

He stood motionless, confident, waiting for the last of the applause to end. He looked from side to side as if he could see everyone’s face. His smile radiated warmth.

“The smartest decision I ever made was hiring Clayton Olson to be the Sanibel Island Conservancy’s marine biologist. Give him a hand for doing a great job. I wouldn’t be here if Clayton wasn’t in the Gulf.”

The applause thundered for Florida’s next senator and his right hand man. I felt giddy. I was known because of Harry.

I’d come into my own as a man. My words meant something. The next senator from Florida needed me to stand at his side.

It was a sobering thought and as long as no one looked too closely at his marine biologist’s life, we’d be fine.

The applause had stopped.

The cameras stopped clicking.

Harry was among friends and supporters who came to fill the Tampa auditorium.

“Honored guests, donors, my supporters and friends, ladies and gentlemen, I’m Congressman Harry McCallister and I’m running for the United States Senate.”

The applause grew louder as everyone stood.

The cameras clicked.

Harry waved.

The audience applauded.